[The cut stone slices like a glaive into his bicep, severing his grip on Silco. Jayce throws his arm outward, shaking off the pain, blood splattering on the cold, stone floor. His grip weakened by the attack, Jayce reallocates his resources. Eyes narrow, his mind evaluates.
Silco talks, words like acid dripping.]
Yes, [he hisses, pulling back his arm and crooking his elbow to use as a bludgeon,] as preemptive! Defense!
[Adrenaline and anguish burn at his nerve endings, competing for control. He throws down his pointed elbow into whatever generally-the-torso area he could land.]
no subject
Silco talks, words like acid dripping.]
Yes, [he hisses, pulling back his arm and crooking his elbow to use as a bludgeon,] as preemptive! Defense!
[Adrenaline and anguish burn at his nerve endings, competing for control. He throws down his pointed elbow into whatever generally-the-torso area he could land.]