The first thing Charice felt was warmth, if anything could be described as "womb-like" this would be it – a sprawling sea of warmth into which his tender senses extended.
Slowly, his nerves lit alight akin to fireworks, a mass of arching bridges squirming within a sea of flesh and blood, anchored by bone.
The second thing he felt was the air pressing against his skin, his body felt heavy and distant, but he could at least feel it properly, and it was getting closer to normal with each passing second. Then came the cloth he could feel under his head, and the shackles binding his limbs.
Charice's heart lurched as his eyes snapped open, his arms immediately struggling against his confines. They held firm, much to his horror.
His skin paled and eyes trembled with fear, glowing a violent pink. His arms poured with sweat as Charice could just barely see his veins glowing red as he exhaled a thick blue smog. The last after effects of his near death, gone in mere moments.
Michael then heard the sound of struggle and turned to the Consort.
"Consort!" He exclaimed, a look of genuine relief washing across his face for a brief flicker. "Forgive me, I had to bind you since your body was not doing too well, I will release you."
He then reached for a nearby key and inserted it into the mechanism, thick slabs of metal fell away, freeing Charice's limbs.
He sat upright slowly, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he looked at Michael with a subtly lowered head.
"Are you alright Consort? Do you feel any after effects?"
Charice remained silent, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, gathering his courage.
"…Michael…?" He began softly before looking his Chosen in the eye. "Why didn't you tell me the details sooner? About… All of this? And why…"
He placed a hand on his neck, feeling the bump of his vocal cords with a frown.
Michael froze. The silence was tenser than any that came before it.
Both of them knew exactly why Michael refused to provide any details until the ritual began, and why he did what he did.
Michael could tell from the look in his Consort's eyes, that he was hoping for this to be a moment of truth, of genuine clarity.
But Michael could not admit what he had done, not aloud. Because apologizing would mean admitting that it was wrong, and that would make Michael's act unjustifiable.
All of his efforts, everything he had done, would suddenly be rendered pointless.
Nobody said a word, and each second made Charice frown more and more, not in disgust or contempt, but in pain.
'If he apologized, we could have moved forward, we could… Be friends… But not like this. I can't accept this.'
So Charice stood up and stormed past Michael with a click of his tongue.
He moved past the doors, which opened before him to reveal a hallway full of Paragons. Whether they be leaning on walls, chatting, or simply tapping their foot while waiting, all of them immediately stood at attention the second Charice opened the door.
But that second was enough.
"Ah… At ease please." Charice said automatically, still confused about what was happening. "Did something happen?"
One of them spoke up, his features obscured by his helmet.
"A few of us were told to stand guard outside in case you needed our help, but none of us could decide who should be here, so we all left our posts to our assistants and came back to check up on you."
The one speaking knelt, and all of the other Paragons followed suit, "Forgive us for not following your command. Consort Charice."
'I never gave such a command but… They did something like that for me?'
Charice smiled a little, his heart warmed. He waved his hand a little to dismiss the gesture, motioning for them to rise.
"Its okay… I appreciate all of you. Thank you… So much." He gave a sincere, grateful smile – none of them noticed the buried pain behind it.
As the men stood, Charice reached out his hands to two of the nearest Paragons and held their hands, the steel of their armor, the warm leather separating them from his tender skin, it made him feel strangely relieved.
"You know…" Charice said, with a subtle hint of tears stinging at his eyes as he glanced around. "You guys… Probably haven't had any rest right? Anyone want a beer to celebrate?"
Silence reigned for a few seconds, before Jeremy chuckled and nodded.
"Oh yeah, I thought I would die of thirst at this rate."
And with that, they all laughed, as Charice chuckled with them, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.
And Michael stood behind in the room, with a conflicted look on his face. Consumed by the shadow of his own pride.