[img=http://i.imgur.com/UPINOf1.png] [b][u]Aliquam: Academy of the Arts – Performance Hall, Corridor[/b][/u] Lute was panicking from Moira’s display of supernatural enmity that he barely noticed when Fabian broke free, and only realized it when the boy’s foot had crashed to his face. His cheek pounded with pain and he staggered back, which the brat took as an opportunity to dash after Amy and heckle her instead. Estelle needed Amy, that much he was sure, and if Moira fell he could at least buy her a few seconds before Bunnyface and that twerp rejoined the Masked Phantom in the theater. He hurried after the boy, his head still swimming from that sudden kick, and raised his hand. It would be better for everyone if the kid was out cold, but the Guild wouldn’t like that kind of violence… The virtuoso gritted his teeth and positioned himself in front of Amy, ready to kick that brat if he just stopped moving and using the cleric as his shield! “All right, that’s it you little-!” He swung his arm down and then the pole suddenly activated, hitting both Fabian and Lute and sending both boys staggering back as it was between them when it grew. ------------------------------------------------------------ [img=http://i.imgur.com/4zPgtlc.png] [b][u]Aliquam: Academy of the Arts – Performance Hall (E)[/b][/u] The back of Francesca’s head hurt from being thrown down that roughly, as did her shoulders which had been gripped with surprising intensity by the unknown assailant. The sudden pressure on her wrist broke her control; the shadowy branches disappeared with a soft hiss as Tobias spoke. The rogue normally would have chastised herself for letting her guard down upon hearing that photographer whining but… Her narrowed eyes and the vastly glacial expression on Francesca’s face almost spoke volumes of the thoughts currently running through her mind. One, he called her a [i]harlot[/i]. Two, thanks to his voice, the gunner would have reason to head here instead… And frankly at this stage, who cared about silence? Her eyes narrowed even more up until she was glaring back at Tobias through thin, cat-like slits. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re furious because a [i]woman[/i] such as myself managed to best you not just once, but twice. Your ego is wounded. The very symbol of your masculinity, that rapier, was stolen from you too, no less,” Francesca sneered and tendrils began to travel down the underside of her left arm and wrapped around her knuckle like a makeshift padding, “Ah… So that’s why it was so useless. An equally blunt blade for an equally nonexistent manhood.” The pain in her entrapped wrist burned like a wildfire as the tip of the boot dug deeper into her skin, but she didn’t mind… Not when he was going to feel much, [i]much[/i] worse. Her fist shot out and Tobias doubled over, but Francesca couldn’t care less that she might have broken his family jewels for life. The man deserved so much for being a gigantic imbecile. The thief got up and unclenched her fist as the grapnel grew down her left arm, and then sent her hands shooting forward in the pink mist. Instead of merely poking through, she swept through the pink fog in order to weed the gunner out faster. She made contact, and Francesca wrapped the tendrils around that form and pulled.