Peridot falters. She doesn't know what to do. She's not-- She wasn't made for combat, and even with all her confidence and her fancy new magic, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she's caught flat footed with indecision for a split second as chaos just erupts everywhere.

The only thing that grounds her back in the moment is the knowledge that she has friends here, friends who are currently, stupidly throwing themselves in danger.

Lambert's up ahead. Sans... Sans is here, she remembers him now, and so many of the other people in this room.

She steels herself, grinding her teeth, and then sprints after the two of them, iron poker in hand. If Childermass is stuck in the ice, well, she has fire magic that may be able to help with that.