#aike reinder

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Y’know, sometimes I question the way RP ended up going for Ashe, as it rapidly got far, far away from her original concepts. There are sometimes I wonder if the dual identity thing isn’t insane, then sometimes when I see her in that look and can’t see anything else happening, ultimately.

While the colouring is a bit off for it, Saber looks pretty good with scruff on his face. I just wish I could make it a brighter red.

These were both taken at the Barheim Bar & Grill event. It’s a Tuesday/Friday evening RP event for Dalmascans, their allies, and their Garlean oppressors - due to it being in one of the less rundown areas of Rabanastre.

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26. Slosh

Convincing people he is nothing more than a drunkard was the simple part.

Remembering what colour his eyes and hair are wasn't quite that simple.

Blending into a crowd is his speciality, despite having naturally red hair. But here, that red colour would stand out for malms and malms. And so they had glamoured it into a mousy brown unkempt mess. His once amber gaze has been darkened to a more natural brown as well.

His eyepatch is conspicuously missing, a pair of slightly bent glasses having replaced them. Neither are necessary, but each legend has its unique look.

Keeping his movements disjointed and lazy, he makes his way to the bar, intent on refilling his ale. Despite appearing to be well into his cups, the Shikari's senses are quite sharp, thanks to an alchemical concoction that dampens the alcohol's effects.

All around him, the ordinary citizens of Garlemald speak in hushed tones about the ongoing war of succession. They speak of the Emperor's death, the rumour that such was done by his son's hand before the Prince had disappeared. Some speak of how they had suffered this only a scant handful of years before, lamenting a return to such troubled times.

Raising his refreshed ale to the barkeep, letting just a little of the liquid slosh over the side and onto the bar, the rogue mentally files each word away. Adding to the ever-growing catalogue of information, he leers about the taproom, slowly making his way back to his seat.

He can't stay much longer, but he intends to leave with as much intel as possible. While the uprising during the last war of succession failed, a second attempt might not meet such dire ends - especially if they knew all they could about the state of the Empire.

As he settles back in his chair, the mug again tilts a bit too far, causing the ale to spill onto his shirt. The scent will remain long after, and most will mistake it for lingering on his breath. Brown eyes sweep across the tavern before closing, the Shikari opening his ears to the conversations around him while anyone watching will believe he's just a drunkard falling asleep.

Their mistake.

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7. Forgiven

"You aren't here to kill me, are you?"

She's teasing him, of course. In the moons that have passed since their conflict, it's become something of a joke between them rather than the point of contention it originally was. His other victims may never come to understand, let alone accept what he did to them, even if she can now joke about it all.

"Not this time, dove," he replies as he settles against the desk she's sitting at. "Merely checkin' in to make sure yer brother ain't steppin' outta line."

Despite her best efforts, she can't help but roll her eyes at the mention of her brother, quill lowering to the desk as she focuses on the Shikari. "It would take a miracle of Faram for my brother to not," she sighs as she leans back into the chair. "I swear he exists for the sole purpose of ruining my day."

This causes the rogue to laugh and smile, both of which resonate in his uncovered eye. With a light shrug, he agrees, "Ye an' I both, lass. Ye an' I both. If I had my way, I'd cast 'im off an' cut 'im loose, an' never look back. I've better things to do than babysit a deadman."

She gives him a wry smile as she stands up from the desk, motioning for him to follow her out of the study and up the stairs. Without waiting to see if he follows, she makes her way up into the kitchen of the beach house where she begins to gather together ingredients.

"You know, you could well do such, were you to be ordered to," she half-teases him, half reminds him as she mixes the ground beef, eggs, and almond meal. "Reassignments happen, even if it strikes your handlers as curious."

Leaning against the wall that separates the kitchen from the sitting room, he shakes his head a bit, the faintest expression of guilt crossing his features before he succeeds in burying it.

"Ain't necessary," he grunts as his good-eye shifts away from her. She finishes putting the mixture into a casserole dish, stashing it in the awaiting oven before turning his direction again. Finding him brooding, she crosses the space between them to set a hand on his upper arm in an attempt to comfort him. He shrugs her touch away, shifting a bit in the opposite direction, refusing to look at her all the while.

"I would think three decades of service is more than retribution for what happened," she soothes in a soft voice, again placing her hand against his upper arm. "The scheme to keep the Sword and Blade out of Imperial hands was a sufficient service, I would think. You need not--" He shifts all a sudden, his hand wrapping around her wrist with a tight grip as his amber gaze finally returns to her, snapping, "You ain't the arbiter o' that, Highness. Neither is yer brother."

Rather than struggle, she goes still and allows him to keep a hold of her wrist, expression serene despite his volatile shift in demeanour. Gazing up at him, aquamarine eyes locked with his singular amber gaze, she remains calm even as she presses the issue with him.

"You can drop the act, Aike," she replies with a gentle smile, "we are the only ones here."

It isn't a request, despite how gently it's given. It also isn't the first time she's called him out on such. Irritated at being outplayed, his grip tightens on her wrist as his features darken with an annoyance that borders on anger.

"You and your brother - the pair of you think you know everything, or at least understand everything. You don't understand this, princess, so spare me the lectures," the rogue snaps in response, giving her wrist a slight jerk for emphasis. "It's one thing to kill strangers or even allies - it's an entirely different matter when you kill your kin, more so when it's done because of false pretences."

Despite the fact his tightened grip and the sudden pull on her wrist hurts, she remains calm and uses the tug to close more space between them. Her other hand raises towards his other arm, only to be grappled like the first as he glares at her.

"Don't," he warns.

"Aike...he knew the risks involved with having to act like an Imperial sympathizer. He knew, at any moment, someone might try - and succeed - at taking his life," she murmurs imploringly. "Whether it was a stranger on the streets, a former friend, or his kin - he knew it was a risk. And he accepted that risk because he believed doing so would help the kingdom."

Both grips tighten as his elbows bend further, dragging her closer as he leers down before growling, "...you weren't there, how the fuck could you know a damn thing about him?"

Standing nearly flush with his form, she continues to look up to his gaze, despite the anger reflected in his countenance. Previously, he'd drawn his blades against her, even slit her throat and poisoned her, so his blustering hardly phases her now. She's too familiar with what he's actually like when desperate and violent.

