She didn't look injured. Something about her was a touch more raw, now, as if he was seeing the real Aeotha Easaahae for the first time. She was painted herself, all in red, and she seemed not to mind very much at all. Skandra supposed he could understand that. They weren't just fighting for their lives any longer. Gershul was planning something that seemed impossible, but he had a lot of life left unless someone took it, and there was no telling what he could do with that life once he reached the eventual end of his understanding and knowledge. There was something strange about seeing Aeotha so bitter and angry in a fight, all the same.
Something strange.
"We might be able to hitch a ride," was what he said next.
His boot found the man's face, and Skandra stepped off, lifting himself up high enough to seize the door's frame. There was nothing but strength of limb to get you over the top. This he began to do, hauling himself with both arms and legs. His boots were scraping against the wood as he lifted, pulled and tugged himself over the frame. With a rough curse and a shot of pain through his side, Skandra collapsed on the other side of the door. They were in the hall, stairs going sideways to a second floor jutting out to their left. The lift would have been higher up - which would have been further in.
As if leading the way, a rope was dangling in the middle of the hall, leading to a bedroom up above.