[ He should be used to combat. He's seen plenty of it by now, fought people with far more capability and power than Silco has ever really even thought about having. He's fought men who called themselves gods ( looks directly into the camera at you, froot ( Ν‘Β° ΝΚ Ν‘Β°) ) and even gods for real. He has felt his limbs crack and break, lost limbs, felt power seep between his fingertips, and watched his own life end from the eye of his shooter. He should be well-used to this by now.
He should.
He has no power here. So little it's almost embarrassing, compared to the threat he'd been back then. When he'd had the capability, when no matter how many times death knocked on his door β and oh, how his old acquaintance tried to come calling β it never seemed to happen. He always came back. It made him foolish, and it made him take chances he shouldn't. (Then again, didn't he take foolish chances here too?)
No, he's back to his old ways. He understands that death is permanent here. He refuses to die. He refuses to get taken by any of these things.
The creature lunges out of the sand at him, and Kaladin β why did it have to be him? β comes charging out to try and help him? He snaps out of his fear long enough to hear the clicking, long enough to see Kaladin get nearly caught in it. He's close enough that if the thing does what he thinks that's going to do, he's probably going to get in trouble.
So he actually moves, kicking up sand while he does so, trying to get out of the way. It's not far, and it's not even effective. His pistol is still in his holster β Tezca had insisted he bring it along, despite the provided shotguns β and it's the only weapon he has, other than the knife tied into the back of his leather holster.
It's not enough. And he doesn't have time. He ducks and rolls, trying to get out of the way. He expects Kaladin to do the same, but perhaps it's selfish that he just moves though he at least makes an effort to stand, once he's out of the blast radius.
At least temporarily. ]
Can't stand not being the hero, can you?
[ He sneers, and at least it's a little confirmation that he isn't frozen anymore, though... it was a close thing.
no subject
He should.
He has no power here. So little it's almost embarrassing, compared to the threat he'd been back then. When he'd had the capability, when no matter how many times death knocked on his door β and oh, how his old acquaintance tried to come calling β it never seemed to happen. He always came back. It made him foolish, and it made him take chances he shouldn't. (Then again, didn't he take foolish chances here too?)
No, he's back to his old ways. He understands that death is permanent here. He refuses to die. He refuses to get taken by any of these things.
The creature lunges out of the sand at him, and Kaladin β why did it have to be him? β comes charging out to try and help him? He snaps out of his fear long enough to hear the clicking, long enough to see Kaladin get nearly caught in it. He's close enough that if the thing does what he thinks that's going to do, he's probably going to get in trouble.
So he actually moves, kicking up sand while he does so, trying to get out of the way. It's not far, and it's not even effective. His pistol is still in his holster β Tezca had insisted he bring it along, despite the provided shotguns β and it's the only weapon he has, other than the knife tied into the back of his leather holster.
It's not enough. And he doesn't have time. He ducks and rolls, trying to get out of the way. He expects Kaladin to do the same, but perhaps it's selfish that he just moves though he at least makes an effort to stand, once he's out of the blast radius.
At least temporarily. ]
Can't stand not being the hero, can you?
[ He sneers, and at least it's a little confirmation that he isn't frozen anymore, though... it was a close thing.
Will he thank him?
Oh, absolutely not. ]