#ridires

Welcome, Diarmuid!

Your Master will be Osomatsu Matsuno!

We hope that you and your master can get along.

In front of Diarmuid from around a corner would fly a drone, coming to a stop a few feet from him. It would pause, raise itself a foot or two higher, then initiate its scanning protocol. The drone illuminated the area with blue light, with a grid on the ground and a spinning blue line similar to what a submarine radar would look like.

“Lancer” the girl spoke, upon seeing the face of another servant

Nyx flipped the singular wooden dagger that hung loosely upon his grip, typical limitation given to those deemed unworthy to wield a name. Recollection and an ocean of memories of the initiation of his journey within the glaive flooding the brain of the war hero. One flip, two flips, and a last one before his grip latched on to the hilt of the wooden dagger that mocked his actual weapons with a death grip.  Haste had to be made back home, for his kingdom, for his king, he was in charge of the safety of princess Lunafreya, bride to be of the heir of the throne Noctis --- wherever he and his kngsmen might be at the moment. Anger was fleeting, rage bubbled minimally at the distasteful thought that he and his kingsmen were oblivious to the unfolding of Insomnia. How the lands outside of the wall were simply handed over and then soon followed its downfall. “That’s no way to think Nyx.” Forehead was tapped with some force twice. Noctis held a future, a brighter one be it seen now or not.

To allow this place the pleasantry of having his abilities to rust would not be something Nyx would allow, so without further ado, with the judgement of the soldier and war hero that he was, he pin pointed another --- wooden dagger pointed at him to earn his undivided attention.

          ❝ A KNIGHT -- ? ❞

      At least he appeared to be one. Standing GUARD is not something she does often, but it is also her DUTY to greet those from foreign lands that have made their way to the palace. A hand comes to rest upon her hip, fingers sliding into the links of the CHAIN at her waist.

        It wasnt the cold of the night keeping her awake or the dark corners of her room. Her mind was racing, focusing on her little adventure a week back. There was only one thing on her mind; that man. The idea of that man still being out there corrupted her dreams. The little girl shifted in her sheets, her little feet even kicking them off as she forced herself to sit up. Her nightgown sticking to her dampened skin. Eyes locking onto the clock next to her bed. It was only one thirty, it felt like it had been l o n g e r .  

        She couldnt sleep like this, she had to try. Having success the previous time, she had to try again. That man was still out there. Still kidnapping children... murdering them. -- If she could find him once, surely she could find him again. Rin wasnt foolish. She knew that fighting him would be in vain. That man was way out of her league. But she had to do something. With no plan known, the little girl slowly crept out of her bed. Pulling a familiar compass off of her nightstand and wrapping it around her neck. Quietly opening her drawers, pulling out warmer clothes to wear. Her petite socked feet then tip toeing about her house in a hushed manner. Soon taking to the dark streets once again.

        Getting onto the subway was easy enough and took little to no time. That was the easy part of her journey. Now came the hard part. Her wide eyes now scanning the eerie familiar area. “.. it is still creepy..” The little muttered to herself, wips of breath taking to the cold air. Her gaze then pulling down towards her hands and resting on the gift from her father; the mana compass. The little arrow already wavering in one direction. A small smile of satisfaction taking to her lips for second. Though she was in the same area she took a different path this time, knowing he wouldnt be in the same place twice. Letting the compass guide her way. The running pace she held came to a halt as a red light came to her attention. A brief gasp leaving her. Her form clinging to the alley walls of an abandoned building. “Darn it.. not yet..” She mentally cursed herself, hoping she wasnt spotted. She needed to find the guy before running into the police. They would just take her home. The lights slowly filling and tinting the alley with a red hue. Her eyes even closing in hopes that could help.

        They didnt spot her. The car continuing its’ stroll down the street. A breath of relief taking to her lungs, though it was short lived. Her head slowly poked out into the street, eyes wide and locked onto the cop car. It appeared that they were parking, even getting out of the car. Her heart dropped, legs shook. In an desperate act, she fled towards the door to the abandoned building. Struggling at first to open it, but managing to crack it open enough for her compact form. The door forcing shut as soon as she fell in. Panting and leaning against it, she sighed a bit, already hearing the cops walk by her.                      Safe-- for now.

        Thinking they left, she took to her feet again. Her tiny fingers gripping what was left of the door handle again. Pulling with all her might but not moving it this time. “No, no, no, nono-- You have to be kidding me!” She quietly yelled, even going as far to kick the door in anger. It was time to find a new exit. Turning to scan the room again, her attention was stopped as she felt a jolt of mana go through her. Eyes now locking on her compass, the pointer spinning rapidly. 

                    Teeth practically bare at the presence making itself known before her. Fingers turn upwards as her head is anchored to the base of her neck, galaxies shimmering in the colorlessness that rests behind tired eyes. Crimson seeps from her left arm at an alarming rate, it’s glinting metallic form garnishing nearly no concern from it’s owner. Instead, her attention turns to the servant (who could possibly claim victory over her, should he try harder than the last) standing valiantly within reach. 

                    A spine now hangs loosely from her only good arm, vertebrae retracting if only to transition the bones from their usual form into a more tactful weapon; a sword. She does not attack, nor does she fully intend to unless provoked or threatened -- in fact, there is no clear indication that she is seeking combat with her enemy. There is, however, the pool of blood at her side and the occasionally shifting of her weight -- listless, worrisome.