Hubris tried to reach out a comforting clawed hand towards the cerndyr, whistling a low note of empathy as Rikyn bounded unceremoniously upon the sands. The dragon released a tensed breath he had been holding, his face a grimace. He was very nearly ready to intervene and stop this madness that both unicorn and tribrid seemed happy to keep perpetuating, but the constant flailing of horns and bodies kept him in place. At least for the moment.

The only indication that Rikyn was actually more wounded by her attack than he had been previously, was the lack of sarcastic retort that the demi-goddess was coming to associate with him. She had fully expected to hear some relativistic linguistic prattle about how if it came out of his mouth it was a word, or that words were a convention, or why should we think the sounds that came out of our mouths were proper words at all. Probably not that well formed, but something along those lines was what she had anticipated. The way that he gasped for air, moaning and stumbling across the sands broke through the fog of Volterra-fueled coldness that she had been carrying with her, and she began to agree with Hubris that it was about time to stop.

As he turned towards her, Isopia opened her mouth to voice precisely that. Oh sure, maybe she'd reiterate her early warning about walking alone in the dark, but she hadn't meant her initial attack to turn into this. She'd ... she'd ... she couldn't even really remember. It was as though the emotion that drove her to attack Rikyn in the first place, the jealous, bitter, anger that had directed her movements, had left a wake of selective amnesia now that it was beginning to dissipate. Isopia couldn't remember what it was to want to attack the unicorn for no apparent reason, and now that the facade was breaking, she similarly couldn't believe just how readily she believed her own faulty reasons for having done so.

"S-" Stop, was abruptly cut off, as her lips tightened. Isopia felt both frozen in place, as if she was a prisoner in her own body, but also wildly disconnected from her own flesh. Perhaps those were really the same sort of sensation, she didn't know. It was the first time she'd ever experienced this sort of inability to control her own body. As her balance began to shift, she felt her legs jut out beneath her, clearly guided by some sort of automatic stabilization response. Her eyes always blinked away the dryness that was setting over them, and she could feel her lungs inhaling steadily. 

It was as if her body was running autonomously, responding to basic sensory inputs without any reference to her mind's wishes. Rikyn was coming closer now, and through her eyes (which felt more like windows that she was looking out of now, rather than organs she could control), she wondered what her body would do when it was attacked. Probably nothing, she thought almost with pride. Isopia had focused her training precisely on ridding her body of its basic fight or flight responses, to be able to endure pain without flinching, to disregard the chemicals that comprised the feeling of fear. If he attacked her now, there would be no instinctive retaliation from her limbs. She was more than confident of that. 

And so, locked in a mountain of flesh that was no longer hers to control, Isopia merely watched as Rikyn moved to attack. She felt nothing other than mild academic interest about what was going to happen next, mingled with slight disappointment that she hadn't called out her suggestion that they halt sooner.

And then ... her body betrayed her.

Rikyn's magic began to wear off roughly about the time his hoof began to scrape down her cannon bone. Perhaps it was the sudden introduction of pain that reassembled the connection between her mind and her body, but slowly Isopia began to feel her body around her, rather than merely being inside of it. The pain wasn't as treacherous as that caused by his last attack however, and so whatever speed it might have lent to her regaining her body, was slowed. 

Without realizing she was doing it (she considered it mutiny), her quad-horned skull lowered as she shifted her weight onto her right leg to move closer to the unicorn without further damaging the leg he'd just attacked. Her horns meant to graze whatever part of him was closest - his neck or shoulder - as retaliation for the bruising and small graze that had appeared just under her knee. The lunge was stiff, as her right shoulder was still tender, but her body's movements were decisive, regardless of her mind's wishes.