( ooc: gently puts a cw here for incoming "cannibalism," character death - will place into subject line appropriately )

[ he recognizes this fae — from their leaf discussion, faquarl thinks. that would be the extent of it, except he knows he'd also he'd tested the patience of their captors this day, which is what makes this situation all the more a shame.

for all of djinn tricks, talents, and tremendous abilities, "healing" is not one of these. not in the traditional sense. faquarl can reenergize another spirit by becoming sustenance to it, just as this one, he suspects, can do the same for him. this maze has tested them both; his glasses have long been discarded, tears marring the fabric of his clothes and skin. he may as well show him the courtesy of using his "real" voice; not of the human mr. hopkins, but something deeper, richer, and a touch unearthly: ]

It's a sorry state that they've made of you.

[ time is of the essence. his steps are light, brisk as he approaches. he nudges the fallen dagger further away from its wielder. ]

I'm not without my sympathies. [ of course — his tone seemingly, appropriately affected by such. ] But there is no healer in sight, and you are nearing your end.