When her hand finds purchase, Rikku’s grasp tightens with inhuman strength, intent on crushing her prey’s bones. Standing tall and almost regal, cold eyes watch Yuna’s, calculating and unmoved. A sickly green aura rises around the uninvited guest in a haze as it opens Rikku’s spare hand. In those short, yet critical seconds, it attacks with a poison spell – the direct contact acting as a conduit. The better that it may stick.

At the mighty roar, the blood splattered blonde jerks back with unnatural speed, as much a tumble from the entrance of the elemental as it is a reflex. Stranger though she is, the cry that sounds after the rumble of Ifrit quiets is familiar in voice.

Rising slowly from the protective crouch she landed in at the far side of the lab, Rikku surveys the damage to her blackened forearms, used to shield her face from the intense heat and licking flames of the Aeon's Summon. She…it, makes fists to test its hands, the charred skin cracking and bleeding when stretched.

With a pained grunt, it turns its head, spiraled eyes piercing into Ifrit with a newfound intensity. A hand gestures towards the sky in a mage’s summon. The air grows cold, yet instead of tasting crisp and clean as it does with Shiva, it grows foul. Icicles, dark as coal, form in Dark Blizzaga and crash down. Aiming for revenge on the Fire Aeon.