[Where a Witch was almost useless, a Faun--a blind Faun, at that--might fairly be even more so, yet that hasn't kept Myr from Linden's bedside. There are menial tasks even he can do to care for someone comatose; there are innumerable little items of upkeep a house needs that Adeline can't be expected to do all by herself. (He has not yet asked why she's here or what she knows or whether she's been charmed. It doesn't seem the moment for it.)

And, when the allure of mere busyness grows thin, there is prayer. He has his antlered head down now even as Mello interrupts, his interlaced fingers folded beneath his chin. Focused on invoking the Maker as he is, he--

--is still painfully attuned to the smallest sounds in the world around him, because any of them might mean Linden's waking up (or getting worse). He breathes out slowly, not letting himself be chivvied along to that final word with his Creator; it takes him a solid thirty seconds more to lift his head and respond,]

There's only so far healing magic can push things. Hurt as bad as he was, we ought to expect he'll be under longer as he mends. Waking him won't hasten the process.

[Even if Myr very dearly wishes Linden would wake, and speak, and prove his marvelous mind had taken no permanent hurt.

He simply has to hope that's in the offing, else despair will eat him hollower with every hour that ticks by without Linden stirring. Those who didn't awaken after so long often couldn't... ]

I'd suspect it's the same anywhere--or do you come from somewhere they can awaken the unconscious in hours?

[Too well he understands how helplessness can gnaw, and whether or not he likes this fellow, he can sympathize and play distraction.]