( Dean's answer is to make mocking noises to himself under his breath that sound sort of like mermaps merdsmanship mer mer merder. Shut up, Cas, who asked you. He's getting actively punked out by a chick he's got like fifty pounds, five inches, and a decade on. Don't make a margarita out of his paper cut.
With the attitude of a toddler, he grumpily yanks the sword out of Yertle's mouth and wipes it off (with no small amount of disgust) on Castiel's sleeve.
Anyway, back to business.
Ciri's pretty much got this wrapped up — sans tail, it'd bleed to death in a minute or two, tops. The pain and survival instinct get it un-ballifying to lash out wildly with the remaining vestiges of its strength. Just to help things along, a dagger comes whizzing by and thunks itself dead-center of the thing's eye. It wails a pathetic sound that actually makes him feel a little guilty, and comes to rest at Ciri's feet.
Dean shoots the angel a look like nyeh — he's better with daggers than swords — and then strides on over to retrieve it from their fallen quarry. )
Solid ass-kicking. ( He comments, giving her a scrutinizing once-over. ) Sorry to horn in on your rodeo.
no subject
With the attitude of a toddler, he grumpily yanks the sword out of Yertle's mouth and wipes it off (with no small amount of disgust) on Castiel's sleeve.
Anyway, back to business.
Ciri's pretty much got this wrapped up — sans tail, it'd bleed to death in a minute or two, tops. The pain and survival instinct get it un-ballifying to lash out wildly with the remaining vestiges of its strength. Just to help things along, a dagger comes whizzing by and thunks itself dead-center of the thing's eye. It wails a pathetic sound that actually makes him feel a little guilty, and comes to rest at Ciri's feet.
Dean shoots the angel a look like nyeh — he's better with daggers than swords — and then strides on over to retrieve it from their fallen quarry. )
Solid ass-kicking. ( He comments, giving her a scrutinizing once-over. ) Sorry to horn in on your rodeo.