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Subtlety didn't seem like one of Damian Rofal's strong suits, Cisco thought as he finally managed to heave himself up onto all fours. Actually standing up wasn't looking too likely, however. His sense of balance was taking so long to return that he was beginning to worry it might not come back at all.

"Let's call it there for today," said Damian. Perhaps he'd grown tired of waiting for them to get back up. "Better luck next time, boys."

Cisco could hear a bit of laughter from the peanut gallery on his right. Several of the other Rofals had gotten into the habit of observing these sparring sessions with obvious delight. They never seemed to grow tired of watching Dunstan in particular get smacked around.

They weren't all like that, though. The littler ones mostly just seemed curious, and the grandmother, Damian's wife, kept trying to tend to Dunstan's wounds. Dunstan just kept brushing her off.

Cisco, however, didn't mind taking her up on her offer. She was a loony old lady, to be sure, but she had her moments of tenderness, he'd noticed. Plus, none of these people were undead. To Cisco's mind, that fact alone afforded them some leeway.

Servants were supposed to look after non-servants, even when they were assholes who might not necessarily deserve it. That was how he'd been raised to view this power of theirs.

Maybe Dunstan viewed things differently, but Cisco felt that way more strongly than ever. It was embedded into his heritage as a Rainlord. If he let that go, he would be a disappointment to both himself and his ancestors.

Dennex was allowed to hover over to him again, but Cisco didn't have him invoke the regeneration or numb his pain. Better to let wounds like this heal naturally for as long they could. Less of a hangover later.