[ The effort not to lay on the ground and pass out is monumental. In retrospect, Ciri is probably the sole reason he's not done so. His injuries aren't even that awful: torn skin, scratches and bruises. He's suffered far worse. But it's what he felt, what he experienced in there that lingers. He wants to sleep for a decade. Maybe not think about any of. That. For a bit.
He snorts. ] What else? [ What else do men go through great madness for and build cursed shrines in worship of? ] The gods.
[ A beat, and then he visibly shakes it off. Turns his attention to the shred of flesh clinging. One thing at a time. What just happened, he cannot fix it or understand it right now. But he can wrap his damn hand. ]
no subject
He snorts. ] What else? [ What else do men go through great madness for and build cursed shrines in worship of? ] The gods.
[ A beat, and then he visibly shakes it off. Turns his attention to the shred of flesh clinging. One thing at a time. What just happened, he cannot fix it or understand it right now. But he can wrap his damn hand. ]
Have you got your knife?