The flash of light from overhead has Gen giving a startled jolt, his gaze immediately drawn upwards past the lip of the trench he's trapped himself and Estinien in, where he can just barely make out a sphere of shimmering light. And within that sphere, M, trapped like a rat. What the hell even is that? -- it doesn't matter. Maybe M will be able to break his way out of that thing, maybe not. Either way, Gen doesn't get much of a chance to consider the potential outcomes. Because he gets all of half of a second to take a halting breath, then Estinien's on him.
How does the saying go? Out of the frying pan, into the fire? Because yeah, this sucks about as much as he'd expected.
Claws tears, that tailtip rips into his side, a wing smacks him hard across the head. Though Gen reflexively raises his arms to try and protect his face, he's still almost blinded when the slash of talons slices through his forearm, spraying blood into his face. He immediately knows that staying here is basically a death sentence, and that grim thought helps him regroup out of sheer fury, if nothing else.
The next lash of claws is deflected with a hard swing of the mace, the sound of steel clashing off talons almost muffling his enraged snarl; Gen glares at Estinien for a split second before giving a hard swipe of his other arm, hand empty but fingers tensed like claws. And in response, the grave that he's dug for them promptly begins to collapse around Estinien from either side and behind him, dirt and rocks surging forth to bury him.
Surely even someone like Estinien isn't immune to the crush of earth. But how long will obstacle hamper him for? He's not sure. Gen's completely given up on formulating plans or thinking in the long term. All that matters is moment-to-moment survival, and as soon as he's collapsed the pit around Estinien, he commands the earth to form footholds so he can haul himself out of the hole. His pulse is pounding in his ear, his skin hot and sticky with lacerations and blood, and he almost stumbles when he whirls around to try and keep track of Estinien's movements once more.
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How does the saying go? Out of the frying pan, into the fire? Because yeah, this sucks about as much as he'd expected.
Claws tears, that tailtip rips into his side, a wing smacks him hard across the head. Though Gen reflexively raises his arms to try and protect his face, he's still almost blinded when the slash of talons slices through his forearm, spraying blood into his face. He immediately knows that staying here is basically a death sentence, and that grim thought helps him regroup out of sheer fury, if nothing else.
The next lash of claws is deflected with a hard swing of the mace, the sound of steel clashing off talons almost muffling his enraged snarl; Gen glares at Estinien for a split second before giving a hard swipe of his other arm, hand empty but fingers tensed like claws. And in response, the grave that he's dug for them promptly begins to collapse around Estinien from either side and behind him, dirt and rocks surging forth to bury him.
Surely even someone like Estinien isn't immune to the crush of earth. But how long will obstacle hamper him for? He's not sure. Gen's completely given up on formulating plans or thinking in the long term. All that matters is moment-to-moment survival, and as soon as he's collapsed the pit around Estinien, he commands the earth to form footholds so he can haul himself out of the hole. His pulse is pounding in his ear, his skin hot and sticky with lacerations and blood, and he almost stumbles when he whirls around to try and keep track of Estinien's movements once more.
What next?