[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/k6ISKjx.png[/img]
[hider=𖦭]STR [b][2][/b] | DEX [b][3][/b] | MAG [b][1][/b] | DEF [b][1][/b] | RES [b][1][/b] | AGI [b][3][/b] | LCK [b][4][/b]

[b]《 Luck of the Devil 》[/b]
[i]Fortune favours the foul. +3 LCK.[/i][/hider][sub][@Zeroth][@TheMushroomLord][@PKMNB0Y][/sub][/center]
He couldn’t feel his arm.

It was as if tree roots had sunk into his veins, an unnatural stiffness that originated from within rather than without. Consciousness had returned, but he could hardly open his eyes, such was his [i]exhaustion[/i]. What had happened? What was still happening? Dissociated memories flickered in and out. Flashes of red, and the phantasm of a liquid warmth. A burden upon his shoulders alongside the pressure in his lower back. Eyes, burning late into the night like a bulb that never turned off. There was student debt. Mortgages. Medical expenses. There was violence and alienation, the knife clinging to his skin, the fingers clawing at his wrist. And the stench. The stench of bodily fluids that clung to his robes, that were still clinging to his robes, as he remained awake and conscious, upon a hard bed, his senses so far gone that he was left only with his thoughts.

His thoughts, repeating the way that firm flesh turned soft and distended. The way that organs burst and spilled their contents outwards. Those eyes, looking at nothing when it ended. His blood boiling out of his wounds, as muscles contracted and the world turned brighter and brighter. He swallowed. Tried to swallow, but gagged instead. Motion was restored in that moment, sparked by reflex rather than by will, as Cassius turned over, fell off the bed he had been placed upon, and, as he registered the sharp, throbbing pain of impact, threw up.

No food splattered against the wooden flooring of the clinic. Only bile and water, a sticky, bitter saliva that clung to the back of his throat and the roof of his mouth.

He tried to push himself up, but one arm was paralyzed while the other was still too unused to movement. Lightheadedness struck next and he fell back onto the floor, cheek falling against the expelled sick. Footsteps sounded. He could hear, at least. Swallowed again and forced himself to croak out a single question.

[b]“What happened with the package?”[/b]