The transition for Glacius had indeed been sudden and jarring, the Land Beyond Living blurring, then yanked away as though sucked into a twisting vortex, leaving only the living world -- and himself, now in his body proper -- behind. For Carlisle, the transition is slower, painful both on his mind and body as he hacks into his hand, finally dislodging the clot that was blocking his airway.

"Fine," he croaks out; his eyes, though still vibrant from the energies of the Mote, are no longer so bright that the light is all that can be seen. "I'm- I'm fine, Glacius." He reaches to the nightstand as he pulls himself into a sitting position, his hand shaking as he retrieves the water he keeps there and takes a long swallow. At least he's able to lift it now, however stiff his movements may be -- it's an improvement from before he went to sleep... and certainly from after.

"Forgive me for waking you, my friend," he continues with a faint, but lopsided smile, having apparently missed Glacius' other question in his coughing. He looks to the window, trying to determine what time it is -- still dark outside. "Go back to sleep. It's still too early for your patrol."