Being spun round in the middle of a battlefield nearly ended [i]very[/i] poorly, the vampire grabbing the offending limb and nearly squeezing it to breaking point before she realised who it was. Poor awareness, maybe, but it wasn't like the remaining fey were clamouring to run through the spots of fire… or that she could hear something comparatively quiet over the sound of crackling flames and her own laughter.

Fortunately for Fionn, the fire lapping away from where it stuck to her skin was merely [i]ticklish[/i] rather than all consuming. This didn't stop her from trying to glare a hole into his head. "Don't [i]do[/i] that."

“I [i]could[/i], but whether I [i]should[/i] isn't my choi—” the vampire cut off, frowning and focusing on the fire, muttering to herself in Ithillane, “[sub]‘I never asked you to, Yaya’, ‘This was [i]your[/i] decision, you can end it,’ What am I [i]meant[/i] to think when you make it burn? You don't need to communicate through fire sounds.[/sub]"

Letting go and waving her hand, the golden flames on her person cut off entirely, leaving only a perimeter burning to keep the Hunt from getting ideas. Not that she expected they would; without their leader, they ought to break into a rout any second now, once the last few notable presences were dead… 

Despite none of Rozenalt's injuries sticking, Tyaethe looked quite the sight: her dress was basically a few singed scraps clinging to modesty, and the burns from the flame hadn't entirely healed, leaving a nasty pattern of burn scars winding from her stomach to her throat, and entirely down the one arm that had held the Bloody Lord in place. "Ah, these are going to take weeks to heal properly… well, it was fun all the same~"

At least her alarming cheer bounced back quickly. "Did [i]you[/i] have fun?"

[@The Otter]