[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Y6tEFKV.png[/img]
[hider=❄]22 | Female | Freelancers | Meltwater Spring
Moya-no-Yume | Dagger | Physical | Frosted Sheen
Snowdrop Vestige | Sangfroid Convention 
Glacial Stream | Aqua | Rime Rose 
[Freeze, Cold Insulation] Damage X, Restrain, Dispel, Rain, Trap, Enhance, Trigger, Blink, Powerful

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: C | SENTINEL: E | 750

[Bronze Projectile][Blink] = -40 Mana

PHYSICAL: E| ARCANE: D | CHAOS: C | 522[/hider][sub][@mantou][@BrokenPromise][@OwO][@FamishedPants][/sub][/center]

Between the gunfire of the remaining cronies and the grandstanding of the Esper (who would’ve thought? Should’ve stabbed the fellow before he transformed), it was almost a miracle that Klava was untouched. It was the benefit, perhaps, of being the last to enter the staircase, and that same benefit was what keened her ears to the conversation of two others.

[color=6ecff6][b]“The Cobra Gang truly is made up of snakes, huh?”[/b][/color] she murmured.

An enclosed staircase was the bane of any Blinker, while the voices of two didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be more out there with them. If it was just Adder and Smarter-Dude? Klava figured her chances were good enough if she acted quick. But Adder, Smarter-Dude, and a bunch of quiet fellows? Yeah, she wasn’t Protector, and she wasn’t really into getting molested by Apollo either. So when the tear gas grenade bounced up, Klava, with athletic grace and reactions sparked by nights watching action movies where the heroes always responded in time to toss a grenade away, whipped off one of the sashes of her outfit and flung her other hand back, a ball of snow shooting out over the heads of the clashing Protector and Mamba. In the instant before she was yoinked back by her own Blink spell, she caught the tear gas dispenser in her sash and brought it with her.

The fiery heat surged up against the protective charms of her ritual vestments, granting her only four seconds to act, but that was nothing compared to having to react to a tennis serve. Rotating her hips and whipping out her sash, she slung the tear gas grenade at Sofron, a trail of chemical irritants in its wake. That same momentum was what jump-started Klava's own dash through the flaming zone, clearing it with time to spare as she sought to engage the more experienced esper in hand-to-hand, knife-to-man. Sure, if things kept up for more than a couple seconds, both of them would be choking on tear gas, but Klava had one clear advantage in that regard.

Her leitmotif provided free eye washes.