[h1][color=cfb5c3]Iava Mehta[/color][/h1][hr]
Iava's eyes watched the Captain's front like a hawk. Habits served her well in this moment; the intention in his eyes became clear even before she'd seen the spikes which poised to drive through her middle. Though the fibers in her body screamed danger, they knew Iava had weathered storms far harsher than the ones she faced now. As she lunged towards the captain, the weight of her history and the pride of her untamed tresses bolstered her resolve.

Iava adjusted her approach before she even completed her lunge. Her torso twisted slightly, angling herself away from the captain’s incoming strikes. She brought her off-hand up to intercept one of the spikes, knowing firsthand how dangerous they could get.

Though the attempt was futile. As her blade sliced through the air towards the captain’s knee, she felt the brutal impact of one spike against her armor, sending a shudder of pain through her side. The second spike struck its chord in tandem and amplified the assault. Her armor offered its' protection, but the bone-hard surface of the spikes ground into her muscles even still. She hit the ground with a thud and was left with a bruised, aching side as a result of the gnawing throb, though it did nothing to extinguish the flame within her.

Iava's own strike proved effective; her sword connected with the captain’s knee, ripping through the softer flesh and cartilage with ease. Contact with the bone reverberated through her arm, and the impact from the trade of blows staggered her through her attempts to shake it off. 

For a moment, the captain would be momentarily distracted and off-balance. How could they press the advantage?

She scanned the battlefield as she steadied herself and found their key. There had been interference - the witch had his hands struggling under the arcane control, creating a crucial opportunity. She'd seen the summoner, already leapt at the chance. In response, Iava readied herself, sword still wedged into Bone Chime, preparing to support her teammates and capitalize on the chances they'd uncovered in the ongoing battle.

She had sought purpose in protecting others, though it'd only been in moments such as this -- amid the chaos of combat -- where she felt this... profound connection to her own being. As if she were grasping at something just out of reach. 

Iava heaved one last breath of determination. The grip on her sword remained steadfast as her focus grew sharp, the pain in her side nothing besides a rusted blade in comparison, heavy and cumbersome as it were. She would fight with all that she had, as she always had, and carve her legacy through each clash and every strike.