[Something even more bizarre happens. Hythlodaeus, by now, had paled quite significantly. Waves of nausea had overwhelmed him- and bot from the smell and the sensation of feeling- truly feeling- like he has buried himself- rigid and cold as a corpse, filthy beyond all imagining, the smell of earth in his nose and his throat- he was trying, truly trying, to not lose all sense of the grace he commanded by turning and retching over the balcony.
Yet as the affliction begins to take place within Claude's form, he finds the nausea lifting instantly. Poison- yes. He is most certain that the other man feels the effects of something terrible, something potent- something that seems to make his heart slow dangerously.
And strangely, it gives him strength. His mind- his rational thought- is horrified. Most certainly, it is horrifying. He is horrified. Claude's skin, to him- is as pale as his own had become. Yet there is more going on. He can see the pallor take on an ugly shade from constricted blood vessels- and he can feel the way of which Claude's stomach twists- the way his lungs seem to exhale, exhale, exhale, regardless of how much oxygen he draws in.
Claude is dying. And strangely...
Every breath that the other man cannot take is a breath of sweet air into his own lungs. Every lurch of Claude's stomach brings him relief- eases him into standing upright- and every ounce of pain wreaking its course through the other man's nervous system gives him a feeling not unlike sitting out in the sun, on a gentle summer afternoon. The smell of rot and filth and decay is gone. Instead, to him, a sweet scent pervades the air.
It is pleasant. It is so very pleasant to feel invigorated by the other's very life energies- and although his rational mind is horrified, his body, Koth herself, cannot help but appreciate such vibrant life.
But then, it is over. Instantly, he is at the other's side- wary enough to keep some distance, yet undoubtedly concerned enough to be within arm's reach. ]
I-
[Hythlodaeus is not a man typically lost for words. In most circumstances, actually. Yet seeing someone go from hale and hearty, to resemble a corpse one moment, and then back again...
It is something he has no refrence for. So he cannot help but stammer.]
GOSH me too ;; to both being back!
Yet as the affliction begins to take place within Claude's form, he finds the nausea lifting instantly. Poison- yes. He is most certain that the other man feels the effects of something terrible, something potent- something that seems to make his heart slow dangerously.
And strangely, it gives him strength. His mind- his rational thought- is horrified. Most certainly, it is horrifying. He is horrified. Claude's skin, to him- is as pale as his own had become. Yet there is more going on. He can see the pallor take on an ugly shade from constricted blood vessels- and he can feel the way of which Claude's stomach twists- the way his lungs seem to exhale, exhale, exhale, regardless of how much oxygen he draws in.
Claude is dying.
And strangely...
Every breath that the other man cannot take is a breath of sweet air into his own lungs. Every lurch of Claude's stomach brings him relief- eases him into standing upright- and every ounce of pain wreaking its course through the other man's nervous system gives him a feeling not unlike sitting out in the sun, on a gentle summer afternoon. The smell of rot and filth and decay is gone. Instead, to him, a sweet scent pervades the air.
It is pleasant. It is so very pleasant to feel invigorated by the other's very life energies- and although his rational mind is horrified, his body, Koth herself, cannot help but appreciate such vibrant life.
But then, it is over. Instantly, he is at the other's side- wary enough to keep some distance, yet undoubtedly concerned enough to be within arm's reach. ]
I-
[Hythlodaeus is not a man typically lost for words. In most circumstances, actually. Yet seeing someone go from hale and hearty, to resemble a corpse one moment, and then back again...
It is something he has no refrence for. So he cannot help but stammer.]
... I think that I should leave.