The rifles of her sailors cracked, bullets biting into the Pageless before them, but Wilhelmina found her focus wandering despite her best efforts. Normally, she had no trouble with it, but that distant feeling kept brushing against her soul, almost as though it called out to her. Lurking within the clouds, twirling around her when the winds picked up their pace, it seemed intent on disrupting her no matter the cost, so she did the only thing that seemed logical: she closed her eyes to concentrate on it. Putting her trust in her allies, as well as the sailors arrayed around her, the golden girl tried her best to shut out the outside world and reach out to the sensation.
It did not come easy. She could tune out Olivia's chattering as Wilhelmina was used to blocking out similarly strong sounds, but the painful howl of the creautre almost sent her flying off Thyerg again, heart threatening to burst from her chest. The blood-curling sound had a shiver run down her spine then reach for her throat, but her light held strong as always. After all, the greater the storm, the greater the hope.The Greater the Storm, the Greater the Hope.
The sentence repeated itself in Wilhemina's mind and she could tell that the mere thought altered the flow of wind around her. A subtle, almost silent thing that wrapped itself in countless layers of stealth, she barely noticed the shift, almost thinking it a natural consequence of them fighting up on high, but... no. It could not be, for she sensed that it moved along a pulse of her magic. Perhaps even Lumiére could feel it, attuned as she was to all things that bore light and hope. Her other team-mates would also be able to tell that something shifted, the steady stream of power from Wilhelmina becoming less potent.
Indeed, the Captain's magical senses honed in on the environment around her along with the light burning in her soul as she repeated the phrase, much more deliberate in her intent.The Greater the Storm, the Greater the Hope.
A definite shift in the pattern around her. The wind howled differently all of a sudden, almost as though she had commanded it to be more fierce. Fortunately, Xolys held her strong, but the gale probably caught Olivia's dress or perhaps even buffeted Nessie aside on her broom. Wilhelmina would not know as she held her eyes closed, her sailors slowly fading out of existence. At the same time, the girls around her could sense a buildup of power that seemed to increase in ferocity exactly as the crack of gunfire faded from existence.
Her thoughts raced as she called upon her knowledge of her Grimoire, quickly identifying the chapter that most fit this situation: having had a safe travel so far, a proud captain's ship now nears the southern trip of Africa. However, instead of seeing land, the lookout can only spot the dark clouds in the distance, looking down upon the sailors with destructive contempt. The captain lowers his spyglass with a worried frown of his brows, then wisely calls out to alter the positions of the sails - but it is too late. The winds are far too strong and they buffet the ship towards their doom."The Cape of Storms,"
whispered Wilhelmina, barely audible over the gales around her. And yet...
Without warning, her Grimoire appeared in front of her, floating and enveloped in golden light. Shining with the brightness of the very heavens themselves, the tome's overwhelming display did not blind the magical girls around Wilhelmina, but it did deepen the Pageless' wails, the very idea of hope, of magic, too much for it to bear, however, this was not the end as it reached out a metaphorical hand to its owner, who accepted without hesitation.
The clouds roared in response and Captain Goodhope's face distorted, nearly all of her magic swept up into a grand gesture - she could barely keep the links towards her allies - in the blink of an eye as the winds picked up, all but ripping the Pageless into shreds. Such proved to be their force that they ripped into its non-existent flesh via sheer pressure, flaying it while throwing it off Lumiére and deep into the menacing clouds; whereupon the vile creature found itself assaulted once more as a thunder roared between the clouds.
This time, the flash of lightning did blind any who looked at it. Nature, after all, did not discriminate between the targets of its wrath, even when harnessed for a purpose as noble as fighting the devourers of stories.