Scotty’s projectiles swarmed back into his arm and chest covering. His eyes showed pain upon the armor’s rejoining.

Sprite hadn’t ever seen a glyph in combat and her understanding of their armor-weapon was minimal. She supposed it worked something like this, but while she always imagined their armor a natural, fluid extension of their bodies, this seemed a monstrous bastardization of such beauty. A forced mashing of two unique identities, each struggling for dominance over the other.

Despite his own initiating of this armor, Sprite hoped Scotty won out in the mad battle between himself and his liquid metal armor.