No red, huh. Trust your friends. Sora's too tired to anything but trust his friends at the moment, but after Link's reassurance that there is actually no red light - nothing wrong at all, really - the switch Sora's mind makes from suspicion to a calm, sensible understanding is rather stark. His eyes are closed. He was mistaken. It was, indeed, very much his imagination. How silly to think he'd seen any red. If he were to open his eyes right now, he would, in fact, never notice that Riku's lantern had changed color at all.
He lifts a hand to pat Link's, mostly in thanks for the heads up and some what to be reassuring, letting him know that there are still lights on upstairs. Just trying not to be sick again. The wound is still there, front and back, and Link would do well to keep his hand on it for at least one more application of the Cure spell, but by this point, even a layman's stitch could fully close it. Sora's out of danger when it comes to shock or internal bleeding - luckily, the Master Sword seems to be extremely sharp and left no raw edges anywhere inside - but the blood loss is definitely still an issue. No one loses as much blood as Sora did and comes out completely fine.
... He's forgotten to say something. He needs to say it now, or else he'll risk going under without saying it. Come on, say it. Don't be shy. This Riku may be a tiny bit of a stranger, but he's as kind as he ever was. At least, he is kind in the way Sora remembers him - efficient, rigorous, responsible, sturdy. It's good. It's always been more than good.
"Thank you, Riku," he says, as loud as he can manage. He means it. There isn't much energy left in him for much nuance, it's just... gratefulness. He's thankful that he was there, and opened the door to his cabin. A little sorry that it was necessary, a little embarrassed that he'd come back to darken his doorstep at all, but he's grateful to still be alive. Or, well, as alive as he can be in Beacon, anyway.
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He lifts a hand to pat Link's, mostly in thanks for the heads up and some what to be reassuring, letting him know that there are still lights on upstairs. Just trying not to be sick again. The wound is still there, front and back, and Link would do well to keep his hand on it for at least one more application of the Cure spell, but by this point, even a layman's stitch could fully close it. Sora's out of danger when it comes to shock or internal bleeding - luckily, the Master Sword seems to be extremely sharp and left no raw edges anywhere inside - but the blood loss is definitely still an issue. No one loses as much blood as Sora did and comes out completely fine.
... He's forgotten to say something. He needs to say it now, or else he'll risk going under without saying it. Come on, say it. Don't be shy. This Riku may be a tiny bit of a stranger, but he's as kind as he ever was. At least, he is kind in the way Sora remembers him - efficient, rigorous, responsible, sturdy. It's good. It's always been more than good.
"Thank you, Riku," he says, as loud as he can manage. He means it. There isn't much energy left in him for much nuance, it's just... gratefulness. He's thankful that he was there, and opened the door to his cabin. A little sorry that it was necessary, a little embarrassed that he'd come back to darken his doorstep at all, but he's grateful to still be alive. Or, well, as alive as he can be in Beacon, anyway.