Hearing his mate's sharp cry of his name makes his ears pin back, a jolt running down his spine that tells him, Oh, I'm in trouble, because he knows Emet's tones of voice by now. The subsequent scolding makes Felih huff and pout slightly, before he uses his magic to halt the vines aiming for his beloved legs, before wrestling them to tangle with the cluster aiming for Emet's arms.

He pushes himself back up and stands, mumbling, "But it worked, didn't it?" as self-defense. "If I touch them directly I can do a lot more to it!"

Of course, that also means coming in contact with the carnivorous plant, but the Warrior of Light has dealt with worse. Morbols, namely.