[Koltira just swallows, hard, uncomprehending. Papyrus talks and talks, but it's translating as pure static in Koltira's head, lost amid the rolling, wracking spasms of pain. He can't think. He can't see. He needs it to stop.
Koltira slams his open palm against Papyrus's chestplate, hard, though not hard enough to necessarily knock Papyrus off of his feet. Just to stop him.
The claws of his gauntlets curl against the metal, screeching, scraping. Koltira bites the inside of his cheek.]
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Koltira slams his open palm against Papyrus's chestplate, hard, though not hard enough to necessarily knock Papyrus off of his feet. Just to stop him.
The claws of his gauntlets curl against the metal, screeching, scraping. Koltira bites the inside of his cheek.]