She didn't have an answer, for it did look rather like giving up, this refusal to fight back. Perhaps things were different for him, if he couldn't be permanently harmed, but neither did this really resemble the behavior of someone who wanted to live.
Raine hesitated, and in that time Malicant kept up his cruelties. What could she do? Anything? But her mother still presented a possible threat, she couldn't risk turning her back, and there was precious little she could offer without a weapon, without enough safe time to focus. "No," Raine said, halfway to furious. At her own inaction, at the way Jacob fell, at the faces Malicant had chosen to twist the metaphorical knife. "Giving up is stopping-- if you keep moving forward, no matter what you've done, there's still the chance to change."
That was the circle for an arte now, she was certain, and she readied herself to dodge. But Virginia's gaze shifted, her focus no longer on Raine but past her, and Raine recognized the flare of light mana a little too well, turned in horror as the harsh brightness of a holy lance spanned the ground beneath not her but Jacob.
Forget that she knew he could absorb the damage; forget that she knew there was nothing she could feasibly do now. Raine darted that way, logic forgotten, instinct taking her toward the hurt friend instead of toward the originator of the spell. "Jacob--!" She didn't even make it that far, tripped over the roots of the tree and went sprawling instead. She caught herself on hands and knees, scrabbling, found that in the rush something had fallen from her pocket. A shard of stone. She closed one hand on it for lack of anything else, recalling what it was, why she had it, but what good did it do her now when all she could do was watch?
no subject
Raine hesitated, and in that time Malicant kept up his cruelties. What could she do? Anything? But her mother still presented a possible threat, she couldn't risk turning her back, and there was precious little she could offer without a weapon, without enough safe time to focus. "No," Raine said, halfway to furious. At her own inaction, at the way Jacob fell, at the faces Malicant had chosen to twist the metaphorical knife. "Giving up is stopping-- if you keep moving forward, no matter what you've done, there's still the chance to change."
That was the circle for an arte now, she was certain, and she readied herself to dodge. But Virginia's gaze shifted, her focus no longer on Raine but past her, and Raine recognized the flare of light mana a little too well, turned in horror as the harsh brightness of a holy lance spanned the ground beneath not her but Jacob.
Forget that she knew he could absorb the damage; forget that she knew there was nothing she could feasibly do now. Raine darted that way, logic forgotten, instinct taking her toward the hurt friend instead of toward the originator of the spell. "Jacob--!" She didn't even make it that far, tripped over the roots of the tree and went sprawling instead. She caught herself on hands and knees, scrabbling, found that in the rush something had fallen from her pocket. A shard of stone. She closed one hand on it for lack of anything else, recalling what it was, why she had it, but what good did it do her now when all she could do was watch?