Fighting the dragoon is more like fighting a hydra: attempt to lock down or sever one head, and two more appear. Even with his limited options of attack, his primary motivation had been to at the very least attempt to limit whatever Estinien was about to inflict on Gen, and interfering with his attempts to get into the air had been the clearest option to him at the time. But even with the wings’s ability to move hampered and the mace connecting with a brutal crunch into the man’s knee, he merely abandons former avenues of attack and chooses yet another still open to him. He pushes off of the ground (and, by association, Gen — Makoto might not be able to see him from his position, but the gruesome sound of tearing flesh and spilt blood paints a vivid enough picture), taking both himself and his hanger-on into the air with a powerful jump. By the time the dragoon has reached the pinnacle of that leap and flips to prepare to dive, the serpentine coil a draconic tail has encircled Makoto’s torso to hold him in place, its crushing pressure enough to cause the barrier of his ribs to loudly protest. It was an additive measure that was scarcely necessary; the one draw-back to hooking his wings into the dragoon’s is that it’s far more challenging to release than it is to grasp. Even if he could disentangle them, there’s no way he’d have enough time (or strength) to free himself from the hold of his tail — and all of this is what Makoto mentally works through as they are mid-dive, plunging towards Gen, the crackling of heat in the air beginning to singe his lungs.

He wishes there was more he could do. Truly, it seems like every time he develops one ability that might give him some new advantage, he comes to realize at least three or four new shortcomings and weaknesses. For this one assault, Gen will have to be on his own, or at least until he can figure out what to do next.

Makoto attempts to wrench the dagger free and casts his gaze up, drawing a Doorway with his other hand. His weight disappears instantaneously, both the tail and wings suddenly freed up, and he reappears a split second later roughly where they had been at the apex of the jump, arms crossed in front of his face against the sudden heat and light of the Dragonfire Dive. Teleporting again so soon takes its toll, as does the activated Curse that manifests as a phantom double-image of angelic wings beating as his draconic ones do, slowly sapping his strength and transferring it to… really, whoever is closest. Those beats are far more labored now, struggling to keep him aloft; he does what he can to draw strength from pain and refocuses his attention below to where Gen has gouged out a pit within the earth, ready to dive at a moment’s notice.