[He'd been so ready to just hold his breath and go, that when suddenly Adrien is back with them in the tiny pocket of not-so thick air, Sephiroth almost has to force himself to uncoil all of the strength and focus he'd been keeping like a tight spring. Turning in his crouch a little back towards the other two and trying to squint as to see through where Adrien might have come from.
At least he saw the fan slipping away, managing to take a final gulp of air in before it vanishes completely. Not expecting at all for such another piece of weaponry to seemingly pop out of Baiken's shoulder. He didn't need to hang around to know what was to be attempted next.
Sephiroth holds his breath, turns his focus entirely towards tracing the path Adrien must have made towards the other door. Each step though draws a tighter and tighter feeling in his chest; perhaps the cannon would at least do a significant amount of damage to the door before he gets there.
He splutters just as he gets within reach of the mentioned door and immediately wishes he hadn't. The foul taste of the miasma fills him up quickly again as if it were just waiting for him to fail; Sephiroth closes his mind against his physical body continuing to cough deeply and finds the handle, rapidly twisting it any which-way, and smashing the side of his frame, shoulder armor-first, against where should logically be the weak point.
Each shove is getting weaker though- it's really got to give, soon.]
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At least he saw the fan slipping away, managing to take a final gulp of air in before it vanishes completely. Not expecting at all for such another piece of weaponry to seemingly pop out of Baiken's shoulder. He didn't need to hang around to know what was to be attempted next.
Sephiroth holds his breath, turns his focus entirely towards tracing the path Adrien must have made towards the other door. Each step though draws a tighter and tighter feeling in his chest; perhaps the cannon would at least do a significant amount of damage to the door before he gets there.
He splutters just as he gets within reach of the mentioned door and immediately wishes he hadn't. The foul taste of the miasma fills him up quickly again as if it were just waiting for him to fail; Sephiroth closes his mind against his physical body continuing to cough deeply and finds the handle, rapidly twisting it any which-way, and smashing the side of his frame, shoulder armor-first, against where should logically be the weak point.
Each shove is getting weaker though- it's really got to give, soon.]