Macbeth kept his mask on as he limped over to Mirajane, whose transformation had ended along with the threat. His magic was at its limits now, and he felt close to passing out. Rest would be required if they were going to help Cobra and Lucy.
If they needed help.
Their defeated opponents lay in a heap against the side of the wall, both with their eyes closed, yet their groans indicated they weren't fully knocked out. The smaller one–Perse he guessed–was covered in more wounds, yet nothing life-threatening. The woman he'd fought sustained more damage from his last attack than anything else.
"What should we do now?" he coughed out. The dust from the collapse somehow sneaked through the mask.
"Normally I'd say try and help the others…but with how the house is, getting to them might be more of a challenge."
"Could you fly us up?"
"I suppose…" for some reason, Mirajane looked uncertain as she stared up at the suddenly vaulted ceiling. She looked back at the two on the ground. "I'd like to dress their wounds if we're able. Maybe I could fly you up then…" Her words faltered. One of the two was starting to get up.
Having de-transformed as well, (and, thankfully, despite her shredded shirt, wearing shorts) the wolf woman shakily tried to pull herself up. The look in her eyes sent chills down even someone as terrifying as Macbeth. He could almost swear that her eyes looked the same as when she was a wolf, any human aspect having long fled. "We're not done yet," she growled, trembling as she tried to stand. Macbeth tensed, waiting for her to transform again, even though he was uncertain she even could.
Suddenly, another voice, soft and croaky, spoke out. "Gilda…please don't. We were defeated. We need to accept that."
Gilda's mouth curled into a sneer, but she did heed the call of the voice and stopped trying to stand up. "I woulda thought you'd try harder than that Perse."
"I did…I tried as hard as I could and it wasn't enough." Perse coughed from her position on the ground. No blood came out, so that was good…probably. "Now…we just need to wait and see what…what Sir does."
Macbeth couldn't tell if Gilda's drooped head at the statement was from her own failures or from what she expected the conclusion of "Sir's" plan to be. Either way, it would be best for everyone if no one clashed further. Macbeth wanted to knock them out fully, so they wouldn't have to worry about them anymore, but Mirajane made no moves to strike so he stilled his hands.
"…I should have been able to beat you," Gilda said, looking at him. "It should have been easy."
Macbeth snorted. "Are you saying you picked me because it would have been easier?"
Surprisingly, Gilda nodded. "I had only two real options since Boss only wanted to talk to that one guy and gal. And between the two of you…" she briefly locked eyes with Mirajane and then looked away. "You were way less scary."
Less scary?
Less scary?
Macbeth had hardly any time to ponder on the idea that someone found him the less scary of two options before a brand new voice rang out. It was male, shouting from up above in a panic.
"Oh no! Someone's about to push me off the balcony! Me, Percy! That's the exact opposite of what I wanted to do today! It'll probably hurt really badly!"
Instantly, both women's heads snapped up, eyes wide in horror. They looked at each other, and without a word, got up far quicker than Macbeth thought possible. He moved to intercept them, fearing a second attack, but neither paid him nor Mirajane any mind. Instead, they streaked out of the kitchen, Macbeth hearing the door at the end of the hallway opening and slamming shut.
The moment they were gone, two familiar faces peeked their way from the top of the ceiling. The Gemini twins. "Hurry, hurry!" they beckoned. "While they're gone!"
Mirajane hesitated. It was clear she wanted to follow the two outside. Macbeth put a hand on her shoulder. "I think we'd do best to go to Cobra and Lucy. Even if they run, they won't get far." Putting a hand on top of his own, she solemnly nodded. Then she transformed just her back to have wings and flew them up to the top, where the results of his friend's battle awaited.