"Records, Aike. While many of them have been destroyed, we do have some records," she reminds him before explaining further. "Originally, they were supposed to be passed on to you when 'you were old enough to understand', however, a more recent order rescinded such. I suspect as part of the efforts to misdirect you and misuse your post."

Amber eye widens as the rage all but evaporates from his features, his grip on her wrists loosening as he stares down at her. Confusion crosses his countenance, brows knitting as he processes the revelation. "How..." he breathes before he bears down on her again. "When'd you discover this? Why the hells didn't you tell me?"

Even as he regains his grip on her wrists, her expression remains serene, though darkness threatens the edges of such.

"The last time I was in Dalmasca. The General and her companion were going to investigate the situation, in a manner that would not attract attention," she admits to him in a murmur. "Summoning you to tell you anything would have potentially revealed such. We agreed against such, that it would have to happen naturally."

His expression becomes one of indignation framed by regret as his grip begins to loosen once more, "Even though it's often moons and moons between our meetings? Isn't that a little unfair to me?"

"Yes, but life is not fair. Were it fair, you would still have your father," she gently chides him. "I had hoped we could procure the ledger before I saw you again, and I considered waiting to say anything until we had after you arrived but..."

With as little warning, her wrists are released, and she's instead pulled into a tight embrace as the Shikari buries his face against her hair. Awkwardly, due to the suddenness and the positioning, she circles her arms about his midsection to return the hug.

"Faram damn you," he mutters into the mess of fiery strands.

Smiling against his shoulder, she murmurs, "I knew you would understand..."

I’ll start on images tomorrow.

The required tag to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast.

And stats; sadly, Saber’s accent and too much of the Queen’s English pisses off this editor. There’s no British setting for it either. /cry

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12. Fingers Crossed

The door flies open as a familiar redhead wearing a sturdy leather eyepatch saunters into the room. Without waiting for the room's occupant to react, the Shikari unceremoniously drops onto the chair opposite, feet kicking up onto the table as he leans onto the chair's back legs. His hands immediately raise behind his head, supporting such against the vicious incline, away from the other man's sight.

"I got some bene rum for ye," he teases with a grin. "Rum ye've been cravin'."

Rolling his eyes, the other redhead looks up from the ledger he's writing in, glaring at the other man.

"Saber...what've I told you about that Twelve's damned Lominsan tongue?" he growls over the pages, debating on whether or not to set down his quill. "Speak plainly, arse."

He's given a little huff at the demand, but the rogue acquiesces anyway. Waving a hand, as if to suddenly dismiss either the request or the news he bears, he speaks as a sly smile paints his lips.

"S'about your sister, Rel," he hints vaguely. "News that'll make your day, I promise."

The other man gives him a flat stare, eyes narrowing. The two have known each other for decades, and the dead noble has come to recognise most of the Shikari's tricks by now. He hates being toyed with, yet his minder continues to do just that.

"Out with it, or get out," he sharply returns as the quill's finally sat down. "If you've news, give it. If not, there's the door."

Much to his disappointment, the Shikari doesn't move from his chair. Instead, he settles in as his hands remain behind his head. The sly grin also remains on his lips, which part to speak.

"Yer no fun in yer old age, man. No fun at all," he laments before acutally revealing his news. "Lucius can hold his own against the good Captain, even when the sky pirate really gets rolling. He's also talked the General down from her anger a couple of times."

Finally, something useful. Bandaged hands come to rest against the table as the dead man leans forward, giving something of a relieved sigh before he motions for his companion to continue.

"Most o' the lads like him, and they like his keen eye with the flaws in their strategies even more," the rogue continues at a languid pace. "While they ain't considering him a kinsman yet, enough of 'em consider him to be a real ally. And they all are pleased with how he is with your sister."

While it's more news than he's had in some time on the progress of his little gamble, it's not quite enough to set the noble at ease. He makes another motion to continue as he states, "That's all for nothing, Saber, if she doesn't fall for him."

Now it's the eye-patched man's turn to roll his visible eye as he shakes his head.

"Don't you worry yer pretty little head 'bout that, Rel. The reason they all like how he is with your sister is cus they think the two are adorable together," he snickers in answer. "Treats her like the princess she is when necessary, but still like the girl next door. And she just eats it up."

Another long breath is exhaled as the ledger is closed, his bandaged hands shaking faintly. It had taken quite a bit to separate his sister from the vagabond she'd fallen in with. Especially after the man had built her a house in Eorzea, but he'd managed. While tracking down the former proprietor of the Autumn's Solace had been easy, as had leading him by the nose to his wayward sister, the dead noble was powerless to convince her to like him.

While he had proof she cared about the former manager, thanks to the Shikari's nearly killing him, he couldn't be sure she'd fall for him. Their first steps towards courtship had been cut short. She had to frequently return to Dalmasca, and the man in question had to remain behind in Eorzea. It resulted in the courtship going nowhere, and his sister falling in with the damned vagabond.

Hearing that her care for him was growing into something more was like music to his ears.

"That bloke intends to marry your sister, and she ain't gonna turn him down," the rogue pronounces, causing the dead man to grin from ear to ear.

Behind the Shikari's head, one hand cradles his skill while the other has two fingers crossed...

