we both matter, don't we?

Celimene wandered alongside Aristea as they pressed on, her magic briefly thrusting the monochromatic mermaid into any number of less-than-a-second long visions. Some had to do with her own danger, and some focused on the dangers of those around her that she could potentially help with. A mage conjuring up wind nearby almost being speared in the shoulder, another throwing lances of ice barely shielding themselves from the remains of a tree as it spun ‘round the cyclone of wind and bone. A vision of a sudden bone shard flying towards her own head, which resulted in a similar ducking scenario to before Celimene and Aristea had truly entered the storm.

Celimene was, perhaps, unfortunately, used to near-death experiences at this point, be it her own or someone else’s. It was the non-lethal items that typically made it under her magical radar; a small shard nicking the edge of her hand, another scraping her calf - these sorts of things weren’t necessarily life-threatening, though after a while the danger of taking too many such small injuries would become something her magic marked among the ranks of life-threatening dangers. Enough such injuries and one could bleed out, after all! As a preventative measure, Celimene conjured up small gatherings of water and closed up the smaller cuts. First aid and minor healing was all her magic could accomplish at this junction, but it was at least enough to soothe the stinging of bone dust in her wounds.

Aristea cried out as a result of a similar smaller injury. But as the other woman reached up to touch her cheek, much to Celimene’s surprise, it spiked up the strangest sense of dread and danger she’d ever felt. What is this? She thought, confusion passing over her face. Some part of the mermaid wanted to grab Aristea’s hand and pull it back from her face, as if the small cut was some roiling beast just waiting to burst out of its prison. Squinting pale blue eyes against the dust, she did nothing but watch as Aristea’s eyes welled up with tears that didn’t have to do with the visibility around them. Aristea’s familiar, Rip, wrapped himself around his master as if to try and protect her - but from what? As far as Celimene was aware, Ari’s magic was based in the presence of water, similarly like her own could be better directed or made clearer with use of the liquid. Did Aristea's tears count as water? Did her blood fill a similar role?

“Aristea?” Celimene strained over the wind, dropping the playful honorific she liked to tease the other monochromatic woman with. Aristea was shouting through her tears now, shouting about making it stop, please Grace above -

“Stop what? Ari–” And then Rip, the little smoking cat beast, shouted for Ari to go, go to it -
“Go to wha– Aristea?!” And just like that, the dark-haired young woman was charging off into the storm. What in the name of all that is below the surface is she doing?! Celimene thought wildly, fixating on her friend and launching into the storm after her. Celimene’s magic spooled up in an unbidden frenzy, focused like a laser on Aristea and blinding the mermaid as much as letting her see. Celimene did her best to run unseeing through the whirling winds and choking dust based on the dust-free, clear sight of this latest magical vision, but moving quickly while peering into the future was not something she was particularly good at - she could walk, she could sit, she could stand, but running? At the very least, this experience reinforced the need for her to have someone there to help her who could see when she couldn't. The quick snap of her form abruptly floating in the air in her mind was a challenging contrast to the pervasive feeling of squishy sections of marsh beneath her feet outside of the vision, heralded by repeat flashes of stinging pain. Celimene watched in her vision as Aristea weaved without true direction until she made it to the side of the skeletal creature, and crying, reached out to touch it. What happened next was missed as a new vision broke into that one, barely allowing the mermaid to dodge a particularly wicked lance of bone. She nearly fell in the process, stumbling through a divot in the earth before, her vision momentarily clear for the present, she caught sight of a dark shape in the dust storm - and another, much larger shape looming behind it.

“Aristea!” Celimene called as loudly as she could before another vision overtook her sight - and she tackled Aristea forward as a huge bone shard, freshly ripped off the skeleton in the core of the tornado, shot directly into the space Aristea had just been standing. Celimene stifled a scream as the jagged thing caught on her back and shoved the two women the rest of the way forward into the eye of the cyclone.

“For the love of the weaving current and sunken galleon…” Celimene snapped to nothing in particular, wiping her face with a sleeve and spitting sand as she did her best to quickly pull herself up from the ground. She grit her teeth and attempted to ignore the increasingly uncomfortable wetness across her mid-back. The snapping of clothing left free in the wind was clear in her ears, but she didn't dare try to survey the damage right now.
“Are you okay?” The monochromatic mermaid winced, offering a hand to help Aristea up. Neither of them had been skewered, at least, but the storm was still moving, even if they were in the center of it. With a living, screaming, magic-conjuring skeleton. Oh joyous of joys, oh rapture.

“We need to get back out of here before that thing whips around and kills us.” Celimene growled, eying the floating remains as the dust blurred her vision. At the very least Celimene was going to make sure that Aristea wouldn't escape her grasp so easily on the way back out.