[h2]Miina Malina[/h2]

... What? Alambert was definitely a guy, wasn't he? Not some blonde woman who was... after some Lambert? Or was that another Lambert? Seed? Where would she even have kept a seed, she didn't have all that much [i]on[/i] her. For a long second, the redhead just gave everyone still standing in the warehouse a blank stare as if trying to weigh up the odds of actually getting an explanation, then discarded it. Someone doing a clandestine meeting would just want to dispose of the awkward interference anyway.

So, back to her original escape plan, as it didn't seem to matter whether everyone died or not now; Alambert was already out of the picture. She just needed to kick the flour up.

Maybe she could have done it with black magic alone. The Mystrel was aware that she really ought to push herself more on pure casting... but now wasn't the time to experiment, was it? Especially as she wanted as much flour hanging in the air as possible, as far as possible. 

Black magic for wind, white magic for haste. Hold them separated, balance the forces -- and let the thin shell of spinning wind she had created grow into a mightier vortex. Would it knock over some of the mercenaries? Just imbalance them? Or would they ignore it? Miina had no idea; they certainly [i]seemed[/i] on the competent end. But they weren't the important ones here: no, it was the loose flour from old shipments, and the sacks and casks it was packed into, ready to be distributed across Brightlam after being milled outside.

It was nowhere near as intense as the hurricane that Izayoi had demonstrated, nor as long lasting, but it didn't [i]need[/i] to be. A brief and horrendous gale was enough to whip a fine screen of powder into the air. Maybe enough of a smokescreen for Miina to sneak out on her own but...

Back in Costa del Sol, she had learned a few things about goods storage and where to be careful, especially when you were tempted to throw around fire. Powders? They burned shockingly well. With the entire air mixed well like this...

It wasn't a big fire. It didn't [i]need[/i] to be. The flour mix in the air did the rest -- erupting into an entire conflagration that consumed the room. Maybe sshe might even get lucky and catch some of the enemies. Buffing [i]herself[/i] to be fire resistant had nearly been an afterthought.

... She would need to fix her hearing properly once she could get out. That was loud, remember it. Or maybe it was the lack of air leaving her light-headed?

The redhead made a break for the door, hoping to get out in the confusion and [i]not[/i] get trapped in a flaming warehouse.