[ooc: i'm happy working toward a resolution on this thread in the next tag or two, since it's mostly just SHOOT BACK AND FORTH action, unless there was anything else you wanted to do! they can get separated by a changing room or something convenient as we discussed!]
[The response surprises him. While he's utilized Communion now a few times in the thick of it, as either ease of communication or to target an opponent—or simply because there was no other choice—she refuses it as best she can, her voice loud and commanding in the room. Her aim true.
The air is getting hot with flame. He feels sweat on his skin, sticking to the collar of his shirt, greasing his brow so much he has to wipe it away to keep his eyes clear. There are no seconds left, though, when she fires back; he is caught by that next arrow.
It strikes home in his left shoulder, a blazing pierce of flesh and muscle. Pain ripples through to her unwilling side of the channel of Communion. Out loud, he manages a teeth-clenched grunt but utters no other sound.
None, except for an echo of her name.]
Hayame...
[Formidable. An expert archer, likely better than him. Childe withdraws behind another pillar to snap the shaft of the arrow a few inches over the wound; his shirt is already red with his own blood. His grins, almost crazed, at the sight of it. He is not someone who will retreat even injured like this. And he knows this is precious time, because she will be taking advantage of his injury to target him again and bring him down. So he rounds the pillar, this time two arrows on his bow, whistling through the hazy smoke of the room to drive her back and buy himself space.]
no subject
[The response surprises him. While he's utilized Communion now a few times in the thick of it, as either ease of communication or to target an opponent—or simply because there was no other choice—she refuses it as best she can, her voice loud and commanding in the room. Her aim true.
The air is getting hot with flame. He feels sweat on his skin, sticking to the collar of his shirt, greasing his brow so much he has to wipe it away to keep his eyes clear. There are no seconds left, though, when she fires back; he is caught by that next arrow.
It strikes home in his left shoulder, a blazing pierce of flesh and muscle. Pain ripples through to her unwilling side of the channel of Communion. Out loud, he manages a teeth-clenched grunt but utters no other sound.
None, except for an echo of her name.]
Hayame...
[Formidable. An expert archer, likely better than him. Childe withdraws behind another pillar to snap the shaft of the arrow a few inches over the wound; his shirt is already red with his own blood. His grins, almost crazed, at the sight of it. He is not someone who will retreat even injured like this. And he knows this is precious time, because she will be taking advantage of his injury to target him again and bring him down. So he rounds the pillar, this time two arrows on his bow, whistling through the hazy smoke of the room to drive her back and buy himself space.]