[Richard is already halfway off the bed, pushing the blanket aside and planning to reach for the rose-patterned night robe that he had shed on the chair near the bed earlier, when he feels the mattress dip and shift underneath him. Wordlessly he turns his head to look over his shoulder and watches Silco to move and get up, circling around the bed to his side. Everything happens in slow motion in his eyes, as if he was watching a repeat of a distant memory, like a play of sorts that happens in front of him but not to him.
The words spoken to him echoes from somewhere in the distance, pushing through the rustling of leaves and the creaking of the branches that extended their claw-like twigs towards him. The voice is laughing at him as he reaches out to place his hand on top of the offered palm. The movement, as simple it is, feels heavy and difficult as the vines kept clinging on him.
Once he's taken the hand, Richard uses it to pull himself off the bed and to his feet. He moves completely on autopilot, neutral eyes not reflecting the turmoil and storm raging in his mind.
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The words spoken to him echoes from somewhere in the distance, pushing through the rustling of leaves and the creaking of the branches that extended their claw-like twigs towards him. The voice is laughing at him as he reaches out to place his hand on top of the offered palm. The movement, as simple it is, feels heavy and difficult as the vines kept clinging on him.
Once he's taken the hand, Richard uses it to pull himself off the bed and to his feet. He moves completely on autopilot, neutral eyes not reflecting the turmoil and storm raging in his mind.