Daiofei was once again caught in a trilemmna. The Body helpfully informed her that there was no breaking the grip on her wrist - and then quickly added that there was no way to escape from Saber's embrace so she might as well not even try. The Soul was once again coming apart; it had been freed from monastic repression just enough to be able to imagine exactly what the shapes she is pressed against imply.

But the Mind remained focused on the singular concept that held it together. She twisted in Saber's grip so that she faced outwards and would be able to speak without a mouth full of chainmail, though she doesn't struggle more than that. "If this place is twisted it's because she twisted it," said Daiofei. "It needs to be purified -" her mouth formed a tight line. That was the priestess talking and she'd broken those vows. "It doesn't matter. She made it like this for a reason. She's getting something out of it being like this. If I destroy it then she'll come and then we can confront her."