Pinya opens her mouth to scream back that summoning Primals will kill even more people but never gets that far. Instead, the familiar crushing weight that means her Echo is activating steals her breath and she's almost doubling over, clutching at her head because-
It was just supposed to be a trip to Altissia with his friends so she could get married, not- not this. The newspaper trembles in her hands and above all else, she hopes it's fake, some sick fucking joke because the headline is telling her that her dad, the fucking King, is Dead and-
They're driving too late at night, their headlamps a dead giveaway on the dark asphalt, easy pickings for an Imperial airship to drop down their MT soldiers. She's slamming the brakes and hearing the wheels skid a bit before she crashes them all into the stupid soulless Nifs, jumping out and calling her shortsword out of the armiger and-
They're going to lose. She can feel it in her bones, in the ache of his muscles and the stagger in her step. They've run out of Downs, potions are too little too late and there's nothing but a deep sense of desperation that she flings out into the world for someone, anyone, please!
Her call is Answered, she can feel the bite of the winds as the Messenger harkens to her plea, feeding off her own magic in an explosive deluge. Garuda is quick and devastating and brings the heavens down onto every single one of the Daemons that ambushed them and she could almost sob with relief,
Pinya is slammed back into herself with no elegance whatsoever, the pounding in her head getting nigh unmanageable. She's sure it wasn't ever this bad back home, but this isn't Home.
One thing is for sure, though. That wasn't Hydaelyn.
She’s too disoriented right now to do much of anything...
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