He watches, though he's not sure through what. He doesn't have the sense he even has eyes, but still he gleans words as visuals, rather than spoken. The sentiment is easy enough to understand, the scene unfolding in ways that are echoing his own disinheritance. Time doesn't seem to exist anymore, but he feels the change as surely as he feels the blink of a presence behind him, and then nothing.

Not until his own consciousness comes back to him, though unlike Enver it is slower. Takes him a lot longer to even become aware again of a world outside the one in his head. His large form is still a crumpled pile for some time after his companions have moved to help Enver up, and somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind he hears a familiar voice advise: thrice shalt be dire.

Two times in two days he's been brought back, and he's distantly aware of that as he groans, his body feeling as though he's just sprinted the Sword Coast without interval or rest. He just needs a moment to catch his breath.