The weight is heavy in her hands. Her palms burn where the sharp edge of the cube scratches them. An ache is beginning to creep into her arms from the strain of holding something so ruinously heavy this high above her head. Not pain, just dull weakness pooling in her triceps and leaking up the rest of her as the blood drains down into her body. Even still, her arms barely twitch. 

A weight like this could be a deadly weapon if she only dropped it carelessly enough. A weight like this should be a liability, slowing her movement until she's barely faster than the mountain itself. It is neither of these things: it is a shield. With a battle cry like laughter, Mosaic lunges forward and lets the massive stone block fall behind her where it shakes the ground as the footfall of a passing titan. 

The sudden shifting of such a great and dangerous weight sets the pack behind her scrambling, but Mosaic pays them no mind except to bend one ear in their direction to keep track of their movements. She is already lunging forward, arms hanging down at her sides with her right foot raised up to head level. Her foot connects with a stone mask, and the sound of splintering echoes across the battlefield as one champion sprawls and bounces their way backwards a full ten meters before skidding to a halt. 

War can be a complicated thing, but its principles are simple. If you want to overwhelm a coordinated assault, start by applying pressure to a single point. She pivots on the ball of her foot, and swings the other leg around to the side and land another crushing blow to the side of a second combatant who's caught between charging and setting themself against one. There is thunder on the mountain without Zeus there to guide it. Stone is strong, strong enough to absorb Mosaic's force and keep the brave fighters protecting their own from her safe. If bruises and lacerations count as safe.

They do not use their claws, so she does not either.

Her blows fall heavy and erratic. Sometimes she swings around on the great stone block, sometimes she lifts it again and moves it away some distance to establish a new battlefield. Sometimes she drops it, and sometimes she merely lets her body shift to put it in between herself and a fist. Sometimes she catches those blows and crushes them between her rib and her elbow. Sometimes she takes them full on, strikes hard enough to push her backwards through the soil. But every time, she laughs. Bright and happy, unconcerned and always without pain or struggle. If this lasted through the night the only issue would be the lack of houses she is supposed to be building.

But the smell of cleaners sneaks through the rock and sweat and battle lust. It floats over top of Tactics and strikes her nose with the power of a god. Mosaic twitches, only for a moment, but it crushes her between two heavy blows that she forgets to tense against. The smile on her face grows wider. The smile on her face grows softer. 

And tears start running down her cheeks, unnoticed until they drip and splash messily against her chest, her arm, her thigh. She drops the stone again, this time to no purpose whatsoever. A hand wipes at her face. Her thumb pushes her nose back into alignment.

"I know you," she half giggles and half sobs, "I know you, but I don't. Who are you, and where? Come! Come out! If [i]you[/i] overcome me, I'll put the entire mountain back!"

Her grin is wide, playful as it is confident. But it is also wet, and there is no drying it today.