Bloodmancer Thalia's expression had been doing something unusual for the past several minutes — cycling through variations of concentration, confusion, and a quietly growing disbelief that she was visibly working to keep off her face and only partially succeeding.
"Arhm—"
The sound she made was not a word. It was the involuntary vocalization of someone whose professional competence has just run into a wall it didn't know was there. She adjusted her grip. Tried again. The blade she used for bloodwork — refined specifically for the purpose, sharp enough to part the skin of cultivators at levels she had never previously found challenging — met Xavier's forearm and simply declined to do what blades were supposed to do.
