[The opening was well-timed—her wrist slams against the wall, rendering that dagger useless—though even Sephiroth finds himself flinching against the first scream that escapes her. The sound is utterly harrowing because he cannot imagine what she sees, what could be so terrible that she would fight him like this.
He opens his mouth to speak again, to try to talk some sense into her, but then Ciri lets out a second cry, and this one affects him in a wildly different way than the last.
The whole room goes fuzzy at the edges, it spins as though a glass shard had suddenly been lodged into his brain. Behind his eyes, the pain feels about as poignant, pulsing, sharp, constant. His ears ring loudly, a high pitched, nails-on-chalkboard sound careening in his skull.
He does not release her wrist, but he does grit his teeth, slams his eyes shut and hisses out a noise of pain. His free hand drops his sword, coming up to clench at the side of his face, his temple. It’s a futile effort. The pain remains, and he sways on his feet.]
no subject
He opens his mouth to speak again, to try to talk some sense into her, but then Ciri lets out a second cry, and this one affects him in a wildly different way than the last.
The whole room goes fuzzy at the edges, it spins as though a glass shard had suddenly been lodged into his brain. Behind his eyes, the pain feels about as poignant, pulsing, sharp, constant. His ears ring loudly, a high pitched, nails-on-chalkboard sound careening in his skull.
He does not release her wrist, but he does grit his teeth, slams his eyes shut and hisses out a noise of pain. His free hand drops his sword, coming up to clench at the side of his face, his temple. It’s a futile effort. The pain remains, and he sways on his feet.]