"Oh, [i]now[/i] you care about keeping pr--"

The crack of stone is even louder than the thunderclap. Bella's ears clamp flat against her skull to drown out the sound, but it's a useless gesture. The city is screaming as it dies: the stone howls and the metal bubbles, scentless and burning brightly in the pouring rain. It comes down in curtains now, soaking through her fur and her dress and pooling inside her boots so that they squelch with terrifying loudness with every darting step she takes. 

Bella's eyes are shrunken and trembling. Her scowl is permanent, teeth bared and clenched together so tight they look like they might shatter. She turns toward Redana with this same look on her face, her cheeks flushed and burning in a way that calls to mind a fever. And then she looks away, stealing glances over her shoulder and chancing to lift and bend her ears to lock down the sound of the stomp stomp stomping that signals a clear shot, and death. She spins around a corner and dives for shelter under an angled slab of a building that must have once been somebody's home, and can't quite make the line cleanly enough to avoid smacking Redana's leg on the way under.

She clamps her hand tightly over Redana's mouth to stop the scream before it can ruin everything. The scowl deepens for just a moment before it falls off her face entirely. Now she lets herself be vulnerable. Now she lets herself look tired. Her chest heaves with effort as every bit of her drips miserably.

She did not come dressed for a storm. Her shirt is drenched so thoroughly that it's clinging to her every curve like second skin, and where she's chosen to wear white it's gone completely see-through. Her top whisks water slightly better, but that's no comfort either: every breath sends rivulets draining into the space between her breasts and sending her into fits of shivers. Her sodden sleeves constrict her wrists like angry snakes, and even her bells are too waterlogged to sing their song; they rattle and slosh sadly when she shifts her weight to adjust her grip. Her skirts are stuck to her thighs tight enough that it restricts her movement. If she can't take a time to pull them free then her next great leap might even tear them. 

Like this, her tail's too bony. Like this, her fur looks matted and unpleasant. Like this, her thick hair is bedraggled and flat and her artfully arranged bangs now flop gracelessly onto her forehead and bother her eyes. Is there anything less seemly than a wet cat? Her cheeks burn with a fresh flush of color, but her eyes are only on her Princess. Her Princess. Hers. Whoever the wolf girl was to Redana, she clearly never had what it took to be a proper r... R... Re... the thought cuts short with a growl. In any case she's dead now.

"Don't you understand how much danger you're in? You idiot! Jas'o's here for you! The whole Armada's here for [i]you![/i] Do you think it's on your mother's orders? Odoacer wants you for herself! She's going to turn you into her trophy and then climb you like a ladder to take the throne! She's already killed everyone else here who cares about you at all! So don't... don't you... don't call me a scaredy-cat! This is not one of your holos, Milady! And don't lecture me about time, [i]I'm[/i] the one who's..!"

There's a rumble and a blinding flash of light that's followed by a crack of stone loud enough to leave a ringing even in ordinary human ears. The little shelter explodes and fresh sheets of water and stone rain down on Bella hard enough to knock her to one knee. She snarls and presses Redana close against her as she springs away into a twisted nest of streets and crumbling buildings with only the wrath of Zeus to guide her way.