Peridot's reaction almost isn't fast enough. The ice misses her by mere millimeters as she lurches back out of the way, the sound of Frost's voice enough of a warning to make her jump back in alarm.

That's when she sees Amethyst take the hit. And then, at that point, she basically feels like that ice has skewered her anyway.

"Amethyst?" she whispers hoarsely, horrified. Her form flickers again. The projectile-- it hit her gem? This can't be happening, no-- Steven. Steven can fix it, can't he? Her mind reels, completely overwhelmed by the decay of her physical form, and by her own dismay. It's one of those moments that feels like a lifetime, time stretching to match the depths of the despair she feels.

Then all at once, she snaps her attention to Frost. Steven can fix Amethyst. He has to. She flat out refuses to think about the alternative. She hasn't got the strength left to use her dragon spell, but there's one power that she knows she can still use. Peridot charges forward, teeth gritted, gauntlet glowing, and calls forth the Vorpal Blade. It appears, hovering by her open palm, and then she whips it forward and flings it at Frost with her metallokinesis, steering it towards him like a pixie-seeking missile.