[Palamedes grunts as Flynn flies into him, but he’s grateful for the stability it brings—however briefly. His arms are wrapped around the front of the bull as best he can, but there’s nothing else for him to anchor himself to, so as Flynn slides away, so does Pal. For half a second, he’s sure they’re going to end up on the floor, only for the bull to jerk them the other way, nearly sending them off in the opposite direction.]
no subject