>>5676253At first there is still rumbling, such that you fear you have failed. You hear your allies scream, just barely, over the grinding sound. By the Gods, it is making to crash into them and utterly CRUSH them!
But then… The sound changes. It is not the roar of churning, transforming earth. It is friction! The great Goliath is skidding to a halt! And the shouting of your loved ones… It dies down, too, but not suddenly as if they have been splattered upon a cave-wall or buried under an avalanche od debris. Rather, it slowly peters off as they realize—and YOU realize—that they are safe.
Taking care not to limp, you begin to stride towards the halting monstrosity. Scattered below it, rocking in place or curling up as if to sleep, are the rock-egg-things, such as first attacked you or as guarded your tomb-prison. They regard you with wariness and awe as you warily pass between them, marching forwards to find your companions.
Find them you do: Olu, Eka, and the Novice. Each has cowered as if to shield themselves rather than one another, you note; no close bonds among these ones here. However, as each of them pulls their panic-widened eyes from the hulk of the Goliath and sees you there, they demonstrate their one shared pillar of community: you.
“Theral!”
“Y-you idiot!”
To your shock, BOTH your Beloved Ones are upon you almost immediately. Ekaterine is more literal in this, clinging upon your neck and causing you no small pain from your aching injuries. Even the Novice hurries to your side, though, and immediately, dutifully, sets to healing your injured flesh. It is a demonstration of automatic compassion which you are not used to from her… Though you do wonder, if you asked her about this, if she wouldn’t just say you were her most valuable tool in getting her to safety, rather than the subject of her loving devotion.
Hm.
“You saved us,” says the Archer, regarding you with a grin. “I am not complaining, Superior One… But how?”
“You would have rather tried to fend it off with arrows?” you ask dryly.
“Ah! No, I did not mean to—” the Archer stops mid-apology, then grins and laughs as he realizes you are ribbing him as an ally rather than admonishing him as a superior; you join him in his laughter, even as it hurts your ribs to do so.
