[ Danse will take Arcade at his word about this for now; the pain could still just as easily be his own, the fur on his legs slightly matted now with blood. It looks worse than it is, though, and he realizes as the brains attempt to encircle him that these newly-digitigrade legs are much better designed to escape them than they were before.
He overleaps a few of the skittering things, climbs onto the hood of a car--he has the advantage over Arcade of still being bipedal, at least, with less to adjust to in the way he moves. And now that he has one more little boost of height above what the transformation has already granted him, he can see Arcade fighting off the devourers, without even needing to follow the sound of the chainsaw.
Were his mind still human (or as human as it ever was), he'd be hard-pressed not to be alarmed by the sight, wouldn't even know what to do with it. Now, though, it would almost make him smile, if he still had a mouth to do it with instead of a muzzle. The part of his mind still trying to tug away and slip back into the darkness grins at the thought of another, equally effective beast-weapon on the loose--but the tactician in him, the part only able to think with clarity now as he draws closer, sees more strategic possibility in those crushing coils.
He uses the roofs and hoods of the cars to travel, finding it easier up here to fling away any stray brains that follow him, and not really registering that he'll probably owe an apology to anyone whose vehicle he's denting.]
--You're using the wrong weapon.
[ It's how his mind chooses to phrase it at this distance, not particularly clear or detailed in his explanation, but he feels like he could elaborate once he finally jumps back down to the ground a few yards away, his sheer mass distracting some of the swarming devourers as it makes the ground shake.]
no subject
He overleaps a few of the skittering things, climbs onto the hood of a car--he has the advantage over Arcade of still being bipedal, at least, with less to adjust to in the way he moves. And now that he has one more little boost of height above what the transformation has already granted him, he can see Arcade fighting off the devourers, without even needing to follow the sound of the chainsaw.
Were his mind still human (or as human as it ever was), he'd be hard-pressed not to be alarmed by the sight, wouldn't even know what to do with it. Now, though, it would almost make him smile, if he still had a mouth to do it with instead of a muzzle. The part of his mind still trying to tug away and slip back into the darkness grins at the thought of another, equally effective beast-weapon on the loose--but the tactician in him, the part only able to think with clarity now as he draws closer, sees more strategic possibility in those crushing coils.
He uses the roofs and hoods of the cars to travel, finding it easier up here to fling away any stray brains that follow him, and not really registering that he'll probably owe an apology to anyone whose vehicle he's denting.]
--You're using the wrong weapon.
[ It's how his mind chooses to phrase it at this distance, not particularly clear or detailed in his explanation, but he feels like he could elaborate once he finally jumps back down to the ground a few yards away, his sheer mass distracting some of the swarming devourers as it makes the ground shake.]