[Please -- is a distant mental sob, a cry for it to end, even though the pain lasts hardly more than a few seconds. Kratos slumps against Yuan, quivering, not breathing; then a moment later he is, with a gasping sob. He pulls in air like it's the only thing to ground him, even though it isn't, because Yuan is right there.

[He's still gripping Yuan. He's aware of it, distant; but he can't even begin to loosen his trembling fingers, right now. Not until the residual sparks travelling through him dissipate under Raine's softly neutral healing mana. Her palm is the only soothing thing about the core of him, the only reason he knows the Sword hasn't impaled him again; and the rest feels too raw to touch. But it's moving. In fits and starts, in some places -- still sluggish where his mana is still tangled -- but moving.

[It takes a little while, but finally Kratos manages to loosen his grip on Yuan's arms, accompanied by a scattered, vague apology, without even knowing whether he's even hurt him. The scream almost certainly did. That's worth an apology.

[Kratos reaches out to Raine next, with a wordless, desperate request for confirmation. Did it work and please say we don't have to do that again are both sensations in there; but over it is a layer of hazy pain, like an abused dog cowering, but hopeful.]