While Yasha hesitates between weapons, she takes another look around. That scythe-wielding raccoon was the only threat she<span style="font-style: italic">saw</span>on the south, not noticing the stealthy marten; the fireworks going on around Arcea and Celrie, the glowy gators, the big power armor... it was all so distracting, no less than the cannon finally getting into action and opening fire on them. It was hardly surprising the marten didn't register on Yasha's perceptions just yet. That was all the more confirmed when the one person she was keeping tabs on decided to taunt her, and to do so in an exceptionally clumsy way. "With you? A SHARE?" The squirrel sounds as outraged as if she'd been propositioned to gut herself on a demonic altar to raise a pestilence lord into the world. "<span style="font-style: italic">Join someone else's crew</span>for a share?!" The very idea was anathema. "I've been arrested before! Why y'think I got exiled to this frozen armpit of the world, you sickle-wielding moron?!" It's enjoyable trading insults, and then and there Yasha decides she wants that raccoon for herself. Given that, she puts her hand on her stun gun, getting ready to approach, put the raccoon down, and enjoy a big lunch.<br/><br/>The marten's words form an inadvertent echo of Yasha's own thoughts, and she doesn't immediately realize the marten she'd lost track of was talking or that she was the lunch being discussed. Still, there was nothing wrong with her reflexes; tail fluffed out behind her, she pivots on one foot, trying to clear her holster. The stun baton is the first thing she sees, and Yasha instinctively jukes to the side. The same side the marten juked to, and with a wide-open mouth to boot. The impact knocks her mind senseless for precious seconds which the marten used to get her lips and blunt teeth down around her stomach and pin her arms to her side. "Mrrrphgk-" she tries to yell in protest, but the marten's tongue smothers her and lathers her fur with drool while the roof of her mouth takes care of the squirrel's back. Immaculately groomed fur becomes a sticky, clumping mess plastered to her skin in seconds, making her look even smaller than she usually did. Small enough, in fact, that she was the right sized mouthful to challenge even another slight-of-stature rodent girl. The similarity between them isn't much comfort. Instead, her mind is already racing, analyzing her predicament. On the one hand, her people were winning the battle, and Yasha expected them to come out on top. And... probably she'd made enough friends that letting her go would be made a condition of any surrender. But any time you went into a stomach, and Yasha had experienced that only once- arguably twice- before in her life, you gave up your ability to affect the rest of the world and you were gambling a lot at unknown odds. Risks Yasha would take; throwing the dice on being a squirrel or marten fat come sunrise without knowing the chances of either outcome wasn't what she was enthused for.<br/><br/>Immediately abandoning the attempt to get her weapons, instead the wiry squirrel starts squirming and trying to brace her hands against the sides of the marten's gullet, just enough to give her leverage to splooge out of the rodent's mouth and repay the odds. She can't really hear that Sevana's trying to already save her, only that the marten responds. But that could just be a mouth-full taunt for all she knows.<br/><br/>[[<a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/358354">http://orokos.com/roll/358354</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">1d8+1d6</span><span style="font-weight: bold">5</span>( 4 and 1; Yasha doesn't get out and is fully swallowed. )]]<br/><br/>Instead, she keeps on moving around, only to feel both of her hands slip at once and an opportunistic ripple of the throat grab hold of her shoulders and *tug*. With as little meat, relatively speaking, as she has on her there's no big belly to catch in the marten's craw. Instead, the slide that begins with that one gulp doesn't end until the famous pirate is a curled up ball completely soaked with drool and the first traces of hungry acids inside the ambitious marten. Immediately trying to wriggle to get her head off the bottom of the oozing belly and back to the top, she throws ineffectual elbows at the stomach walls instinctively. "You're signin' your death warrant if you don't let me out, you crazy jumped up mouse!" The defiant yell is spoiled a bit by her coughing on the sour air inside the marten, and the fact that the first eager gurgle of the organ around her is as loud in Yasha's ears as her own yell.