[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Shilage[/color][/h3][/center]

Black dust slipped through his fingers, shards of spent onyx caught in the wakewinds of the shattered star, the breaking of the heat dome they'd forged. By the skin of their teeth, they'd pulled this one out of the bag— taking them right up to their limits. Every last resource, every last gambit, every last desperate solution conjured in the moments where reality had pointed out the holes between them all. He watched it filter out into the rising night, leaving only the void in his grasp.

[i]And so, the last, most ill-conceived vestige of "Rudolf, guy from Sagramore" leaves us. The mask is no more. How you feel, champ? Like a new man?[/i]

He grunted, as the first of the pebbles bounced off his helmet, and shifted the greatsword in his good arm overhead to shelter beneath as he stalked forward, towards the nearest of his compatriots— the two Mystrel, both completely overtaxed by the torrent of aether they'd tried to manage, and in Izayoi's case, the clash with Behemoth. But Miina had the worst of it, writhing in barely-controlled pain, as if struck by lightning, punctuated by breathless howling. While the specifics eluded Rudolf, he could parse that the mental feedback from trying to enact one's will upon so many sources of aether, each with its' own specific aspect...[sup]1[/sup]

He stood above the both of them, one arm finally allowed to hang limp, liquid fire coursing through it. Compared to that, his injuries were hardly anything to bellyache over. He could do nothing for whatever ravages aetheric rebound were enacting upon the two of them, but until the shower of stone abated... the least he could do was this.

For everything else? What was done was done. And it had gotten them out the other side.[sup]2[/sup]

At least Goug wasn't keeping him waiting long.

[hr]

Two days later, and the conclusion was inescapable— for all the Kirins' burns, breaks, and scrapes, Rudolf had gotten off light. A torn tendon or two in his arm, elbow a little out of joint, a few broken digits, and that was it. Whether he wanted to attribute it to his new armor or his physical resilience was hard to say— thus, splitting the difference was probably most accurate[sup]3[/sup]— but there was one data point that needed nothing by way of speculation.

Two days and the Eos-aided ministrations of the local doctor later, and Rudolf was hale enough to mill about again, his surviving equipment in hand and his left arm at rest in a sling, while the triceps finished the steady process of reconnecting to tendon and bone. He spent the morning asking after where he might source a black pearl, finally following up on Isolde's cursebreaking advice. Eventually, he received his answer from the fishmonger: in the coming weeks, diving season was to begin, and a plethora of pearls from the warmer bays and coves that shaped the southlands' coastline would reach market. A spot of luck, for once— But he wouldn't hold his breath quite yet for finding a good deal, where life might have him get ahold of one the old-fashioned way.

Fitting that sentiment, by midday, the scar-laden swordsman could be found at the southern gate of what was left of town, looking over the carcass of the Behemoth with a thoughtful frown. Rot and blight had taken much of the mighty animal's flesh, true, but the skeletons of these things was made of far sterner stuff— and for all he had dispensed with his Sagramori facade since coming here, the time he'd spent among the hot-blooded swordsmen had still left an indelible mark upon him.

It was little consequence, waving away flies and managing the disposal of blighted flesh— they had felled a full-grown Behemoth. And even one half of either those jet-black horns, long and cruel as moonless night, would make for too proud a dagger when next he had the chance. It would be a thousand years in Himstus's crucible before he let [i]this one[/i] slip from his grasp.

[hr][hr]
[list]
[*][sub]1. Lightning wasn't a bad way to put it. The way aether and will interact between Mages, Materia, and [i]Anima Mundi[/i], what Miina was forced to try and wrangle into a unified channel for Izayoi was basically like volunteering to hold four branching thimbles of copper wire aloft in a storm, so you can pass current into a lake. Using your mind as a conduit like that is "very fun", the same way having an entire senate of people yelling at you is "very fun". You know, when you need to care about what they're saying. It's a good thing you had [i]me[/i] handle your Gravity materia— if she'd mistakenly tried to add undirected free energy with a fifth flavor on it to the cauldron, the cauldron would have flowkirkenuinely (as the youth say) boiled over, all over you guys's stove.[/sub]
[*][sub]2. Cope. Not seethe, I'll hand it to you, but it's cope. You can't answer my question.[/sub]
[*][sub]3. I'm taking credit for it. Me and my cozy armor. Facts are malleable, but my agendas never waver.[/sub]
[/list]