It's a relief, though. Even as he expects the ground to come racing up toward him at any second (sooner than it does, by far overdue already), with the force potential to break most every bone in his body, there's something vindicating in it, too. He's reckless and childish and probably completely insane - but he still isn't going to let go of the last choice he has to make, regardless of how little the outcomes seem to differ.

The landing isn't what he expects, though it knocks the wind out of him just as well. A choked, confused sound escapes him in lieu of anything approaching actual words, as he collides not with the rocky, jagged ground, but with the same soft-solid, furred body that he'd only just let go of. He throws out his arms as soon as the strength begins to trickle back into them, the only subsequent blows coming from him, as he shoves himself back toward the weird equilibrium of the falling dream.

Then the world shifts again and gravity fails completely for his part, and he drifts upward with a scattered cloud of rocks and debris, tucking in his legs as he floats in case that thing decides to bite. Weirdly adamant as it is to have him, he won't put the possibility out of mind, where any lingering hurt from his fall goes immediately.

He won't look into the void still gaping overhead, either, won't think of how there's nothing at his back (just endless nothing) - his glare is half fear and half stupid determination as he swims awkwardly higher in midair.