It took him a moment, especially past the shooting pain that now threatened to take over mind and body. Simply ignoring a broken bone was taking all the self-control he'd cultivated over his cycles, and now and then it slipped--in the sharp clench of his jaws, the grip of his halberd, the squeezing shut of his eyes.

He tried to focus on his child's words.

White in the fur. He almost interrupted, desperate to leave and to heal--to say that the creature's fur was white. But then-... -Infected. ...Order.
Oh.

Eyes snapped back open, and he regarded V-Onyx-Three closely, trying to remember what he'd been taught of Order. That it would control. That it would draw its infected into its tainted heart, and convert them to its mindless, empty husk soldiers. That-...

"It can be cleansed," he blurted, remembering. "We will return to Draco. Take what trophies you would take." He glanced at the dead Icebeast, at the teeth and claws, the antlers, any of which would make a fine addition to jewelry or statues that V-Onyx-Three might choose to make. "They may also be purged," he added, more tentatively--he wasn't sure, but it certainly stood to reason.

Oh--right. Parental guidance. Encouragement. He steeled himself against the pain again, and this time his magic flared out--chaotic as ever, everything or nothing, and this was almost everything. It flooded through his shattered limb in a flow of cooling numbness. It still hurt--like hell--but it was... tolerable. Enough to clear his mind, to think past the black buzz of agony. "-It was a good kill. The Sentinel did not see it all. That is... how swift it was. Efficient. Strong." There was approval in his tone, and he reached out to offer a brief, not-too-hard, approving squeeze of one of Onyx-Three's shoulders.

Agony fought with sense, chaos with control, as the Sentinel stood watch. This, at least, he was good at: standing stiff, gaze drifting over the landscape, watching for anything out of the ordinary. Anything dark against the white.

Different, then, from Draco, where the stone was black and breathed. And different, with pain lancing his mind through with urges toward violence (or throwing himself on the floor and wailing). Faintness came and went, a dizzying surge that passed through him--and then V-Chaos-Three was there again, snapped-off antlers in his hands.

"It is a shame its meat would taint us," he was surprised to hear himself saying. It was as though his mind were trying to cling to the normal, as opposed to just screaming a lot. But it was true--eating Order's fungus was not exactly a healthy meal option. He turned, and began a slow hobble for the exit tunnel. "It may move quickly. The Sentinel will catch up with magic... if it does." And if not, if Chaos-Three moved slowly, well; he could certainly do the same.

The pain was still severe, and so when it came time to move, he did so with spectral wings spread once more. The azure flare flashed only faintly this time--but that was fine by him. He wasn't trying to soar, just to hover a few inches off the surface of the deep snow. Trudging through with a broken limb was... taxing, to say the least. Impossible, once his endurance inevitably gave out.

Floating, though, was better; a slow drift a safe distance up.

When it was offered, he took his child's support, though he did not lean on it overmuch. His gratitude was voiced simply. "It is easier, this way." Manners... sort of.

He was unaware of Onyx-Three's internal conflict; instead he was focused on getting out of here (and Onyx-Three, as well) safely. He knew full well that between his injury, and Onyx-Three's infection, it was only a matter of time before the denizens of Order showed up.

Lucky, then, that his magic did not fail him a second time.