Something else poked him. Solomon grunted, hearing 'Skulduggery', 'destroy' and 'important', and not much else in an arrangement that made sense. He mumbled, "He'll live."
The frustrating thing was that Ravel wasn't wrong. There was a very good chance that Solomon would fall asleep halfway through the conversation. The problem was that he didn't think he'd be able to sit up. It took a good thirteen pokes for Solomon to properly think of those possibilities, and it was about the point where he stopped being able to count those pokes, even half-asleep, that he realised they weren't going to leave him alone until they got answers.
He groaned. "Help m'up."
The ex-Necromancer tried to push down with his elbows and unintentionally made a pained noise when it made his hand twinge. "Ow," he grumbled, and was about to give it up as too much effort when he felt someone propping him up.
"You're a child," Corrival told him gruffly. "Ravel, put some pillows behind his back. Somehow I don't think our pet prophet's ready to sit up completely just yet. Let alone get up in any fashion."
"You owe me a box of candied roses," Solomon mumbled.
"What the Hell for?"
"Just woke up in your bed. For starters."
Either Solomon was more tired than he thought or Corrival's eels were actually dancing from side-to-side as the man laughed. "I'll see what I can do, Mr Prophet Sir. I'll see what I can do."
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The frustrating thing was that Ravel wasn't wrong. There was a very good chance that Solomon would fall asleep halfway through the conversation. The problem was that he didn't think he'd be able to sit up. It took a good thirteen pokes for Solomon to properly think of those possibilities, and it was about the point where he stopped being able to count those pokes, even half-asleep, that he realised they weren't going to leave him alone until they got answers.
He groaned. "Help m'up."
The ex-Necromancer tried to push down with his elbows and unintentionally made a pained noise when it made his hand twinge. "Ow," he grumbled, and was about to give it up as too much effort when he felt someone propping him up.
"You're a child," Corrival told him gruffly. "Ravel, put some pillows behind his back. Somehow I don't think our pet prophet's ready to sit up completely just yet. Let alone get up in any fashion."
"You owe me a box of candied roses," Solomon mumbled.
"What the Hell for?"
"Just woke up in your bed. For starters."
Either Solomon was more tired than he thought or Corrival's eels were actually dancing from side-to-side as the man laughed. "I'll see what I can do, Mr Prophet Sir. I'll see what I can do."