[ At this point Marisa is sorely wishing she'd chosen to broom-surf instead of just sitting down, because maybe then her legs wouldn't experiencing the white hot pain of literally being on fire. Shit. Did it even matter, now? It makes her wonder if Patchouli ever burnt herself on her own fire magic before she learned how to master it, or if Alice ever had her gunpowder dolls explode in her face. Oh man, Patchouli and Alice. She really did mean it when she said everyone could have their stuff back when she died. Marisa hopes Reimu notices her absence soon enough, so that all of her burglary victims can at least get their possessions back from hoarding hell. She tries not to think about the fact that she's never going to see any of them ever again.
Soon enough she realizes she's not making substantial hits, just making Rox and Blaze duck down, and she grits her teeth. The spell wouldn't last forever, and her legs are searing. When it ends, she'll fall to the ground, and she's not sure she'll be able to get back up. They'll throw her out of the airlock like all of the others, and she'll die slowly, painfully, or maybe the fall would kill her and she'd go out like Lunafreya.
No.
She always loved space, even when she was a tiny child and she stayed awake long past her bedtime looking up at the stars in her backyard. They might take her life from her, but they wouldn't take her love of the night skies, her spirit and the source of everything she loved; she had to hold onto something. Keep being the morale this place needs, Zombina said. She would. She swore it.
Marisa fishes both of the bombs out of her apron. She has maybe five seconds to prepare, before her spell fades and she plummets to the ground. She pushes off of the south-facing wall one last time before raising her voice above the noise of her bullets, throat raw. ]
I'm finishin' this!
[ She's whizzing around the room too fast to properly see what Akira, Penny, and Kaiba are doing beyond "trying to jump the platform," but she trusts them. Trusts them to try their absolute damndest to get the job done, and that's all a hellfire like Marisa could ask for. It makes her feel strangely at peace.
Her upper body strength is kind of pitiful, but the momentum from her broomstick guiding her helps as she lobs both of the bombs at the wall closest to the platform, intent on ramming into it with them. The others were too close to the platform to try aiming for it, and like hell she was gonna cause some friendly fire at the last minute. She crosses her fingers. Please. Please, work, she nearly prays, if any gods happen to be listening. At least give Rox some bad burns, or send shrapnel flying into her stupid shark face.
Marisa had meant it when she said it. There really was no other way she'd choose to die. ]
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Soon enough she realizes she's not making substantial hits, just making Rox and Blaze duck down, and she grits her teeth. The spell wouldn't last forever, and her legs are searing. When it ends, she'll fall to the ground, and she's not sure she'll be able to get back up. They'll throw her out of the airlock like all of the others, and she'll die slowly, painfully, or maybe the fall would kill her and she'd go out like Lunafreya.
No.
She always loved space, even when she was a tiny child and she stayed awake long past her bedtime looking up at the stars in her backyard. They might take her life from her, but they wouldn't take her love of the night skies, her spirit and the source of everything she loved; she had to hold onto something. Keep being the morale this place needs, Zombina said. She would. She swore it.
Marisa fishes both of the bombs out of her apron. She has maybe five seconds to prepare, before her spell fades and she plummets to the ground. She pushes off of the south-facing wall one last time before raising her voice above the noise of her bullets, throat raw. ]
I'm finishin' this!
[ She's whizzing around the room too fast to properly see what Akira, Penny, and Kaiba are doing beyond "trying to jump the platform," but she trusts them. Trusts them to try their absolute damndest to get the job done, and that's all a hellfire like Marisa could ask for. It makes her feel strangely at peace.
Her upper body strength is kind of pitiful, but the momentum from her broomstick guiding her helps as she lobs both of the bombs at the wall closest to the platform, intent on ramming into it with them. The others were too close to the platform to try aiming for it, and like hell she was gonna cause some friendly fire at the last minute. She crosses her fingers. Please. Please, work, she nearly prays, if any gods happen to be listening. At least give Rox some bad burns, or send shrapnel flying into her stupid shark face.
Marisa had meant it when she said it. There really was no other way she'd choose to die. ]