@roleplay-abiogenesis2 asked: In the middle of a leisurely ride - or is it a chase? can Roche even tell the difference? A sudden crack opens in the very fabrics of space and time. Wide enough just to drop Cyno to fall onto the concrete, the young man landing into a crouch with staff still in hand and looking combat-ready.
He looks up... into a single headlight coming straight at him. He knows not what Sleipnir is, nor does he see its rider in the blinding flash that fills his vision. All Cyno can see is something loud and angry charging straight at him like an arrow, and with a focus of his power of lightning, he charges his weapon to face his new enemy headstrong!
He swings! Unprompted Asks - ALWAYS ACCEPTING
Stranger things in his time had Roche witnessed, a flash storm perhaps out here in the wasteland of the Midgar flats, though it would take him some time to truly register the falling star and the impact upon the ground in front of him, that was until he was practically on top of it.
A person… or creature it would seem. Alas, whatever it was, it honed a weapon!! Needless to say, the ethereal glow radiating from that body, the demonic glow of its eyes, friend or foe was not even in question. Out here… everything was the enemy!
Kill or be killed by the monsters dwelling in the rot beneath the shadow of the false tower.
And as it stood upright, this monster from the sky, as Sleipnir would hurtle towards it, poised for attack, there was no time to draw his own weapon. Least not the one strapped between shoulder blades, yet between his thighs did roar the might of his steed, as good a weapon (and a shield) as any. A sharp lean to send the vehicle into a skid, plumes of dirt erupting from beneath as the stench of burning rubber would permeate his senses, the sickening screech of metal upon crumbling stone, the deranged grin tugging at each corner of his mouth as the thrill would vibrate in the very marrow of his bones!!
But it was short lived. Al confidence in his attack utterly destroyed with the blinding flash defeat.
The weapon swept him, bike and all like leaves from a driveway, into the dust. The hard clatter of the bike hitting the ground and grinding to a slow halt, while he found himself slipping and rolling in the dirt. Face down did the blond end up then, mouth full of grit and pebbles, a disarray of limbs and hair as he would dare to lift his head from the ground and spy again this demon from the heavens, a twinge of fear threading around his chest that even Sleipnir had failed to breech whatever defences this creature honed, with its long snout and high ears… such a strange thing he saw, for what exactly was Roche even looking at here?
Too long did it take the SOLDIER to scramble to his feet, the dull ache of his fall clinging to each hip and reaching back to draw his sword, while edging, ever so slowly, backwards towards the bike lying on her side to his rear.
It would probably do Roche well not to let this thing out of his sight before he’s the chance to kill it.
