damia ravin speaks fluent sarcasm (contrabandist) wrote in emillion, |
When the Cura settled into Damia's bones and warmed something at her core, she finally pushed to a stand, albeit somewhat shakily. Her knees would undoubtedly be sore later, but that was neither here nor there. They had an Elemental to distract apparently, a task she was most displeased about considering it would do her more damage-- even though, in a place deep inside, she did worry for the well-being of the others.
Understanding her physical abilities would be entirely useless, the blonde abandoned the use of them and, too, resumed her attack, only to be blown back by another blast of water soon after. Upon hitting the ground for the second time, Damia noted the slight rip to the leather of her pants from her dagger on the way down (and how close it'd been to gashing her). As the rain blinded her with both torrential downpour and her own hair, she drew herself to her feet once again, brushing wet tendrils from her forehead.
Faram above-- she liked those pants.