[center][b]Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon[/b][/center]

[u]Emily[/u]

Emily felt the momentum die, the ragworm’s course altered and shifted to her. From the corner of her eyes, she watched Vignar’s form become free from the chains then rolled away much to her relief. Then pain ripped her focus away. A terrible reminder of her mistake, a slightly lapse in memory over one of Steve’s keys traits: his damn spikes. They protruded out from contact, their short, quill like needles struck against her arms. The top barely protected as the tips tried to pierce through the covering but thankfully they seemed equally matched in strength. However, the bottom was completely exposed. Blood trailed along her dune colored skin and dripped between the spikes, staining the dark, leather skin. Emily couldn’t stop the scream that tore through the air and seemed ripped from her unwilling. 

She had missed Vignar’s shout to protect the others, even Sean’s reaction to seeing his dead companions, all lost in her voice. Her breath thumped through her, her chest raised and fell with each struggle to force out the pain. It only helped enough for her to notice Steve’s attempt to give her a rather spiny hug. She jerked at her weapon, once, twice, and three times only to discover it won’t budge. The force from her rush had embedded it too deeply and it served, now, only to inflamed her arm with each jarring motion. 

There was one option. One Emily knew was a risk and would make her venerable for a few moments while she put distance between her and the ragworm. It wasn’t a pleasant idea but there was little other choice. The white weapon faded slowly, returned to dark tendrils that raced up her arm and vanished. Blade now gone, she was no longer stuck. 

Her feet kicked off with all her might. Sand scattered in her flight away, her direction back towards Vignar. She wasn’t as fast as before and found this out too late. Her body had just cleared Steve’s leg when one of the spikes clipped her shin, the muscle seared with hurtful flames raced up and down her leg. Her tongue bit back another scream enough she tasted blood. Once safely beside Vignar, her leg gave a little bring her to her knee. Her hand instinctively touched the robe and noted the wetness start soaking the cloth, but unsure if it her arm or the leg which was the cause. Under her breath, Emily curses a bit then turned for a moment to spot how the others are doing. 

A familiar and unwanted sight greeted her. It was the tug of war secession between Eight and Valor, Fran’s misfortune in being the rope. Her mind went numb when the memory of her last time here, the image of Ramza almost being dragged under the sand and the very same thing occurrence repeated itself once more. A dry lump settled in her throat. 

Emily… Cerberus’s voice, thankfully for once, had broken her reminiscence. He continued with a firm, yet gentle tone of concern. Emily, focus and try to take out Sean. It will stop Steve and perhaps Valor. 

The words seemed to help as Emily, now likely beside the more serious man, turned back to Vignar and spoke. “We need to redirect our focus upon Sean rather than mess with his spirit. It seems both Valor and Steve are dependent on him and if he’s killed, even out cold, then it could end this fight. Or at the least even the odds.” 

She took a breath, forced her heart to settle down. “I only have a few questions: Do you have any long range abilities and if that’s a yes, think you can hit Sean where the scales are no longer there? If not, think you have something in your bag of tricks to cover me while I use my bow?” 

Inwardly, Emily hoped he wouldn’t look at her arm and question her ability to fire her bow. If he did ask, she wasn’t really sure how to answer because she wasn’t positive she would be able to until she tried. Her eyes skimmed her arm to take in the damage. It was rather cut up and bloody looking, her wrist flexed a bit to show it could still move. That was a positive, even if it hurt to do it.