Speeeeding UP

Grail’s lungs burned and his vision swam. He could hear his rough panting for breath, and an underlying rumble in his ears. He felt like he was looking at a great wavy cloth with the world projected upon it. Each and everything  grew and then shrank again, floating across space with no logic. He felt himself getting sick, and as his legs gave out he sat down heavily upon the Workshop floor. 

He saw Horatio coming towards him, but it looked as though the magician were twenty feet tall.  Concern was etched across the face of the old man in rough ravines of skin, and as he came closer Grail saw the surface details of the man swim sickenly into focus. Each crater of a pore, every vine of a wisker stood out in stark contrast to each other. 

Grail realized later that he must have then blacked out, as some sort of defense mechanism against insanity, for when he came too he found himself lying on his back, the high arches of the Workshop gracefully supporting the roof over his head.