[The problem with a melee like this is, of course, the issue of friendly fire — quite literally. With Trevor and Alucard deep in the fray, she has to be all the more careful about attempting to corral the masses with her use of the elements, lest she catch them up in it as well.
But still. She would hardly be a Speaker magician if she didn't know how to handle herself.
With movements almost like a dance, she pulls magic into her hands and throws it in the form of tiny orbs, one after another, toward the faces of the hunters; though they seem like nothing more untoward than her previous fae light at first, these ones come with an added, nasty twist. They glow a low red when she hurls them, because she knows from cozy afternoons poring over books with Alucard that red light preserves night vision; she's also very aware that white light does not, and so when each of those orbs explodes like a supernova into a brilliant wash of light before dying out, the resultant magical flashbang will almost certainly disorient the hunters, at least long enough to get a handle on them.
The priest, however, is another matter — and he, sensing danger, has begun to shamble away. And really, a wall of ice would've done just fine, except for the fact that her magic is shaped by her intent, and, well.
It is, perhaps, a facet of her own feelings about this issue, on behalf of Alucard, that her ice manifests not as a wall, but as a series of spikes jutting up from the ground on an angle, pointing inward like lances and daring the priest to go further.]
no subject
But still. She would hardly be a Speaker magician if she didn't know how to handle herself.
With movements almost like a dance, she pulls magic into her hands and throws it in the form of tiny orbs, one after another, toward the faces of the hunters; though they seem like nothing more untoward than her previous fae light at first, these ones come with an added, nasty twist. They glow a low red when she hurls them, because she knows from cozy afternoons poring over books with Alucard that red light preserves night vision; she's also very aware that white light does not, and so when each of those orbs explodes like a supernova into a brilliant wash of light before dying out, the resultant magical flashbang will almost certainly disorient the hunters, at least long enough to get a handle on them.
The priest, however, is another matter — and he, sensing danger, has begun to shamble away. And really, a wall of ice would've done just fine, except for the fact that her magic is shaped by her intent, and, well.
It is, perhaps, a facet of her own feelings about this issue, on behalf of Alucard, that her ice manifests not as a wall, but as a series of spikes jutting up from the ground on an angle, pointing inward like lances and daring the priest to go further.]