Raylan was not ready to be anything other than not moving - he'd be staying right here for another minute thank you very much. His body was still screaming at him from the tips of his fingers to his toes, which was impressive, considering how long his legs were. Everything hurt and he could guess why, so no digging into his senses seemed to be needed.
"You shoulda turned back, Tim, you shouldn't'a pushed ahead," he breathed out, tone thin with his exhaustion, eyes closing as he slacked into the floor. But he hadn't turned back. They hadn't. And now Tim was gonna be looking like a bruised fruit being looked at through a kaleidoscope for at least a week and a half. Raylan was grateful that that was the only thing they had to suffer for their stupidity.
You've got blood on your feet. Raylan frowned and cracked his eyes open, rolling over onto his side so he could shift up to a sitting position. It all came with a groan though, a wince and a slowness that hadn't been there this morning.
"Shit," he muttered at the sight of blood in his footprints, covering the soles of his feet. It was only in the brushing them off that he stopped to look at his hands, red and ragged at the edges, covered in microabrasions. Not enough to stop him from doing anything, but he was going to be sore in more than one way.
Raylan clucked under his breath. "It's fine," he assured. "It'll be fine."
It wasn't going to be fine. Their experiment was tested with a gust of wind that rattled the windows until they explored inwards, causing Raylan to reach out, grab Tim and pull him back down to the ground. The doors behind them gusted open, slamming hard enough to dislodge one upper door hinge and creak threateningly over them.
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"You shoulda turned back, Tim, you shouldn't'a pushed ahead," he breathed out, tone thin with his exhaustion, eyes closing as he slacked into the floor. But he hadn't turned back. They hadn't. And now Tim was gonna be looking like a bruised fruit being looked at through a kaleidoscope for at least a week and a half. Raylan was grateful that that was the only thing they had to suffer for their stupidity.
You've got blood on your feet. Raylan frowned and cracked his eyes open, rolling over onto his side so he could shift up to a sitting position. It all came with a groan though, a wince and a slowness that hadn't been there this morning.
"Shit," he muttered at the sight of blood in his footprints, covering the soles of his feet. It was only in the brushing them off that he stopped to look at his hands, red and ragged at the edges, covered in microabrasions. Not enough to stop him from doing anything, but he was going to be sore in more than one way.
Raylan clucked under his breath. "It's fine," he assured. "It'll be fine."
It wasn't going to be fine. Their experiment was tested with a gust of wind that rattled the windows until they explored inwards, causing Raylan to reach out, grab Tim and pull him back down to the ground. The doors behind them gusted open, slamming hard enough to dislodge one upper door hinge and creak threateningly over them.