Wrath has not noticed in his panic to get to her side. Her statement does not stop his gaze from razing over her to be certain she has not been hit by anything though he has understood already that it isn't bullets. Wrath smells no blood - only fear (exacerbated far beyond what such a situation should create, and they do not fear what is shooting at them but something else).

"They're not bullets."

He reaches up and removes the identifier from his body, trusting her observation with ease. He doesn't have a gold one to replace it with, but if they are specifically looking for blue, they won't see it on him which would give them pause and allow him more than enough time to be faster than their rifles can hit. His hand remains on her arm even still, and they do not move from around the pillar where his body remains keeping her close to where she will not be hit or trampled over by crowds rushing by. He can hear the sounds of a few people dying but not feel it - not feel their deaths.

The bullets slow and stop.

A voice comes next. It demands an exchange for peace even among the screams, the running which still occurs. Hand over Arabella, and they will leave and safety can be guaranteed for those who remain. It's strange to listen to it among the chorus of sounds of fear and dying, of people running and their heartbeats pounding like drums.