Rictor/Ari/Siana
It was an uncomfortably familiar alarm, bells ringing up and down the halls to muster the fighters to battle. Their evening meal was interrupted, bowls clattering to the table and silverware spilling as they reached for weapons and turned towards the Cathedral’s exit. Friars clucked and picked up the mess as the men and women trooped out.
Rictor was among the first in the streets, hopping in one of the fighters’ guild transports towards the outer gates. The Korporal was tense and quiet until he spotted a familiar face: Siana. They’d fought together on several occasions and so he reached for that familiarity, immediately heading towards the samurai’s side. It always did well to join someone you’d already fought with, growing accustomed to each others’ strengths and weaknesses. If it wasn’t the Blades, it might as well be her—and since there was nothing to indicate tonight’s opponent was the Dark, there was no need to gravitate towards the other holy knights.
But the cold was biting and fierce, and he was bitterly glad that he’d brought gloves; Rictor hoped the mechanisms of his gunblade wouldn’t freeze. The wind tore at their words as they said their brief hellos, all business. Guild representatives guided the various groups assembling at the walls, trying to ensure that people didn’t slip out into the snowstorm completely alone.
“Real fucking cheerful setting this time,” Rictor said lightly, a small part of him thinking longingly back to tropical beaches—but then he wrangled his focus back to the task at hand, readjusting his cloak as the two fighters went stalking off into the snowstorm to see what they could see. Their eyes sought out moving shapes in the snowstorm, whether they be monsters or humes in need of assistance.