That the blonde in front of her took so long to don her armor frustrated the young mage, that Emma was dragging it out as revenge for the little frost spell was infuriating. With a heavy sigh, she began to impatiently tap her foot. When that offered up no result she grumbled and moved back around to stand in front of the chair she had been in. She opened her mouth to cast a haste spell, so that even if she tried to be slow it would be faster than it usually took her to ready herself. just as her hands started to move, making the appropriate arcane symbols, and before the first mystic syllable left her lips she found the air leaving her lungs as she was tackled into the chair.<br/><br/>She stared up in wide-eyed shock as the warrior towered over her. She tried to cast another spell to still the woman but Emma was prepared to deal with her. Syrisa squeaked in pain as fingers dug into her temples. Waves of nausea and pain coursed through the delicate young mageling and she had to gasp for breath. She tried to twist her head away but that only caused more pain. Soft hands tugged at the warrior's strong wrist and Syrisa whined in pain and fear. She could not focus, even with her training and she felt suddenly helpless. For all her power, and her skill, she was no more able to defend herself than a newborn. She simply wasn't strong enough and the ache in her head was getting worse. She wanted to cry as her protector stared down at her. In a move of utter desperation, both small, bare feet came up, pressing against the breastplate Emma wore and pushed, trying to dislodge her stronger, more fearsome foe.<br/><br/><span style="color: indigo">"Let go, let go!!" </span>She whined as she kicked with both feet.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>