She sees him and her first response is to run, because- bloodstreaked and clothed in black- he looks like one of the monsters on first glance. But she's being paranoid, jumping at shadows, not an unreasonable precaution in the situation; the next second, as he makes eye contact, she recognises him.
She looks different, too, from how she usually does, all that primness hardened into something practical. Still, she doesn't quite fit in as he does with the nigh-apocalyptic background; the bloodstains on her pale blue blouse are incongruous, and under her own layer of grime and blood (not all of it red; not all of it human) she looks even younger than usual. Something about contrast, maybe.
The second of recognition and acknowledgement costs her some of her concentration, but she regains it ten fold, her face twisting in sudden pain and vicious determination, a veritable explosion of white sparks crackling from her wand as she blasts the creatures closest to her.
/thumbs up
She looks different, too, from how she usually does, all that primness hardened into something practical. Still, she doesn't quite fit in as he does with the nigh-apocalyptic background; the bloodstains on her pale blue blouse are incongruous, and under her own layer of grime and blood (not all of it red; not all of it human) she looks even younger than usual. Something about contrast, maybe.
The second of recognition and acknowledgement costs her some of her concentration, but she regains it ten fold, her face twisting in sudden pain and vicious determination, a veritable explosion of white sparks crackling from her wand as she blasts the creatures closest to her.