[It seemed genuine, Estinien swaying gently for a moment as if all the strength he'd had before had suddenly left him. Even the grip upon Aymeric's arm loosened, if only a little, that hand shaking from the effort of trying to defy the wyrm's will. So it would seem Nidhogg dared not withdraw fully, but then that was only to be expected.
He took one breath, and then another, as if trying to get the words out but unable to muster the strength to do so. Unable to look away from Aymeric, in spite of the clear expression of shame, some unspoken apology. It was a look ill-suited for him, it had no place on his face, but what else could he possibly feel now?
Well... no, he had one other emotion to fall back on. Aymeric begged him to speak, and finally, he managed to push through, the agony and fatigue in his expression shifting into something that might look far more familiar.]
Move back.
[The wyrm would hear it, of course he would, and certainly attempted to intercept the dragoon's sudden movement. Nidhogg had made a mistake in loosening his control over Estinien, no matter how little of it he'd given up, and the lance was raised, and a blow thus struck. But not at Aymeric, no, the weapon instead found it's mark in the dragoon's arm, the one that had, up until this moment, been gripping Aymeric's arm in that near unbreakable grasp.
The beastly scream was far removed from any natural sound, enraged and in pain as Nidhogg released his prize, though he'd try in vain to swipe at the other man, forced to reconsider that as Estinien twisted the lance in his own arm.]
no subject
He took one breath, and then another, as if trying to get the words out but unable to muster the strength to do so. Unable to look away from Aymeric, in spite of the clear expression of shame, some unspoken apology. It was a look ill-suited for him, it had no place on his face, but what else could he possibly feel now?
Well... no, he had one other emotion to fall back on. Aymeric begged him to speak, and finally, he managed to push through, the agony and fatigue in his expression shifting into something that might look far more familiar.]
Move back.
[The wyrm would hear it, of course he would, and certainly attempted to intercept the dragoon's sudden movement. Nidhogg had made a mistake in loosening his control over Estinien, no matter how little of it he'd given up, and the lance was raised, and a blow thus struck. But not at Aymeric, no, the weapon instead found it's mark in the dragoon's arm, the one that had, up until this moment, been gripping Aymeric's arm in that near unbreakable grasp.
The beastly scream was far removed from any natural sound, enraged and in pain as Nidhogg released his prize, though he'd try in vain to swipe at the other man, forced to reconsider that as Estinien twisted the lance in his own arm.]