[ He sucks in a breath, blinking hard to clear his vision. His left palm is scorched, skin bubbling, but he doesn't think twice about it. He heals easily. Instead, he reaches for Dean, holding him up while he coughs up a lung or two. Waits for it to pass before he makes an attempt to sit Dean up.
He can practically taste the ashes in his mouth.
He holds his hand out—not an offer, but a command. Urgent. ] Come on.
[ He doesn't mean to drag Dean off again, but they aren't free from danger. What's left of the home, its blackened bones, is about to come down. Smoke is still billowing out in thick clouds. They need to be further.
Then he can take a look at Dean's leg. Ask him what the fuck even happened beyond crushed under a wooden rafter, house set ablaze.
(Something happened with Ciri. He can already guess that, can't he?) ]
no subject
He can practically taste the ashes in his mouth.
He holds his hand out—not an offer, but a command. Urgent. ] Come on.
[ He doesn't mean to drag Dean off again, but they aren't free from danger. What's left of the home, its blackened bones, is about to come down. Smoke is still billowing out in thick clouds. They need to be further.
Then he can take a look at Dean's leg. Ask him what the fuck even happened beyond crushed under a wooden rafter, house set ablaze.
(Something happened with Ciri. He can already guess that, can't he?) ]