With Raine clear, settled mid-air to assess the damage and cast a quick first aid on herself, Virginia was left to cast again-- but the gunshot disrupted her. It lost momentum on the translucent green bubble that she summoned to shield herself, but struck true enough. Virginia staggered, clutched her doll to her chest. Didn't fall. When she lowered her hands a little there was a slowly spreading bloodstain, but she didn't seem too perturbed. "Both of you," she said, regretfully. "So determined to die saving people who will never be worth the breath you spend, as if that will give you some meaning beyond the failures you are. And when you fall, incapable of anything save watching each other die, you will know exactly how pointless this struggle has been, how much better it would have been had you disappeared sooner. So be it."
At Jacob's words Raine winged back, a distinctly unsettled look on her face as she watched her mother. The expression earlier had been misleading, but this sounded more now like Malicant, peevish and cruel, rather than Virginia, whether the half-mad one or the version from Mithos' trap. She wasn't sure if that was better or worse. "You're wrong," she said, or started to say, for then there was the other one, Jacob's shadow, too close, too close--
Raine turned with the blow, her own force field up just in time, and it blunted the strike but did not completely avert it. She cried out, then, almost more startled than anything else, and curled in on herself mid-air. The blade had lodged in her side, not wholly deep but twisted, and with some effort she jerked it free as Abel spoke. Her altered state certainly made her more durable, dulled the pain, and she could function like this if she had to, but there was rather too much blood between her fingers for her liking. Still a scholar, not a warrior. "You're wrong," she bit out, properly this time, directed at both shadows. No focus for a more vehement denial, only the action to determine that neither of them ended up alone. She gathered mana, cast, and it came so much more easily to her now, only a few seconds before a stronger spell closed the wound and she straightened, wary.
no subject
At Jacob's words Raine winged back, a distinctly unsettled look on her face as she watched her mother. The expression earlier had been misleading, but this sounded more now like Malicant, peevish and cruel, rather than Virginia, whether the half-mad one or the version from Mithos' trap. She wasn't sure if that was better or worse. "You're wrong," she said, or started to say, for then there was the other one, Jacob's shadow, too close, too close--
Raine turned with the blow, her own force field up just in time, and it blunted the strike but did not completely avert it. She cried out, then, almost more startled than anything else, and curled in on herself mid-air. The blade had lodged in her side, not wholly deep but twisted, and with some effort she jerked it free as Abel spoke. Her altered state certainly made her more durable, dulled the pain, and she could function like this if she had to, but there was rather too much blood between her fingers for her liking. Still a scholar, not a warrior. "You're wrong," she bit out, properly this time, directed at both shadows. No focus for a more vehement denial, only the action to determine that neither of them ended up alone. She gathered mana, cast, and it came so much more easily to her now, only a few seconds before a stronger spell closed the wound and she straightened, wary.