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[center][b][color=7e5e7f]【Ｌ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｔ　Ｇ　Ａ　Ｍ　Ｅ　Ｏ　Ｖ　Ｅ　Ｒ】[/color][/b][/center]
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Safely ensconced within the observation tower Rivka beheld the debut of her fellow stars to be, observing with a widening smile as they tested their new abilities. She felt their elation as if it was her own, an echo of her own revelry, and they did [i]well[/i]. Crystal went next, and there was no trace of the anxiety she had felt so badly only a few days prior. No tremble, no fear, only a confidence to match the surety of entropy itself. She was poised, she was controlled, and against her the Void had not the chance of the ice they had become in Hell. If Crystal was grace, then Selma was [i]passion[/i]. The towering girl may not have had the clear formal training of her precursor but she more than made up for it with an energy and a vigor that could not be matched. She was the force of tectonic plates, primordial forces deep within the Earth that had erupted in the form of a Germanic farm girl. She laughed when she shouted, and within her she felt a glimmer of pity for even the Void that had suffered so at the point of her elbow.

But Chie…

At last her lips curled downwards into a frown, the building crescendo of her mood… Lost. A symphony should have a powerful finale. Not loud, necessarily, but fitting for the piece and this simply wasn’t. It wasn’t her fear. The girl had been afraid before she ever set foot in the testing area but she had faced it and become what she could be, if without the joy the others had felt. Facing such terror was difficult and for that she had Rivka’s respect. Nor was it for her technique, for there was nothing wrong with being an amateur. She had none of the experience that she possessed, nor that of Crystal or Selma. To be an amateur was a necessary beginning. In this, as in all things. 

And yet she felt dissatisfied. This was their test. The first of many, but the final proof of their worthiness to be an Ars Magi. These foes were barely more powerful than what they had collectively faced down only days before, creatures they had humbled with soul and will when they were but mortal. Why did she not fight? With the merest application of her magic, with only what she had demonstrated during their flight from the station, she could end this. Faster than her peers could have. With the force at her fingertips now it should have been easy. And then the last strike; she had opened her mouth to warn her, but she was too slow. Not that it would have mattered from so far away, or behind the observation tower windows. There was nothing Rivka could do, the operator was about to call for a med-

The room shattered in sound and fury for the second time in a week, and Rivka again became closely acquainted with an ugly, dingy concrete floor. At least this attack was quieter; her ears rang, but not nearly as bad as badly as before. What a strange thing to say. But it was true, so whatever struck them must have been different from in the subway. Such thoughts were fleeting. More important than the difference was the simple commonality; they were under attack.

The artist pushed herself to her hands and knees, from there to a proper stance, and as she did she reached once more for her power. It was clearer this time. The prismatic melody at her center, sublimely energetic, did not have to extend to her a hand. The connection had been made, her core awakened, and it would never fall silent until the last note left her lungs. The purple light exploded from her center and wreathed her form in blinding intensity, replacing mere cloth with her Parma as it went and infusing her with that raw power once again. When it cleared, the barest fraction of a second later, Rivka was ready to face Hell itself.

And Hell had come, this time in smoother, sleeker guise. Did it mean to beguile her? Surely Hell didn’t think her [i]that[/i] simple. It was thirty meters away to her eye, give or take. Her shortest range pistol competitions were at twenty five meters, and her rifle targets a good bit farther than that. It was, suffice to say, not a difficult shot. More concerning was the attack that it had begun to charge again already. She was good, but she wasn’t about to take her chances trying to shoot down an object traveling at attack speed. Nor was she going to be any good at playing defense; any fire hot enough to interdict the strike would only serve to cook everyone in the confined space. No, she was not here to play goalie. She was here to dance with intricate precision against this foe, to engage and destroy with the utmost grace and discrimination. But how to get out of the way? It would take too long to climb down and find a new perch, especially when so many lovely elevated firing positions surrounded her. 

Well, there was no reason she had to use the ground, was there? The next building was just over there. Rivka bit her lip, thinking for only the briefest second. If she considered it she might decide against it and where was the fun in that? She backed up a scant few paces and ran forward, pushing off of the ground, placing her next step on Selma’s back as the girl began to rise, and pushed off again with all of the strength in her invigorated muscles.

[color=7e5e7f]”An encore already? If you insist~!”[/color]

Her parabola was too sharp, she knew that already. She would drop shy of the rooftop she targeted, and while she would probably survive she doubted it would be uninjured. Their strength had already been reduced to a scant sixty percent of what it [i]should[/i] have been, how would they ever cope without her? Who else would make up that extra forty percent but Rivka Sokolov? No, no, that wouldn’t do. But she already had an idea, a marvelous idea. Focusing that magic she had played with before, she funneled the flame [i]down[/i]. Rockets had climbed to the heavens on such pillars long ago, so what was the difference? Even a gun worked on the same principle, both were merely combustion forced through a focusing cylinder. It wasn’t designed for the purpose but her skirt was much the same shape. The Baeterraen rode that explosion through the air, laughing gleefully at the top of her lungs all the way. True flight was beyond her, for now, but a raw impetus of force? That was easy.

She landed hard and rolled with a dexterity she would never have expected to recover, popping again to her firing position on a single knee and sighted on her target. The basketball sized orb had begun to fly just after she jumped, and she was glad she didn’t try to shoot it down. But the audacious bitch that tried to ruin her debut? [i]She[/i] was a simpler target.

Rivka sang out happily and squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession, sending two piercing shots towards its center mass before breaking the rifle to release and refuel.