Papers, books, pens, pencils, and who knew what else flew about the room as Dennis let off spells that often had a concussive blast to them. Trying to get close enough to subdue the siren, he was careful in his spell choice as he chose nothing that'd harm her, certain that he'd have to use a sleep enchantment on her. In addition to this, he found the other issue he had to contend with was the siren's natural weapons, as every time he did manage to get close, she tried to slash at him with her fingernails that were more claws than anything else, or bite him with her sharp teeth.
Criasa didn't share the same qualms as the one who fought her. She saw him as an enemy, and treated him as such. Her goal to end his life, she was perturbed by the spells he shot at her, most of which either bounced harmless off her skin or pushed her back. Ignoring the stuff flying about, she launched herself across the table that separated them. Not caring about the stuff on it, she desired nothing else but to end the life of the thing in the room with her. Wanting to rip the flesh from the bones and sink her teeth into its meat, she screeched and tried to lure him closer with her song. When that didn't work, she brought her sharp, claw-like fingernails to bear and again tried to rip open his torso with a downward slash.
Stunned, Rowan stood in the doorway, unable to believe what it was she saw. The usually neat room was now thoroughly trashed. Cushions had been blown of the couch, papers and books scattered about the floor, and in the case of the paper, floated through the air, whilst stuff that normally sat on the shelves had either been knocked askew or off. In the midst of all this, she saw two figures she was unable to make heads or tails of, as one appeared to be a nude woman with inhuman facial features and the oddest coloured skin and hair, whilst the other, if she didn't know any better, looked to be an Elf. And then it hit her that the two fighting were Dennis and Tristan, that they'd found the Chronivac programme and used it on themselves to become their characters, Drannor and Criasa. Watching as they almost went about as if in a dance, she was floored by how monstrous the siren was, as well as the fact that the other was actually hurling magick spells about. And then it hit her, her laptop was somewhere within the fray.
Cognisant of his surroundings, Dennis took in Rowan's arrival, but didn't take his eyes off Criasa. Already the thing that had been his friend had landed a couple hits and he bled freely from the places her claws had raked through his clothes and the skin below. None of them deep enough to cause him worry, he knew a healing spell would take care of them, yet was worried about getting hit too many times and suffering the effects of blood loss. Bringing forth his magick, he warily watched the monster that had been until moments ago his friend. When she launched herself at him, he feinted one way, and when she followed, he fired off a series of blasts meant to either push her back or knock her out.
Enraged she'd fallen for his ploy, Criasa hissed and spit as she shifted and tried to correct her movement. Bringing her hands up as she turned to attack, she salivated at the smell of the blood the being was leaching, but before she could strike, more of those infuriating enchantments of his struck her and pushed her a few steps away. Back striking the table, she hissed in fury and pushed away from it and started to stalk toward her prey, tensing as she did, preparing to leap at him and use her teeth and claws to rend flesh, and what she hoped would bring an end to their fight. Mere steps away, she gasped when something crashed down atop her head.
It was hard to tell who was more surprised by this. Dennis had seen Rowan creep into the room and pick up an item he couldn’t quite determine what it was, as his full attention was focus on defending himself from the creature who used to be Tristan. Sneaking as quietly as she could up behind the monster, Rowan hefted hunk of shelf she’d picked up. As Criasa stepped forward to try another attack, Rowan swung as hard as she could as Dennis left forth another spell. The blast catching Criasa, she shrugged it off as she was pushed backward, she stumbled when something hard crashed into her head. Hissing, her vision going blurry, she couldn’t believe someone would dare strike her as Rowan was in shock at her audacity and Dennis, stunned by what he’d witnessed, as wells as seeing an opening, prepared a special enchantment he’d been saving for the right moment.
With another shriek, Criasa whipped about and raised her hands to attack. Realising her mistake, Rowan dropped the hunk of shelf as she fumbled out apologies. Taking a step toward what she saw as another potentially delicious meal, figuring what she couldn’t eat she’d save to eat with what she wasn’t able to finish of the other, she let out a screech that turned into a drawn-out keen as Dennis’ spell hit home. Sinking to the floor, she tried to fight against what was happening to her, but unable to, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep that could be only broken with another spell.
Hesitant to approach the monster on the floor, Rowan stared at her. Still trying to get used to the idea that the creature was somehow Tristan, sure she was, as she looked like how her friend described his character, she glanced at Dennis and asked, “Is she, uh, dead?”
“Asleep,” Dennis answered in a voice that brimmed with confidence Rowan had never heard before.
Mind going to work, she wanted to ask if they’d used the Chronivac and why. Figuring she at least part of the answer to her question, she instead skipped to, “We can’t leave Tristan like this. We have to change him back,” and Dennis giving her a look, he explained he didn’t have the spell knowledge to alter a person.
“I meant with the Chronivac,” Rowan said in an exasperated tone as if it should’ve been obvious what she meant and taking a step around Dennis and toward the table, she stopped and stared open-mouthed.
Table thoroughly trashed, and almost cleared off, it was nothing when compared to her laptop. Screen cracked, smoke, reeking on melting plastic, issued in thin blue vapours from the vents on the side, whilst most of the keys had been blown off the keyboard. Thinking she could probably fix most of it, Rowan also determined that there was no point, as the screen was shot. But none of this compared to the one simple truth that, if the hard drive was fried, and she believed it was, there was no way to access the Chronivac programme. Tristan was trapped the way he was, and she couldn’t use it to finish her own change.