The Helmsman's not the only one panting. By the time the Helmsman catches up he's full on shaking and twitching, fists clenched tight. He tries to stay standing on his own, but his legs give and he falls with one hand against the tree, teeth grit and eyes closed, his claws digging deep into the candy bark.

It's just hissing at first, but before long, actual sounds of pain can be heard. The candy tree crunches in his hand.

"They fucking... Helm- THEY MOTHER FUCKING--"

The candy tree comes apart. He drops to his knees and his claws dig into his scalp and he screams, eyes wide and red. Too many pan cracks, too many motherfucking cracks all singing voodoo song. He doesn't have his voodoo here. But he can feel it, it's motherfucking digging deep and tearing it up and it's too much all at fucking once. It's every bit of tearing flesh and burning light and cut and bite and bruise and scream, every beast and death and demon ever dreamed and weaved and stuck in another motherfucker's pan what wasn't his but tore and tore as it dragged itself into existence, and it's so, so, so many motherfucking feet under the water. What physical pain the poison gave him doesn't even matter. He's just short of crushing his own nug in his hands.

And the Helmsman is right there. Watching.