Waiting is not her favorite sport, even if how good she can be at it gouged into the deep parts of her too far down. She's in an awkward position, but she's been in worse, too. In a lot of ways, all of that is easier smaller. Less to worry about. Jo squints after him, semi-planning toward the possibilities. Whether she'll have to find a way to get in front of him, space be damned, or.
Jo gives a look, a good way back through the spiked path. It's darker now, without any light left down there, but she thinks she can make out the opening back onto that spot with the three open tunnels on it. Not that she trusts that dark or has forgotten the small room slamming upward into life and vanishing immediately after. Each time a new wall appeared behind them, giving them only one way if they considered turning back.
Watching him wedge through spikes that are very clearly digging in more, as the walls are getting closer in, is uncomfortable, and she can't tell if it's weird or not. But she grimaces a little when he pushes through that smallest area, the spikes digging into him more as he gets past them. He makes it through, to what, Jo can't see well, given the bulk of Geralt, the minute space of the passage right behind him, and the dark beyond their torches, but she takes his word for it and goes back to navigating the spikes around her.
When it gets tight, there isn't anything to do but what he did. Plow through, wince, grit her teeth, doing her best not to make a sound or move away each time one of the razor-sharp points clips or slashes her. It's so many less than him, but it's still not none when she gets to the last section.
Once she finally makes it the whole way, Jo switches the torch between her hands, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms slightly in front of her body. It wasn't even long, but it's the residual feeling of hypervigilance against movement. "Well, that's on my bucket list for things to never do again."
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Jo gives a look, a good way back through the spiked path. It's darker now, without any light left down there, but she thinks she can make out the opening back onto that spot with the three open tunnels on it. Not that she trusts that dark or has forgotten the small room slamming upward into life and vanishing immediately after. Each time a new wall appeared behind them, giving them only one way if they considered turning back.
Watching him wedge through spikes that are very clearly digging in more, as the walls are getting closer in, is uncomfortable, and she can't tell if it's weird or not. But she grimaces a little when he pushes through that smallest area, the spikes digging into him more as he gets past them. He makes it through, to what, Jo can't see well, given the bulk of Geralt, the minute space of the passage right behind him, and the dark beyond their torches, but she takes his word for it and goes back to navigating the spikes around her.
When it gets tight, there isn't anything to do but what he did. Plow through, wince, grit her teeth, doing her best not to make a sound or move away each time one of the razor-sharp points clips or slashes her. It's so many less than him, but it's still not none when she gets to the last section.
Once she finally makes it the whole way, Jo switches the torch between her hands, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms slightly in front of her body. It wasn't even long, but it's the residual feeling of hypervigilance against movement. "Well, that's on my bucket list for things to never do again."