((ok, going to try to get things moving, which means making up details that no one has substantiated.  That doesn't particularly bother ME, but if somebody doesn't like it, they can say so and I will gladly-- nay, GIDDILY-- edit them out))<br/>When Garrett throws himself onto the spell turret like a ragdoll into an exhaust fan, Ithi'Ka realizes that her hope to provide the man her cloak-- with its inherent darkness, its protective qualities-- are as futile as a little old lady trying to warm the ocean with her bladder.<br/><br/>She almost feels angry-- certainly, a few months ago<i>... hours, she reminds herself... what felt so long to her was only a matter of moments here...</i>she would have been infuriated at his bastardly predisposition to bash windmills with his forehead, despite personal danger-- nay, moreso because of that danger.  She supposes, now, that she can see something within the man she hadn't before... perhaps it's imagination, but she begins to wonder if, under that opulent facade of ass-hattery is a fragile, self-loathing soul.<br/><br/>Gliding closer and studying the turrets as one would eye the gleam of a massive beast, Ithika picks her way closer and begins to follow the machine.<i>Alright, leech.  Where did you put the hatch...</i><br/><br/>Baring an arrow in hand, as her tools are long gone, she pries open a rust-red and earth-brown cover of the massive eldritch machine.<i>If it's connected to the dark place, maybe I can feel its source...</i>