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Cold.
A bitter, biting chill so unlike the Coerthas of yesteryear, but here, now, it was painfully familiar. That was how he knew he was still home. Otherwise, however, it was a complete mystery as to where he was. His vision was weak, hazy, the snow smearing together in a blank blur across his vision as surely as the worst whiteouts he had experienced. He made to move, to find shelter from the cold, but found that his legs, previously as fit and sturdy as a stallion, were feeble and shaky with even the slightest movement. Besides that, something was definitely off with them; his attempt at walking almost resulted in him pitching forward as all four(?) limbs moved out-of-sync with his brain, almost as though unwilling, or unable, to reconcile the orders he was feeding to them. As it was, about all he could do was stand in the snow, shivering.
At least the full brunt of the chill was warded off by some means unknown to him.
Eventually, he saw the vague outline of a humanoid figure approach him, the edges soft and fuzzy in a way Ishgardian armor could never be. The figure walked with the slow, steady care of one knowledgeable about travelling in snow, but seemed inexperienced with it, as though they had spent some time away from the Coerthan cold. Still indistinct, they made their way to stand right before him, looking at him with a tilt of the head.
“They weren't kidding. This doe looks like it's as weak as a newborn fawn.” The nonsensical words came sluggishly to his ears, as if they were clotted with cotton. It left him unable to even tell the speaker’s gender, but there was something, something in that voice that made him focus fully towards it, made his ears swivel in that direction without him even noticing.
“Well, you seem friendly, at least.” The voice noted with a warmth that thawed the ever-present frost. “So whatever is wrong with you probably isn't tooo nasty.” The figure then reached their hand out towards him, ilm by ilm easing closer until the digits slowly, carefully brushed against his cheek.
And he melted fully.
For that touch might have a few more calloused ridges, might have more strength to it than when he last experienced it, but he would never mistake it no matter how badly his senses were addled. Trembling fingers brushing against his own as they reached for a mug of fresh cocoa, seeking any solace they could when nearly the entire city of Ishgard stood against them. A sturdy bump of the fist against his own in celebration after their successful trial by combat. His hand enfolding theirs in a stable, grounding touch against the horrors of the Dragonsong War and the descendents of those who put it into motion so long ago.
He let out a long, steadying breath and leaned into that familiar, yet different touch, savoring the subtle ways their journeys must have changed it.
“Definitely friendly. How about we get you back to Ishgard and have some of the animal handlers take a closer look at you? See if they can figure out what ails you?”
Mind only focused on their reunion, he nodded, agreeing to anything they deemed fit for him.
Ah, my dear friend… It is so, so good to know you are hale and whole.