My face felt like silly putty after several minutes, and I could no longer feel my left side. The thickly stained carpet underneath my body was only a dim memory as I looked up at the thing on the bed with new eyes and smiled, showing my teeth. Probably. It was hard to tell what with half my face being numb and all.
“You sure you didn’t get fired from the set of Doctor Who? Because you suck,” I breathed, panting in time to the rhythm of the banging tentacles.
Shrill, hard laughter came bubbling up from the Black Pudding, and I could feel myself slipping into a haze.
“Pot, kettle, Wizard,” it drawled as it drummed harder against my circles, “As I recall, I’m not the one who performed an ancient fertility rite with the Winter Queen. If you don’t let me out soon, you’re going to bleed out, deliver a child or have a stroke- perhaps all three. Take your pick.”
“Gee. What happened to the Winter Mantle?” I asked, elated.
The voice of the Black Pudding boomed in my ears. It reminded me, strangely, of a very soft jam session.
“That is what you must discover. I am not a nanny, Knight of Winter.”
I sighed and did the only thing left to me- I pressed my fingers to my forehead and closed my Sight.
Reality rushed back in like grey moldy soup, thick and indecent. And fuzzy.
I wasn’t going to get anywhere by going too deeply unconscious, either; but I did have to talk to Me Myself and Id eventually.
So, I thought, a couple seconds of down time ought to do it.
I closed my eyes, let go of my will, and felt the circles collapse.