[ She's ready to catch him, to barricade him in a little contraption of air so that he stands in a little funnel. Perhaps that's what she should've done instead. Should've, would've, could've.
Zoya's slow to turn him, not quite sure of how his stomach will fare. She doesn't want to spin him so hard that he can't see. But she moves the disc, easily calling on the air to come and glide along his skin to ensure he turns with it rather than against it—and to hold him upright. It's almost like driving a skiff, although, this time, there's no threat of darkness and volcra. ]
Doesn't matter. [ She calls out. ] If there's movement, we should go to it.
[ Unless, you know, it's movement they shouldn't go toward. ]
no subject
Zoya's slow to turn him, not quite sure of how his stomach will fare. She doesn't want to spin him so hard that he can't see. But she moves the disc, easily calling on the air to come and glide along his skin to ensure he turns with it rather than against it—and to hold him upright. It's almost like driving a skiff, although, this time, there's no threat of darkness and volcra. ]
Doesn't matter. [ She calls out. ] If there's movement, we should go to it.
[ Unless, you know, it's movement they shouldn't go toward. ]