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Getting to Know Saber

► Name ➔ “Saber. Yeah, jus’ Saber.” ► Are you single ➔ “S’how I prefer livin’ life.” ► Are you happy ➔ “Don’t think such is possible, given the shite that’s been goin’ on all of my life.” ► Are you angry? ➔ “I’m a redhead, dove - we’re born angry.” ► Are your parents still married ➔ “Nay, not me blood parents - they weren’t never married. Professional bastard, an’ all that. Mum never remarried after me step dad died, though.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Technically, Lowtown of Rabanstre. Mum’s family didn’t want the truth of me birth much known.” ► Hair Color ➔  "Red, with fiery highlights, to quote a dove.” ► Eye Color ➔  “Brown. Thankfully. If I’d gotten me blood father’s eyes, I’d have stabbed both o’ ‘em out.” ► Birthday ➔ “5th Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon.” ► Mood ➔  "Mighty irritated.” ► Gender ➔ “Male.” ► Summer or winter ➔  “Summer, was born inna desert, after all.” ► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Neither. Somethin’ o’ a night owl.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “Nay, I don’t bother with that shite.” ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Lust at first sight, sure. Love at first sight? Bloody myth.” ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “Ain’t ever bothered with ‘em.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “...suppose that’s the one quality o’ my blood father I inherited, much to my horror.” ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Generally, nay - wouldn’t do what I do if I were. But romantic commitment? Ain’t afraid of it, just disinclined to it.” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “I ain’t seen a soul most o’ the past fortnight.” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “More thank like, unfortunately.” ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “What the hells kinda question is that?”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Neither. Lust lead to me existence, and love lead to the hell I grew up with.” ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Rum.” ► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Dogs. ‘Bout the only real loyalty ye’ll ever find.” ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “The lesser. The more ye have, the more that can be filtched from ye.” ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “If by wild night, ye mean bar fights an’ adventure, that.” ► Day or night ➔ “Night, as it makes me work easier.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Aye - s’what lead to the death o’ the step father.” ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Please. A pretty lad like myself be too graceful for that nonsense.” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Aye. Any Dalmascan knows this feelin’. Any Gyr Abanian and Doman, too.” ► Wanted to disappear ➔ “Dove, tis in me professional profile to be good at disappearin’...”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Eyes. They reveal all, when a smile obscures it all. Learnt that from me blood father, after a fashion.” ► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Not really a preference, but I tend to be the tall one inna room.” ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “...intelligence breeds attraction.” ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “Neither. Ain’t got the time nor the inclination for relationships, an’ the circumstances o’ me birth lead me to abhor hook-ups an’ one night stands.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “Nay. Mum’s folly, the family’s obscurin’ the details o’ me birth, an’ the mess me birth father is left me without much o’ a family t’all.” ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “I grew up inna kingdom beneath the heel o’ the Empire, bastard son o’ a noble ‘hero’, whose family sought to hide t’all. Been fighin’ ‘gainst the Imperials since I was a lad, an’ that landed me in virtual exile. Ye tell me if that be messed up or not, dove.” ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “Aye, part o’ the whole sneakin’ out that lead to the step dad’s death.” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “Theoretically, got kicked outta me kingdom, an’ forced to mind a dead man.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “That’s bullocks that ain’t worth anyone’s time. If I hate ye, ye are well aware o’ it.” ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “...ain’t particularly got any friends, at the moment.” ► Who is your best friend ➔ ”...he’s dead.” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “The dead man, much to me discomfort.”

Tagged Stolen from: @sharlayan-fool

Tagging: Anyone who hasn’t done this yet.

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Day 2 - The Spider and the Fly (Bugs)

Empty hearts I can hear them talking                          I close my eyes and I keep on stalking                                                                                      My love, My love

                                              No one's aware of the hunger I feel                          It's something you or time cannot heal I need someone to help me rise above

Eternal bliss is something I can show you           Spread your arms and let my wings enfold you                                                                                                          My love

                              In the darkness shades of crimson rapture                The world is ours alone to capture My love

Come along now and take my hand                                                        I'll lead you to a promised land

                         The morning after it may never come again,

Never be the same...

Day 2: Bugs

Song: Spider and the Fly by London After Midnight

Note: Don’t read too much into this for Saber and Ashe. He does have something of a crush on her, but it’s mostly because he hasn’t admitted he’s got a crush on someone else she reminds him of. >.>

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Prompt #29: Dote

The expatriate Garlean Medicus speaks in a quiet and soft voice, yet her words are startling nonetheless.

"Alright. We'll get you some pain relief and then... you know...if you want alone time with Para, I can sleep upstairs."

Despite the fact she had rushed back to the Solace after the confrontation in the canyon, despite how upset she had been over the fact he had been attacked, she hadn't had time to consider how those around her were taking it all. Before she had returned to the hidden alcove where her brother had been stabbed, her guard had given her some rather strange looks, along with some words about how while he wasn't happy that the attacks had hit so close to home. He was happy that she was willing to take more direct action after they had - and even that had not caused her to consider how everything looked to everyone else.

"You two seem close, is all," the Medicus mentions after watching her eyes go wide. "Roll up the sleeve of your right arm, please."

The Medicus finishes giving her an injection, a strong painkiller from Garlemald, smiling at her as she gave a short series of instructions, followed by an apology for how unpleasant she had been earlier. Her arm stung from the pressure of the medication pooled into her muscle, but it wasn't unfamiliar to her, and she was grateful that the pain across her throat, around her wrists, and on her cheek would subside soon.

"I'll get all this disposed of and rest upstairs. Come get me if you or Para need anything," the Medicus adds, before packing up her doctor's bag and heading out of the room, leaving the two redheads alone. She waits until she hears the door shut entirely, before standing up from the bed the Medicus had moved her to for inspection and treatment, moving around the half-wall that separates it from the bed Paradyme is sleeping in.

It has been perhaps the roughest twenty-four bells she's had since arriving in Eorzea, if not the roughest twenty-four bells of her life since the day she thought her twin brother died. It had started with her and the Captain having a fight in his yard, which led to her heading to the Solace in the first place. Within a bell or so, the Yellowjackets had arrived with Paradyme, explaining that they had found him unable to move on the road between the Mists and Limsa Lominsa, a stab wound in his back. It wasn't all that long after that the Medicus had arrived, requiring her to become a surgical assistant as the doctor worked on healing the partial severing of his spinal cord.

When the Yellowjackets brought him back to the shelter, a faint roar had begun to fill her chest, amid the panic and guilt. While the young lioness had been trying to find a solution to the Shikari's attacks, she had kept a level head, clear of emotions, thinking of both their current situation and of the future for their entire movement.

Upon finding out the Shikari had attacked him, the lioness stirred from her serenity, growling rage beginning to form. As the surgery to repair the damage to his spine wore on, the growling grew louder, filling her chest with a pressure she couldn't place. Upon the arrival of the Captain and his personal physician, the growling had turned into a roar, one that initially was released at the knight as the Solace's proprietor began to regain his ability to move and speak.

She became a lioness rampant, all her caution was forgotten. Citing the need to retrieve something from the library upstairs, she had excused herself from the commons room while the proprietor saw through her ruse, he was in little position to rat her out immediately, which gave her enough time to cast the forbidden spell that whisked her away to the canyon.

