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[sub][@Crusader Lord][@Ariamis][@BrokenPromise][@PlatinumSkink][/sub][/center]
If it was just a book…

Amaryllis could feel herself fading away. The situation hadn’t been nearly so dire as she expected, and now, even the vestiges of her magical energy were being pulled, teased away by that invisible barrier constructing itself over Penrose. Though her specialty still laid in physical combat, her transformation still relied on magic. Magic that was seeping away, grains of stardust between splayed fingers. Her Sword thrummed, knowing that she had no leeway to show mercy this time, but the Knight of Rose stayed where she was.

Just a book. What was the book?

But the world continued to turn, even for the girl who could chain down space itself. Nuncio arrived, Sammy in tow. The girl was still zoned out, and the swordswoman flashed a grim smile. More people to protect. What was the play here? The Mint Agent before her summoned beasts, but summoners were, in the magical girl world at least, rarely weaker than their minions. Amaryllis tunneled into herself, gathering up what remained. Could she behead him in a singular blow? The monstrosity beneath her skin writhed; if she pulled the trigger now, she wouldn’t be able to restrain herself afterwards.

Nuncio stepped in front. Amaryllis didn’t have a straight shot. He handed over the book, was kneed in the process, and then shouted for them all to escape.

[color=778899]“Hah.”[/color]

A laugh, not at the feline mafioso’s bravado, but at the chain of events that occurred instead. Golden barriers, lighting up the dark interiors of the warehouse. A storm of dark chains, batting away the Vermin Killer’s swarm of wolverines. Rosa, transformed, leaping towards the agent with murderous intent. Amaryllis would have been fine with running, would have been fine just making sure Mariette and Sammy got out alright, but now?

She couldn’t let Sophia down, could she? A whole season’s worth of monster-slaying and Horror-stomping, and Amaryllis was still the girl who valued what friends she had, who’d do a whole buncha stupid things for them.

Stupid, like continuing the fight.

Stupid, like making an enemy of the Mint.

Stupid, like saddling Mariette with more problems.

Amaryllis dug deep into the husk of her mana font, breathed in, watched the writhing of the chains and the swarming of the beasts. Her Sword rattled, and she promised too, that they would hunt for many moons after this, that she would build it a mountain of monster corpses for the leniency it had shown today, the mercy it allowed her to enact.

A blade formed in her palm, a sliver from which silver thread extended.

She sighted her target. She flexed her hand back. She threw.

A line of moonlight shot through the links of Sophia’s chains, the gaps of a wolverine’s claws, shooting towards Nuncio’s back. If it struck, there was only one thing Amaryllis needed to do.

Use her ridiculous strength to sling him after Sammy, Eli and Mariette.

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[sub][@BrokenPromise][/sub][/center]
That was a Skeleton Key? No...that was a skeleton key! Myria stared at her taxi fare, for a moment absolutely incensed. Her eyes burned black and her magic, still plentiful from a whole night of really doing nothing, flared up, digging into the resentment of the dead.

Then Fine dumped a bucket of ice water over her head.

[b]"C'mon, kiddo,"[/b] the silver-haired dame said, an oddly kind smile on her face. [b]"Let's get going."[/b]

Myria narrowed her eyes further, then shook her head from side to side like a wet dog. Finally, she let out a deep sigh and dropped her new skeleton key into her Hammerspace. At least, now that she was fully drenched, no one would think that she pissed herself a half hour ago. Not that she did. Nope. Not at all. Her nose wrinkled, she sneezed, and then the dark magical girl nodded.

Soon, the truck, its bumper still warped from impacting Evira, disappeared into the streets of Penrose.

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[sub][@BrokenPromise][@Ariamis][/sub][/center]
Talk? There had been plenty of time to talk back then, but who talked? No one!

…

Though she supposed that races with no clear goal and no piranha plants did get pretty old after a while. Not like Askefye could watch Su fly while she did too, so whatever fancy effects the girl did was lost on her. And competitions were so meaninglessly [i]orderly[/i] too. The flaming girl slowed, white jets gradating to a warm orange as she spun around. If she didn’t like the talk, she could just go again. If she really didn’t like the talk, she could give them a fistful of fingerbones to their foreheads.

[b]“Talk then,”[/b] Askefye said, still a bit petulant. [b]“Talkity talk tock.”[/b]