Taken aback by the rapid descent of the conversation, Thessaly is struck with sudden terror. He was going to DO something! He was a mage, and he was going to use magic against them! The sheer variety of possible horrors involved with that drove any further desire to speak out of her. She had to stop him before this got out of hand!
Looking around, she saw that the lawn was in healthy condition and extended right up to the door. In her mind's eye, she saw the grasses near the door swaying as if under a wind nothing else could feel. Swaying, twining, growing...forming a green mass of tendrils that twists around Asimov's legs and cinches them tightly together as it climbs up his body like ivy up the side of a brick building. Growing around him until he's safely encased in a green coccoon, unable to see or move.
Fixing that in her mind, Thessaly reaches out, in a way she only barely understands herself so far. Drawing down the moon. So mote it be. A thousand benedictions in a thousand traditions all speak to one cosmic fact; this was her will, and for this moment in time, her will was Law. Superceding the lesser laws of the Fallen World; brushing them aside like the cobwebs they were.
How right she was to fear a duel between Awakened minds.
(Improvised spell, using Life 3 to create a sort of "super growth" in the grass near Asimov's door. The growth is directed in such a way as to envelop and contain him as quickly as possible. 5 dice, and I'll spend a point of Willpower too.)