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[@Rune_Alchemist]
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The Angel of the Apocalypse blew her Trumpet, and with an all-consuming roar, the Greater Horror disintegrated, leaving behind nothing but ashes, blown away in the wind. Around them, civilians that survived cried in joy at having made it past Judgment Day, while the others mourned still for those who had fallen during the calamity. Above the Earth Bastion, Amaryllis forced herself not to fall over yet, even as her Sword, her Patron, her every-greedy sadist of a partner, roared out with its psychic agony. It deserved this, really, and so did she. Slaying Gremlins and orcs and other [i]human-sized[/i] monsters was nothing compared to what they just did, and Amaryllis seriously wanted to just scream and run and dance and be stupid.

But that would be embarrassing and out of character, so she just stood there instead, taking in deep breaths, bringing out her Healing Artifact to scour the last bits of poison and sickness out of her body. It felt as if they had been fighting for an entire day, but the sun was still rising. It hadn’t even hit noon yet.

There was still work to be done, both on the magical side of things as well as in reality. Her blue eyes scanned the stadium for signs of those four who had originally come to the Darkness Maiden’s aid, and she clicked her tongue, seeing them still there. Another time. She had better things to do. More important things. More valuable things.

More difficult things.

The Knight of Rose closed her eyes, ignored the prodding encouragement of a Sword that had no idea how the subtleties of human relationships worked, and spent a good minute rehearsing her lines. Then, quickly, she turned around. [color=778899]“Indeed we do, Hunter Rina,”[/color] Amaryllis spoke, as grand as always, even as the tips of her ears burned in anticipation for what she’d do next, [color=778899]“And though our paths may be intersected by the silver threads of fate, I believe that the potency of our combined bladework should be something left not to chance and circumstance, but to our own design. With that in mind…”[/color]

Out of nowhere, her Big Interdimensional Backpack popped up before her, and she unzipped the bag quickly, forcing open the uncooperative zipper, before pulling out a cheap phone. It was an older model, and it really only had talk or text options, but a SIM card had already been put into it, and the contacts list had Amaryllis’s own number in.

[color=778899]“…allow me to offer you an oracle of instant communication, so we may collaborate properly next time.”[/color]

…

Shit, what if Rina said no?

Shoulda just shoved the thing into her hands and booked it afterwards.