*Shiox isn’t particularly surprised by the quick pace, by his lover hastily guiding his stumbling steps away from the by now suffocating room. As much as he knows Varada hates doing this—he can feel it in that gentle healing energy flowing through his frame, can practically hear his thoughts through that warm touch—Shiox is glad. He’s glad that Varada is focusing his worries on the larger picture here—the ill effects of just one more vision added to the by now countless list of images, sounds, tastes and smells that have been rammed into his head is nothing, nothing compared to what’s going to happen if they can’t stop the danger looming closer and closer with each shaking, shallow breath that passes his lips.
Still, grateful as he is, that doesn’t quite silence a breathless wince as he’s rested back, against a hard surface—weak, pathetic like that, of course. The sprite tilts his throbbing head carefully against his lover, struggling to push back the disorientation, the pain and haze clouding his vision.* Sweetie—I’m fine, we have to... once you call, we have to go... *he mumbles, his voice soft, muffled. He’ll be fine. By the time Varada finishes that call? He’ll be fine. He can push this back. He can.*