The machine hulks forwards. 'You've chosen the wrong day to make yourself known, Anathema!' the thing shouts, raising that fist clad in steel, brutally plated, weighted, and strikes down at you- It's clumsy compared to a human, but the fist is on target, a fist that would smear an ordinary human across the ground in a red streak. It won't be nearly enough. The blade feels right in your hand, almost an extension of your body- It's as though you've been using it your whole life, as your Essence suffuses it, making it light as a rapier within your hands, the heavy sword moving through the air with practiced ease.<br/><br/>Saffron reaches the bottom of the crater- and finds the face of a golden god staring back at her. Half-buried in sand, chest split open, but it's humanoid in shape, miraculously free of sand. You see, on the arms, that same golden starburst, and you feel another pulse of heat from the bracers, memories resurfacing. Standing before a constantly moving, shifting creature, a gibbering shade, and shattering it with blows that would crack mountains, reshaping a vast ebony dragon. You remember standing in the sun, and kissing it, a love that made any others seem paltry and dull. You remember exactly how to enter the suit, the way you move your body, flexing and letting the burst of energy flow through you, making it bend to your control.<br/><br/>(I'd say a 6 speed action to get control of the armor. It's now tick 1- I should've said tick 0 for before- and Circl's turn. Warstrider next acts on Tick 5, Jefepato on Tick 6.)