[He is, initially, delighted with his work. Koltira exults in the feeling of Bariyan's body shifting against his, in the syntax of terror, the gasping and scraping. His screaming blood begins to sing, and the wracking pain in his own body recedes. Reason, mortified and repulsed, breaks the surface.
As Bariyan stiffens, Koltira abruptly stops in his progress. He recoils, staring at the wreck he's made of the body in his arms, and the sick joy he had felt moments ago is quickly replaced with pure and simple sickness.
He whispers thickly, still fighting through the fog of pain.]
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As Bariyan stiffens, Koltira abruptly stops in his progress. He recoils, staring at the wreck he's made of the body in his arms, and the sick joy he had felt moments ago is quickly replaced with pure and simple sickness.
He whispers thickly, still fighting through the fog of pain.]
Oh--Light help me--