recreator: (♇ | It won't leave my head)
Emετ-Sεlch ([personal profile] recreator) wrote in [community profile] childrenofbahamutlogs 2025-03-11 07:13 pm (UTC)

"Attacked?"

That's right. Those creatures, the...Intellect Devourers? It's slowly starting to come back to him, though not all at once.

Emet-Selch is hardly in a position to take the glass of water without spilling it everywhere, much less avoid choking on its contents in his present horizontal orientation, but he does at least tolerate the warm cloth pressed to his forehead and the gentle flow of what must be some manner of healing magicks. The thundering within his skull subsides faintly - enough that he can hear himself properly think, but little else, really.

Under normal circumstances he'd be huffing and puffing for being spoken to in such an embarrassing manner, as if he is some fragile, wounded animal in need of soothing. But for the moment, at least, he lacks the energy or the will to do anything about it, and thus it mostly serves its purpose in keeping him from doing anything reckless - like trying to rise to his feet too quickly.

"If that's the case, then why am I here. And who exactly are you meant to be?"

There's a name on the tip of his tongue. Yes, he heard the other man (himself?) in the vision speaking it, and before that... He was out in the snow. Looking for someone...

He scowls in frustration, an act which does little to alleviate his current ailment.

"And don't bother lying to me about it."

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