AMONG THE MANY THINGS THAT SHE —— GIRL OF WONDER, ALWAYS ABSORBING KNOWLEDGE —— HAS LEARNED FROM HER SURROGATE FATHER, JONAH, Neva figures one of the first lessons was to always do one’s best to divert a potentially cataclysmic fight outside of a major kingdom or city. There is rationale behind it, she knows, and —— amusedly —— she thinks it’s partially because it is only polite to do so. How many times has she seen her beloved papa teleport one of his conflicts to some field here - or - there? Thrice now? His care for the policy dwindles each time, this much is true, but she narrows her eyes and swallows hard, strategising to take this lesson learned into account presently.
SHE CAN HEAR THE CHAOS BEHIND HER. A street vendor shouts in protest, his stand being thrown against a neighbouring building; a child cries; a pipe explodes, thick plumes of smoke pour into the streets. These damages are not her doing! She almost wishes to stop to apologise, to help mend this chaos —— she does not stop. Her footfalls quicken, her steps are hastened by the most minimal of wind spells; she seems to almost glide with each movement. Neva navigates easily, her destination of the outskirts of Lindblum plainly in mind. In her peripheral senses, she can detect the trace of magic blossoming in the hands of its user behind her. She focuses on narrowing in on it. Ice. Smoothly, she whirls around, and kicks off from the ground by the toes of her armoured boots, leaping a dozen feet or so into the air, withdrawing her spear. She gives one purposeful twirl of it, and from the spearhead, a flurry of blade-like icicles is met by her own conjuration of a wall of lavender flames. The young Summoner follows up with a kinetic burst of wind, intended as a knockback —— she doesn’t wait to see if her spell achieves its goal.
NEVA KNOWS HER ASSAILANT; IF THIS BOUNTY HUNTER DECIDES TO MANIPULATE SOME FORM OF GRAVITY, SHE KNOWS SHE’S LOST THE FIGHT —— CHIYO ALREADY FIGHTS INVISIBLY, AND FIGHTS WELL IN DOING SO. Neva knows she’s not equipped to deal with the mage’s specialisation, too. She kicks off again, this time from a self - made platform of wind, launching herself skillfully airborne and creating a swirling path of stepping stones out of the air itself as she presses onwards. She spins her spear back onto the ornate holster for it on her back, securely. The streets of the city below her suffer; she can smell fire, she can see people scrambling, frantic. Neva reassures herself that at least it’s only a street or two, not the whole kingdom, not what it would be if she wasn’t baiting her attacker out of Lindblum. She feels some foreign presence, strong, magically capable. Turning her head to glance, she scans that direction quickly, but doesn’t find the source.
HER NEGLIGENCE AND STOLEN ATTENTION EARNS HER A HARSH STOP. SHE SLAMS INTO AN INVISIBLE WALL, WHICH SCORCHES THE SKIN ON HER FACE ON IMPACT. She doesn’t scream; she grits her teeth and heals herself quickly, drawing a curved dagger from its sheath and enchanting the blade to dispel, just before slicing it into the trap wall. Neva takes one step forward and feels the platform below her disappear, dispelled similarly to how she’d just dismissed Chiyo’s cursed wall. Stunned, with a web of Graviga spinning above her, Neva sucks in a sharp breath, widens her eyes, and feels herself plummet.
