Rose shoved closer, metal wing covering the breech. Sunset dropped the rest of the rounds to clang and roll on the deck in favor of wrenching at the wing. Rose's face contorted, a nightmare mask of pain, anger, and scars. The other wing came up and slashed horizontally. Sunset's alicorn vibrated painfully and her whole head rang; the levitation popped like a bubble. Rose was inches away, mouth working with another shout, breath hot on her face. Abruptly the roar and tumult surrounding her burst in again, tinny and faraway through the plugs, accompanied by a steady high-pitched tone that faded only gradually.