[ He doesn't hear the words so much as the voice, reminding him he has something to stay lucid for. And someone to help. The magic flares again, the transformations aren't quite so painful as they could be. He's dazed, though, bone-tired and disoriented. Usually this is when his thoughts start to turn manic and aggressive.
There's none of that. Just a whine in his throat, a desire to curl up safely, lick his wounds, wait for the pain to ebb.
It's easy to follow Olivine's guiding direction. He stumbles once or twice, legs aching with the promise of limbs shifting again, but they hold off for now. He smells the cave before he sees it, relief at the promise of no more walking. The entrance is pleasantly hidden behind a grove of trees, and he doesn't smell any recent occupants. ]
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There's none of that. Just a whine in his throat, a desire to curl up safely, lick his wounds, wait for the pain to ebb.
It's easy to follow Olivine's guiding direction. He stumbles once or twice, legs aching with the promise of limbs shifting again, but they hold off for now. He smells the cave before he sees it, relief at the promise of no more walking. The entrance is pleasantly hidden behind a grove of trees, and he doesn't smell any recent occupants. ]