[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FjVCFoQ.png[/img][/center]
[center][color=cyan][h2]Etoile[/h2]
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[i][color=cyan]She's fine. Thank Sol.[/color][/i]

Yes, she would have some [i]explaining[/i] to do regarding the Inquisitor uniform. But Clara would be okay. Etoile's eyes narrowed, and she nodded once to the injured woman. She would leave the [color=cyan]densus ventus[/color] to help shield the Clara as she recovered. But the Thlecian was right: Zestasia wasn't looking so hot. [i][color=cyan]Right, the sun. There must be no ignis for him to use here.[/color][/i] And, also, he seemed...not thrilled at her presence anymore, what with the whole Inquisitor thing. [i][color=cyan]Well, that's inconvenient, isn't it?[/color][/i] As skeptical as Etoile was regarding Zestasia's intellect, he was a good enough kid. And she would be [i]damned[/i] if she let him die, even if he probably wished [i]she[/i] would die at this point. She sucked in a ragged breath and resolved to ignore the pain in her throat, nodded once to Clara, and then stood. She murmured a word under her breath and a gap parted in the [color=cyan]densus ventus[/color] just large enough for her to slip out. And as she did, and the vines rushed to her, she barked out with the voice of one [i]sick of this:[/i]

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

Eyes locked on Zestasia as the vines closed in, she grit her teeth, slicing like a hurricane through the rampaging foliage. There was a lull--though not a break--in the vines as the Malum mage and Sparky managed to scratch two treeants out of the fight, and Etoile took the opportunity, breaking through the writhing plants and taking a position above Zestasia. "[color=cyan]Kill me later. Get up now.[/color]" She looked up. [i][color=cyan]Sun, right?[/color][/i] She motioned jerkily with her unoccupied hand at some of the branches above: "[color=cyan]Acer ventus![/color]"

A blade of slicing wind sheared through the foliage, raining leaves down on the two of them. She grit her teeth, barely holding back a scream, as a bolt of hot pain stabbed down her forehead. She was using a whole lot of magic at the same time when she'd already been drained a fair bit. But still, she continued, each slash of her magic driving another burning nail into her skull. [i][color=cyan]I am going to regret this later.[/color][/i] 

"[color=cyan]I swear to Sol, Zestasia,[/color]" she hissed as she clumsily batted at an oncoming vine, only barely glancing it and letting it clip in the shoulder, "[color=cyan]this had better be worth it.[/color]"

As she finished the sentence, she made a final cut of air and went down on one knee with a moan of pain. But it was enough, as a lance of sunlight burned through the gashes she'd made in the trees above, blazing through the gloom. She rattled out a ghastly laugh, then pitched forward, only barely catching herself, resting her weight on the tip of her sword and her metal arm. The auras of wind around Clara and her sword went dead, and the vines rushed back in. 

It was an acceptable risk to take: Zestasia would be more use in this fight than she would. And she would be just fine in a few minutes, if he managed to fend them off.

[i]If.[/i]