Daithi's reflex is immediate, staggering Fiona in a gust of willpower. He is still in the aftermath, if for a moment, aware of Brigham's voice though attention, unwavering, fixt upon the elven woman. His fingers twitch against his staff.

— then, tighten their grip of the weapon. His own expression darkens. "Get the trebuchet aimed," he shouts — to no one in particular among their companions — and takes aim of Fiona. The field erupts into storm: either elf, favoring the power of thunderlight.