Pirate Bitches
Domina gripped onto the railing as the ship banked around the writhing serpent, and then there was fire and light—a fantastic display of wanton destruction and flame. Her teeth flashed in a brutal, violent smile. "Well done," she said, and for a moment this was little more than training, little more than two evenly matched allies admiring each other's skill on the battlefield. The bomb went off in an impressive cloud of fire and smoke and seawater that sent Domina's hair and clothes flying; the dragon screamed in anguish and changed direction, just out of reach of Azalea's array of explosives.
Her turn again, as the other ship rained first non-elemental hits, and then an entire person. She wondered, vaguely, if the other ship was simply shedding flotsam and jetsam to try and gain higher altitude, if its skystones were damaged—but there, the girl was back in the air and up on deck, and Domina was readying her next strike. A stronger attack this time, and one able to give the machinist and the ship time for another solid hit while the other corsairs changed their course. Domina lifted her arms again and closed her eyes, concentrating, concentrating—
—A wall of searing air swept towards the dragon, engulfing its wings and back and tail, and then Domina's other hand was up, and the ship seemed to ripple beneath her. The dragon screeched and its damaged wings, for a moment, were moving slower than normal. "Strike hard!" she shouted, hand trembling in the air. "I can't hold this spell long!"