[ Perhaps that sense of resignation comes from a feeling that he has had on occasion that he is simply on borrowed time. Perhaps he should not have survived the attack that turned him into who he is now, or perhaps, following his turning, he was never meant to live very long. He cannot see into the future, of course, so he cannot speak to his lifespan, but perhaps this is fate deciding that for him.
But, all things considered, if this is where he is to meet his end and finally expire, it is a much better fate than he could have envisioned. At least he is not alone here, even if he could not have predicted his end would come inside a witch's cave.
Even with his diminished awareness of where he is and what Matoya is doing, enough has registered with him to conclude that she is at least kind and doing what she can to help, even if he does not deserve it. The words do not quite penetrate his faded senses, but he dimly registers the feel of her lips brushing against his ear, and he does sense the gentleness and care behind them.
It is mostly an involuntary action, but he does as she has asked, although his breath remains erratic and not strong at all.
But still, her efforts are doing their part to restore his strength, and finally, after what feels like many minutes, he is able to open his eyes once more. Still, he has to fight to hold onto awareness, and perhaps eventually, he will lose his grip once more, but for the moment, he can at least see who it is who has been helping him.
It takes him a few moments to fully grasp the meaning of her words, but he understands that she needs his armor to be removed. The other part of her sentence also reaches him, but he pushes that thought away, and if he had the strength, he would very clearly recoil from such a thought. He may be a vampire, and she may not be implying anything at all, simply stating a fact, but he has long since concluded that he would rather not feed off people if he can avoid it.
What he can do, however, is attempt to remove the armor that is evidently an obstruction. But while his wound has begun to heal thanks to her ministrations, he still lacks the strength to move his arms, despite his best efforts. No words come, but a low rumble betraying his displeasure at himself and his present weakness escapes him. ]
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But, all things considered, if this is where he is to meet his end and finally expire, it is a much better fate than he could have envisioned. At least he is not alone here, even if he could not have predicted his end would come inside a witch's cave.
Even with his diminished awareness of where he is and what Matoya is doing, enough has registered with him to conclude that she is at least kind and doing what she can to help, even if he does not deserve it. The words do not quite penetrate his faded senses, but he dimly registers the feel of her lips brushing against his ear, and he does sense the gentleness and care behind them.
It is mostly an involuntary action, but he does as she has asked, although his breath remains erratic and not strong at all.
But still, her efforts are doing their part to restore his strength, and finally, after what feels like many minutes, he is able to open his eyes once more. Still, he has to fight to hold onto awareness, and perhaps eventually, he will lose his grip once more, but for the moment, he can at least see who it is who has been helping him.
It takes him a few moments to fully grasp the meaning of her words, but he understands that she needs his armor to be removed. The other part of her sentence also reaches him, but he pushes that thought away, and if he had the strength, he would very clearly recoil from such a thought. He may be a vampire, and she may not be implying anything at all, simply stating a fact, but he has long since concluded that he would rather not feed off people if he can avoid it.
What he can do, however, is attempt to remove the armor that is evidently an obstruction. But while his wound has begun to heal thanks to her ministrations, he still lacks the strength to move his arms, despite his best efforts. No words come, but a low rumble betraying his displeasure at himself and his present weakness escapes him. ]