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[color=00a651][i]!![/i][/color]

In the barest half-second that the coalescing points of suspended diamond merged, the stone at her feet surged high into a protective levy, lifting itself out of the floor in time with the tallest oak in the woods hitting the damn deck— and unlike the old saying, she made sure everyone heard it, clicking her tongue and sucking wind through her teeth as the spotlight burned straight through her new set dressing for Rivka's [i]concerto[/i].

One hand flew to her earpiece, The other manifesting [i]Kleinbruder[/i] and rearing back for her opening swing— there was a rare song in her arsenal that didn't see percussion come in early, and hold the rhythm together.

[color=00a651]"[i]Scheisse[/i]! Going to be a bit tied up, girls!"[/color] Selma relayed, before the heavy steel of her gladius lashed out and bit deep into the smoking remains of the stone barrier. Even at the awkward angle of "damn near prone", her strength and seasoning within the element shone through— and the moment of impact was every bit as explosive as Rivka's opening salvo, the three feet and change of hard-packed earth and stone shattering to rubble in one strike, sent flying back towards their inbound dance partner— and some of them, at least, intercepting those four white lines that aimed to spall off the important bits of her fiery partner-in-crime. Those being less potent would hopefully at least even out the fragments being less robust— and buy the Baeterran the split second she'd need.

She could appreciate a good light show, really, but as a dancer? 

The momentum carried through, even as the axe had no more earth to split, and one gauntleted hand voluteered as the axis for the reast of her long, long body to whip around, coming out of the headspin in time to see the flash of their foe's blade as it snapped forth from her armored wrist. [color=00a651][i]Melee, huh?[/i][/color] Rivka [i]could[/i] handle it, but a musician like her was all dolled up for art from afar, casting it out to her audience.

Landing on the balls of her feet, Selma's long, long legs were like the finest springs humanity ever made, as she launched forth to meet steel with steel.

As a dancer, it was [i]her[/i] job to translate that artistry into [i]motion[/i], [i]action[/i], [i]impact[/i]— 

[color=00a651]"[i]Willkommen, Mysteriöser Ritter[/i]! Hell in A Selma starts now!"[/color]

— And woe betide anyone who stopped the music.