The Animus Revenants huddled around the eldritch display with keen curiosity; their amazement and curiosity filling the room with raw emotion. And it overwhelmed the necromancer. But unlike sight or sound, he could not quell their hopes. It pressed upon him, but, somehow, he felt - no, knew - that their presence, their feelings, were what helped spur this dark ritual forwards.
They had given him their energy; a part of themselves - and, he would admit with what little thought he could have, that they had done well. Even if they had broken his most sacred of edicts.
But there was more than just humanity within whatever place this was. As his senses stirred, he could feel his heart drop alongside it's slow beating. The pressure of his mother's love was unmistakable now; a dagger that surrounded him from every angle, not quite striking, but inflicting such inner turmoil that it ought to just finish him once more. But, he did not have the strength to feel his usual frustration. He knew he should, but he simply could not.
As she called his name, he finally felt himself capable of something, some semblance of control returning to him; a groan, his muscle attempting to move away from it in instinct, but it lacked the capability. It would for some time - his flesh more feeble than that of a newborn's.
Another attempt would be made to open his glazed eyes, the visage of his mother's form now clearer than ever; her horns now properly shaped within the blur, slowly coming into vision properly as he fought his tired to gaze upon who could be the only one to orchestrate such a sin. The only one desperate enough to break the laws of the cosmos itself for such a selfish, yet natural, want.
It was a struggle, but the half-lidded stare he managed to keep was as close to a glare as he could muster, although, barely noticeable. Perhaps not even at all - perhaps his body lied to itself as to what it was capable of.
He did not wish to speak, but, instinct was guiding him. His body, and parts of his mind, would act for survival, retreated back to an innocence he knew he would abhor later. But despite his currently distant hatred, she was still indeed his mother, and no matter the horrific acts she had thrust upon he and his children, no child could not help but acknowledge their mother; even if he could only do so flatly even while barely awake.