Aeloria was already in the middle of the rooftop.
She looked different from the first loop— not in appearance, but in movement. Faster. More precise. Her ice formations came out already shaped for where they needa to go rather than being corrected mid air, her mana usage tighter, less wasted on formations that wouldn't land. Three loops of muscle memory, even without conscious recollection.
Si Hon watched her send a spear of ice clean into the junction between two of the dragon's scale plates and thought— (third loop, makes sense, her body knows even if her head doesn't.) He thought.
Seong moved along the far edge of the rooftop in short bursts, threads running from her hands to two of Aeloria's teammates who had drifted too close to the dragon's wingspan, pulling them back before the next wing could sweep them off the edge entirely.
Sharp. Efficient. Like she'd done it before, which technically she had…
