The lunatic on the ground stays there for a few moments, still holding the bottom of the veil pinched between his fingers, now ending in a tattered, gorey mess.

After, he takes one good, solid inhale, the fingers still around his throat no longer clamped down tight. Carefully, he sets the veil aside, and reaches up for the dead hands limp around his neck like a loosened collar, plucking one gory stump of an arm off himself, and then the other.

Tannusen is not, apparently, of a sound enough mind to find all of this particularly urgent? But then, he hadn't been fighting, either. So. A sound mind hasn't been here in a long, long damn time.