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Throughout their walk to their assigned meeting place — a small house packed to the brim with spooks — Silje had done her best to think about the Bier Fest, and the Bier Fest [i]only[/i]. She was visibly in a foul mood — a rare sight to be sure — with her brows knit together tightly and mouth strained into something between an awkward smile and the beginnings of a frown. Silje didn't feel [i]weird [/i]the way some of her comrades did, not able to read the situation beyond what it was on the surface. Rather, her anger had a much simpler explanation; she just really didn't want to hand off the princess. 

But she had to. [i]They [/i]had to. So, as to not earn a scolding, she tried to keep her thoughts strictly on the festival, lest she actually try and [i]stop [/i]the hand off. After all, festivals were cool and fun, and it was doubtful they carried juice at all, so Justice would need to let her drink for once. She'd have a drinking contest with Valpal, heck, maybe even with Morde, and it'd be great. She and Gerard could play pranks on the festival goers. Ah, and she'd need to make sure Kali loosened up and had fun too, and Silje could only do that if she herself was happy. So. Happy thoughts.

By the time they entered Dirk's office and were forced to stand around while he and his dumb sunglasses whisper-interrogated the princess, the mist around Silje was crackling ever so lightly — a magical counterpart to a popping vein perhaps.

[i]Happy thoughts.[/i]

Then, just as she was about to bid her teary farewell to Collette, the princess was suddenly and violently yanked away — as were all the colours in Silje's world. Gerard's telepathic sentence cut off. It felt as though one of Silje's senses had been shut off; her eyes closed or ears stuffed full of wax. In a heartbeat, the battlemage realized what that meant.

The Mist around them was gone.

But you couldn't [i]truly [/i]keep it away, not forever. Some of it was already leaking back; a faint, barely visible hue framing her vision. 

Then everything — [i]everyone [/i]— burst into motion.

Her friends felled spook after spook so efficiently that Silje and her solitary handgun didn't really even need to get involved. Not yet. Colour crept along the blank walls, wafted through the air thick with gun powder. It wasn't enough yet; she couldn't work with Mist like this. It'd be like trying to paint a vivid scenery with diluted water colours. But [i]soon[/i]. A moment, or two, or three, before she'd go and find Collette and Stupid Mr. Sunglass-Head.

And then, she'd no longer need to think happy thoughts.[/color]