u halloweenie
Askell
Dazed and weary, he hardly noticed when fluid began to pour from his orbits until the growing wetness beneath his chin started to grow uncomfortable. Dizziness washed over him from head to toe, and he couldn't bring himself to move to a new spot on the edge of the pool. No, he would sit in his own ooze until he felt like he could open his eyes again without getting sick on the shore. Deep breath in, deep breath out. As the steam flooded his lungs, it loosened some of the spores that had made themselves comfortable in the moist lining of his brachioles. All at once, yet another coughing fit seized him, and he couldn't fight the violent contractions of his muscles as they fought the clumps of glowing azure phlegm, eventually spewing them out and onto the ground around his head. Flecked with spots of bright crimson blood and budding fungi, the thick globules of ooze were finally enough to make him fight the fatigue away long enough to paddle feebly a few feet away. The smell was something else, and he was trying not not to throw up, even though the muscles around his abdomen still rippled with the ghosts of another coughing fit.
After a short while, he swore he could hear a voice. Was this finally it? The spirits were making themselves known, for real this time, and they were going to take him away. Except, the voice was definitely familiar. There was a pang of excitement in his chest before his brain even put a name to the voice, and then there was the gentle caress of a warm tongue over his forehead. A soft hum tried to bubble up from his chest, but it came out sounding more like a pained groan. And while it did hurt, having the skin of his face move at all, he couldn't help but draw some comfort from the small amount of physical touch. "I wouldn't mind a.. dirt nap right 'bout now.." he rasped, prying his eyes open and fixing the working one on Áskell's familiar features. "Y'should probably keep away... hate for ya t' get sick too." a frown managed to work its way onto his gaunt face, though the common sense of even an amateur healer told him to keep a healthy distance from anyone he could... Despite the voice in the back of his mind screaming, a thousand riotous voices begging to sink his teeth into Áskell's soft flesh.. to bind them together through the fungus that infected his very bones now.
He kept that glazed over eye trained on the larger boy, who seemed like he'd changed since that first night by the fire. He carried himself differently, maybe. Or perhaps he'd gotten taller? Hard to say. Mushrooms in the brain. "None of my Family is sick yet... Are yours.. okay?" he questioned hoarsely, stretching his forelimbs in the hopes that the latticework of thick mushrooms on his biceps would fall away now that he'd boiled them for a while. No, he was rewarded with screaming pain lancing up his shoulders and straight into the constant headache that sat behind his blinded left eye. He grunted softly and tried to force his body to relax into the heat of the springs.