[ The fabric wrapped around his hands helps keep the thorns from biting too deep as he grips the vine, but they do bite. He watches Istredd descend by inches—and there's a moment when he's concerned the vine might fray and give out.
It doesn't. Fortune favours.
Geralt releases the vine, letting it swing back against the wall.
Mm-hm. Made it. He can see that. He grabs the remnants of Istredd's cloak—there's still a good amount of of cloth left to use—and drops it over the edge. He's not deliberately aiming for Istredd, but if it lands on the man's head then Istredd should've moved.
Stretching outward, Geralt catches the first handhold, then secures his footing. He can't see well in this darkness. His eyes—there's something wrong. Going down is slow, cautious. Trickling molasses. A loose stone tumbles from the cliff, and he slips an inch before catching himself.
Shit. He glances upward out of curiosity (how deep does this fucking hole go?), but it stretches towards a rocky ceiling that tells him climbing out isn't an option.
So down it is. He drops the last few feet, landing on what he expects to be solid rock. Instead, it squishes under his boots, sending a sickly rotting smell into the air. His brows furrow. At least they're on the ground. How much better off they are down here remains to be seen.
He glances at Istredd. He'd been so occupied getting the fuck free, all questions were pushed aside. Now they flood the grate again. ] How were you captured?
no subject
It doesn't. Fortune favours.
Geralt releases the vine, letting it swing back against the wall.
Mm-hm. Made it. He can see that. He grabs the remnants of Istredd's cloak—there's still a good amount of of cloth left to use—and drops it over the edge. He's not deliberately aiming for Istredd, but if it lands on the man's head then Istredd should've moved.
Stretching outward, Geralt catches the first handhold, then secures his footing. He can't see well in this darkness. His eyes—there's something wrong. Going down is slow, cautious. Trickling molasses. A loose stone tumbles from the cliff, and he slips an inch before catching himself.
Shit. He glances upward out of curiosity (how deep does this fucking hole go?), but it stretches towards a rocky ceiling that tells him climbing out isn't an option.
So down it is. He drops the last few feet, landing on what he expects to be solid rock. Instead, it squishes under his boots, sending a sickly rotting smell into the air. His brows furrow. At least they're on the ground. How much better off they are down here remains to be seen.
He glances at Istredd. He'd been so occupied getting the fuck free, all questions were pushed aside. Now they flood the grate again. ] How were you captured?