”Hphm.” he groaned in agreement.
Apparently he was. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, as if the intensity of the activities was just beginning to take its toll on the muscles, degenerated by his stay here.
Maladan felt as if his celebrant tormentor was becoming more playful by each passing day. As a wolf smelling blood, he must have smelled his weakness, his strength of will fading. The things he was showing him so he could look forward to the next encounter actually made him want to succumb to his injuries.
The pain itself would still be bearable – even if nightmarish – if it wasn't combined with… training. The humiliating tasks, and following commands, like he was trying to make a Hollow out of him. He felt like a dog with a red-hot iron instead of a choke collar... not that the collar itself wasn't also involved.
He saw Thomas doing something in the periphery of his vision, in the shadowy corner he used to inhabit himself. He heard the voice as Thomas called to him, beckoning him with an open gesture. He didn't understand his motives, and it reminded him unpleasantly of instructions from the man he had just come from... but what did he have to lose?
Maladan scrambled to four and moved towards Thomas. Every step was painful and uncomfortably slow, but eventually he reached his destination.
"What are you doing, Thomas?" There were strips of cloth in his hand. Beautiful cloth. Cloth... from the coat? He shouldn't have, it was such a nice piece! He grunted disapprovingly at the sight of it. But then he could smell the alcohol in the air. Antiseptic?
"How… did you... where did you…?"
