Meadowlark Prairie rancid dinner with the pope

He was gasping for air and everything was still sort of spinning, and each gasp hurt his face, and sometimes he'd sniffle as if his nose wasn't broken and it would hurt - so he squeezed his eyes shut, planted his feet, and waited for everything to calm down. Taking deep breaths was obviously not a good plan but that's what Raven had told him to do when he'd freak out about his leg. He lifted his head up and glanced at the girl, then above her head, and stared up at the sky trying to gulp down air - and his heart did slow for a minute, although he felt a dizzying sense of disorientation regardless.

Screech's heart still pounded but as long as he fought against thoughts of that girl, and everything that was bound to happen because of his involvement, he could slowly get control again. But he caught a glimpse of the girl again and she was frowning, her body rigid and tail raised as if in surprise, and it made him follow her gaze to the dark blotch that had joined them.

Casheepeea, he slurred and sighed. She seemed expectant as well as concerned, and that sobered him up the rest of the way. Its -- its okay, I wash... There's a lot to tell you, but he didn't dare talk about it all here, not considering how close he was to the caldera and how absolutely fucked up everything had become. Not to mention his unwilling audience of one that had likely become alienated in the process.

He slogged to his feet then, passing a sorry look to Indra as he sagged towards Cassiopeia; he paused long enough to address the tawny girl with something more tangible, but it felt fake all the same: S-sorry, you.. You caw't me onna bad day.