( A hard Collision, all bone, no grace, teeth rattling in the wake of it. Kanda's a sullen, all-limbs mess, melted by the door's feet after he gently trickles down, his career as a professional battering ram at its sad and explosive end.

Water's rising past his bent knees, but the refusal to raise himself is strong with this one. )

Making it move.

( It... has not moved, madam, this door will not concede this fight. ) Is it down yet?

( As if he can't feel it, hard, mean and strong against his back. Fuck trees. )