She shoved as best as she could, then stepped back, trying to ignore the pain at her hand. Where the fire had got too hot it had seared her clawed glove, and that in turn was steadily now singing her scaled palm. Shaking it off for the better emotion of glee she watched as the embers bit down into the heart of the vine, and Vitruvion swore at her.

For the love of all that is me, he cursed her.

Nevin watched with an eyebrow raised as Stare sliced open the tendril beast before it finished dying and shriveling up. He didn't know why she felt the need to do that - though he did get rather upset when he realized that she had hurt herself.

Burning the insides of the scarlet thread worm ended up releasing a cloud of utterly disgusting smells, a pungent mixture like someone had taken a week old, bloated and rotten corpse, and set it aflame - but worse. There was also an acrid, thick black smoke rising from the burning flesh and fluid as the creature began to thrash anew, and it began to shriek in a terrible, scratching voice.

Then, finally, it stilled and its screech was cut short. With a haul on his binding whip, Nevin ripped the worm thing from the tree branch, and stared at it for a long, long moment. Free of the hold he had had on the thing, the curled worm lay still and unmoving on the ground. There was a strange twisting spiral pattern along its flesh, marred only by the tear that Stare had inflicted on it. Aside from that, it was a smooth tapered cylinder, of a darker red than Nevin’s threads - but even now that hue was shifting to the brighter crimson. Except for where the fire had scorched it from the inside out - those parts were a deep, burnt black red.

“I…. I am sorry. This… This thing is my… responsibility.” Nevin’s voice was thick - but he wasn't sure with what emotion. His eyes were fastened onto the unnatural creature and he did not think he could look at Stare. By now she would have seen the similarities between the thing and his threads, and he didn't want to see what expression that created in his friend. Instead he snatched the carcass up and shoved it into his bag, ignoring the foul remnants that splashed across his hands. “We-we should press on. Fire seems to be effective on them.” At least she would be safe if he messed up.

Beneath her was … a creature. A snake or whatever rather than a plant. Pretending to be the plant. Slightly the same colour and texture as Nevin's tendrils but much more fierce. Still Stare's hand burned, the heated metal searing her hand darkly and with cruel intentions. But she would not let it bother her. Nor would she let it be an obvious pain. It was not so bad that she had to very quickly remove her gauntlet glove - rather it was like a hot cup that you needed to carry because small children were around you threatening to knock it off any reasonable surface.