Giriel looks about her and smiles a wry smile. They are within the collapsing tower. One of the clearest symbols of disaster in all of divination, crossing civilizations, cultures, and the great seas themselves. It speaks perhaps to the shared understanding of hubris in all who look upon the world and, finding it wanting, seek to work change. Whatever the hopes and dreams of the maker, there will come a time when something they did not or could not have expected undermines what they have made. Fire, flood, war, and if all else fails, the slow creep of time will undo all that is made. 

Philosophizing is, of course, the last refuge of the damned and Giriel Bruinstead understands full well her situation. Her group are lost all about and she won't leave them. No magic that she can work could hold up this tower. Perhaps in another life, in another time, a heroic effort on her part could accomplish such an end. But for herself, she must be content with slamming her blade like a club handily into a few wrack dolls. Keeping her current charge, the noble girl, at least alive. Knowing that the tide is unending and the stones below that tide quickly disintegrating, she can do only what she can in the moment and offer a prayer to Saturn that this is not yet their time. 

It is funny that this is so much worse and she is far less panicked than she had been in her first encounter with the general. But it is in the nature of the mind that the most extreme reactions are the product of surprise and the unknown. Even the most extreme peril, encountered more than once, can become mundane if one survives it. This, then, is the reason that Giriel only screams when the ground beneath her feet finally gives way.

[Giriel attempts to defy disaster to protect Azazuka with her wits and will, offering up her own footing at risk. The dice say 1+2+2=5. Marking experience.]