She set herself back-to-back with him, not touching, but guarding his unguarded flank as she had done so many times before. Elissa shot him a look from over her shoulder, resisting the urge to awkwardly smile. "Skirts don't suit you, Alistair," she quipped briefly. "I don't think this is a rage demon dream. If it was, it would be much easier, I suspect. We would only have to kill one foe." And not the people who looked so much like her friends.

Zevran had regained himself and lunged at her, slower than she thought him possible. It gave her the time to meet him halfway, clash blades with him, and twist herself so she could draw him away from Alistair.

"Stop, Zevran. Please," she pleaded, hoping against hope that he'd go back to normal to assist them. Instead, he swiped her legs out from under her. She fell into the snow and was able to pull her blades up in enough time to stop him from stabbing her through. She kicked him back.