[They duck as the pinwheeling shards of plaster and whatever intergalactic equivalent Kauto may brag to its infrastructure goes spitting across the vicinity with a roaring clatter.]
[It's fast. It's too fast. The breath is taut and painful in their throat, dragging with wheezing gasps. The adrenaline that lent them that initial burst of fear-powered strength has begun to flag, and so have they.]
[No. No.]
[They do not bow. Not to this.]
[There's an open window - a residence, or a warehouse, or something to that effect, and the child vaults themself atop the stack of crates beneath it, pressing through the way their shoulder strains at the agony of movement, clambering up and over the sill.]
no subject
[It's fast. It's too fast. The breath is taut and painful in their throat, dragging with wheezing gasps. The adrenaline that lent them that initial burst of fear-powered strength has begun to flag, and so have they.]
[No. No.]
[They do not bow. Not to this.]
[There's an open window - a residence, or a warehouse, or something to that effect, and the child vaults themself atop the stack of crates beneath it, pressing through the way their shoulder strains at the agony of movement, clambering up and over the sill.]