[Paying the price of losing the Aegis, probably by dropping it in the fall. Overcome: 2,3,2, +2, squeaks by with a 7.]

None of this is right. She's stone and metal. Who uses poison on a machine? Who expects that to work?

Dread creeps across her like the vines. Because it's not poison, is it? You don't poison a machine. You sabotage it. You throw grit in the gears, drain the oil, contaminate the fuel.

Already, she can feel stone cracking. Roots as fine as hairs seek out pinprick imperfections and expand, doing in minutes the erosion of centuries. Moss tickles at her ears, and then the world dulls, muffles as the moss grows down and in. Vines tease around her eyes, and she can't squeeze them shut tight enough.

Her chest isn't tight--it's too full. The stone has nowhere to go, nowhere to expand to, in the face of the invading plants. Already, she can feel the plants spreading in her throat, pressing out, binding the flow of sounds.

[Damaging Sense.]

"Aren't [i]you[/i] supposed to be her friend?"

She only has seconds, and she needs hours.

"Redana doesn't [i]want[/i] servants! She wants people to like her, she wants friends, and she'd be more destroyed if she found out you were coercing people to be her friends than--"

A knee buckles, and she sags against Mynx, as much holding Mynx down as holding herself up. '--if they left' dies in her throat, choked out by the vines and impact.

[Damaging Grace. 1,2,6, +1, 9 on Talk Sense if Mynx cares to listen]