Rydux wrote:Richter's senses kicked in at realizing that his wrist was seized. With the knowledge that Fort wasn't himself, he was wary of any sort of movement, trusting his instincts, as he twisted his arm to prevent Fort from snapping his wrist. He tried to pull away, but Fort's grip was stronger than he had believed. "What the hell!" He cried out, only to grin soon later, "I would like to enjoy to this grapple, but..." he began twisting his arm, weaving his body behind Fort's,"You're not being yourself!" he then took his seized arm and pressed it against Fort's neck, slamming his body to the ground, using his free hand to press his body against the floor. He looked over his shoulder and cried out "Rinko!! What the hell is wrong with him?!"
Rinko kept her eyes on Alice; she was unable to speak in this form. He's enchanted, can't you see that?
She was frustrated that she could not communicate this, but she assumed Richter would figure it out. Even though she feared to admit it, Fort now had her worried. In his right mind, he'd be good in any fight. But as it stands now...
Her eyes hardened. This girl has a hold over him, and I cannot break a curse like that. I will just have to best Alice, then she will have to take her shadowy influence from over him.
Fortinbraz struggled under the thing's sudden weight. He tried to throw himself against the restraint with all he had. The thing spoke, but he could not understand. He released a guttural growl and forced out words, their meaning barely registering, "Let go...."
He choked on the black, sticky water as it flowed around him; the weight was pushing him down, under the surface. The panic set in. I can breathe, I can't move, I CAN'T BREATHE!
Those were his last coherent thoughts before the only one urge set in, only one mattered: the need to breathe, the need to move, the need to be anywhere other than this hell on Earth, the need to break away because it felt as if he couldn't stand another moment under the terrifying waters, but the moments just continued. He couldn't tell how long he'd been under, how long he'd endured; no, it wasn't endurance, merely the horrible wait before the looming threat of death.
In actuality, Fortinbraz bucked and kicked and tore, trying to get Richter off of him. His blows were badly aimed, but painful.