[ Tyr's own chest aches from the pounding of his heart and his laboured breathing. Everything hurts and everything is cold; even the sand feels warm right now. He wraps his arms around himself, letting his staff lay beside him. In the back of his mind, he wonders if this is his own fault for wanting it so badly.
But as long as they're alive, and that's what matters, though he can't say they're in good shape. There's phantom sensations of their hands inside him still, and burying his face against the sand doesn't make them go away. As he turns his head, he can see her laying just a few feet away from him, but he's still reeling too much to say anything to her, let alone cast. He does scoot a little closer, though. ]
action; ♥! \o\
But as long as they're alive, and that's what matters, though he can't say they're in good shape. There's phantom sensations of their hands inside him still, and burying his face against the sand doesn't make them go away. As he turns his head, he can see her laying just a few feet away from him, but he's still reeling too much to say anything to her, let alone cast. He does scoot a little closer, though. ]