[ Abel's dumbly holding onto the shard in his hand for a small beat, lost as he is in simply taking this in - allies new and old having come together to do the seemingly impossible... rescue two Pleroma from before the Citadel's very gates. he is... awed.

but the sounds of chaos, of battle, around them soon jar him back to reality; he replaces the gem where it belongs at the top of his sternum, and--

--there is a heady rush, a faint tension that travels through his person as his next breath comes slightly more strained. it is not with pain, but a flood of a vigor and the whispering hunger of a parasite who has once more been given a voice. Abel's fingers briefly coil more tightly in Rand's shirt, but-- he is easing up after a few beats in which to steady himself.

the warmth of the Pleroma - its embrace, whole and pure - is a welcome one, and any lingering vestiges of rigidity fade.

and Abel lays his head at Rand's shoulder as if it were too heavy to keep up, but his next words come quiet and with some shaky but clear echo of the usual idiocy he hopes provides comfort-- ]

...Rand, you picked me to carry 'cause you're the stronger one, right? Don't worry, I won't tell Dokja that's the reason. I think the rabies has eroded his arm strength so it's probably for the best. A-ah, you smell pretty good... Do you use cologne...?

[ we could pretend this is because he's out of it after a long and arduous ordeal, but we all know better, ]