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It was a miserable thing, feeling useless. Hiding behind someone else. It seemed entirely likely that Cinnabar might kill this knight for trying to protect her: she had him outranked, and that often meant outmatched, as well -- Generals were fast, strong, experienced at their craft.

Hvergelmir was no help whatsoever, even if she wasn't fairly certain that she'd broken something in her hand just falling on it. Her magic, that had blinded Cinnabar once before, was just as likely to blind the knight fighting her. Her aspect was useless unless she put herself back in the fray -- where she'd only get in the way -- which left Hvergelmir with nothing but Eikthyrnir: useless for anything except saving her own hide unless the other knight could get separation from Cinnabar for long enough to ensure that Hvergelmir could summon the great caribou and pull the both of them out safely.

Unless that happened, she was helpless but to watch and worry and feel miserable.

Hvergelmir summoned her distaff to hand and backed away, further into the rose arbor, moving into a basic warding stance. She hoped Cinnabar would stay occupied with the other knight and not complicate things further, but with teleporters, nothing was ever sure. She'd rather not be a hostage twice in one night.

There was a deep satisfaction in the way the Knight so easily gave ground before her, each blow landed building her confidence and assurance that she had him out-classed in nearly every way. There would be no repeat of last time, not now. He might put his hands on her, but this time she would snap them off at the wrist and he would regret ever having seen her face.

He should have let her have the knight... it could have kept him in one piece a bit longer.

As she backed him into the wall, Cin's smile spread feral and toothy across her face and she began to tease him with her attacks. Each one reached for exposed areas his defense left open, more to draw attention there and way from his core. All she needed was a sliver of an opening, for him to decide the armor over his chest was enough protection, when it was truly anything but...

When the moment finally came, his arms lifted to block a blow to the face, the General darted in under them. Her hand lashed out, not in a punch or with claws bared, but with her fingers pressed together. They struck him, but rather than colliding with armor, they connected and kept going, sheering through metal and flesh and bone into a space that was outside of this dimension. There, a glowing star sat unprotected and her fingers reached to close around it like a cage of steel as her smile spread wider in triumph.

"Make one wrong move and I will crush you to powder." Cin purred as she pressed in close, her hand buried to the wrist in his chest. "You've lost, Tin Man. Make things easy on yourself and give up. I promise I'll go easy on you. I'd much rather than you whole and an ally than broken and your starseed shining in my palm. Not that I would protest that all too hard... but you belong on my side, standing beside me. You're a good fighter, that much is obvious. Think of the pair we'd make... we could burn this world to the ground together, if we wanted to. The Lion and... the Wolf, maybe. Yes. I like the sound of that."

A rich laugh rolled from her throat as she closed her hand tighter, feeling almost giddy with the rush of excitement and power. It called up something in her, this primal struggle between them, and it turned her features feral, her pupil's shrunk to excited, feline slits. She had an almost overwhelming urge to forgo the sales pitch and just rip his starseed out to crunch between her teeth. She could nearly taste it and the primal joy of an enemy's defeat.

Gehenna's entire being protested at once as her hand dove into the subspace of his chest. He felt like he was going to throw up, as if that might purge him of the feeling of the foreign object lodged around his starseed, but too he felt as if his breath was being crushed out. He had seen this a dozen times and fought for the starseeds of the damned every time. It occurred to him that every time he had fought, it had been in vain, and he had yet to save a single soul who fell to this trap. Cinnabar's hand around his life source was a death sentence at best. Discomfort pulled his face into a grimace but his eyes stared up into hers as she spoke, defiant and bright as ever.

Somewhere beyond them, he had hoped the shining Knight had taken the opportunity to leave. There was no doubt in his mind that he had Cinnabar's full attention and, if nothing else, he hoped she wasn't going to make him die in vain. Because death it would be. That was his choice.

Gehenna had seen the kind of monsters that the Negaverse bred - not just the General that had her hand in a deathgrip around his starseed but Alkaid, the broken Senshi that haunted his nightmares, and Painite, who drove a spear through his chest without even blinking. There were several paths to walk into the darkness and Gehenna, proud and bold, wanted none of them. He would escape, or he would drive Cinnabar to kill him.

Above him, somewhere, Mars loomed. In what could be his final moments, his thoughts drifted to her and his wonder, to the magic she had given her ungrateful scion. Would fighting to the death be enough penance?

The hand hanging limply at his side began to curl into a fist, slowly, so as not to draw attention and the grimace on his lips shifted into the most uncomfortable smile he had ever worn on his smug face.

"Thanks for the offer," came the husky voice, low and pained, "but go ******** yourself."

A click marked the sound of his weapon shifting into alignment and the world around him bled red, like it had been swallowed in a river of blood. Two bright points stood out for the beast that was Gehenna and slowly, the anger and hate that he associated with his magic filled him to the brim. There was no reason to fear the hand in his chest, no reason to fear death, no reason to fear. There was only blood to be shed.

