Mikh'tan Moshroca

Waking as himself was... a surprise. Almost as much as the nasty discovery he'd made at some point that Warden or no, he had been aware of what he had doing. Unable to stop himself, beyond some small resistance that amounted to little and less than nothing in the long run, but aware all the same. That he was moving under his own power now in the entirety, that he didn't feel the slither of brambles or the pierce of thorns was not something he expected, and he floundered somewhat, settling for the moment for just curling in on his side, too many arms winding around himself as freedom from Light seemed to come with a wash of memories that were not... his? Someone else. Things he'd seen only bits and pieces of before in snippets and dreams now all there at once, threatening to drown him from the sheer amount of them, a faint, distressed little rasp slipping from him as he buried his face in his hands, ears pinned against his pale hair.