As they land and Whiplash releases the protective chrysalis around her, Bast rises to her feet and bows toward Whiplash, straitening again quickly enough to set the beads on her hair to swinging. Standing on her own feet, able to press her hands into the circle at her chest, it was so much easier to visualize, and the spell was a simpler one, a mere summoning of a swarm of scarab beetles, flesh eaters, to harry the misbegotten tools of the V'sori. She felt the warmth of the Goddess's power rising through her, smelled the acrid sharpness of the desert air, and knew that the spell had been granted. It was a familiar one, so it had more likely than not done what she wished.<br/><br/>That die was cast, however, and she had more need to generate defenses than to run and see if the casting had been true.