[Lunch Time]

Oh wow yeah.

Yezekiel really didn't have to clobber that thing nearly as hard as she did.

This is the problem when you're dealing with a foe that you haven't ever encountered before in a place as wildly divergent as the Nexus.

How much oomph is enough oomph?

It would appear as though popping Winds of Obliteration was definitely overkill.

The debris are spread over too wide of an area for the seraphim to trundle around snuffling them up, so instead she reaches out and evokes the Matter Sphere to transmute the radioactive debris into stable atoms. Not really the best solution since she's pretty sure she didn't get all of it but she can go over the area in greater detail once the current crisis is over. Such as?

Drifting so she can see inside those buildings her shell blew through. The iron sabot largely vaporized along with most of the mech it impacted but the neutronium dart continued on its path without interruption. Zee is really hoping no one was in the rooms it pierced through given the amount of force it's able to impact with. Spraying the inside of a room with vaporized wood and plaster really isn't great for anyone.

Quote Originally Posted by Global
>Yezekiel: I'll be over there with you as soon as I can, Selekhael, are you doing okay?
Okay is definitely a word that could be used to describe how Selekhael is doing.

Maybe not the most accurate word, but still a word.

She sort of just... Sinks into that heavenly sponge-like material that's replacing her surroundings, her legs and belly merging into as if she's part of the landscape. Tendrils of transformation reach out from her, the starry firmament replacing earth and living aether replacing the air. She can feel... everything within the range of her aura, as if it were all part of her. Every speck of dirt, every atom of air, every blade of grass, every living thing, they all breath in tune with her for they are an extension of her purpose. And once everything around her has been replaced with a glittering star-field then the the changes begin in earnest. Where once there were trees and shrubs and grasses celestial corals begin to grow, domes and branches and pillars and fans and thickets and stranger shapes still. Great rings of immaculate white limestone rise, half buried in the earth. Some simply hanging upon nothing, ominous in their perfection. Much of the animal life is heavily altered, taking the form of what might conceivably be called a 'griffin' if a griffin were merely the confluence of an eagle and a lion with no thought given to how those aspects might combine in a myriad of ways.

And, of course, the Shrine itself will begin to assemble, an echo of Selekhael's conception of holiness and sanctity. A reflection of who and what she is.

All of this takes time.

But time is a strange thing withing the sanctuary of an ophanim.