Fall. Fall. Fall. Fall! 

Marianne is a storm. She is little more than hot fury in the shape of a young woman, raining endless blows on Canada's and wedging her ever deeper into the ground. Every strike scythes through thinner and thinner air as the space above is torn away from the space below, leaving nothing here but Marianne. No air to breathe but her. Nothing to feel but pain and fury ever more sharply. It spreads and seeps across the audience, but it washes over Shamash harmlessly. The worst of it crashes down only on Canada. 

Fall. Fall. Fall. Fall! The words crash like thunder, no longer bothering or able to fully hide her presence in a place so thoroughly corrupted by her heart. [i]Crétine! Pourquoi fais-tu ça? Voulez-vous mourir? Tu m'emmerdes![/i] Why! Won't! You! Just! Stop?!

Tattered shadows billow across the arena like a rotting cloak, as if they were a physical thing, her terrible coat made large enough to swallow the sun. The sound of school bells is deafening, and all the more horrible for how damaged they seem. Louder and louder, they sound like nothing so much as rust singing of the sadness of rot and ruin. Just underneath it, a girl is sobbing. Is it any consolation to know your traitor is crying too, dear Canada?

But every storm has to end. Every nightmare fades away. Marianne sinks back into her protective shell before Shamash starts tearing chunks out of her body, leaving behind a shattered and broken arena, a quavering, sick crowd, and nothing more. She wraps her arms tightly around Canada, and as one they sink through the corroded mesh that had been the floor, leaving only sands and the hope that someone would decide this had all been to save a useless hero from the wrath of a god behind. 

[Marianne is clearing Angry, having hurt Canada as her act of 'breaking' something]