[Chara is no giant, but size is hardly an issue when someone is fighting to win, or die. Without the top half of the hardsuit, every flailing kick, scratch, punch and claw poses new threats. One arm pulls free—but a rake of fingers and a snarling bite is a low price to pay for staying mostly in command.
It's only once Lavellan is speaking that she lets her grip loosen minutely. With both hands free, they lunge--
--And the jacket comes down, over their head, a sea of muffled darkness, the roaring stench of iron. Outreached hands are pulled back, restrained with tied sleeves, and they're on the ground. In the blackness, there's only the sensation of the pressure, tight and secure, and the weight of the hands performing it.
For all their professionalism, they shake, slightly.]
no subject
It's only once Lavellan is speaking that she lets her grip loosen minutely. With both hands free, they lunge--
--And the jacket comes down, over their head, a sea of muffled darkness, the roaring stench of iron. Outreached hands are pulled back, restrained with tied sleeves, and they're on the ground. In the blackness, there's only the sensation of the pressure, tight and secure, and the weight of the hands performing it.
For all their professionalism, they shake, slightly.]