It's over. That's what she thought as the mannequin made a final swing towards her, only for it and most the room to be engulfed in shadow. Hildegunde's eyes widen. She blinks. And soon, the mannequin - the mannequins - were no more. She immediately scrambles for her rifle, panic stilling once her hands find their way around the familiar grip.
Gulliver was down. The storm had passed.
And someone was trying to act as thunder.
The woman gives Otis a curious look. The nature is hard to decipher. Is it one of disdain? Admiration? Judgement? Condescension? Whatever the case, the woman gives a low chuckle, shaking her head slightly.
"Letting Gulliver stay. How noble of you," she jokes, although there's a certain edge to her voice that makes it clear that she is not happy about the choice. If she's planning on doing anything about it, however, she shows no signs. Perhaps she is joking to gauge the reactions of the others before taking affirmative action. She picks a splinter out of her upper lip, gained from when she had attempted to chomp down on the kimono clad mannequin, hardly flinching as she does so. She eyes Chunji's medkit, but then looks away; she's not asking Chunji, or risking a brawl with him. While she miraculously lacks any other splinters imbedded in skin, she's in relatively rough shape.
Like Ciara, she makes her way over to Iraleth, offering her a hand. Two helping hands are better than one, and she owes the half-elf yet again. As well as the fellow human girl now, as it were.
"You are the craziest, stupidest, most impressive person I've met in a while," she tells Iraleth, awestruck. Was it supposed to be praise? It sounds and looks like it, judging by the genuine grin on her face. Maybe she herself doesn't recognize that the first two words are typically insults.
"Thanks for the help. Both of you. And sorry for not saying it earlier, half-elf."