"Ah-" Hythlodaeus rests a hand on Amos' shoulder instinctively, looking worried but understanding. He's had the same thing happening to him, and it doesn't get any more pleasant no matter how many times it happens.

"I can only hope that this side effect leaves along with our Discord. It's unpleasant, isn't it?" He sighs, frowning a little. "I suppose it's simply what we've earned for our role in Dextera's death under the tree."

Which he still feels... a sense of unease with. Not as much as he perhaps should, given how he's likened Dextera's sacrifice to his own- a necessary evil in order to save others. But still, he recalls the scene every time he feels those phantom hands around his throat. And he feels guilty.