[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zQXUPoA.png[/img][/center]
Things, certainly, must have been happening all around Serenity. Her field of vision wasn't so hampered by her visor's slits, her sense of hearing wasn't so deafened by her helmet's steel, that she was completely numb to anything around her, after all. But they were perfunctory concerns, the flames and the chaos, the bloodshed and the Bandit King. She had decided already that his head was worthless, and the Iron Rose Knights numbered over one hundred, many of whom were veterans, some of whom were legends.

Their young Knight Captain would be well-protected. If she died even in [i]this[/i] circumstance, then she was never meant for anything more. And as for Serenity herself?

The griffin's talons swept out, a cautionary swipe that did not suit the prideful proclamation that it had made, and yet even that did not meet its intended target; the young knight, her grip near the butt of the shaft, had simply flicked her wrist. The motion was magnified along the length of her spear, manifesting in the tip itself dancing beneath the griffin's swiping talons before righting itself once more to pierce for its chest.

Its advance may have become reserved within the seconds it took to realize just how many knights were headed towards it, but Serenity's own advance remained unchanged: stalwart, resolute, straightforwards.