[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

[Silver Beam][Freeze][Restrain] = 126

PHYSICAL: E| ARCANE: D | CHAOS: C | 396[/hider][sub][@mantou][@BrokenPromise][@OwO][@FamishedPants][/sub][/center]
The moment Sofron’s wound [i]closed[/i] while she pulled out her dagger was the moment that Klava knew she was fucked. Of course someone who diamond flames would have other tricks up his sleeve too. She just hadn’t thought he had an auto-healing card to play.
It was a misplay then, but not one that she’d regret.

As the man’s hands clamped over her thigh, as words left his own mouth that she couldn’t properly hear, the melting snowwoman of an esper had only one word to say.

[color=6ecff6][b]“Trigger.”[/b][/color]

Sofron’s hands pushed through a sheet of snow as Klava teleported back down the hallway, landing in a crouched position atop the catering cart. Even through the adrenaline, the toll of flat-out tanking the full effects of Balewulf agonized her, enough so that it would hurt more to wipe the tears out of her eyes than to keep enduring the sting of tear gas. But the fight didn’t stop just on account of her pain, and the grind didn’t stop either. If it was up to Apollo to give Sofron his funeral rites, then it was up to Klava to make sure that Protector stopped wasting time on mooks and started getting the job done. Through blurred vision, she made out the silhouette of the armored hulk jumping down into the hole that the Cobra Gang had blasted and inched her way towards the hole as well. Her feet were burning now, smouldering against the ashes of the hallway, but those were all momentary pains, all temporary distractions. When she detransformed, everything would be fine. She was used to this.

She has become used to this.

Klava closed her eyes, trying to give them as much of a break as she could as she pressed her index finger between her brows. Wish, melody, chant, prayer, cause, effect.

Amidst gunfire beneath and the crackling all around, no words could be heard from her blistered lips.

But power accumulated regardless, and as Protector went for her killing strokes, Klava forced her eyes open, granting her a split-second of clarity before tears and smoke scarred her vision again. The beam, pure as moonlight reflecting off of freshly fallen snow, shot downwards, towards the only person who wasn’t dressed like a goon.

Towards the King, the Cobra.