Donovan's Anima flared, a sickly green radiance that exuded an unhealthy, nauseating sensation. Simply gazing upon it caused a sensation of ones body rebelling against itself, cancer and wasting gnawing at the edges of life. The emerald blaze danced around the brass marine in a peripheral  bonfire, the  indistinct form of a stone lioness bucking and roaring within the flames.<br/><br/>The Anima devoured the beam that bore down on the Exalt, maw of the phantom lion gnawing hungrily on the sky-fire repast. A measure of the assault leaked from the phantom's maw, dribbling down like caustic drool to abuse Donovan. His brass hide took the brunt of this overflow, even if the heavy metal took a charred vestige.  As his Banner swelled, Donovan felt his Essence refilling, his primordial exaltation filtering the blast into it's base energy. He began to feel swollen, too full to take more, yet more kept pouring forth to drown him, like a flood of orange juice. He felt as if he would burst, as if the energy bulling through his form would burn him out entirely...<br/><br/>And finally, mercifully, the beam cut off. He doubted that these things had emotion, but he was sure that any Collector at the gun's controls would be snarling at the screen, cursing him for not evaporation. Or possibly just cackling at the tiny, limp speck that floated before their ponderous hulk.<br/><br/>Donovan grunted, rolling one shoulder, eyes locked on the firing port for the Collector beam. If it could send something out, no doubt it could take something in.<br/><br/>"My turn, you four-eyed freaks." He growled, his voice a grating, rasping dissonance. He presented his hand to the ship, an emerald charge of energy building in his palm.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">STAR-PIERCING SPEAR OF GLORY!</span>!Gwah