[ While his comrades are MAKING OUT, the eye glares him down and the violin jerks and Dimitri's footing slides, spear dislodging before he can drive the wound any deeper. The wires thrash at him before he can try again, one snaking around his leg to yank it out from under him, sending him right onto his back—he only gets out a short, surprised cough, breath knocked out of him before he has to bring his spear up to protect himself from getting pummelled as best he can.
But he's not getting anywhere this turn, sorry guys. ]
no subject
But he's not getting anywhere this turn, sorry guys. ]