Cherion stood perfectly still, his boots sinking a fraction deeper into the churned, half-frozen slush. He just... stared. It was one of those moments where your brain takes a screenshot because the reality in front of you is so fundamentally glitchy that you need to save it for later analysis. Ezek? Asking to tag along? The same Ezek who usually looked at Cherion like he was a particularly inconvenient smudge on an otherwise pristine windshield?
"Who are you and what have you done with the actual Ezek?" Cherion finally asked, his voice dry enough to catch fire. He tilted his head, squinting through the shifting haze of woodsmoke. "Did you take a particularly hard knock to the crate during the skirmish? Because honestly, if you're about to faint or start reciting poetry, I really need a heads-up. My mana is basically almost at zero and I am not in the mood for surprises."
