[Though she is the first to dart free, she has the benefit of being drably dressed on a dark night. On the other hand, her companion is wearing yellow. The skeleton locks into Claude the second he's in sight, and its mad scramble grants her the perfect opportunity.
With a well-timed run-and-jump, she lights on the scapula, scampering ahead on weathered bones to the neck.
It senses her though. No skin and no muscles and it's still getting tickled by her little feets, what a rip off. One enormous hand cracks down from on high and Syo has to leap from spine to skull, dangling precariously along its cheek.
Only now she's got a better idea. What's big and gooey and the only soft spot to be found?
She heaves, she hos, she swings her legs around, past gnashing teeth, notching her feet in the nose holes. She cinches backwards on the cheek. One wrong move could spell her doom. She has to be quick.
Before it can swat her away, before it can snatch up Claude, Syo drives her scissors into one bulbous, glistening eye.
There's a howl of agony. Unearthly. Probably ear-drum damagining. Hers are ringing, woof, sounds nasty. She thrusts further in, hand suctioning into the goop, sleeve soaking thick as the viscous innards pulse, pump free.
She rips out just as it moves to slap her away — and just as her newest paramour comes flush with a ravine. He's darting to the side, she's dropping free before she gets smacked to Timbuktu. She lands quite close in a (mostly) graceful roll, on hands and knees as she watches the great brute stumble ahead, clutching its wounded socket.
Then it careens over. The weight of its hips and legs dragging over the edge makes the earth tremble.
And in a hilarious twist of fate, the rocks under their own feet give away.]
Cw: eye gore
With a well-timed run-and-jump, she lights on the scapula, scampering ahead on weathered bones to the neck.
It senses her though. No skin and no muscles and it's still getting tickled by her little feets, what a rip off. One enormous hand cracks down from on high and Syo has to leap from spine to skull, dangling precariously along its cheek.
Only now she's got a better idea. What's big and gooey and the only soft spot to be found?
She heaves, she hos, she swings her legs around, past gnashing teeth, notching her feet in the nose holes. She cinches backwards on the cheek. One wrong move could spell her doom. She has to be quick.
Before it can swat her away, before it can snatch up Claude, Syo drives her scissors into one bulbous, glistening eye.
There's a howl of agony. Unearthly. Probably ear-drum damagining. Hers are ringing, woof, sounds nasty. She thrusts further in, hand suctioning into the goop, sleeve soaking thick as the viscous innards pulse, pump free.
She rips out just as it moves to slap her away — and just as her newest paramour comes flush with a ravine. He's darting to the side, she's dropping free before she gets smacked to Timbuktu. She lands quite close in a (mostly) graceful roll, on hands and knees as she watches the great brute stumble ahead, clutching its wounded socket.
Then it careens over. The weight of its hips and legs dragging over the edge makes the earth tremble.
And in a hilarious twist of fate, the rocks under their own feet give away.]