[ He struggles to sit up, but he gets there eventually. His armor's cracked, his hair in disarray, and he's thrown Byfrost off to the side. It's half-submerged in lake water, its runes dimming and brightening as the tide licks at the blade.
Koltira meets Fate's eye, but his lips are swollen, his cheek scored with black lacerations. He looks--accurately so--beat straight to hell. ]
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Koltira meets Fate's eye, but his lips are swollen, his cheek scored with black lacerations. He looks--accurately so--beat straight to hell. ]
It is worse than usual.
[ To look at him, he means. ]