Everything didn’t go well after arriving there and announcing herself. She was nearly knocked off the cliff-side into the water, which gave the Shikari the opportunity to capture her. Before he could escape with her, the Captain and their Raen friend had arrived, along with the flashy Highlander pirate. Somehow, the Captain managed to talk the Shikari into fighting him one on one, with their fists, but before disarming himself, the Shikari had sliced her throat with his coated blade, leaving her paralysed and silent.

Ultimately, the round of fisticuffs went to the knight, and the end result saw the Shikari being pinned to the ground primarily by the sheer weight of the man's axe. The Raen had given her a small antidote that began to purge the poison from her system, healed her as best as he could in the field, and bound up the slash across her throat. After a bit of ice cream to help with the pain, she'd rushed back to the Solace.

Shaking her head to chase away the memories, she slipped up onto the bedside that the proprietor was facing, climbing the short way up the bed before settling beside him. He was covered with fresh sheets, the bloody ones from the surgery having been changed while she was away, and he was deep asleep now. The guard for the Solace had taken out his morin khuur while the Medicus had worked on her throat, wrists, and cheek, the soothing sounds of the stringed instrument allowing the proprietor to rest at last.

Fingertips trace along the contours of the sheet as she watches him breathe, though she avoids letting them stray down his back too far, not wanting to cause him any more pain than she already has. Although it hurts to do so, she speaks as her fingers trail along his shoulder, arm, and side, tears beginning to line her lower lids, her voice soft and filled with warmth.

"...sorry, for all of this..." she rasps, voice hoarse from the wound and lack of speaking for two or three bells. "...warned you...you didn't listen..."

Her voice trails off as her emotions get the best of her again; the lioness is still rampant, not assuaged by what they had learned in the canyon. Someone had intentionally misguided the Shikari, and that someone was still out there, still able to hurt those she cared for, and the thought of the man beneath her fingers being harmed again was overwhelming.

She reaches up to brush his hair from his face, fingertips sliding through his now short locks, her touch faint upon his scalp so as not to wake him. He stirs lightly in his sleep, causing him to wince as his spine reminds him it's healing, and she withdraws her fingers from his hair, letting them drift back down his shoulder and arm.

It's not long before the painkiller begins to make its effects felt, causing her eyes to flutter shut. This chases the rest of the tears from her eyes as she dozes, her fingers again returning to his hair for a brief moment. Half asleep, she shifts her weight, stretching her legs out towards the foot of the bed as she lowers herself to her side, curling up along his front side as she too slips into sleep.

Not long after she curls up against him, his arm drapes across her, holding her well into the morning.

(( @paradymeshift [the Proprietor], @medicuscaelius-ffxiv [the Medicus], @lance-of-fury [the Morin Khuur master], @thelionofdalmasca [the Royal Guard], @mugishalffull [the Raen (only male Raen ever)], @roscoerackham [the Pirate] ))

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22. Is there any OC of yours people tend to mischaracterize? If yes, how?

Mis-characterisation of my characters is actually really common, in part due to the levels of complexity that they have, and in part because none of them are all that straightforward - either in personality (most of them) or appearance (my Miqo’te kid).

Ashla

One of two characters who are actively creating false perceptions about themselves, Ashe’s often mistaken for being way more prim and proper than she actually is. When people start to get to know her, they’ll find that she’s much more capable of the rough and tumble life most adventurers have. She’s very much like Princess Leia, in that regard (especially ESB and RotJ Leia).

Claire

Most people presume Claire’s a Garlean, due to the fact that she’s blonde with light blue eyes and lighter skin colouration. They also presume she’s a cold-hearted bitch, when in actuality, she’s more altruistic than anything else.

Saber

Most people assume he’s a villain, when he’s just a victim of horrible circumstance. He’s extremely rough around the edges, does a lot of shady things, but is in it all for the greater good.

Relsar

There’s an assumption that he’s weak, due to the fact that his hands are messed up from his near-fatal fight during the Siege of Nalbina. While they have their issues, Rel’s still a competent night, even if he’s taken on a darker tone since his “death”.

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Day One— Introductions

30 Day OC Challenge

The Princess of the Heart

Known Names: Ashe of Dalmasca, Ashe, Ashla, Ashelia

Full Name: Ashla Manasse

A Dalmascan Hyur who is on the run from the Empire. Her once deeply sun-kissed skin has been paling as she has largely had to remain indoors, or literally underground.

The Sand Rat

Known Names: Fia, Safiya, Stormcrow

Aliases: Agnetha, Amala, Caterina, Kadri, Kaisa, Kaethe, Katarzyrna, Katoka, Katrina, Kaya, Tahira

Full Name: Safiya Stormcrow

This former refugee nearly lost her life when she was visiting family and friends in Rhalgr’s Reach, having arrived not long before Zenos’ assault on the hidden base of the Ala Mhigan Resistance. She has since been recovering at a close friend’s clinic, she’s working to return to dancing in Costa del Sol.

The Shikari

Known Names: Saber, Saber of Dalmasca

Full Name: Aike Reinder

Raised beneath the yoke of Imperial occupation, this Dalmascan Hyur joined the Resistance at a young age, after leaving home far before he was ready to do so. He’s since inherited a mission that was originally entrusted to the man known to be his father; in truth, he’s a bastard, and the man his mother married adopted him, quietly behind the scenes.

His internal violence is caused by his life being a lie, a deep-seated of betrayal, and the harsh realities as life beneath Imperial rule.

The Oncoming Storm

Known Names: Claire, The Fury of Halone

Full Name: [Redacted]

Little is known about this Hyurian woman Momodi dubbed Halone Incarnate shortly before the Calamity, beyond the fact that she’s not from Eorzea, was within Limsa Lominsa the night of Bahamut’s rage, and is quite independent, much to Maelstrom Command’s dismay. Having owned a free company, and several subsidiaries, since just after the Calamity, she can more than afford to erase whatever records exist of her.

The Dead Man Walking

Known Names: Rel

Full Name: Relsar Manasse

Listed amongst the dead at Nalbina Fortress, no matter how it was sliced, this Dalmascan Hyur has been keeping a low profile in Eorzea since the age of ten. Bearing myriad permanent scars and injuries from his near-fatal confrontation during the fall of the fortress, many make the mistake of underestimating him.

