Blood.
The sanguine liquid of existence, a fluid that pumps through nearly every living thing on the planet. One would think that such a vital liquid would confine itself to the work it was set for, as hard as that work already is. But more than a few things, for some reason known only to the Gods of Old, work even harder than they're meant, doing things far past their tasks and stations for the sake of the individual they belong to. And such was the case for the young Sei's ichor, which had done the job of both protecting him and healing him as he laid within a coma, having gone under only 4 years prior to this day.
The pounding heart in his chest skipped a beat, then began to beat in an all new rhythm. Faster than it should, stronger than it always had. The blood that'd completely covered his torso seemed to be retreating back into his skin after having not moved for the entire duration of his coma, not even after medics had attempted to do anything. The shirt he'd been wearing since then had torn underneath the liquid, having barely survived the chest-plosion, yet not so much his natural growth.
His single working eye flew open as his heart beat continued its powered pace, his mouth opening to gasp in shock and terror as he remembered what happened. As if acting of pure instinct, he turned over, aiming to try and get on his hands and knees to get to his feet, yet he hadn't been aware of the surface he was on. The width of it wasn't long enough for him to turn over, so he tumbled to the ground, his lungs throbbing as the impact of the cold floor to his chest drove every ounce of oxygen from him.
He laid on the floor, coughing and wheezing as he slowly regained his breath. He looked up from his position on the floor, slowly, shakily, raising himself up on his hands. Where the hell was he? The room was nearly dark, and he was unable to see five feet in front of him. He could still feel the cold metal of the table he'd been lying on as if it was still pressed against his skin, and the cold floor didn't help his body gain warmth, either.
What the hell had happened?
[MFT - 399]
The sanguine liquid of existence, a fluid that pumps through nearly every living thing on the planet. One would think that such a vital liquid would confine itself to the work it was set for, as hard as that work already is. But more than a few things, for some reason known only to the Gods of Old, work even harder than they're meant, doing things far past their tasks and stations for the sake of the individual they belong to. And such was the case for the young Sei's ichor, which had done the job of both protecting him and healing him as he laid within a coma, having gone under only 4 years prior to this day.
The pounding heart in his chest skipped a beat, then began to beat in an all new rhythm. Faster than it should, stronger than it always had. The blood that'd completely covered his torso seemed to be retreating back into his skin after having not moved for the entire duration of his coma, not even after medics had attempted to do anything. The shirt he'd been wearing since then had torn underneath the liquid, having barely survived the chest-plosion, yet not so much his natural growth.
His single working eye flew open as his heart beat continued its powered pace, his mouth opening to gasp in shock and terror as he remembered what happened. As if acting of pure instinct, he turned over, aiming to try and get on his hands and knees to get to his feet, yet he hadn't been aware of the surface he was on. The width of it wasn't long enough for him to turn over, so he tumbled to the ground, his lungs throbbing as the impact of the cold floor to his chest drove every ounce of oxygen from him.
He laid on the floor, coughing and wheezing as he slowly regained his breath. He looked up from his position on the floor, slowly, shakily, raising himself up on his hands. Where the hell was he? The room was nearly dark, and he was unable to see five feet in front of him. He could still feel the cold metal of the table he'd been lying on as if it was still pressed against his skin, and the cold floor didn't help his body gain warmth, either.
What the hell had happened?
[MFT - 399]