Beau goes down with a thud that makes her heartbeat spike in her chest, worried and angry all at once. She's listening hard for Molly's breathing without taking her eyes off the crumpled monk lying in a heap about fifteen or so feet away from her. Normally, a punch to the forehead like that would make a wiser person stay down, but they are talking about Beau here. And sure enough, she's back on her feet in moments as if plucked from the ground by a large finger and thumb, swaying a little on the spot.
Molly's ragged inhale and exhale behind her doesn't sound too bad. He sounds winded, but uninjured. Yasha's concern for him drops as he spits something nasty in Infernal behind her, but she doesn't have time to look at who he is aiming those words at.
Beau has flung an arrow at her, easy and fast. Yasha only has moments and even then the arrow still slices her as it passes, dragging a cut into the curve of her arm. She doesn't flinch, simply lets the cool, seething rage steal over her as she takes a step forward. This isn't Beau. Beau wouldn't hurt Molly, wouldn't raise arms against her unless she asked for it. Something is doing a very convincing imitation, but not enough to make Yasha reconsider lunging for her with a roar, her curled fist coming in to meet her stomach.)
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Beau goes down with a thud that makes her heartbeat spike in her chest, worried and angry all at once. She's listening hard for Molly's breathing without taking her eyes off the crumpled monk lying in a heap about fifteen or so feet away from her. Normally, a punch to the forehead like that would make a wiser person stay down, but they are talking about Beau here. And sure enough, she's back on her feet in moments as if plucked from the ground by a large finger and thumb, swaying a little on the spot.
Molly's ragged inhale and exhale behind her doesn't sound too bad. He sounds winded, but uninjured. Yasha's concern for him drops as he spits something nasty in Infernal behind her, but she doesn't have time to look at who he is aiming those words at.
Beau has flung an arrow at her, easy and fast. Yasha only has moments and even then the arrow still slices her as it passes, dragging a cut into the curve of her arm. She doesn't flinch, simply lets the cool, seething rage steal over her as she takes a step forward. This isn't Beau. Beau wouldn't hurt Molly, wouldn't raise arms against her unless she asked for it. Something is doing a very convincing imitation, but not enough to make Yasha reconsider lunging for her with a roar, her curled fist coming in to meet her stomach.)