[ and that’s— not good. feeling the strain on his body beginning to weigh as his arm regrows itself (it takes its toll; he’s tired and puts his energy into a few more inches of sun on his stump. he might go the entire day growing it), falco gently rests his head against childe’s arm and chest. ]

I was conscious, but . . . It’s like if someone was taking the wheel of a car away from you. [ it’s more than troubling. ] —I don’t want to fight, but I know I might need to.

[ and how, if he’s at odds with this thing? ]