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Prompt #28: Echo

History is doomed to repeat itself, or so the saying often goes.

The more he learned of his bastard son, the more and more he recalls his own past, the similarities between the two men uncanny, despite his absence in his son's life. Similarities the young man was unaware of, due to his comrades altering his exploits to fit the narrative they believed the kingdom needed.

In his own youth, he had been comparatively blind and dedicated to the causes of Dalmasca. At first, to keep the peace the kingdom enjoyed, and then to free the desert nation from the Garlean Empire. This blind zealotry continued until he realised what his superior was truly doing, until he came to understand the way the Captain's pursuit for a way to free the kingdom had become tainted by absolute revenge, by revelry in the slaughter of Imperial after Imperial.

Like his son did now, he took his orders without question back then, sometimes taking them too far, much like his child did now. He had killed a multitude of people while following Ba'Gamnan's quest for glory, nothing more than a glorified terrorist as the peoples of Dalmasca became more and more discontent with Imperial rule. He was certain that he'd killed a man for every day that his son had been alive, if not more.

While he hadn't been there for the boy as he was growing up, unaware of his existence due to how his grandparents covered up the truth of his birth, he resolved to save his son from the painful life he had led. He would do his best to talk him out of his current insanity, but if it became necessary, he was preparing himself for the possibility that saving him from himself may require killing the young man.

Every part of him desired to get to know his son, to spend time with the man he'd become, but in equal measure, every part of him refused to allow the man the chance to kill either of his charges. While he had not long ago met the dead man and extended his oath as a Royal Guard to him, he had been through a number of trials with the lost Dalmascan's twin sister. Although everything with the young firebrand had started out rough, fighting side by side, pulling one another back from the precipice of death, and his dogged attempt to reunite the twins had by and large smoothed over the friction.

Princess or not, he was unwilling to allow anyone to harm her, not now.

But while they had assumed that it had been the dead man that his son wanted, the events last eve convinced him that the rogue had shifted his target to his young ward. The first two victims of his son's assassination attempts were people they both knew and associated with - first her twin, followed by the Miqo'te investor of the company. But the latest victim had little to no connection with him, but a pronounced one with the woman he was struggling to protect.

Now, his son was after his ward, willing to carve away anyone and everyone to lure her into 'submitting to his irons'. While each of his victims had been discovered before their death, it was merely a matter of time that one would slip through the cracks, resulting in a fatality within the deadly dance.

He knew which of them he would choose, in the end, if his son forced the choice - and the thought pained him.

((Told from the perspective of @thelionofdalmasca - images forthcoming, cus he’s at work right now.))

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Prompt #24: Undertones

Water glittered in thin strands, falling from the cliffs far above, flickering over the stone face in the afternoon sun. Docile water sprites, content with their hidden sanctuary, float above the pool, and along the shelf that clings to the right side of the canyon. Sounds are muted above the roar of the waterfall, the clash of the watery ribbons into the shimmering pool below, though the chirping of birds, the chirping of insects, the distance sound of the dock at the end of the gorge flutter through the rush of water.

A lone figure waits atop the shelf of stone, gaze turned towards the myriad strands of water that lace down the cliff-side, the shadows of the gorge helping mask his expression. Red hair danced in the wind created by the cul de sac of stone, tips lashing across the metal trimmed eye-patch with a faint whisper. Multitudes of blades are sequestered on his person, none visible to the naked eye, though he knew that his quarry would realise that.

Yet, still his quarry willingly walked into the trap. Rel had insisted he would take responsibility, accept whatever punishment was handed down to him, even if it meant death; part of him couldn't blame Rel - if he had spent nearly thirty years apart from a twin of any sort, he might have wavered in his own convictions. The cold, rational side realised the danger the plan that the bastard prodigal child of Dalmasca carried, and couldn't accept that someone like Rel had gone along with it, after thirty years of playing dead.

The sound of footfalls against the loose grave that covered the shelf drew his attention, causing him to turn back towards the thin strip of land that lead to the alcove. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, the pit of his stomach beginning to gnaw at him. Something was wrong with the situation, so variable he wasn't aware of had been introduced, he could feel it. As he watched the finely dressed man approach, his senses honed to a razor's edge as he tried to find the missing piece of information.

He caught sight of the man standing at the edge of the stone shelf, noting all the small changes to the man's body language. While Saber was capable of controlling even the minutiae expressions of his body and face, he had known him long enough to see through even the most marshalled of expressions the rogue could give. The other man was tense, more tense than he had seen him since they first met some ten summers ago when the brash young man took over his father's work, becoming his keeper.

Still, he strolled down the canyon at a leisurely pace, whistling one of the old Dalmascan tunes he often turned to during long walks. These songs, hummed or whistled, often let him notice whether another of his kinsmen were in the area, and while from time to time, he would notice an expression of familiarity cross someone else's face, no one had ever confronted him about it. It often let him ferret out Saber long before he could otherwise find the man. Today, there was little need for the technique, given the other man was standing out in the open - aside from perhaps reminding the young man who he was dealing with.

"You needed to speak with me, Saber?" he inquires casually as he enters the end of the gorge, hands resting lightly along the pockets of his pants. "I expect that this is over something of import, given the Bismark wasn't used."

Keeping his expression as neutral as possible, he nods in acknowledgement of the greying knight's assessments. Arms folded, he moves across the stones, uncovered eye locked upon the other redhead, mind considering everything that must be effected in the span of minutes. He halts but a handful of fulms from his former friend, giving his best sardonic smile as he ceases his advance.

"Little gets past you, Rel. I always liked that about you," he mentions, head shaking two or three times. "You've generally been easy to work with, more so than most of the people I have to deal with."

It was his turn to have the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The words that the other redhead used did nothing to veil why he had been called here, to a remote location where it's hard to hear anything but the sound of the waterfall and the rushing river. Instincts primed, eyes finding each and every weak point the mercenary possessed, along with the strengths he had.

Weaknesses, strengths, and the six or seven daggers the other man had hidden beneath his jacket, pants, and boots.

Taking the situation in stride, Rel proposes in a quiet voice, "You don't have to do this, Saber. Think it all through, kid. Orders are not often as specific as you think they are."

