[ Even being no stranger to wounds - the number of them he's aware of are too many to count. The same as what had been on Sylvain, all those bloodstains Claude couldn't quite make pair up with what happened, and what must be true for him as well. Some of them had disappeared with the illusion, but then others had been opened right beneath through their escape.
Sitting is a good idea except that he can't quite make himself do it, some corner of his mind afraid that it'll tip everything right back into where he'd somehow escaped from even if this is where they'd been sitting for so long with nothing happening. Nothing relative to the awfulness of being here, anyway, but maybe it won't happen because Sylvain's here now.
Claude's thoughts continue to follow a disjointed path as Sylvain helps lower him to the ground until something about that particular motion pulls some laceration on his back he'd forgotten about. Air hisses through his clenched teeth as he inhales and digs his fingers into Sylvain's shoulder and the arm he's hanging onto none too gently, the pain of it causing him to hold his breath to avoid any other reaction before he lets it go shakily when it finally subsides enough to talk. ]
There was... something on my back dragging me towards the others. [ A benefit of both going through this, Claude realizes with the thought making him feel rather ill, is not having to describe what happened. But more importantly than that because he's now called something to the other's attention as what little first aid they have is about to start, he looks to Sylvain with an expression that's pleading and for once - maybe the first time ever - is rather genuine. ] I don't want to know what it did.
[ Maybe it was also imaginary and only a phantom pain's haunting him now, or maybe that much was real. Seeing what he can on himself and what happened to others is bad enough. ]
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Sitting is a good idea except that he can't quite make himself do it, some corner of his mind afraid that it'll tip everything right back into where he'd somehow escaped from even if this is where they'd been sitting for so long with nothing happening. Nothing relative to the awfulness of being here, anyway, but maybe it won't happen because Sylvain's here now.
Claude's thoughts continue to follow a disjointed path as Sylvain helps lower him to the ground until something about that particular motion pulls some laceration on his back he'd forgotten about. Air hisses through his clenched teeth as he inhales and digs his fingers into Sylvain's shoulder and the arm he's hanging onto none too gently, the pain of it causing him to hold his breath to avoid any other reaction before he lets it go shakily when it finally subsides enough to talk. ]
There was... something on my back dragging me towards the others. [ A benefit of both going through this, Claude realizes with the thought making him feel rather ill, is not having to describe what happened. But more importantly than that because he's now called something to the other's attention as what little first aid they have is about to start, he looks to Sylvain with an expression that's pleading and for once - maybe the first time ever - is rather genuine. ] I don't want to know what it did.
[ Maybe it was also imaginary and only a phantom pain's haunting him now, or maybe that much was real. Seeing what he can on himself and what happened to others is bad enough. ]