[WV looks up at her, stunned, his wings crumpled around him, the sword through his belly caught at a painful-looking angle against the floor, his one arm loosely folded over his chest. His hoodie is ruined—the holes torn by those wings will need to be sewn closed later—but he doesn't seem to notice.]
[he doesn't seem to be noticing much, in fact. His stare is glassy, as if he's looking through PM to something far away. It takes him a few tries to speak, and the awkwardness of the new shape of his mouth distorts his words a little:]
I... I...
I can see...
[he gasps, and it catches in his throat. He struggles to say something more, but no more words make it out.]