If you asked Lloyd what was worse, suffering from an ether high, or crashing down from said high, Lloyd would answer with a simple "yes."
The trip down from the mines is an exercise in keeping steady. Though the wings still protruding out from Lloyd's shoulder blades keep him up and carry him down the trail, he has to put all of his remaining focus into staying straight on the path. It's hard, and by the time they find a place to stop, one of Malos' old friends coming to greet them, there is a little headache building in the space between his brows, knitted together as they were by his constant squinting.
Within the time it takes for them to be back on flatland ground, the clarity of Lloyd's mind slowly returns, bit by bit, though the lingering effects of the trip remains. The high density of the ether in the mines isn't prevalent down here, and the regulated ether pull isn't oppressive. While Lloyd's incredibly grateful about the return to normalcy, he's left with the cruel reality of ether highs and mana overuse: his entire being hurts.
Lloyd's head throbs with merciless agony and exhaustion, that which flows through his blood and seeps into his bones. The space between his shoulder blades burns with pain, more intense than it's ever been when he's used his wings, and even the soft brush of his tank top over the area leaves him whimpering. The wounds on his leg and arm sting like pins and needles, and though Lloyd wants to process what's happening now that he can, the truth is he's just too fucking hurt to properly do so.
Some things do read clear to him. For one, he wasn't hallucinating, and that really is a Kratos, if not his own. Zelos is unconscious, and so is his mom, and Malos staggers about like he's ready to collapse too. Sheena seems alright, if not concerned and overwhelmed with everything that had gone down, and that acts as a grounding realization to Lloyd. She's alright, that's great.
When they stop, Malos' friend scolding him with a decisively worried tone, Lloyd starts to feel the wings flutter, ready to place him down. He hovers a little further, down to where Sheena has sat herself down, patting the ground next to her, and let's them deposit him there, curling around him one last time before breaking away into light particles. With the little brain power he has, he wonders just when his wings started doing that, curling around him, and asserts it must be instinctive. Who knows how these things work.
(Kratos would have, but Lloyd is pointedly not thinking about Kratos. Or his doppelganger, for that matter.)
Gently, he lifts his arm and grabs at Sheena's hand, interlocking their fingers and leaning against a tree backing them. Lloyd closes his eyes, takes a breath, and focuses on pain management. His everything hurts, but from what he can tell, the most physical damage was the swipes he took from the blade with the claymore, and those aren't deep enough to be lethal. His migraine is pretty bad, but that's due to ether high, and his back… well. Not much to be done about the fact that his body was never meant to handle an angel transformation. Lloyd will be fine, but the healing would be nice.
Still, Lloyd thinks, flinching and whimpering again when his shoulder blades touch the tree trunk, this fucking sucks. He sits himself back up, fixes his posture, and hisses when his body protests at the sudden movements. He wishes these pains were from actual wounds. Those could be healed easy!
He's totally zoning out, not being able to really follow the track of the conversation with everything that's fucking happened within the past hour, but he snaps to attention when he hears Sheena's muttered words, having just enough context to get what she's saying. "That's bullshit," he says, voice hoarse, squeezing her hand weakly. "You couldn't have known. We're not from here. And Zelos still needed saving."
SHES REALLY GOOD?
The trip down from the mines is an exercise in keeping steady. Though the wings still protruding out from Lloyd's shoulder blades keep him up and carry him down the trail, he has to put all of his remaining focus into staying straight on the path. It's hard, and by the time they find a place to stop, one of Malos' old friends coming to greet them, there is a little headache building in the space between his brows, knitted together as they were by his constant squinting.
Within the time it takes for them to be back on flatland ground, the clarity of Lloyd's mind slowly returns, bit by bit, though the lingering effects of the trip remains. The high density of the ether in the mines isn't prevalent down here, and the regulated ether pull isn't oppressive. While Lloyd's incredibly grateful about the return to normalcy, he's left with the cruel reality of ether highs and mana overuse: his entire being hurts.
Lloyd's head throbs with merciless agony and exhaustion, that which flows through his blood and seeps into his bones. The space between his shoulder blades burns with pain, more intense than it's ever been when he's used his wings, and even the soft brush of his tank top over the area leaves him whimpering. The wounds on his leg and arm sting like pins and needles, and though Lloyd wants to process what's happening now that he can, the truth is he's just too fucking hurt to properly do so.
Some things do read clear to him. For one, he wasn't hallucinating, and that really is a Kratos, if not his own. Zelos is unconscious, and so is his mom, and Malos staggers about like he's ready to collapse too. Sheena seems alright, if not concerned and overwhelmed with everything that had gone down, and that acts as a grounding realization to Lloyd. She's alright, that's great.
When they stop, Malos' friend scolding him with a decisively worried tone, Lloyd starts to feel the wings flutter, ready to place him down. He hovers a little further, down to where Sheena has sat herself down, patting the ground next to her, and let's them deposit him there, curling around him one last time before breaking away into light particles. With the little brain power he has, he wonders just when his wings started doing that, curling around him, and asserts it must be instinctive. Who knows how these things work.
(Kratos would have, but Lloyd is pointedly not thinking about Kratos. Or his doppelganger, for that matter.)
Gently, he lifts his arm and grabs at Sheena's hand, interlocking their fingers and leaning against a tree backing them. Lloyd closes his eyes, takes a breath, and focuses on pain management. His everything hurts, but from what he can tell, the most physical damage was the swipes he took from the blade with the claymore, and those aren't deep enough to be lethal. His migraine is pretty bad, but that's due to ether high, and his back… well. Not much to be done about the fact that his body was never meant to handle an angel transformation. Lloyd will be fine, but the healing would be nice.
Still, Lloyd thinks, flinching and whimpering again when his shoulder blades touch the tree trunk, this fucking sucks. He sits himself back up, fixes his posture, and hisses when his body protests at the sudden movements. He wishes these pains were from actual wounds. Those could be healed easy!
He's totally zoning out, not being able to really follow the track of the conversation with everything that's fucking happened within the past hour, but he snaps to attention when he hears Sheena's muttered words, having just enough context to get what she's saying. "That's bullshit," he says, voice hoarse, squeezing her hand weakly. "You couldn't have known. We're not from here. And Zelos still needed saving."