[color=E1DAD0][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5q7P9ie.png[/img][/center][/color]

With the elegant song-stand hurling the needle ball through the window, Lilliane realized something important. [i]She didn't actually use her power on it.[/i] That certainly was a setback. Then again, combat was always a setback to her. She wasn't exactly a soldier. She was intel first and foremost. Requisitions secondly. In fact, the last time held a gun was... her training in Britain? How many years ago was that? About... No, it wasn't the time to think about the small things. Small error. That was it. She just needed to figure something else out. That meant plan B: escape. That was always a good plan. 

With Cakebread attacking their sudden predator, the jackbooted thugs outside revealing their true form, and a little cover fire from the others, Lilliane quickly went to work.

For most, plaster and wood were weaker alternatives to brick and stone. A wall, but one someone could breach with an axe. Not for the Lilliane, however. No, for her small frame, plaster and wood was a hardy object. Inversely, her ability was made to dismantle the other.

She made a mad dash to the wall. As fast as her legs could carry her and as low to the ground as to not attract suspicion. When she got close enough, her stand finally emerged. With a chaotic shimmer from the shaking lights above, Future History's bizarre, almost random form came into sight. Skeletal, armour, angular, and segmented. It wasn't a beautiful sight. No, it was inelegant, noisy, and strange. The way it moved didn't help. It moved unlike a man. It's head jittered and shook, only to turn perfectly still and it floated like an motionless marionette.

With another alien motion, the stand's arms swung upwards, clawing at the brick wall with its gangling fingers. Initially, nothing happened. A momentary silence came from the stand. Again, its head shook at a violent speed, a chittering noise coming out as its jaw shivered. A similar noise came from the wall, but it was slightly different. Rather than the sound of upper and lower jaw, it was the creaking of mortar that had spent decades drying. Bricks vibrated as they became loose, refusing the mortar. The dried paste began to turn to dust as the brick struggled to break free. Then, just as sudden as the stand's swipe, the brick exploded outwards. The mortar turned to shrapnel and dust as the bricks violently erupted.

In the end, a man-size hole was made. One that she prayed led to an alleyway to run into.