A scoff falls from his lips as he watches the dead man, a shake of his head causing the tips of his hair to flutter across the eye-patch. He had expected Rel to try to get him to reconsider, leading him to think of myriad arguments against it. Anger began to rise to the surface, and he silently cursed Valera for putting him into the one position he'd hoped he would never have to be in.

"You know better, Rel - I warned you what would happen if you listened to that piece of shit noble," he retorted, unconsciously shifting the blame from his life-long friend to the fallen hero. "There were other ways of going about what you wanted, parading around looking like the dead prince was the worst possible one."

He had to keep the mercenary off balance, buy enough time for his fail-safe to prepare. And so he shrugs at the younger man, shaking his head as his arms deliberately spread to either side of his body, palms turned at an angle towards the other redhead. He keeps his tone steady and even, audible above the roar of water, but he refrains from yelling.

"Come on, Saber. You said yourself the distraction had its uses. What happened to moving our emissaries around?" he inquires, shifting away from why they were both here. "With Imperial eyes on me, and my sister, you said a good number of them could be moved to Doma without notice. Get them to Lord Hein without their prior locations being revealed. What happened to the promise of making the best use of my folly?"

Despite his efforts to choke down his anger at the other redhead, his nature gets the best of him. He lashes a finger out at the older man, sneering at his words, countering, "None of that is any of your concern anymore, Rel. What's done is done, and it's time to lay in the bed you've made. I ain't gotta answer a damn question, so stop asking them."

His hands lower, dipping inside of his pockets as adrenaline rushes through his form. Breaking into a dead run, he launches forward, blades sliding from their hidden holsters, turning towards the man before him. Aware of the fact that his quarry possesses a far more powerful weapon, his blades hone in on the man's palms, seeking to undo all the years of work they'd put into regaining the dead man's lost strength.

A thin strip of fabric wraps around the mercenary's left blade, jerking upon the weapon hard, shifting the alignment of his attack. Her ward jerks to the side, hands lowering as the blades go wide as she pulls hard on the rest of the apron. There's a flick of her wrist, and the fabric slips away from the blades, threads severing against the edges, though there's plenty more fabric for her to work with.

The mercenary's attention shifts towards her, his expression incredulous yet highlighted with fury as he's now forced to defend himself. It was not lost on her that had the attack struck true, her ward would be defenceless. Instead, she gave him the moment he would need to turn the tables, as her apron would only last so long.

With the younger man's attention on the maid, the elder redhead gives a soft sigh as he reaches towards his back, as if to draw a blade across his shoulder. His hand nearly closes into a fist around the air, when a flash of illumination from beneath the leather strip on his right wrist explodes. Cobalt metal halts his fingers, and they wrap around the hilt of the blade, pulling it from the aether at pace, swinging it around his form and into position.

Her gamble had paid off. Her master had warned her that her charge may possess a blade that matched his sister's, but they hadn't had time to discuss it before it's needed. He had asked her to buy him some time, should the mercenary chose to attack, but she didn't have confirmation as to why.

Now she did, the raw aether bleeding from the blade causing goosebumps to flicker across her skin.

"That's enough, Saber," her charge intones, bringing the blade to bear. "Don't do this, man. You're leaving us little choice."

Attention shifts, the single eye of the redhead flickering towards his former friend, a grimace twisting across his lips. He moves to resume his attack on the other man, shorter daggers being traded for longer ones as he pivots on the ball of his foot, sprinting towards the knight. She sighs at his recklessness, his anger, recalling the day she had attacked the man who would become her master.

Wrist twists, the apron lashing out, one end of a tie held in her hand, the rest of the fabric fluttering forward, the second tie finding the mercenaries' wrist, wrapping like a whip around it. A grunt escapes her lips as she yanks back on the apron, forcing the man to spin towards her direction, his footing stuttering as he attempts to stay upright in the wake of the velocity change.

"Eyes over here, boy," she growls, her voice rough and unrefined - a startling contrast to the girly dressings she wears.

Sneering, the man slices a blade through the apron strap that holds his wrist, aether coalescing along the now free blade as he flicks it in her direction. The blade distorts, splitting into myriad thinner blades that begin to assault her. Separated from its target, the apron flutters back towards her, twisting this way and that as she dances back, the fabric deflecting well over half the flying blades, while the rest bury themselves into the stone beneath her former position.

Her charge sighs, twisting his blade towards the other man, making a slight slashing motion at one angle, before shifting to make another slash in the opposite direction, creating a cross of aether. He finishes the movement by slicing the blade through the centre of the cross, and the sound of shrieking metal echoes through the canyon, the mercenary's blade almost exploding in his hand.

Throwing the weapon as it begins to rip apart, the hot-blooded man curses at his former friend, "Fuck, Rel, goin' right for the throat, eh?"

She surges forward, the half-shredded apron lashing out again as she spins on the ball of her foot to generate more kinetic force, wrist flicking the ribbons on either end outward, aiming for the younger man's foot. The fabric connects, but fails to wrap around his ankle, and the mercenary continues his charge at the knight.

At the last second, the young man's form collapses, aether surging forward and past the guarding blade, twisting back into his shape on the other side of her charge. A smaller blade slips from its hidden sheath, and the mercenary spins around, driving it into the other redhead's side, burying in flesh.

Breaking off his attack, the mercenary darts down the path leading out of the gorge, slipping into the shadows as he flees. The knight drives the sword into the stone, parting it like butter as he leans against the Blade for support, gasping in pain. Fleeing attacker forgotten, she rushes to her charge, slipping around his body to inspect the wound.

She was no chirurgeon, but she knew that withdrawing the blade would cause his blood to flow more freely, while moving him with the blade buried in his flesh would lead to more damage, the sharp edges rending more tissues with each movement.

Her hand raises to the linkpearl at her hear, activating the small device as she growls, concern slipping into her words, "Master Valera, we've been attacked. The prince is injured, and we need help - moving him is not an option."

((L’enah, the maid, is one of @thelionofdalmasca‘s characters, and I feel ashamed at having to write her according to his design. Also, more pictures in a minute - taking too long to get them all.))

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Saber is now appropriately dressed, aside from maybe the gloves.

Which is a good thing, cus Sid’s getting close to tracking him down.

