The moment the ether in the room is pulled from the air, Lloyd can feel himself choke on its sudden absence, blood rushing from an abundance of it to forcing itself to slow, the immediate drop from his angel abilities harsh and rough on his body. He drops to his knees, heaving a breath, as the already existing pain surrounding his shoulderblades flares up worse, a sensation not unlike a wound ripping back open causing him to bite back a whimper. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

Lloyd forces himself to stand, legs trembling with the way his body attempts to use ether that is no longer there, wings drooping and flickering around him, barely metaphysical anymore. He can't understand why he feels like he can't breathe, but the most he can process in-between bouts of searing pain and rapid-fire anxiety is the fact that one blade is causing all of this, one blade that looks exactly like -

"Tabatha?" Lloyd rasps out, grabbing at his chest. What have they done to her in this universe?

He doesn't get an answer, only catches a sudden rush of footsteps from his right, turning in time to be able to throw himself out of the way. Lloyd grabs at his swords, weakly brings them up to defend himself against another attack, but a different guard gets involved, and he finds himself panicking to keep up, breaths coming out uneven and choppy. He can barely keep himself standing against the strain, but he tries, forcing his side of the emotion bleed as calm as he can be, all things considered. He doesn't need to freak Mithos out, not like this.