In the moment that passes in-between a furious mother drake appearing and its talons reaching Rufus, he chides himself for being so thoughtless. For letting his guard down, even for a moment, without thinking it through — of course there’s another one, a bigger one. These drakes were too small and too easy to down, but he had been glad to do it, and quick to assume the work was over when the last one fell. Distracted, maybe, by the red blossoming across his shoulder.
Too late now.
The thing casts a vast, stretching shadow across his form as it descends, and Alec’s warning barely registers in his mind before its tail has whipped into his side, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He stumbles, but his mind is already telling him one thing: he needs to get to his gun, and though it isn’t graceful, Rufus manages to keep his balance and make a lurch for his weapon, lain useless on the ground a few feet away.
But then he feels a vice-grip around his leg and the world upends itself. He’s pulled up, and everything is upside-down, swaying; if the monster has grabbed him by the ankle and is thinking of mauling him mid-air, he’s going to be a really pissed ghost after he bleeds out and dies.
He doesn’t even glance up (down?) at the creature, because he’s sure he’d only see flashing talons, an angry maw, and leathery wings. Instead, a useless reach towards his shotgun (god, his shoulder), coupled with a command to Alec—]
no subject
In the moment that passes in-between a furious mother drake appearing and its talons reaching Rufus, he chides himself for being so thoughtless. For letting his guard down, even for a moment, without thinking it through — of course there’s another one, a bigger one. These drakes were too small and too easy to down, but he had been glad to do it, and quick to assume the work was over when the last one fell. Distracted, maybe, by the red blossoming across his shoulder.
Too late now.
The thing casts a vast, stretching shadow across his form as it descends, and Alec’s warning barely registers in his mind before its tail has whipped into his side, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He stumbles, but his mind is already telling him one thing: he needs to get to his gun, and though it isn’t graceful, Rufus manages to keep his balance and make a lurch for his weapon, lain useless on the ground a few feet away.
But then he feels a vice-grip around his leg and the world upends itself. He’s pulled up, and everything is upside-down, swaying; if the monster has grabbed him by the ankle and is thinking of mauling him mid-air, he’s going to be a really pissed ghost after he bleeds out and dies.
He doesn’t even glance up (down?) at the creature, because he’s sure he’d only see flashing talons, an angry maw, and leathery wings. Instead, a useless reach towards his shotgun (god, his shoulder), coupled with a command to Alec—]
Throw it at me!