The bow is already in her hands. 

No. Wait. This is not... not the right... this is? The polearm I was already wielding? With a string? What did? How did? When did? Why would? It doesn't make--

Glance at Mayzie. Comprehend. [i]Comprehend![/i]

Bowstring pulled. Aim established. Arrow lacking. Compensated with unshaped magic. One. Two. Three weapons' worth. Is, is this? Why they call me the Violet Flash? Glance again. Open mouth, intention to ask question. 

A bolt of raw, violet lightning is already flying at the out of control junk heap threatening the three of them. Eclair's bowstring still sings, even as it dissolves from the force of the attack into immaterial light. 

From the outside, it must have seemed like a perfect strike. Next to no time after the suggestion was given, in fact within seconds of seeing Mayzie's heartpin, a thin strand of golden light had formed between the blades of her pole and bent it back into the shape of a beautiful bow made of gold and pearls. She'd lifted the weapon high and plucked the string back to her cheek, even as she'd fashioned an arrow out of violent, violet coruscating lightning that for all its jagged convulsing even managed to look like an arrow as it lay notched against the string. 

There had been a small delay, during which waves of magic seemed to wash over her like the tides, briefly giving Eclair Espoir the appearance that she had grown wings in the usual flavor of her heart's power. She didn't call out a name for the technique or anything, it wasn't like it had one to begin with. But she turned her head, and did not even watch her arrow as she loosed it. 

And now it is in the air, tearing its angry mark through the air toward that open window exactly where Injimo had said it should fly. It is something less than a flaming arrow, but surely a burst of concentrated heat and energy can cause just as much of a conflagration? Did you know, the funny thing is, Eclair is not even particularly into lighting as a motif? It's not like she knows lightning magic, really. It's not like she's any classifiable type of mage.

She'd just... caught a particular spear in a teacup a while back and, you know, all of the associated parties from that moment were here in a room with her so she'd been thinking about it a lot and well, here we are. Does it even bear mentioning that the shot manages to slip right through the window as it rolls back across the ground again? It doesn't, right? Like, that was never the point of this. Obviously she hit! [i]Obviously[/i] the whole damn thing explodes! Obviously it's super pretty and pearlescent and all that happy stuff while it does so! What are those bits of silver mixed in with the... no who cares, we'll get to that some other time!

Eclair's entire heartblade has fizzled. Her cheeks are as rosy as any other blushing, useless maiden's. Her hands are twitching as they cross over her mouth and she is completely ignoring the maelstrom of falling debris in favor of gawking at Mayzie Sighs. Her tail is so thoroughly bushed that it is now possible to see the tips of the pale blonde fur that rests at the base where it has been least freshly dyed. 

Oh she is smitten. She got smotened hard just now. She is, uh, how would Yuki Edogawa say it? Down bad? Arr Enn?

"S-Si-since when did you? I mean did! Were you! Was I? Sh-should we have tea? I mean coff-- no! I mean a da, uh, I, uh, um what... er... oh, shit.

"Oh shit. I just screwed it all up. That was meant to be a moment to! And I just! Eclair, you idiot! You [i]idiot![/i]"

And then she is crying into the palms of her hands. Someone else will need to handle the cleanup.