It is alive, and so is Fever, springing to her feet. The sound is harsh, offputting - and she's half tempted to scream back, meet aggression with her own. Until something flashes bright in the corner of her vision, and her foe and her are face to face.
She sees how small the opponent is, reflexively reaches for force, because it will track and hunt, even when there is something nimble and swift. Bigger spells can be sidestepped, can be covered, but not this - not the darts of bright red light that collide in blows stronger than her arm could ever make.
"Tormentum."
She hunts as much as she is hunted, after all. Three fly towards Vespertine - but Fever's evasion backwards is not perfect, she slips a little on damp leaves, and she knows it leaves her open.
no subject
She sees how small the opponent is, reflexively reaches for force, because it will track and hunt, even when there is something nimble and swift. Bigger spells can be sidestepped, can be covered, but not this - not the darts of bright red light that collide in blows stronger than her arm could ever make.
"Tormentum."
She hunts as much as she is hunted, after all. Three fly towards Vespertine - but Fever's evasion backwards is not perfect, she slips a little on damp leaves, and she knows it leaves her open.