[ Dean flaps into action so quickly, Geralt barely contemplates how he should roll to avoid snapping his ankle before he's thrown back up onto a cliff.
He slides to a stop with a grunt. The grass blooms around where they land. His shoulder aches faintly from being snatched in midair. Fuck. He sighs—a noise that carries more frustration than the situation warrants. ]
Thank you. [ Perhaps this is life telling him he should collect more friends with wings.
After a few seconds, he grabs a vine for leverage and stumbles back to his feet. He's steady, mostly; he's good at pushing past pain and it's already subsiding. But he's just a little off—and there's a sense he's trying to move on as though nothing happened. Like he didn't just fall out of nowhere when he's spent his whole fucking life climbing mountains far bigger than these cliffs. ]
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He slides to a stop with a grunt. The grass blooms around where they land. His shoulder aches faintly from being snatched in midair. Fuck. He sighs—a noise that carries more frustration than the situation warrants. ]
Thank you. [ Perhaps this is life telling him he should collect more friends with wings.
After a few seconds, he grabs a vine for leverage and stumbles back to his feet. He's steady, mostly; he's good at pushing past pain and it's already subsiding. But he's just a little off—and there's a sense he's trying to move on as though nothing happened. Like he didn't just fall out of nowhere when he's spent his whole fucking life climbing mountains far bigger than these cliffs. ]