The largest of the aberrations collapses, its structure caving in on itself as the magic that kept it animated dissipates from its twisted frame. The glow fades from its eyes, traces of lingering energy rising from the hollow sockets in wispy trails -- and as Carlisle finally composes himself and removes his hands from his face, there are similar vapors rising from his eyes, as well. He doesn't hear Ben's question through the ache in his head, but he couldn't have claimed to be alive even if he had; he somewhat hears Pratt's reply, but does not know what the fuck is happening, himself. For now, he's just trying to regain his control over his energies.

With a deep breath -- one of many -- he attempts to pick himself off the ground, his limbs shaking. One of his arms trembles, jerking violently as he gets to his feet; he cradles it with a hiss, his gaze going from Ben to Kieran, then to the abomination, and then to Pratt gasping on the ground. One man may be the person he was called to heal, and the other may be the one who dealt with the calamity he caused, but Pratt is his friend, and therefore, he's the one Carlisle beelines for first, trying to ensure his health above everyone else's.

"D- Deputy?" his voice rattles in the stillness, his legs unsteady as he takes a step to close the gap between them.