[ The first gasp is purely for air, but the second comes with a moan of pain. He's no stranger to pain, no, it's nearly part of his job description— but it's never been like this. That was the pain of battle, this is the agony of a personal tormentor.
He can taste blood in his mouth, wonders if he's bitten into his tongue, and oddly enough it's the coppery taste that pushes him across the line. He lifts a hand, gestures frantically, and the green, healing light pours across his body. Wounds mend, blood dries, energy replenishes. But that doesn't help the wounds still forced open, and the pain remains, even if lessened.
He forces his eyes open, makes himself stare up at Koltira. There's no sign of desperation, and no intent to escape; just a heavy patience. He knows it must end, and prays it will be soon. ]
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He can taste blood in his mouth, wonders if he's bitten into his tongue, and oddly enough it's the coppery taste that pushes him across the line. He lifts a hand, gestures frantically, and the green, healing light pours across his body. Wounds mend, blood dries, energy replenishes. But that doesn't help the wounds still forced open, and the pain remains, even if lessened.
He forces his eyes open, makes himself stare up at Koltira. There's no sign of desperation, and no intent to escape; just a heavy patience. He knows it must end, and prays it will be soon. ]