(ooc: yeah this is great, thanks! Likewise let me know if this messes things up for Jack too much.)
Well. Roland wanted a distraction. It's a distraction that works on Roland as well, and that's for the better - best not to find out how well he could keep his grip with half his mind focused on the way the ground looks all small and distant, stuck sorting through the treacherous storehouse of his memory to figure out what it is that sight reminds him of. The dragon's roar and its movement shakes him out from it. It's a good thing Jack is here.
Good for Roland, that is. Better for him than for the dragon, though maybe only by a little. Its pain sends its legs shaking along with the rest of it, although since it isn't focusing on him anymore the movement is down to a level that's manageable and Roland can lock his arms and legs tight around the leg in front of him and scoot up, occasionally prying his fingertips beneath large, sturdy scales for leverage.
Of course, then he reaches a problem area. Climbing over that hip without so much as a knife to stab through the creature to keep himself in place - he wouldn't try it.
Roland assesses the situation. Assesses his options. Doesn't think about it. A wing swings down to pump them all further upward and as it does Roland reaches out for it, finds the bone on the edge of that wing, small enough to be gripped by a human hand. His whole weight hangs from that one wing now, his feet dangling and his whole body dipped into this unimaginable expanse of open air and that would be the worst feeling he's ever had to endure, is the worst for almost a second. Until his weight on this one part of the dragon's body begins to have an effect. Until the dragon begins to tilt.
His hands begin to move feverishly, he tries as much as he can to swing himself in toward the dragon's body, but he may not be able to manage to move his weight close enough inward before the dragon's tilt begins to turn into a spiral. The other party on this particular journey with Roland may have to make his own arrangements.
no subject
Well. Roland wanted a distraction. It's a distraction that works on Roland as well, and that's for the better - best not to find out how well he could keep his grip with half his mind focused on the way the ground looks all small and distant, stuck sorting through the treacherous storehouse of his memory to figure out what it is that sight reminds him of. The dragon's roar and its movement shakes him out from it. It's a good thing Jack is here.
Good for Roland, that is. Better for him than for the dragon, though maybe only by a little. Its pain sends its legs shaking along with the rest of it, although since it isn't focusing on him anymore the movement is down to a level that's manageable and Roland can lock his arms and legs tight around the leg in front of him and scoot up, occasionally prying his fingertips beneath large, sturdy scales for leverage.
Of course, then he reaches a problem area. Climbing over that hip without so much as a knife to stab through the creature to keep himself in place - he wouldn't try it.
Roland assesses the situation. Assesses his options. Doesn't think about it. A wing swings down to pump them all further upward and as it does Roland reaches out for it, finds the bone on the edge of that wing, small enough to be gripped by a human hand. His whole weight hangs from that one wing now, his feet dangling and his whole body dipped into this unimaginable expanse of open air and that would be the worst feeling he's ever had to endure, is the worst for almost a second. Until his weight on this one part of the dragon's body begins to have an effect. Until the dragon begins to tilt.
His hands begin to move feverishly, he tries as much as he can to swing himself in toward the dragon's body, but he may not be able to manage to move his weight close enough inward before the dragon's tilt begins to turn into a spiral. The other party on this particular journey with Roland may have to make his own arrangements.