Cressida/Jareth/Li/Cian
"Getting there," Cian snarled, picking himself up again. These damn fuckers were a pain in the ass -- not to mention resilient and apparently liable to reproduce asexually -- had their numbers doubled while he was down? Fuck. Two dozen? More? He watched one split in half. The guy with the sword was right -- he needed to act now.
"All right, fuckers, heads up." Yeah, he thought, he was feeling lucky. And damn, but he'd recovered from the fucking plague -- death by flan wasn't on the menu.
He blew on the dice and threw.
They landed amongst the slices, and for a moment, it was silent. Then -- a flash of light, a movement of air, and...
He stared, dumbfounded, at the road running with muck -- but devoid of flan.