[ he doesn't bite his tongue, but he does grit his teeth. to his credit, he doesn't yell this time, even though he's been doing that pretty much nonstop since he'd woken up, and instead lets out the pain through a deep, groaning exhalation of breath. his chest jumps from the pain, but he doesn't move save for the clenching of his fists. it stings, sure; but he knows it's barely a fraction of what he'd felt when he received those wounds in the first place.

he struggles to keep his wits about him, brow furrowing as he conjures up the image of the creature in his mind. ]

He was... tall. Blue skin, maybe grey. White hair. Tattoos all over. Big, pointy ears and a stupid huge sword like he's compensating for something.