In another first Erik - as he rarely allows himself to display vulnerability even as innocuous as surprise - startles quite visibly when the carcass he's holding--lights up, for lack of a better word (he certainly doesn't have one for it), floods with the unique kind of heat that signifies healthy life. His shoulders go up and his eyes widen in just two quick rapid blinks, a shade greener than they were before.
As driven as he is to pull apart everything and understand it from the inside he doesn't check his impulse to touch the deer in a more active way, laying a hand on the side of its neck and confirming there is a pulse thudding determinedly away. It jerks out once and he's obliged to hold it still more forcefully, although not enough to engender real panic, at least not yet. He can't seem to decide where he wants to look, at the deer or at Ned, taking in the taller man's expression and watching his hands as if they might start glowing at any second. "I don't--God," he ....blasphemes, abruptly, a little hoarse. Such is the impressiveness of the situation.
The irony in that he has just witnessed genuine resurrection (if only for sixty seconds) will have to be absorbed on a religious level later, and then he'll probably make a terrible joke about it. "I didn't know it would be like this, to see."
He laughs in low baritone that rumbles through his chest (and further startles the deer, so it's probably best that it's been nearly a minute) a note in it like a shout for joy. "Ned. You truly are extraordinary."
Erik recognizes the power of saying another person's own name in their presence--it denotes a desire for attention, but more than that it conjures up importance. Purpose. It makes a person real. His look now is all expectation; as fascinated as he is by the still living (....reliving) deer, having seen this he's as eager to witness the process in reverse.
no subject
As driven as he is to pull apart everything and understand it from the inside he doesn't check his impulse to touch the deer in a more active way, laying a hand on the side of its neck and confirming there is a pulse thudding determinedly away. It jerks out once and he's obliged to hold it still more forcefully, although not enough to engender real panic, at least not yet. He can't seem to decide where he wants to look, at the deer or at Ned, taking in the taller man's expression and watching his hands as if they might start glowing at any second. "I don't--God," he ....blasphemes, abruptly, a little hoarse. Such is the impressiveness of the situation.
The irony in that he has just witnessed genuine resurrection (if only for sixty seconds) will have to be absorbed on a religious level later, and then he'll probably make a terrible joke about it. "I didn't know it would be like this, to see."
He laughs in low baritone that rumbles through his chest (and further startles the deer, so it's probably best that it's been nearly a minute) a note in it like a shout for joy. "Ned. You truly are extraordinary."
Erik recognizes the power of saying another person's own name in their presence--it denotes a desire for attention, but more than that it conjures up importance. Purpose. It makes a person real. His look now is all expectation; as fascinated as he is by the still living (....reliving) deer, having seen this he's as eager to witness the process in reverse.