Catching his breath through heavy panting only makes Ankari feel like the dog between the two of them. His body burns all over, weak muscles overtaxed and heart pounding wild from fearful excitement. Skin between his legs stings from so much pressure and friction, he doesn't want to imagine how rubbed raw he'd have been if not for the oil. Khoriya could still attack him, take more while he's so prone, Ankari is aware of it and he feels Khoriya is aware of it, if not considering-

All his has is hollow insults. Not truth, not falsity, just empty words. Ankari's expression cracks into a hurt smirk. The noise he first makes is a cold laugh, sounding like the start of a sob at first. He reaches a shaky hand for his cane, takes it, but his other hand reaches upward with a princely expectation. In dark humor, Ankari is pretending to have some arrogant pride left when he cannot even move himself. He simply cannot obey the demand... so he gives one instead.

"Help me up, Khoriya," his tone is clear, it is the least you could do for me. Otherwise, he'll need to be grabbed and tossed out like a ragdoll. He can feel some empowerment from his goddess pumping through his veins, but the energy of this prayer was only so satisfying to her.