Without warning, his head jerked forward and smashed the broad, strong plane of his forehead into the center of her face - easy, with how closely matched in height they were. The blow reverberated through his skull, but dulled and forgotten beneath the weight of his rage. There was no hesitation between the headbutt and his first strike as he swung at her with his strong right arm, aiming for anything she left exposed. The left was preparing to follow the moment the first found impact.

Eikthyrnir rarely ran. There was seldom cause for it; whenever Hvergelmir needed to teleport somewhere, she was rarely in need of any traveling otherwise. The great caribou would arrive, mounted up or not, with a touch, she could be gone -- which was so often sufficient for her needs.

The ancient beast usually had little need to run, most days.

Ah, but it could.

Golden hooves pounded across the ground, nearly soundless, but making the earth shudder hard beneath their wake. The creature moved forward, its speed leaving a trail of stardust in its wake, and advanced on the man in red in a blur of blue and gold, with a white-clad knight on its back.

She leaned over. Reached out a hand. Her fingers hooked beneath the collar of his armor and held.

The prospect of literally lifting the squire from the ground -- at this speed, from that angle, and with his weight and her strength -- was laughable, of course. Fortunately, Hvergelmir didn't need to: she just needed to grab on long enough for Eikthyrnir to make the long jump that would take the three of them far, far away.

There was a shower of glimmering light where the caribou and the two knights had been -- and then, nothing.

They weren't in the square where Ploutonion had been corrupted, anymore. The wind was high and howling, so far above the ground.

Eikthyrnir came to a stop, golden hooves kicking up dirt and rocks as they ground to a pause, and the Mars squire likewise slowing his drag through rooftop gravel. Hvergelmir let go. Dismounted. The caribou faded away, shimmering, into the air.

There hadn't been much time to think of a destination, so she'd chosen somewhere remote and safe, the first place that came to mind.

The top of Destiny Tower.

Hvergelmir studied the red squire from a few paces' distance, wary. She wondered if he would attack her again, like the last time.

The pair of knight signatures winked out of existence abruptly, leaving Cinnabar alone in the silent park with only the wind for company. She felt them leave and she lunged for them, but it was too late by far. Her hands closed on nothing and with no target for her rage, she released it in a shriek of anger, fingers curled and clenched till knuckles popped.

Her prey had fled, defying every instinct that said she had had them in her power. It was infuriating, but ultimately, there was nothing she could do about it now. And besides that, her nose poured blood down her face and radiated pain every time her face moved.

God damn Knights...

A sharp motion called her coat to her, the heavy leather settling around her shoulders as she immediately shoved her hands into her pockets. When she pulled one free, it was with a starseed in her fingers and she shoved it impatiently between her teeth, crunching down viciously to vent some of her ire before euphoria flooded her system. She rode the high as she winked out of existence, teleporting herself back to her rooms to stew over the failure this night had become and nurse her broken nose.

At peace with the knowledge that they were finally safe, somewhere on a rooftop he was too dazed to recognize. With that realization came another - his adrenaline was beginning to wear off. The aches of his battle were growing steadily stronger from bruised ribs to slashed skin and he knew, even before she spoke, that he must have been a bloodied mess.

Distantly he heard her talking about her summons, some magic he might get if he ever got his s**t together, but it wasn't important. All he could think in that moment was that she had saved him - the woman he had attacked, had barely restrained himself from killing the last time they came face to face, had saved him.

"I won't stop you," he murmured, pushing himself slowly up onto one elbow. He regretted it immediately but was too stubborn to admit how badly it hurt, or how much the world started spinning as soon as he moved his head. He bit back the bile in his throat and forced himself to focus on her where she stood close-by, a gossamer vision against the back light of the starry sky. "I'm pretty sure I couldn't stop you right now, even if I wanted."

A sound that sounded something like a laugh started, until he winced and choked it back. He'd really come close this time, hadn't he?

There was only time to give the shimmering Knight a skeptical glance before the blanket sized cloak was slipped down over his body, falling into place like the finest silk over the dips and ridges of his armor. The feeling was almost instantaneous, shrouding him in a comfort that sank deep to the bone. The nausea and dizziness began to dissipate almost immediately beneath the magic, soothing the ache of his muscles and bones, but the drowsiness that came with such a sudden relief had him resisting the urge to fend off her mothering.

"Alright, alright," he murmured in a heavy, low breath, letting his eyes half lid as his head fell back gently to rest, cradled against her thighs. She was soft and warm in a way that felt peaceful, even if her face reminded him of a dozen nights of sleeplessness.

"You don't have to be so nice, you know. It makes me feel worse." His attention was drawn momentarily to the aching subspace in his chest, the one thing that her magic cloak hadn't quite reached, making it stand in stark contrast to the rest of his body. The lingering taint of her chaos felt like penance, more than the stinging wounds covering every open piece of skin she'd gotten her claws into.

"I'm sorry about before."