please help me
zora
11-20-2021, 10:16 AM
Hyperion lay in an exhausted heap beneath the sprawl of an old oak tree. Like those around him, he'd fallen ill with the Ooze. The sickness seemed to focus on his mind. Convinced that insects were trying to claw their way out of him he'd torn at his skin and run until he could run no more. His paws were a ragged mess and everywhere he went he left a trail of glowing, bloody pawprints. His wounds, deep gouges and tears where he'd try to dig the insects out, ran freely; weeping blood and ooze alike.
Even now with no strength left to run, Hyperion's mind raced. Moments of clarity were rare and unwelcome as he was forced to contend with what was happening to him. Delirium was hardly better as in moments of strength he clawed at his skin and in moments of weakness he cried out and muttered to himself words of hopelessness.
To anyone who would listen he begged for their help, for their presence, for anything that might ease his fear and pain.
Current time: 11-24-2024, 02:10 PM
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