[To say he's fine now would be a lie. He probably will be eventually. He's survived worse. After all, he'd survived all this the first time. The majority of it as a scared child.]
I've still had a few of my real memories trickling in. But I think - I think it's mostly finished.
[His voice is toneless, closed off, cold. Neither the more gentle and earnest voice he's used since he stopped working for Belos, nor the snide swagger of the Golden Guard. He doesn't sound even close to fine.]
Mostly.
[And she can tell it's not quite finished because all of a sudden he full-body cringes into the wall with a cry, holding his hand to his face, curling as far away from her - or rather what he's seeing in her place - as possible.]
[He holds the hand to the right side of his face, over his scar.]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
[If his voice sounds young and small it's because it was younger and smaller at the time and this is an echo. For a moment, he's there.]
[The memory of the cause of the injury being a fall from a tree fades. So does his memory of his aunt comforting him, holding him, sitting with him in the emergency room, even making him laugh as the doctor worked on his face.]
[It is replaced instead by what really came after, the harrowing hour it took to frantically stop the bleeding. Tending to the wound with his healer coven first aid kit. Cleaning up after, including sneaking back into the throne room when it was empty, desperately trying to get it off the floor before his uncle returned. Scrubbing at his Golden Guard uniform in a washbasin - and still doing it long after his hands got wrinkly and the stains were gone.]
[He doesn't go through all the motions of it. Just the initial reaction of fear and pain. But it takes a good ten seconds for the memory to fade and for her to fade back into view. His breathing is ragged at the end of it, as he tries to calm it down. He's struggling to not go into a panic attack like he did in the reality bubble. Like he did with Gus, that day in Hexside.]
no subject
I'll be fine.
[To say he's fine now would be a lie. He probably will be eventually. He's survived worse. After all, he'd survived all this the first time. The majority of it as a scared child.]
I've still had a few of my real memories trickling in. But I think - I think it's mostly finished.
[His voice is toneless, closed off, cold. Neither the more gentle and earnest voice he's used since he stopped working for Belos, nor the snide swagger of the Golden Guard. He doesn't sound even close to fine.]
Mostly.
[And she can tell it's not quite finished because all of a sudden he full-body cringes into the wall with a cry, holding his hand to his face, curling as far away from her - or rather what he's seeing in her place - as possible.]
[He holds the hand to the right side of his face, over his scar.]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
[If his voice sounds young and small it's because it was younger and smaller at the time and this is an echo. For a moment, he's there.]
[The memory of the cause of the injury being a fall from a tree fades. So does his memory of his aunt comforting him, holding him, sitting with him in the emergency room, even making him laugh as the doctor worked on his face.]
[It is replaced instead by what really came after, the harrowing hour it took to frantically stop the bleeding. Tending to the wound with his healer coven first aid kit. Cleaning up after, including sneaking back into the throne room when it was empty, desperately trying to get it off the floor before his uncle returned. Scrubbing at his Golden Guard uniform in a washbasin - and still doing it long after his hands got wrinkly and the stains were gone.]
[He doesn't go through all the motions of it. Just the initial reaction of fear and pain. But it takes a good ten seconds for the memory to fade and for her to fade back into view. His breathing is ragged at the end of it, as he tries to calm it down. He's struggling to not go into a panic attack like he did in the reality bubble. Like he did with Gus, that day in Hexside.]