[If there's an upside to the eerie nature of this malady, it's that his injuries barely seem attached to anything. He died messy, and everything hurts, but there are no bruises to bump or wounds to jostle, exactly. A bit of tugging and tumbling can't really make it worse. And now she's essentially in a gently swinging bowl of pillows big enough for three or four raksura, even in shifted form. As long as not too many of them are mature queens or older consorts.]

That's alright. I meant it about not being fun, though.