After a while, the two of them made their way downstairs.
By the time they reached the lower floor, both were dressed in fresh clothes, though it didn't take much to see the difference beneath it. Karen moved with her usual ease, while Drogo carried himself in strain.
His shoulders held tension, like his body hadn't caught up with his will yet.
Damien was already there, leaning against the bar counter of the dinning hall, with a short glass in hand, swirling the drink lazily as he watched them approach.
"Well," he said, eyes flicking between them, "you both look slightly more alive. That's encouraging."
Karen gave a faint smile as she took a seat at the dining table. Drogo followed, slower, pressing his fingers briefly against his temple before sitting down.
Of course he thought no one noticed.
Karen frowned.
