[🎶 Radioactive – Imagine Dragons.]
"Oh, how I want to stick the barrel of his gun right down the fucker's throat." Rafel told Peitho and Aya telepathically. As the latter, fairskinned as a half-caste turned to exchange a look with Corazón, Peitho called inside Rafel's head, in words only he could hear; the sensuous voice of his system held the necessary amount of ire.
[What would you have me do?]
[A Sunmelt Spell perhaps? To roast these Deathlies where they stand.]
[At your command, host.]
Peitho left her words at that, but the insinuation was well beyond that. 'Seems like my system really wants to kick some Bonelander ass too.' Rafel guessed correctly. [Sunmelt] would render the whole gang in his oasis roundabout with a fast charge of pyrokinesis, influencing their own body temperatures with his own Helflame. Their blood would boil from the inside. And he wouldn't even need to lift a finger.
