Her shouts hung in the air, trapped somewhere in the rolling heat, as Ishiah's gaze turned to the bodies in the distance, people who weren't trying to strip his wings of their feathers to ground him, who weren't attempting to fell the monster, the creature sent as a sign of a god's wrath. They all shared a face. Every last one. And as it was not a face which triggered any emotion in specific on Ishiah's part, aside from a slow, deep sorrow, he could only suspect that that man was one of Lucy's. Her brother, he thought, stormy blue eyes rising just in time to meet Lucy's own, spotting the trails of dark make-up down either cheek.

He wanted to be able to brush them away.

Once her voice hit his ears, Ishiah's eyes widened at last, wings trying hard to beat against the ropes which bound them, wrists red and white from tugging harshly against his binding. All around him, the air heated with a crackle, Ishiah still unaccustomed to his new body as a peri and unable to control the heat which rolled off of him in waves. Panic.

The others still standing around, baffled by the newcomer, didn't understand her words. And how could they, when they were thousands of years in her past?

"Don't," he tried to call out. "Don't shoot on my account. Lucy, I don't want you to do this... for me, it is not worth it."

Begging, pleading, he turned to the men. "She's only a girl," he told them. "Not a danger to any of you. Only a girl."

A couple of the braver souls still ran directly toward her, unconvinced.