[ He could've sworn he heard something, but it feels like he can hear the air itself, every particle up against every other particle—
Something hits him and Amos stumbles forward. It's a miracle he manages to keep his balance, doesn't have to break his fall on injured hands, but he's definitely feeling prone now. The ground sways from underneath his no longer steady feet, the building closest to him looms above at an unnatural curve like it's threatening to either collapse on him due to the unrealistic architecture or reach down and swallow him whole—
Amos turns, looking over his shoulder, behind him, the direction that something came from and blinks, baffled. That's. He knows that guy, right? Things are a little warped now, a little bleary, and narrowing his eyes doesn't seem to help but—
He still tries to plant himself on solid ground, but the way his legs feel weak and it's shifting almost like a small earthquake from under him makes it hard. Either way, though. This is what Amos came out here to do. He came out here to capture Pleroma, and that white aura is so bright it's practically blinding, it didn't always used to be that bright did it, as he reaches out in Dextera's direction, tries to grab him with a newly maimed hand, down his outermost fingers, not even thinking. He's right-handed. Not enough time has passed to get used to the idea. And as long as he can get ahold of Dextera, he's pretty sure he can just apply pressure, keep ahold of him, bring him back with him.
Though on top of the recent injury and displaced sense of being, who even knows how good Amos' depth perception is at this stage, anyway. ]
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Something hits him and Amos stumbles forward. It's a miracle he manages to keep his balance, doesn't have to break his fall on injured hands, but he's definitely feeling prone now. The ground sways from underneath his no longer steady feet, the building closest to him looms above at an unnatural curve like it's threatening to either collapse on him due to the unrealistic architecture or reach down and swallow him whole—
Amos turns, looking over his shoulder, behind him, the direction that something came from and blinks, baffled. That's. He knows that guy, right? Things are a little warped now, a little bleary, and narrowing his eyes doesn't seem to help but—
He still tries to plant himself on solid ground, but the way his legs feel weak and it's shifting almost like a small earthquake from under him makes it hard. Either way, though. This is what Amos came out here to do. He came out here to capture Pleroma, and that white aura is so bright it's practically blinding, it didn't always used to be that bright did it, as he reaches out in Dextera's direction, tries to grab him with a newly maimed hand, down his outermost fingers, not even thinking. He's right-handed. Not enough time has passed to get used to the idea. And as long as he can get ahold of Dextera, he's pretty sure he can just apply pressure, keep ahold of him, bring him back with him.
Though on top of the recent injury and displaced sense of being, who even knows how good Amos' depth perception is at this stage, anyway. ]