Do the birds suffer so?

Fabrice is daydreaming, leaning against his study window, absentmindedly stroking Clotho as thoughts drift through his mind, each one inevitably drifting back to Demetri, and even Daniel, and how utterly perceptive he had proven to be in seeing right through him. The sun is just beginning to set, fading light giving way to the whims of the stars. He bears a half smile on his face as he continues to stare out at a world he just barely acknowledges. He feels almost at peace with his life, for a change.

This is, of course, when the pain strikes him, abrupt and powerful enough as though a fist landed square on his chest, sending him stumbling against the wall and the cat to leap from his grasp with a wounded meow.

( Warnings for mentions of magical violence and injuries beneath the cut. )