( he's never had a wound so grievous before. or, well, no, that's not the case — he's never felt a wound feel so grievous. he's had his head removed nearly a half-dozen times at this point (at least one or two of those had been of his own accord), and he'd also been savagely bitten by the shade of J's mentor, but at the time he'd been a demon both bound and bolstered by the laws of hell. violence wouldn't be able to kill him. the pain could make one wish for death, certainly, but all he'd had to do was sew himself back together and all would be fine soon enough.
that doesn't feel like the case here. after he'd been stabbed, in the haze of shock and pain, he had felt his life ebbing away with the blood as it rushed to escape his body. he very well could have bled out. it's a bizarre thing to consider — in hell, he had been denied the ability to die, even if the pain of existing on was unbearable. and now... well, even if he did, his shard would remain, wouldn't it? he may not be shackled by the laws of hell, but he's traded them for that of being an Aion.
he shakes his head. ) No, no - it's fine. Sir, I appreciate your offer of aid. ( how much assistance does he need, indeed... he has to consider it for a moment before continuing. ) Please, if you would, just - lend me your arm so I can stand and walk. That should be enough.
( he already knows it's going to kill, but he feels like he could weather the physical pain in his chest better than the psychic pain of being bodily carried back to his chambers. he reaches out to take gurbahl's arm when extended, and he's easy enough to support; he barely seems to weigh anything at all. one standing, he takes a moment to adjust to his own two legs again, and then he indicates they can start walking toward the personal chambers. it's slow going, but they're on their way.
food... logically he knows he should eat something at some point, but the idea of doing so right now, with what feels like a riot of razor blades festering beneath and within his ribs, is perfectly abhorrent. ) Yes, but... not right now. ( he's not even sure what sort of internal damage he suffered. if there was any injury made to his gut, he feels he should give it some time to mend itself before eating anything. ) I'll send my retainer for something later. For now - I might just ask you stay nearby just in case I take an unexpected turn for the worse.
( he seems begrudging in that, but it seems like a necessity. he doesn't think it will happen, but...?? he's never really been this mortally fucked-up before. )
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that doesn't feel like the case here. after he'd been stabbed, in the haze of shock and pain, he had felt his life ebbing away with the blood as it rushed to escape his body. he very well could have bled out. it's a bizarre thing to consider — in hell, he had been denied the ability to die, even if the pain of existing on was unbearable. and now... well, even if he did, his shard would remain, wouldn't it? he may not be shackled by the laws of hell, but he's traded them for that of being an Aion.
he shakes his head. ) No, no - it's fine. Sir, I appreciate your offer of aid. ( how much assistance does he need, indeed... he has to consider it for a moment before continuing. ) Please, if you would, just - lend me your arm so I can stand and walk. That should be enough.
( he already knows it's going to kill, but he feels like he could weather the physical pain in his chest better than the psychic pain of being bodily carried back to his chambers. he reaches out to take gurbahl's arm when extended, and he's easy enough to support; he barely seems to weigh anything at all. one standing, he takes a moment to adjust to his own two legs again, and then he indicates they can start walking toward the personal chambers. it's slow going, but they're on their way.
food... logically he knows he should eat something at some point, but the idea of doing so right now, with what feels like a riot of razor blades festering beneath and within his ribs, is perfectly abhorrent. ) Yes, but... not right now. ( he's not even sure what sort of internal damage he suffered. if there was any injury made to his gut, he feels he should give it some time to mend itself before eating anything. ) I'll send my retainer for something later. For now - I might just ask you stay nearby just in case I take an unexpected turn for the worse.
( he seems begrudging in that, but it seems like a necessity. he doesn't think it will happen, but...?? he's never really been this mortally fucked-up before. )