He's staring at the bowl warily, because he's got no idea what that is. Although it's got a sweet sort of scent that reaches him even where he's kneeling, and food and supplies have been just scarce enough that were this anything else, he'd be tempted to try it. It wouldn't be the first weird fruit he'd eaten in this world by now. But considering who had set down the bowl before them...
Yeah, he thinks he'll pass.
The acolytes don't offer them an answer or an explanation this time. Apparently the talking portion of this...whatever it is, is over already. He turns his face away, because the smell is getting to him despite his distrust of the offering. But it's almost as if that seems to be an answer given in and of itself. One by one, the fruit in the small bowl seem to pop with a wet, eerie sound and instantly that sweet scent grows stronger as it shoots up a strange cloud of pollen that hits him square in the face.
It fills his senses, overwhelming them, and it's too much. It also doesn't smell so sweet anymore, not when it burns his nose and down his throat and even though he hadn't taken a bite, it's all he can taste, all he can smell, completely overpowering everything else. His stomach twists and turns nauseously, the smell now sickening in its cloying sweetness. His eyes water and burn, leaving him momentarily blind to everything outside of the searing sting that leaves him feeling singed raw from the inside out.
He struggles to take a breath and even that's painful, like he's choking on a cloud of that pollen, like it's creeping inside of him and with his hands trapped and bound, there's nothing he can do, even though he struggles to get his hands free, to try and claw at his throat. As if that would do any good. ]
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He's staring at the bowl warily, because he's got no idea what that is. Although it's got a sweet sort of scent that reaches him even where he's kneeling, and food and supplies have been just scarce enough that were this anything else, he'd be tempted to try it. It wouldn't be the first weird fruit he'd eaten in this world by now. But considering who had set down the bowl before them...
Yeah, he thinks he'll pass.
The acolytes don't offer them an answer or an explanation this time. Apparently the talking portion of this...whatever it is, is over already. He turns his face away, because the smell is getting to him despite his distrust of the offering. But it's almost as if that seems to be an answer given in and of itself. One by one, the fruit in the small bowl seem to pop with a wet, eerie sound and instantly that sweet scent grows stronger as it shoots up a strange cloud of pollen that hits him square in the face.
It fills his senses, overwhelming them, and it's too much. It also doesn't smell so sweet anymore, not when it burns his nose and down his throat and even though he hadn't taken a bite, it's all he can taste, all he can smell, completely overpowering everything else. His stomach twists and turns nauseously, the smell now sickening in its cloying sweetness. His eyes water and burn, leaving him momentarily blind to everything outside of the searing sting that leaves him feeling singed raw from the inside out.
He struggles to take a breath and even that's painful, like he's choking on a cloud of that pollen, like it's creeping inside of him and with his hands trapped and bound, there's nothing he can do, even though he struggles to get his hands free, to try and claw at his throat. As if that would do any good. ]