[Thank fucking god. That's what he talks about. He hops back up, shuffling back and forth on both feet as he punches the air. Warming up. Goliath gives another insult -- insignificant insects, squashed like bugs, yadda yadda -- as Nero gives her a grin.]
Abso-fuckin'-lutely.
[Lone wolf or not, he's been dyin' to hunt. Something. Anything. Solvunn makes him feel like he's sitting around waiting for something to happen, which isn't him. He finds demons. He doesn't wait for them to come to him.
Besides. Practice and all. He mosies back up to Ciri's side, his own sword materializing: the Red Queen, all of her regal glory, and the roar of her engine as he twists the ignition. Fuel drips down her blade, lighting up in sparks. He gives a look at Ciri's blade, noting the different shape. Way less curved than his own. More like one of the Order's. Still a beauty, though.
Good to see some things don't change across worlds.]
On three. I'll go high.
[He doesn't elaborate. His eyes light up with the thrill he knows is comin'. It doesn't feel like he needs to control this thing. This thing, as far as it knows, is Goliath. And it'll act like it, too.]
One. [He steels his body.] Two. Three!
[He jets straight for Goliath, jumping on his huge, clawed foot and running straight up his leg like it's nothing. He jumps to the other leg to avoid a swipe from a large, stinky claw, dodging the toothy mouth tummy to shove his sword into a -- oh god, is that a nipple?
Goliath roars, bending forward and then pushing his stomach out; the mouth there, lined with teeth, opens with a screech. The air grows tight as the stomach begins sucking in everything around them -- and luckily, there's not much -- but chunks of ground (sorry Dean) get swallowed, and that's enough for fire to ignite, bubbling out in dribbling magna between Goliath's feet -- aiming the fire he's about to launch straight for her.]
no subject
Abso-fuckin'-lutely.
[Lone wolf or not, he's been dyin' to hunt. Something. Anything. Solvunn makes him feel like he's sitting around waiting for something to happen, which isn't him. He finds demons. He doesn't wait for them to come to him.
Besides. Practice and all. He mosies back up to Ciri's side, his own sword materializing: the Red Queen, all of her regal glory, and the roar of her engine as he twists the ignition. Fuel drips down her blade, lighting up in sparks. He gives a look at Ciri's blade, noting the different shape. Way less curved than his own. More like one of the Order's. Still a beauty, though.
Good to see some things don't change across worlds.]
On three. I'll go high.
[He doesn't elaborate. His eyes light up with the thrill he knows is comin'. It doesn't feel like he needs to control this thing. This thing, as far as it knows, is Goliath. And it'll act like it, too.]
One. [He steels his body.] Two. Three!
[He jets straight for Goliath, jumping on his huge, clawed foot and running straight up his leg like it's nothing. He jumps to the other leg to avoid a swipe from a large, stinky claw, dodging the toothy mouth tummy to shove his sword into a -- oh god, is that a nipple?
Goliath roars, bending forward and then pushing his stomach out; the mouth there, lined with teeth, opens with a screech. The air grows tight as the stomach begins sucking in everything around them -- and luckily, there's not much -- but chunks of ground (sorry Dean) get swallowed, and that's enough for fire to ignite, bubbling out in dribbling magna between Goliath's feet -- aiming the fire he's about to launch straight for her.]