[ The inhuman something comes for them, quicker than he'd like it to be; sharp and loping, even in the treetops; it moves like a predator. He doesn't meet Robby's startled look because he's busy frowning into the middle distance, concern written dark and tight across his face.
The thing drops down between them, which isn't great. It isn't nice to look at, for one thing, and John's not sure about having the kid standing alone with it. It's not that John can't scruff him from here, hands-free, but that would open its own can of worms. The last thing he needs is to rile his shadow into trying to help: she only knows there should be blood on the ground, and too easily forgets who to cut.
Eyes on Robby, he presses a finger to his lips in shh, crooks his fingers in come back towards me. He means it as firm instruction. He forgets that it puts on display how he seems to be unarmed. ]
no subject
The thing drops down between them, which isn't great. It isn't nice to look at, for one thing, and John's not sure about having the kid standing alone with it. It's not that John can't scruff him from here, hands-free, but that would open its own can of worms. The last thing he needs is to rile his shadow into trying to help: she only knows there should be blood on the ground, and too easily forgets who to cut.
Eyes on Robby, he presses a finger to his lips in shh, crooks his fingers in come back towards me. He means it as firm instruction. He forgets that it puts on display how he seems to be unarmed. ]