"Anything but my eyes. Anything but my eyes..." He whimpers pathetically, letting his arm drop limply in front of him. It's too much effort to keep it lifted where he'd been feeling at the bandages.
He smells blood. Of course he smells blood, how can he not? For what felt like ages, he was steeped in it. It was the entirety of his world and scope for the duration of the Nightmare. Unholy amounts of it poured from him, from every opening and every wound, like some macabre watering of a garden. Feeding the Nightmare with the Old Blood that dwells inside him.
It's a good thing Yharnamites have such an odd fixation with the sense of smell; he might have to rely on it in strange new ways in the coming days. But for right now, that crimson is all he can detect.
He nearly misses Abysa's kind words in this brief distraction and they do ring true. Survival abetting growth was one of the greatest lessons of the Nightmare of Mensis. Something just saw it fit for him to revisit and refresh.
no subject
He smells blood. Of course he smells blood, how can he not? For what felt like ages, he was steeped in it. It was the entirety of his world and scope for the duration of the Nightmare. Unholy amounts of it poured from him, from every opening and every wound, like some macabre watering of a garden. Feeding the Nightmare with the Old Blood that dwells inside him.
It's a good thing Yharnamites have such an odd fixation with the sense of smell; he might have to rely on it in strange new ways in the coming days. But for right now, that crimson is all he can detect.
He nearly misses Abysa's kind words in this brief distraction and they do ring true. Survival abetting growth was one of the greatest lessons of the Nightmare of Mensis. Something just saw it fit for him to revisit and refresh.
"How long, Kin? How long will I be blind?"