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As expected, they were winning the race to the crash site, and Silje made sure Morden was aware of it every step of the way. Not that the giant seemed to be listening, too focused on channeling mist and looking around. Silje would've called him out on ignoring her, but once they reached the edge of the crater, she forgot all about the race too. The battlemage[i] would've [/i]likely marveled at the pillars of flame, made a joke or two about the floating debris, and [i]definitely [/i]tried to pick the instantly wilting flowers, if she could've properly made out any of it. As things were, all she could see was the mist in the air; saturated to a degree that made her eyes water and sting. 

Morden announced he wanted to scout ahead and dropped Silje off — for a split minute, anyway. Momentarily blinded and suddenly bereft of a ride, she instinctively reached her hand back towards the tall WARDEN, latching onto him with mist like a magnet to its opposite. And then they were off. Silje tried to blink her eyes open so they could eventually adjust, but even with them half-closed, she was acutely aware of the mist around them. It gathered at her fingertips, it trailed along her hair, it filled the very air she breathed. There was so much of it, and all of it out of control.

It was kind of cool.

A loud clang stole her attention, then lost it just as fast. As she turned to look, now clinging onto Morden's back with all four of her limbs like a cat, it wasn't the weird robot or its weapon she cared about, unlike Morden. It was the rivulets of colour leaking from it, carving visible — to her, anyway — paths through the rest of the surrounding mist. Silje knew of mist engines, and knew they tended to be reserved for things much bigger than this, but it wasn't [i]that [/i]peculiarity that had her practically forgetting to breathe. 

[color=a1e1fd]"Mord. Mordie," [/color]she whispered, still holding her breath. In her current state, she didn't think to use their squad-wide communication channel.[color=a1e1fd] "There's a mist engine inside, I think. But... the mist is all wrong."[/color]

Silje followed its flow with her gaze, watched it taint the rainbow of colours in the air. She tried to find a name to call its hue, tried to think of other colours to compare it to, but she could think of none. It wasn't a colour that had a name, not one she could describe, or had ever seen before.

Not one that should exist.

But it [i]did [/i]exist, and it [i]was [/i]mist, and if nothing else, Silje knew how to bend mist to her will. She let herself fall off Morden's back and walked towards the robot like a woman possessed, reaching out a hand, palm up. Like she'd done so many times before, she tried to call that strange new mist to her to be molded, this time to manifest it into a tangible form on her palm. A cat. She liked cats.

And so, she tried to create a small — and probably explosive — mist cat upon her palm and hold it up to Morden in all its peculiarly coloured glory. Or, you know. Cause one more mist related pocket of chaos trying.[/color]