Shoulder, or arm... I think? Which is good, because that's what was covering my neck. [ With a groan of pain, Claude manages to roll onto his back, still clutching at his shoulder. He can't tell if it's broken, or a fracture, or perhaps just dislocated; whatever it is, it's absolutely screaming in pain in a way he's utterly unused to. He blinks back tears (though not with as much success as he'd like) as he looks up at Ethlyn's face, as determined as he's ever seen it. Oddly determined, he thinks. She's just the gossipy neighbour everyone loves to roll their eyes at. Shouldn't she be running off, yelling for help? Instead, she looks singularly focused, intent on helping him herself for some unknown reason.
He means to say something cute and pithy, but the pain has removed his filter. Plaintively, he says, ] Where did she go?
[ He may be a philanderer and she may be a cheater, but there was real care there. He'd take a dozen falls to ensure that she wasn't somehow horribly murdered by an act of god. ]
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He means to say something cute and pithy, but the pain has removed his filter. Plaintively, he says, ] Where did she go?
[ He may be a philanderer and she may be a cheater, but there was real care there. He'd take a dozen falls to ensure that she wasn't somehow horribly murdered by an act of god. ]