Cian/Damia/Guy/Elvira
Stray flecks of ice rested on Elvira’s hair which she left alone though she pushed back a strand that fell over her eyes. Preoccupied with the largest of the monsters (It did not restrain from attacking her even if she did the same for it), the holy knight shot a glance over to the men though she spoke to all of them.
“Someone else, please,” she asked while adjusting her footing to , hoping someone closer to the corsair and the fallen bug could deliver the final blow.
She took the dive, switching to the offensive, and attacked the mimeo. It recoiled from the sting of Judgement Blade. Did mechanical bugs scream, she wasted no time wondering. She looked from the bug to her teammates, or whatever they were at this moment, to reassess their condition, their injuries. (And she made mental notes of the other blonde’s skill with magic, of the gambler’s language, of the synergist’s blood.)