[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FjVCFoQ.png[/img][/center]
[center][color=cyan][h2]Etoile[/h2]
[/color]

---[/center]

"[color=cyan]Gladius ventus![/color]"

Etoile whirled Vent de Trancheuse around her in huge, sweeping arcs, the invisible aura of wind around the blade shearing through the vines with minimal resistance. All frustration with Pythia was gone now, blown out like a candle flame in a typhoon. She couldn't afford to let even a single strand of her attention stray, or else she'd miss something important and get chokeslammed by treeants until her her spine broke. Face stone, she continued her deadly dance.

[b]"[color=B22222]Etoile, watch your–![/color]"[/b]

[i][color=cyan]–back,[/color][/i] she finished grimly as a vine managed to tangle itself into her heavy cloak, pulling her sharply backwards and nearly knocking her off her feet before it steadily began to pull tight against her throat. She fiddled gamely with the toggle with her metal hand, even pulling hard on it in an attempt to break the stitching, but one hand just wasn't dextrous or strong enough to free it. As stars began to dance in front of her eyes--still cutting through encroaching vines as she struggled--she realized that she was going to die if this kept up.

[i][color=cyan]Sol damn it.[/color][/i]

She lashed backwards with her saber, shearing through the heavy wool and sending her into a forward stumble. She hit the ground hard, swearing as she did so. As she desperately struggled to regain her feet--a struggle she was steadily losing, as vines swarmed her again and she lacked the footwork that she desperately needed--she saw Clara fall to the ground, smacked down and shattered by a huge, menacing vine. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself into a little ball, cradling Vent de Trancheuse protectively, and spat out, "[color=cyan]Densus ventus.[/color]"

A bubble of steel-hard air formed around her, and she took a moment to stand and collect herself as vines flailed wildly at the invisible barrier. Clara wasn't moving.

Taking a deep breath--the pain in her throat refusing to go away--she dropped the barrier.

Moving more freely now that her cloak was battered and muddy on the ground, only a foot or so left sticking comically out from her back and the remainder of her Inquisitor's uniform now openly displayed, she smacked a vine away with her crest-emblazoned prosthetic, struggling as best she could over to the downed Clara and neatly severing the vine that stood above her. Wheezing from her painful throat and from the adrenaline pumping through her, she crouched down over Clara's prone form. [i][color=cyan]Curse it all, I need a second to think![/color][/i]

Dropping the aura from her sword, she heaved out one more rattling breath into a pained invocation of densus ventus, giving the two of them a momentary reprieve from the assault. Gripping Clara by the shoulders, she pulled her upright, gasping lamely. "[color=cyan]You'd better be alright, Clara. Otherwise I don't know what I'm going to do.[/color]"