#franken!!

With a soft shudder of breath, Frankenstein wakes. Raizel is steadfast at his side. Candle smoke fumes, heady and keen. Muscle and bone snags, as Frankenstein raises. Raizel helps him up as he struggles to find purchase on the oversoft mattress and mountain of sheets, which startles Frankenstein, but he can hardly summon power nor couth to protest. Frankenstein prods the sheets groggily off of himself as though they were gobs of sink-sand, leeched to him, looking distantly down at his hands were they a thousand miles away. "Wh—ere…" "Be calmed," Raizel assures. "You are under my protection. We are in the log cabin, some way from Bran." There is a slack pause. "Where Gideon rests outside," he adds.