"Hey, sister, what's the big idea?! Crashing into my lair is a sin punishable by death by a thousand swords, you know! I have rules about this kind of thing! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get sawdust out of delicate mechanisms?"
Marina stood up from the rubble, wearing a dark and eerie smile as she brushed off dust and pieces of small wood from her body.
She looked too calm, too serene, despite the chaos that surrounded her.
Lines of blood dropped from her forehead where pieces of the red metallic item had shattered and mildly pierced her forehead.
The cuts were shallow but numerous, thin rivulets of red tracing paths down her face and neck.
"Deva, I need the weapon you constructed—the one you specifically designed for Lazarus during that period when he attempted to join the Tëhznarā fight." Marina's voice rung with an edge of urgency as she stood up from the debris, her deep green eyes locking onto the smaller woman.
