Faolan felt his vision clarifying as two Lucien's became one. This was an uncharacteristically fast reaction to the young man's healing. The last time he had been so much as scratched with a silver blade, he had been laid up for days; intense pain, blurred vision, headaches, vomiting. In the right doses it was fatal to those with Faolan's particular affliction.

[color=a36209]"Mm."[/color] He grunted as his grip on Lucien's arm slackened. But...how could he? He was just an ordinary sheltered church boy. How know healing magic. Faolan let his hand fall to his side, just below his rib cage, and while the sight of the wound was still sore, he felt no gash where there once was. The side of his shirt was still soaked with blood, as were his hands and one pant leg, but the wound was gone. The pounding in his head was subsiding little-by-little, and if he had a mirror, he would be able to see the black veins on his neck, side, chest, stomach, and arm, all pulling away and fading. It was true...but how?

Faolan shook his head, then nodded toward Lucien's arm, [color=a36209]"Sorry, I'm...a little dazed."[/color] He rubbed a hand over his face, then gestured toward the blade. [color=a36209]"Can you get rid of that? I can't...touch it."[/color] Faolan knew what it was like to want to avoid unwanted attention, Lucien's 'healing' was his business and his alone.