Sun Mote Copse Holding out

He paced incessantly, acidic eyes darting from this way to that, searching for nothing, only finding ways to exert the wanton energy coursing through him. He was not a man of physical action. He found no use in hunting and fighting when a simple, well-placed herb could cleave his targets. Finding things to do with his body perplexed him, catching him off guard in a way that Bastian despised.

The Doktor was not a religious man, but he found himself slurring some kind of prayer in the hopes of the snow melted and an early poppy flower sprouting from the ground, if only to give himself some kind of relief. He could stave off the dying part of withdrawal, but it did not mean the rest of the process would be pleasant.

He jumped at Asherah's voice, too busy moving and speaking quietly to himself to notice his surroundings, despite his fast-moving eyes. He did not stop his pacing, only slowing down some, but became aware that the snow beneath him had melted under his singular path. Ah...Guten Tag, Fräulein, He murmured, eyes darting to her form. My apologies for worryink you like zhis. I am fine,