Drake/Conan/Guy/Azalea
Her fingers moved rapidly, touch-typing as Libra-enhanced eyes scoured the field. This, a dance or two—that was all Azalea, without her beloved Rocket Punch, had intended to contribute to the main fray before hightailing it back to the Cerelia Institute. There was nothing in Emillion that could have convinced the machinist to leave her beloved research vulnerable and unattended.
Or so she thought until the silhouette of a familiar, scrawny body bled into her peripheral vision. Distracted, Lea focused on the figure, data flashing across her mind's eye.
Conan Helmm-Deirgard, Squire—
It was enough for the machinist to prematurely submit her transmission, consequences be damned. Leaping from her safe perch, Azalea reached for the Blitz Whip at her side, unfurling it with an easy flick of her wrist. The current that ran through the length of the weapon crackled in the open air like the furious chirping of birds.
For this performance, it was the only music she was going to have.
She reached Conan's side as Guy joined the party, just catching the tail end of Drake's advice. Fortunately, Lea had at least five Potions on her at any given moment. After slipping three of these into the squire's pocket, she assumed the beginning stance of Mincing Minuet. Seal Evil would have served better, but timing was of the essence. Stone was no good unless she could draw more enemies into her range.
To Guy, she said quickly, "Fire or Holy if you have it," before throwing herself into the dance.