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Prompt #27: Fling

Seven Summers Ago

He awoke as the sun's light filtered through the curtains, casting the room in a warm, yellowed glow. Eyes adjusted gradually, as the events from the prior night come flooding back into his mind, causing him to look to his left, blinking.

A pretty Highlander woman lay beside him, still fast asleep. They were both naked, and it dawns on him that the two had been uncommonly drunk the night before, and that she had invited him back to her room; apparently, he took her up on the offer, though he didn't remember such clearly, nor did he recall the walk to the room.

Vague impressions of the rest of the night come and go, though he couldn't recall the details of everything, and was unsure of the order of what had occurred after they'd reached the room. A twinge of guilt coursed through him, as he delicately slips out of the bed, eyes casting about for his clothing.

He finds that his shirt lies on the centre of the desk, while his trousers are tossed along the side of the fountain. His shoes are on opposite sides of the room from one another, his socks in much the same state, and his hat is hanging on the banister of the bed. It takes a long moment to collect everything, as he puts each garment on as he moves around the room.

Aquamarine eyes glance back to the woman sleeping in the bed. Her darkly tanned skin is a stark contrast to the cream sheets, her red hair startlingly like his own, though she had no freckles to speak of as he did. That hair had been tied up into a tail at the crown of her head, but over the course of the night, the binding had loosened, and now was off-centre as it lay against the pillow.

There's another twinge of guilt, mixed with regret, as the hat is placed upon his head, and he turns to leave the room. With a final glance back at the woman, a soft smile plays across his lips for a brief moment, before he slips out of the door, shutting it as noiselessly as possible behind him.

He doesn't make it all that far from the inn before there's a blur of motion, hands grasping the front of his shirt as he's slammed back into a wall. A familiar face, marred by a dark leather eye-patch, abruptly fills his view, snarling as he gasps for breath after the impact.

"What in the seven hells do you think you're doing, Rel?" his handler growls, mere ilms away from his face. "My situation teach you nothing, did it? Gonna run around, not thinking about anyone but yourself?"

While he shouldn't be stunned by the rogue's reaction, he's caught off guard, having no recollection of the man following him the night before, even before becoming intoxicated. Although he was unsure, he believed that he wouldn't have done as he had, were the younger man present - not after the trouble the mercenary had with his own unfortunate history.

His bandaged hands reach up to grasp the hands clawing into his shirt, trying to pry them open as he answers, the regret flickering into his words, "Saber...I-- I'm sorry, I had no idea..."

"You're supposed to be dead, Rel. Dead. Dead men don't have children, so don't go putting yourself in a situation where that might happen," the other redhead hisses, refusing to release his shirt. "You can't be there if that happens, Rel. You can't. Do you want another kid to deal with what I had to?"

A soft sigh escapes his lips, his hands remaining around the mercenary's, although he stops trying to pry them open. Aquamarine eyes meet chocolate ones, concern, guilt, and regret flickering through them as he tries to calm the rogue down, voice going soft as well, "You're right, Saber. It won't happen again, I swear. I won't be like your father, I pr--"

The sentence goes unsaid, as he's slammed against the wall once more, the rogue snarling intensely, "He is not my father. Never call him that. Never."

Coughing, he nods his head three or four times, as vigorously as he can while winded. His hands tighten on the other man's, again trying to soothe him as he murmurs, "...right, right. I'm sorry, Saber. I truly am."

After a long moment of glaring at him, holding him up against the wall, the mercenary's grip lightens, and his feet can be placed firmly against the ground. The younger man shakes off his hands as he releases his shirt, raising a single finger in the scant space between them. His singular gaze is still harsh, condemning.

"Do it again, and you'll regret it," he hisses, hand lowering as he turns to move away. "I don't want to have to kill you, Rel. Don't fuck up again."

He gives a long sigh as the rogue slips out of the alleyway, and back into the crowded street, vanishing from view.

"I don't want you to have to kill me either, Saber," he replies, his voice lost to his friend. "I won't fuck up again, I swear."

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19) which oc is an insomniac?

To a degree, all of them, as my own issues with sleep lead to insomnia. I haven’t known life without insomnia since I was a child, so it’s really hard to play off knowing a damn thing about how functional sleep works.

The most insomniac is Claire. She almost never sleeps until she’s absolutely exhausted, then will only sleep for a few hours before running back into life full tilt.

Ashe is likely a close second, more out of being absent minded about her time coupled with a full schedule; Rel unfortunately ends up being something of an insomniac through his connection with his twin, much to his distress.

Saber generally is ill at ease with sleeping, as the life of a Shikari is pretty fraught with distrust. Before he broke from Rel, the pair would sleep in shifts, and it was the only way Saber would get much restful sleep. At the moment, he’s sleeping as little as possible, so he can keep on guard.

I haven’t quite figured out whether or not Kakyo actually needs sleep at this point, but since she’s on the run currently (I need to get that resolved), she’s not sleeping at all anyway.

Safiya may be the most well adjusted to sleep. She keeps a general schedule, even though she may only get 4 - 5 hours of sleep a night. She’s racked with horrible nightmares about the fall of Rhalgr’s Reach, as she was present during the attack, and nearly died.

Thanks for the ask, @mai-takeda!

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Prompt Explanations

So, we run character prompts almost daily (and I won’t lie, I got that idea from @for-gold-and-glory‘s Discord). Today’s prompt, I sort of fluffed up on the wording, and forgot to ask for an explanation as well as what the ask was about.

A single sentence can alter the course of destiny. In 10 words or less, what phrase or sentence has had the greatest impact on your character?

So, I’m going to expand upon what each quote was for my characters, and how it changed them. And pray to the universe I can remember to phrase things better for the prompts in the future.

And yes, all of the quotes are from the sources that inspired the characters. I’m not that creative.

Ashe: "Weep for Dalmasca, for She is lost."

Although she was smuggled out of Dalmasca shortly after the fall of Nalbina, Ashla never lost her connection to the desert kingdom, as her parents would send her various things - mostly books that she read and then deconstructed - so that she would always remember where she came from. This gave her strong ties the nascent Dalmascan Resistance, as well as the overwhelming desire to free the nation she was born to.

