Crucible roared out in pain from both the barrage of flames, doing his best to twist out of the way of the majority of the powerful flame, though a near impossibility at this range. His own claws lashing out at the red, his bite trying to get hold on her neck.

His wings part in small bursts, trying to slow, or at least guide their fall, toward any speck of water that had been visible far below. His attention however fully on trying to free himself from the grip of the great red above, trying to spin them so that he were above.