[Julius withdraws, the vision fades, and almost it elicits a sense of loss from him, something quiet and tranquil gone out of him to be replaced with the bright pain of regeneration. But he is regenerating, wounds knitting shut just as they should, and though he leans heavy and near-boneless on the man at his side, it's clear he's going to recover. There's a moment of unsteady breathing, of self-settlement as he tries to close himself up around the panic that had blossomed in him, the sick lurch of fear that came with his body's uncharacteristic failure to mend. But then a steady rhythm is once again obtained.
One moment, two, then he lifts his head to look up at the other man, the lines of his face made hard and subtly fraught by the shock of what just happened. He still feels dizzy, a little weak, blood loss making his head reel, but it'll replace itself now that he's fully functional again, the process slowed by the forced reboot, but happening all the same.]
My apologies, Sir.
[His voice is quiet, soft against the darkness of the enclosing trees.]
no subject
One moment, two, then he lifts his head to look up at the other man, the lines of his face made hard and subtly fraught by the shock of what just happened. He still feels dizzy, a little weak, blood loss making his head reel, but it'll replace itself now that he's fully functional again, the process slowed by the forced reboot, but happening all the same.]
My apologies, Sir.
[His voice is quiet, soft against the darkness of the enclosing trees.]