[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FjVCFoQ.png[/img][/center]
[center][color=cyan][h2]Etoile[/h2]
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Etoile was, quite predictably, displeased with how out-of-hand things were getting. She snorted somewhat disdainfully at the elaborate introduction of this 'Lazulin Mulciber.'

"[color=cyan]Etoile. And he is not my friend. Now stop talking and start moving[/color]."

A moment later, the young-looking red-haired girl from the cabin—the one who had seemed so familiar—walked up, and showed that at least she knew what she was talking about. Etoile rolled her eyes as she burst into motion, calling back to her: "[color=cyan]Nice to see that there's at least one other person here who knows anything about magic[/color]." With that, she dashed over to the blonde kid, lashing about her with her sabre at ever-swelling flocks of birds that hovered around him. She winced as a small raptor of indiscriminate type buried its talons into the soft flesh of her single working shoulder. Even the thick woolen mantle couldn't quite keep the claws off, and as it disengaged, it ripped a huge slash in the garment. 

"[color=cyan]I have no idea why you're still out here. How long does it take to get a few deckworkers and people taking the air down into the cabin? Your incompetence appears to have few boundaries. But as long as you're trying to draw the birds off so your friend over there[/color]," she jerked a thumb at Pagonia, "[color=cyan]can get people into the cabin, I'll see if I can give you a hand[/color]."

That, of course, was the ideal moment for Etoile, distracted by her lambasting, to demonstrate her own incompetence. A sizable chunk was ripped out of her thigh by a particularly large bird as she missed it by a handsbreadth, unused to working with her left arm. She did manage to sever one of its wings on a second strike as it came back towards her, but the damage was done; blood was rapidly inundating the fabric around the wound, and a moment later, the pain came through and she staggered, barely managing to remain standing. "[color=cyan]Bloody birds[/color]," she hissed through tightly-pressed teeth. [i][color=cyan]Shit, shit, shit![/color][/i] Her options instantly dwindled heavily. The wound was extremely painful, hampering her ability to move around quickly. More than that, though, she didn't know if the bird had slashed open an artery or something, but the wound was bleeding more than she would've liked. If she passed out in the middle of this, the odds were heavily weighed into her being eaten rather quickly. She swore at herself for being so careless.

[color=cyan][i]And this is what I get for relying on magic[/i][/color], she thought acidly. She'd been neglecting her swordsmanship practice in favor of running from Inquisitors, and now she was put into an impossible situation because of it. She spat a stream of bloody spittle, and realized that she'd bitten her cheek hard enough for it to bleed. Sliding the sabre into her mouth, she pressed her hand to the wound, grimly continuing to fight on and distracting herself with the impossible hope that just pressure could staunch the bleeding.

"[color=cyan]If I fee a birvv affer thif, I'm going fo murvver if[/color]," she muttered to herself through the sword's handle, trying her best to pretend that there would be an 'after this.'

[@Altered Tundra]