As is the way with these things, so much happens so very quickly.
Ryunosuke misses a lot of it. He's really starting to wish that he could make these forcefields in some shape other than spherical, because all these high pressure field tests are indicating that the roundness of them may be as much a detriment as an advantage. The bubbles are sturdy, but they leave him vulnerable to being swatted about; useful for knocking away opponents trapped inside, not so useful for standing his ground the way he wants to.
Case and point, Gen's strike sends him flying uncontrollably off to one side, away from the guy he's trying to protect. The bubble smacks against the storehouse wall, bounces off it, and pops on the rebound. Jarred, Ryunosuke falls to the floor in a disoriented heap, struggling to get his wits back about him.
He looks up to the terrifying sight of both shimmered Makoto and Gen bearing down on Estinien, who's still trapped and immobile, and for a split second he is absolutely convinced that he's about to watch this man die again. And it'll be his fault, for getting captured and necessitating Estinien come out here in the first place, and for being unable to help him by contributing to this fight in a single useful way.
He needs to stop them. He needs to save Estinien. There's no way in hell he'll be able to get there in time but he doesn't care, the feasibility doesn't factor into his decision for a second. He's still got to try. He starts to get up, tries to spring forward, his right hand outstretched--
Suddenly, several things happen at once. Blinding light bursts forth from the Dragoon, yes, but Ryunosuke's hand begins to glow as well, albeit with less intensity; his mark is obscured beneath a fingerless glove, but that isn't enough to contain the light, not entirely. He barely notices it, though, because it's arrival is accompanied something far more distracting: a chorus of horribly familiar voices, all screaming in unison at him from inside his own head.
He lets out a cry and falls mid-launch, stumbling to the ground once more as nausea begins to wash over him in waves. The voices are cacophonous; they howl at him, berating him for breaking his promise, crying out in disapproval of all the shortcomings he was already beating himself up over: Estinien's soul is once more being threatened by the Kenoma, and he's failing in his duty to protect him. So... Since he can't seem protect Estinien, it will.
Wait--! he tries to think at it, terrified of what that even means-- but another disorienting burst of nausea hits him. He's huddled on the ground on his elbows and knees, shuddering, clawed hands clapped over his ears in a useless gesture, because the screams are coming from inside the house. There's an immensely uncomfortable pressure around his left shoulder blade for some reason, but that seems secondary to the way his stomach is doing flips. For a moment, he's convinced he's going to be violently sick--
Well. Something does appear to come out of him, but. It's not vomit. Instead, a luminous, feathery wing bursts out the back of his shirt, stretching up and spreading wide above him.
cw emeto mention in the last paragraph
Ryunosuke misses a lot of it. He's really starting to wish that he could make these forcefields in some shape other than spherical, because all these high pressure field tests are indicating that the roundness of them may be as much a detriment as an advantage. The bubbles are sturdy, but they leave him vulnerable to being swatted about; useful for knocking away opponents trapped inside, not so useful for standing his ground the way he wants to.
Case and point, Gen's strike sends him flying uncontrollably off to one side, away from the guy he's trying to protect. The bubble smacks against the storehouse wall, bounces off it, and pops on the rebound. Jarred, Ryunosuke falls to the floor in a disoriented heap, struggling to get his wits back about him.
He looks up to the terrifying sight of both shimmered Makoto and Gen bearing down on Estinien, who's still trapped and immobile, and for a split second he is absolutely convinced that he's about to watch this man die again. And it'll be his fault, for getting captured and necessitating Estinien come out here in the first place, and for being unable to help him by contributing to this fight in a single useful way.
He needs to stop them. He needs to save Estinien. There's no way in hell he'll be able to get there in time but he doesn't care, the feasibility doesn't factor into his decision for a second. He's still got to try. He starts to get up, tries to spring forward, his right hand outstretched--
Suddenly, several things happen at once. Blinding light bursts forth from the Dragoon, yes, but Ryunosuke's hand begins to glow as well, albeit with less intensity; his mark is obscured beneath a fingerless glove, but that isn't enough to contain the light, not entirely. He barely notices it, though, because it's arrival is accompanied something far more distracting: a chorus of horribly familiar voices, all screaming in unison at him from inside his own head.
He lets out a cry and falls mid-launch, stumbling to the ground once more as nausea begins to wash over him in waves. The voices are cacophonous; they howl at him, berating him for breaking his promise, crying out in disapproval of all the shortcomings he was already beating himself up over: Estinien's soul is once more being threatened by the Kenoma, and he's failing in his duty to protect him. So... Since he can't seem protect Estinien, it will.
Wait--! he tries to think at it, terrified of what that even means-- but another disorienting burst of nausea hits him. He's huddled on the ground on his elbows and knees, shuddering, clawed hands clapped over his ears in a useless gesture, because the screams are coming from inside the house. There's an immensely uncomfortable pressure around his left shoulder blade for some reason, but that seems secondary to the way his stomach is doing flips. For a moment, he's convinced he's going to be violently sick--
Well. Something does appear to come out of him, but. It's not vomit. Instead, a luminous, feathery wing bursts out the back of his shirt, stretching up and spreading wide above him.