Despite herself, the memory that Mirajane referred to replayed in Perse's mind. Mirajane coyly implying that she was going on a date. Perse casually saying that she wished that were her–intended, obviously, as a self-deprecating way to get Mirajane to show her empathy. Mirajane then halting in her own search to help Perse find an outfit–just in case–and happening upon an admittedly gorgeous blue dress. Pleading with Perse to at least try it. The way it fit almost perfectly, like a dream. The way it reminded her of his eyes. That it made her picture–only for an instant–what he might say if he saw her in this. What he might do. What she might–

Oh, if only memories were akin to thread. She would have frayed the images from her mind until they were in tatters the moment she realized the implications.

At least for now, she couldn't dwell on it any further. Because right now, she had a demon to deal with.

Perse had assumed the stories about Mirajane's prowess were a bit of an exaggeration. Fairy Tail was home to powerful mages, sure. But most of the stories erred on the side of the absurd. Like, really? One of their members had been raised by a dragon? At least pick a creature that still existed for crying out loud. So when she heard of the terrifying creatures Mirajane could become, she thought it was something like Gilda. Powerful? Almost certainly. Undefeatable? Hardly.

Now she got to be wrong about one more thing today.

Mirajane stood up, the threads snapping in twain around her. Horns sprouted from her head. Scales covered her skin. Wings appeared behind her back. Even a reptilian tale slithered behind her. Her physical occurred evoking a feeling of the monster under your bed. And then there was the magical presence. Perse had to check herself to make sure she hadn't stopped breathing from the sheer pressure.

Her opponent brushed the last of the threads off herself, then eyed her. Mirajane vanished, reappearing right in front of Perse, a hand outstretched towards her.

In pure instinct, Perse shouted, releasing a multitude of threads to tie Mirajane up. A myriad of colors swirled around the demon, binding up her legs, arms, and torso. But none of it mattered. Quicker than should have been possible, Perse's threads were torn away, Mirajane's clawed hand still swinging towards her.

There was barely time to think before she felt herself smash against the wall, frighteningly close to a window. Her ribs ached, and she felt her eyes spinning. At least she hadn't fallen unconscious…yet.

Between the two of them, there was no contest. Which meant that she had been holding back all this time. Mirajane could have finished her in an instant if she wanted to, but let herself be taken captive in order to talk instead. What a fool. No greater than Perse. But still a fool.

And now, Perse would suffer for it. Perhaps Mirajane would spare her, but she may not give the same leverage to Percy. And then…what would Perse do then? In her attempt to think, the words from Mirajane earlier echoed in her mind. I want you to be free…to make your own choices. In the moment, the words had reminded her of Percy, but replaying them seemed to make them fall flat.

Because Mirajane was mistaken about something. She might not be free, but she could make her own choices. Just like she made her next one.

Mirajane walked up to her, frowning. Her eyes left no softness like from before, only a quiet anger. "I'm sorry its come to this."

"…I'm not. Though I underestimated you," Perse croaked out. Mirajane's frown turned less angry and more…sad. She took another step closer to her.

Perse whispered a spell. Suddenly, Mirajane's foot stayed even as she tried to lift it. As if stuck in place. Because it was. The demon glanced between her foot and Perse, confusion spreading.

Perse simply placed a hand on the floor. "Cutting Threads," she spoke.

And then the floor fell through.