And like that, the pike undoes itself. Splits apart like splintering, into great black jagged shards of metal that then flex as if they are as supple as silk, the shape of him shaking out in a blur, falling out of her hand, shrinking, shrinking, hitting the floor with a tak.
For a long, oddly anticlimactic moment, William is a glass marble: teeny tiny cat's-eye.
He rolls a short distance, spins, leaving the thinnest streak of acid on the floor behind him. The worst of it sloughed off behind.
The next instant, he rattles out big ('big') and human again. Almost mid-change, he's reaching for his backpack, dropping his shoulder. Just like his sweater and trousers and boots, his supplies were undisturbed by the medley of transformations. There's an ugly spot on his collar, dangerously close to his neck, where there seems like the residual acid might be eating through-- but he doesn't pay it any mind just yet. Time's precious, and she's got less of it than he does.
He's assessing her burn as he moves. Ticking fast as he can through burn types in his head, his face very motionless, lips moving slightly as he names them off under his breath. The likelihood it's something that'll react wrong with water seems low, so in a moment, he has a water bottle out, a second by his feet. Uncapping the little plastic container, he's emptying it over her skin without asking or even telling her to stand still-- she knows how it is. He holds it high up her arm so it runs down, covers as much of her burning skin with the flow as he can. There isn't enough water to irrigate for as long as they should, and he only has so many hands. speaking of.
"Oi!" William snaps at the two losers hiding in the shorn-open compartment. For a moment-- for a moment, he's completely distracted [from murder] by the task at hand. "DUPRR cunts, get the fuck out of there and help! Have you got any water?" He twists his head to look just for a moment, before looking back to his companion.
SORRY FOR SO MAny moves, if im godmoding just poke me in pp
For a long, oddly anticlimactic moment, William is a glass marble: teeny tiny cat's-eye.
He rolls a short distance, spins, leaving the thinnest streak of acid on the floor behind him. The worst of it sloughed off behind.
The next instant, he rattles out big ('big') and human again. Almost mid-change, he's reaching for his backpack, dropping his shoulder. Just like his sweater and trousers and boots, his supplies were undisturbed by the medley of transformations. There's an ugly spot on his collar, dangerously close to his neck, where there seems like the residual acid might be eating through-- but he doesn't pay it any mind just yet. Time's precious, and she's got less of it than he does.
He's assessing her burn as he moves. Ticking fast as he can through burn types in his head, his face very motionless, lips moving slightly as he names them off under his breath. The likelihood it's something that'll react wrong with water seems low, so in a moment, he has a water bottle out, a second by his feet. Uncapping the little plastic container, he's emptying it over her skin without asking or even telling her to stand still-- she knows how it is. He holds it high up her arm so it runs down, covers as much of her burning skin with the flow as he can. There isn't enough water to irrigate for as long as they should, and he only has so many hands. speaking of.
"Oi!" William snaps at the two losers hiding in the shorn-open compartment. For a moment-- for a moment, he's completely distracted [from murder] by the task at hand. "DUPRR cunts, get the fuck out of there and help! Have you got any water?" He twists his head to look just for a moment, before looking back to his companion.