Hmn. So that's what that stuff is really used for... [Any critical thinking about what kind of tricks the other incarcerated Sinners might have tossed at her under the guise of magic goes unexplored. Hella buckles up to throw the door open, and Ninety-Nine feels a brief wave of dizzying Mania as she struggles to match it. Shit. Hella has more energy - not that she's surprised - while Ninety-Nine is still disoriented from wounds that are acting differently from any other hurt she's ever received. It's fine: She's used to pain, and she can stifle this until she figures out exactly how it's going to affect her. It can't take effect that quickly, can it?
(The sizzle of powerful energy that sprung from Kotoha when she was bitten courses through her, a particularly bitter memory. Ninety-Nine has no way of knowing if or when it'll be the same for her.)
Instinct calls for her to roar upon charging into the shop, but if they've learned anything, it's the noise that gets them into trouble more often than not. She fights that, too - fights almost everything her brain and body seem to want her to do - as she bursts into the shop with her bat drawn and raised. It smells old in here, but less like death than a lot of other infested places. The mannequins modeling stupid hats and sequined attire strewn around the front of the store get smashed, as predicted. It's a mix of broiling suspicious and violent anger that she can't completely quell. Ninety-Nine hits them more than she needs to, bringing the bat down again and again. It's the only thing she can take her feelings out on. Why, why, why?]
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(The sizzle of powerful energy that sprung from Kotoha when she was bitten courses through her, a particularly bitter memory. Ninety-Nine has no way of knowing if or when it'll be the same for her.)
Instinct calls for her to roar upon charging into the shop, but if they've learned anything, it's the noise that gets them into trouble more often than not. She fights that, too - fights almost everything her brain and body seem to want her to do - as she bursts into the shop with her bat drawn and raised. It smells old in here, but less like death than a lot of other infested places. The mannequins modeling stupid hats and sequined attire strewn around the front of the store get smashed, as predicted. It's a mix of broiling suspicious and violent anger that she can't completely quell. Ninety-Nine hits them more than she needs to, bringing the bat down again and again. It's the only thing she can take her feelings out on. Why, why, why?]