Celine lingered for only a breath, eyes flicking toward the whirlwind that Titania and the Shrike had become, an erratic dance of silver and crimson, of steel ringing and sinew mending. It was a spectacle soaked in dread, and yet Celine showed no hesitation. She glanced toward Ludwig, who had already begun to vanish between the alleys, his form shrinking with each rooftop he cleared. He nodded at her, a silent exchange of trust, or perhaps burden. She didn't return it, but she moved. With a burst of ethereal speed, her form blurred into the southern mist, vanishing like a ghost in pursuit of fire.
Behind Ludwig, Redd followed albite a bit slower paced, intentionally so.
His eyes hadn't left the Shrike. Something in the way his fists curled and loosened, again and again, betrayed a conflict no one voiced. He followed Ludwig briefly, then halted mid-step, his body resisting its own forward motion.
