[Chuuta started the week off queasy and nervous, struggling to sleep and withdrawing in on himself to the point where Drew was starting to worry. Even brief moments of trying to make things better didn't work.
And that was before the illness actually hit.
He needs water. He can't get enough water, no matter how much he drinks. He coughs up dust, actual dust, a weird moss-green powder that coats the inside of his mouth and nose and stains his hands and face. Or, at first it was a stain, but now the discoloration is spreading, his extremities turning dry and green and cracking and leaving smudges of green powder anywhere he touches.
He's staying in a corner, next to the radio, on the ground and against the wall, trying to listen for anything important.]
no subject
And that was before the illness actually hit.
He needs water. He can't get enough water, no matter how much he drinks. He coughs up dust, actual dust, a weird moss-green powder that coats the inside of his mouth and nose and stains his hands and face. Or, at first it was a stain, but now the discoloration is spreading, his extremities turning dry and green and cracking and leaving smudges of green powder anywhere he touches.
He's staying in a corner, next to the radio, on the ground and against the wall, trying to listen for anything important.]