Before Uryuu could do anything, his skull exploded, accompanied by an appropriate eruption of red light behind his eyes, and also a loud, resounding cracking sound. His readiness foiled. Ready with bat and bow to try and fight it back, to try to deflect, and still anticipating some tearing pain, ready to bite back a cry, but the double onslaught came almost simultaneously. Enormous talons ripped through him and a shock of wood crashed into his face.
His head snapped back and he staggered, almost falling over, dazed for an instant past comprehension. That Poole-san had swung his bat meaning to hit the creature, that he might have actually succeeded if one of those cracks said anything. But, his ears rang and his vision spotted and swam and his head had, in fact, clearly been knocked right off his neck. It was rolling around somewhere underfoot, and he was bound to trip over it soon.
That, or Poole-san had burst his eyeball in his skull.
He dropped his bat to clutch at his head (still on his neck), maintaining his bow subconsciously: less having the presence of mind and more extensive time training creating the reflex.
"What," he finally managed, "the hell?"
Only, once he could speak, could glare one-eyed Poole-san, he realized that he didn't have time to be complaining. His shoulder and part of his back reminded him of the larger problem (unless Poole-san had intended to do it and was preparing to hit him again), and he didn't trust that whatever Poole-san had broken in the creature would keep it away. His shoulder protested, and he winced, but he had moved and fought through worse; Uryuu positioned himself, aiming into the sky and squinting for the thing.
He paused a moment, before drawing an arrow, to right his glasses. By some stroke of incredible improbability, the lenses had not shattered, but the frames were bent and hanging from one ear. Uryuu shoved them back into place, or what was near enough to it, and looked again. Tried. His head.
"Do me a favor," he grit out, every word adding to the jackhammer pulverizing his skull. "Look before you swing."
no subject
Before Uryuu could do anything, his skull exploded, accompanied by an appropriate eruption of red light behind his eyes, and also a loud, resounding cracking sound. His readiness foiled. Ready with bat and bow to try and fight it back, to try to deflect, and still anticipating some tearing pain, ready to bite back a cry, but the double onslaught came almost simultaneously. Enormous talons ripped through him and a shock of wood crashed into his face.
His head snapped back and he staggered, almost falling over, dazed for an instant past comprehension. That Poole-san had swung his bat meaning to hit the creature, that he might have actually succeeded if one of those cracks said anything. But, his ears rang and his vision spotted and swam and his head had, in fact, clearly been knocked right off his neck. It was rolling around somewhere underfoot, and he was bound to trip over it soon.
That, or Poole-san had burst his eyeball in his skull.
He dropped his bat to clutch at his head (still on his neck), maintaining his bow subconsciously: less having the presence of mind and more extensive time training creating the reflex.
"What," he finally managed, "the hell?"
Only, once he could speak, could glare one-eyed Poole-san, he realized that he didn't have time to be complaining. His shoulder and part of his back reminded him of the larger problem (unless Poole-san had intended to do it and was preparing to hit him again), and he didn't trust that whatever Poole-san had broken in the creature would keep it away. His shoulder protested, and he winced, but he had moved and fought through worse; Uryuu positioned himself, aiming into the sky and squinting for the thing.
He paused a moment, before drawing an arrow, to right his glasses. By some stroke of incredible improbability, the lenses had not shattered, but the frames were bent and hanging from one ear. Uryuu shoved them back into place, or what was near enough to it, and looked again. Tried. His head.
"Do me a favor," he grit out, every word adding to the jackhammer pulverizing his skull. "Look before you swing."