[He doesn't make it very far before he's throw against the ground, claws digging into his back with enough force to crack ribs. The plating on his arms and legs does little to help—thin, flexible material that's only meant to stop glancing blows, armor that's swiftly ripped from his body along with flesh and blood and shattered bone. Dynamo clusters around him, the remaining drones tumbling from his pockets, helpless to do more than beep and crackle with what little power they have left—the drone by Nene is the only one that hesitates, lingers, torn between its instructions and the instinctive drive to protect him.
For what it's worth, Add is able to maintain that perfect and calm image he cares so much about. His throat is torn before he can scream, limbs pinned and crushed without a chance to crawl away.
... the drones cease their panicked circling.
A few seconds pass, and... with an air of great reluctance, the ones that still have the strength to fly leave their master to regroup at Nene's sides. The other two crash into the ground along the way, lights dimmed and spent.
They take care not to get too close to the vines. It's difficult to read the emotions of a faceless, voiceless array of robots—but they're clingy, weakened, searching for some sort of direction.]
no subject
For what it's worth, Add is able to maintain that perfect and calm image he cares so much about. His throat is torn before he can scream, limbs pinned and crushed without a chance to crawl away.
... the drones cease their panicked circling.
A few seconds pass, and... with an air of great reluctance, the ones that still have the strength to fly leave their master to regroup at Nene's sides. The other two crash into the ground along the way, lights dimmed and spent.
They take care not to get too close to the vines. It's difficult to read the emotions of a faceless, voiceless array of robots—but they're clingy, weakened, searching for some sort of direction.]