While it’s not uncommon for people to lose faith in such movements, the man who was essentially her mentor and silver cord back to the kingdom lost faith in the fight after the destruction of Rabanastre (which was not at the same time as Nalbina was lost, though we don’t have an exact date on when that was - I suspect not many years after Nalbina though). He said these words to her, and it truly sparked the firebrand she’s become, as she was deeply affected by his shattered faith. This was the moment where she swore that she’d see Dalmasca freed, whatever the cost (though since then, she’s decided there are costs that cannot be accepted).

Rel: "Less than a shadow, than a man - remember, you're dead."

These words were uttered to him when he was informed that he had to leave Dalmasca, and the East, for Eorzea. Having been listed amongst the dead at Nalbina himself, his uncanny resemblance to the Prince - who died very publicly at Nalbina - made it all but impossible for him to stay and rejoin the fight.

His minder at the time, one Roy Reinder, said these words to him as something of a mantra, as part of his new role within the Resistance - that of a dead man walking.

This would eventually lead Rel to setting out upon the path of the Dark Knight, as he found many of them were also thought to be dead - while some of them may literally be so.

Saber: "Not every win's full of sunshine and rainbows."

The first operation that the Shikari did with the resistance was only a technical success - nearly everyone involved died over the course of the mission, leaving just Saber and his mentor along with an innocent bystander alive. When Saber felt they had failed their mission, his mentor replied with these words before explaining to Saber that such situations were going to be common for the Dalmascan Resistance, given how powerful an enemy they faced.

He has since begun to use the phrase a little sardonically, likely as a method to deal with the emotional conflict that mission - and others after it - left him with.

Claire: "No more destiny, no more fate - let's end this."

More of an oath the woman swore after her sister’s untimely demise in the Calamity, Claire was quite done with the guiding fates they were raised to believe in. Between her sister’s downfall, and the meddling of an Ascian, she was done with letting others control her fate, and began seeking a way to solve both problems.

While she was often frightening, it was the only time her brother-in-law-to-be was actually terrified of her.

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Prompt #19: Gelid

Strolling casually along the docks that pass for streets in the city-state, the redheaded man makes his way to the Bismark, whistling a sea shanty as he travels. Upon reaching the culinarian's dreamworld, he breaks for the terrace, looking around for the man he's supposed to be meeting. It doesn't take long to find him - the pinstripe shirt is striking enough, but the Ishgardian cloche was a real stand out in Limsa Lominsa.

He waited at a small table for two, glancing up at the gangplank leading into the restaurant. He often felt self-conscious about being out in public, but was doubly so today, a bandaged hand reaching up to tuck more of the cropped, blond hair beneath his cloche. His eyes spotted the eye patch on a man who had entered the terrace, and nods to the mercenary with a tight-lipped smile.

Pausing at the table, he nods to the dead man, smirking a little before taking a seat. Casually, he picks up the second menu, glancing over it while making small talk with the well-dressed man across from him. "Picked a fine day for this," he comments, his voice a little rough, despite the fact he speaks better than most Lominsans. "Sunny skies, nice breeze, comfortable location."

He nods faintly, motioning for the other man to take a seat. The dead man wastes little time with more pretence than necessary, cutting to the chase with the merc across the table from him. "Listen, I need a favour, Saber," he begins, looking out over the water. "I'm sure it's pretty clear there's been a bit of a shift in plans."

"You're blond, and you shouldn't be," he states in a cooling voice. "What in the seven hells are you meaning to pull, Rel?" He takes out a flask, drawing a long sip from the container, eyes focused on the man across the table from him.

"The situations have gone a bit sideways, of course. I'd never pull this if there wasn't something crazy going on," he answers the drinking man, sighing as he looks back to him. "Three suns ago, she was almost killed, and if hadn't been the fearless creature she is, Valera would have possibly died as well." There's a pause as he shakes his head, murmuring, "Lion made a pretty good point to me, afterwards," he states, not expecting the other man to understand, "made me aware that there may not be another chance to set everything right with her."

He takes a moment to sigh broadly, shaking his head in disappointment, before digging into the conversation, his voice chilling further. "Since when did we give two shits about what Valera's thought? That coward's been doing nothing for the kingdom since the incident with the Captain," he complains, a faint growl underscoring his cold voice. "Fuck him. We have our orders - you gotta keep a low profile, and stay the fuck away from your sister. You know she'll try to get you to do the same bullshit she's pulling - and you can't, Rel. I won't allow it."

Although he had hoped the mercenary might warm up to the idea, that hope was dashed as the other man lit into the situation, and then into the Lion himself. He raises his hands at the implied accusations, at the attempt to veto what was about to happen. "Look, I get that you don't appreciate heroes much, if they don't keep at being a hero, but this is serious - I've never even heard of something like the thing that nearly killed her," he retorts at the redhead. "Whether it results in you having to take me out, I am going to go meet her, before it's too late."

"Looking like that? You're actively going to wander around, looking like an even deader man, while she's running around with everyone convinced she's your cousin?" he hissed, icy voice low and mean. "It is going to result in having to do something about you, notably so if it causes some sort of riot within the Empire. I don't want that job, but unlike you, I'll follow the orders given to me."

His bandaged hands lift, motioning in unison at the other man as he tries to alleviate the situation. "Yes, looking like this, Saber. Valera had an idea, one that would send the Garleans into a fit, like you're predicting, but you can't deny that it'll make one hell of a distraction," he explains in a low voice. "Both of us showing up, blond, like our cousins, having tea right under the Empire's noses, then both of us drawing their eyes to the West by being a bit obvious about where we're going. For all the rust that's covering the Lion's axe, he's got a good point."

This rundown gives him pause, and he considers what the dead man is telling him, stroking the five o'clock shadow that seems to be a constant presence on his face. A couple of breaths later, he murmurs, "We certainly could use the distraction. Could get a handful of people over to speak with the high and mighty Lord of Doma while their eyes are averted." The flask is pulled, and he takes two or three more swigs before looking back to the other man, nodding once. "Fine. I'll do what I can to cover for you with our lovely superiors, but don't think that means I won't carry out any orders they send my way over this," he adds, that frostiness returning to his voice.

Bandaged hands raise, pressing together before him as he smiles, ignoring the stern expression the other man is giving him. "That's all I'm asking for, Saber. Just buy me a little bit of time, and I won't try to stop you if they tell you to get rid of me."