[ Gray is conscious of Amos as he flies in closer, and looks up as he comes to a stop. This is the first time they've encountered each other as opponents, so she isn't sure what to expect of him; as well as they've always gotten along, Amos is especially single-minded when it comes to "work".
Gray raises her glaive when Amos pulls his gun. She's prepared to parry whatever bullets will come — but to her surprise, the shot lands short, and to her greater surprise, the "bullet" doesn't seem to be a traditional bullet as she knows it. She does recall that he's from the future, but to think his gun is straight out of a sci-fi movie... She should be grateful that his first shot was a warning (she's sure it was), or the blade of her weapon might be partially melted or worse.
Her solemn expression eases just a bit into an apology, a slight loosening of her eyebrows. ]
I'm sorry, Mr. Amos. I can't let this one go, even for you.
[ If she were one for banter, she might complain that he's already got two wings, so why not let her have the one. Instead, she hacks the remaining threads supporting the wing with a lightning quick swipe of her glaive.
The fairy wing comes away on a stubborn patch of web. The threads at this size are as thick as steel cables and as sticky as honey, and far too much mess for Gray to fuss over. She immediately darts away, eager to escape any more of Amos's gunfire, and with a deft spin of her glaive, she twirls the remainder of the web around her weapon so that the fairy wing is cocooned within. The wing may come away from this a bit worse for the wear, but that's a problem for later. ]
no subject
Gray raises her glaive when Amos pulls his gun. She's prepared to parry whatever bullets will come — but to her surprise, the shot lands short, and to her greater surprise, the "bullet" doesn't seem to be a traditional bullet as she knows it. She does recall that he's from the future, but to think his gun is straight out of a sci-fi movie... She should be grateful that his first shot was a warning (she's sure it was), or the blade of her weapon might be partially melted or worse.
Her solemn expression eases just a bit into an apology, a slight loosening of her eyebrows. ]
I'm sorry, Mr. Amos. I can't let this one go, even for you.
[ If she were one for banter, she might complain that he's already got two wings, so why not let her have the one. Instead, she hacks the remaining threads supporting the wing with a lightning quick swipe of her glaive.
The fairy wing comes away on a stubborn patch of web. The threads at this size are as thick as steel cables and as sticky as honey, and far too much mess for Gray to fuss over. She immediately darts away, eager to escape any more of Amos's gunfire, and with a deft spin of her glaive, she twirls the remainder of the web around her weapon so that the fairy wing is cocooned within. The wing may come away from this a bit worse for the wear, but that's a problem for later. ]