He was settling into a stasis. It was an imitation, of sorts, the same way you'll rise and sink your chest with someone else. With her completely still, he felt a need to become silent too. It was only possible in his thoughts, of course. Her decay, what he hadn't directly inflicted, hadn't come yet. He wondered if he'd stay with her until it did. She still had her beauty. It was a quiet reminder of the uselessness of the shell once the human is gone. It wouldn't even serve as a lasting memento, not even a tribute. Roan was still waiting for his attraction toward her to cool, too.<br/><br/>His eyes widened, his inner unable to process her first breath. He still had her dying self burned onto his retina. This was so contrary to how he expected his world to be that it didn't startle much at first. But she was gorgeous, animated again. He thought he had seen her skin quake from the first clap of her heart. His mouth dropped to mimic her wide one, subtly. What an agony returning life must be. The echo through her neck when the bone he'd ruined was pulled together from its center was delicious in a way.<br/><br/>All the damage he'd done receded. The color he'd created on her, the broken blood vessels. He tossed himself back eventually. The struggle of her body - as though it didn't know if it wanted to be alive again at all - was harrowing. The male in him drank in her agony, and it was a picturesque battle wreaking her body. Eventually he came to her, even though she was in a complete rebellion against herself. What could this be? He'd known she was dead. He'd started mourning her. He'd been on the precipice of heart-laden torment. And now this.<br/><br/>He took her shoulders to try and give her stability. "Iris!" he tried. He couldn't understand. There were tears in his eyes too, but he felt something else. Elation at her return, and befuddlement at the implications. How glorious she was, to take away his offense by reanimating. He wanted to embrace her, but knew to give her at least a little space inside which to be born again. This miracle was confounding him fast, but the light in his eyes burnt his doubt away. She had been dead. And now she was not. His mind drew toward the source of his art.<br/><br/>"W-what's happening?" he asked, as though he'd been betrayed and saved at the same time.