When he feels the first stirrings of the parchment against his belly, Devero-- well, misses it, actually, too subsumed by his misery. But he can't ignore it forever, and he jerks upright on the bare floor of the tent when he realizes that it's moving.

He pushes the massive bundle of paper off his lap and scoots back until the wall of the tent bows around him. There he stops, and stares, and watches as Koumyou's holy burden slowly, slowly resolves itself from an impossible mass of tendrils to a tidy scroll. He stares for a bit after it's done, as well, hardly breathing, waiting to see if anything happens.