The moment the magic is unfastened from his wrist, he feels like he wants to sink his claws into something and scratch, sharpen them and feel the satisfying way they sheathe and unsheathe as he flexes. But he closes his eyes to that feeling, bottling it as he digs his nails into his palms instead, and waits for the telltale pulse of energy to brush warm air across his senses. It smells like the sea and metal when it does, and the Cat exhales slowly through it, feeling the oversensitivity of his magic crest and wane like the rolling tide, ebbing out to the back of his mind where he keeps it under much better, easier control.
When he opens his eyes, Edwin is back at his side again, still looking warm and vibrant in the relative dark of the cave, but less like something the Cat would have a hard time resisting sinking his claws into. Now, at least, he'd be clear-headed enough to ask, if he was feeling particularly emotionally masochistic.
At Edwin's offer to help, the Cat's expression falls into a strange look of surprise, almost like he assumes Edwin is joking before he remembers who he's talking to, and a smile starts to form instead.
"Why, Edwin. Who knew you had such a bedside manner? You know I can't resist the opportunity to let you play nurse." He says, using some of his magic, a little weary though it is, to summon a short roll of bandage which he hands out to the ghost. "Oh, one sec-" Before he stretches out his arm, he uses that slightly longer than typical tongue of his to catch the streak where blood had dripped off his elbow, and laps up over the wound while he's at it. Cats don't have healing powers as a rule, but a Cat King's magic can be applied in a myriad of ways, particularly when licking one's own wounds; the gash doesn't seal, but it does start to knit, and the bleeding stops immediately.
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When he opens his eyes, Edwin is back at his side again, still looking warm and vibrant in the relative dark of the cave, but less like something the Cat would have a hard time resisting sinking his claws into. Now, at least, he'd be clear-headed enough to ask, if he was feeling particularly emotionally masochistic.
At Edwin's offer to help, the Cat's expression falls into a strange look of surprise, almost like he assumes Edwin is joking before he remembers who he's talking to, and a smile starts to form instead.
"Why, Edwin. Who knew you had such a bedside manner? You know I can't resist the opportunity to let you play nurse." He says, using some of his magic, a little weary though it is, to summon a short roll of bandage which he hands out to the ghost. "Oh, one sec-" Before he stretches out his arm, he uses that slightly longer than typical tongue of his to catch the streak where blood had dripped off his elbow, and laps up over the wound while he's at it. Cats don't have healing powers as a rule, but a Cat King's magic can be applied in a myriad of ways, particularly when licking one's own wounds; the gash doesn't seal, but it does start to knit, and the bleeding stops immediately.