Minutes bled into hours. Hours folded into days.
Quinlan stayed in that same stillness, meditating, hands holding the sleeping dryad.
His body became stronger now, but the process was crawling at a pace that tested his patience. Every pulse of energy felt like dripping water filling a barrel.
Steady, yet maddeningly slow.
He wasn't the type to sit idle, but even he knew better than to rush such an important recovery process. Whatever that Anima creation did, it took a lot from him.
And how could he rush recklessly when Mimi was tied to him? Forcing progress could tear her apart, and that wasn't something he'd ever risk.
So he stayed.
He meditated when he could. Watched the tiny movements of her chest. Felt the faint hum of life returning to both of them. The stillness was dull, but not meaningless.
His girls were capable; they had already showcased that they could endure a bit of separation and even thrive while it happened.
Didn't mean he liked it, though.
