The armor was in no rush, taking the few shards of the destroyed lightroot and tossing them into a large puddle of gloom, which makes a eerie red fire that blazes up to bask the fighting area in a dim, red light.
It takes a moment, before letting out a dark chuckle, and summons a now-
. . . -{ꍟꃴꍟꈤ꓄!}-
Her purple eyes didn’t leave the armor. She was keeping an eye on its every move. She first wanted a grasp on everything new it had.
“Go on then. Don’t keep me waiting.”
She hissed, her hand clenched her spear.
The Armor’s stance doesn’t waver, as it tosses the cloth before it, and strikes it down into ash with a darkened thunderbolt. . .it’s got quite a few tricks now.
“. . .”
It appears to have nothing to say, its silence spoke volumes. It simply floats there, watching and silently mocking her. .
𝙇𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂’𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 ⚡️
. . . -{ꍟꃴꍟꈤ꓄!}-
Farosh’s eyes sharpened at the sight of the armor. She felt her blood boil at the sight, but she immediately schooled herself.
“Been busy have you? So have I…”
She held out her hand and summoned her spear. She had tweaked her spear a bit to have an easier time digging in with enough force.
𝙇𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂’𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 ⚡️
Deafening. .like a padded room.
The heat fades with a momentarily ominous chill, as the Armor floats into view before Farosh, Warsledge in one hand, and a piece of blue, elegant fabric that looked to be half permafrosted over. . .it looks like The Armor was busy while Farosh rested. .
