[Ah. That is distinctly not Ciri. He manages to lift his head to see that he is being carried, arms under his back and his legs. His head moves to rest against his chest, his cheek pressed to the warmth. He can hear a heartbeat under the rumble of his voice.
Mm. Warm. Like honey. It's nice.
A question. He tries to latch onto it, even if he's not entirely sure what's going on. He no longer can hear the mules. Or the cry of a bird.] Not very good.
[He listens to his heart as they make their way through a door. Inside. Explains why it seems so much darker here.] Where's Ciri gone?
[It is not a complaint that Sam is here now -- for surely that honey-voice is Sam -- but he cannot explain why he's here. Or where here is.]
no subject
Mm. Warm. Like honey. It's nice.
A question. He tries to latch onto it, even if he's not entirely sure what's going on. He no longer can hear the mules. Or the cry of a bird.] Not very good.
[He listens to his heart as they make their way through a door. Inside. Explains why it seems so much darker here.] Where's Ciri gone?
[It is not a complaint that Sam is here now -- for surely that honey-voice is Sam -- but he cannot explain why he's here. Or where here is.]