“I don’t know,” says Richard. “Why wouldn’t you?” Matthias is asking the hard questions.
At Loxley’s aside, only Richard’s eyes move. He looks first, inevitably, to Loxley, pupils blown out wide in the semi-dark, carefully weighing their friendship and what it means to him. Then he looks over to Athessa, and her 🤷.
He sighs, breath furled out in an impatient fog, chin turned down.
Fine.
Outward appearances aside, without any kind of pink panther slink or pressing of back to wall, he is remarkably (suspiciously) quiet. He’s nearly to Athessa when he plants a boot down on a slick patch, and starts to slip. Starts to, because he catches his balance upright with a feline seize of muscle through his middle, one arm out, teeth grit. A pair of loose pebbles skirt across the ice like dice where he dug his heel in, clickety clack. He breathes out. Slowly.
Ten feet of glowing demon erupts from the ground at his feet and plows him (and itself) into the cavern wall, rocking cracks deep into the ice. It shrieks as it holds him there, all glowing, twisted sinew and horn, blind to Athessa at its turned back.
Dick’s cuss is indecipherable to all in attendance, hissed bloody through his teeth in a language nobody else in Thedas speaks.
To his credit, he manages to produce a dagger from somewhere, and rams it up fist-deep through the thing’s ribs.
no subject
At Loxley’s aside, only Richard’s eyes move. He looks first, inevitably, to Loxley, pupils blown out wide in the semi-dark, carefully weighing their friendship and what it means to him. Then he looks over to Athessa, and her 🤷.
He sighs, breath furled out in an impatient fog, chin turned down.
Fine.
Outward appearances aside, without any kind of pink panther slink or pressing of back to wall, he is remarkably (suspiciously) quiet. He’s nearly to Athessa when he plants a boot down on a slick patch, and starts to slip. Starts to, because he catches his balance upright with a feline seize of muscle through his middle, one arm out, teeth grit. A pair of loose pebbles skirt across the ice like dice where he dug his heel in, clickety clack. He breathes out. Slowly.
Ten feet of glowing demon erupts from the ground at his feet and plows him (and itself) into the cavern wall, rocking cracks deep into the ice. It shrieks as it holds him there, all glowing, twisted sinew and horn, blind to Athessa at its turned back.
Dick’s cuss is indecipherable to all in attendance, hissed bloody through his teeth in a language nobody else in Thedas speaks.
To his credit, he manages to produce a dagger from somewhere, and rams it up fist-deep through the thing’s ribs.