Artoria

Instead, I grabbed someone more reasonable, someone more level-headed and calm.

“S-set. In-Install.”

Immediately, I shrunk down almost ten inches. My hair straightened out, then everything behind my ears gathered itself into a braided bun. My vambraces turned into gauntlets. My bodysuit became a blue dress trimmed in gold. My vest became a cuirass and tassets. My boots became greaves and sabatons. The heart beating in my chest shuddered and strengthened, pumping liquid fire through my veins.

And most importantly, the divine sheath that ensured I would never spill a drop of blood got to work, healing my frayed and damaged nerves and smoothing out the tears in my muscles I’d caused in my thrashing.

Miss Militia was looking at me.

“Apocrypha?”

“Be at ease, Miss Militia,” I told her. “There are few things more effective at healing than my sheath.”

Immediately, I felt my face flush. Maybe I'd drawn a little too deeply on Artoria's personality.