madmediic:

          the close call  left a sour taste in the back of his throat ; tangy anger that
            rose just as quickly as it plummeted in exchange for concern. the mess he could
            deal with later. whatever had been in that box was probably gone for good, all
            the leftover notes and journals nothing but burnt paper. a few flames flickered
            but died out soon enough.

            like most of his peers, the boy couldn’t have had any ideas on what the device
            was .. but the clothing didn’t match what the students wore. unless he was a
            patient that’d gotten extremely lost ? or an aspiring future student ? regardless,
            he needed to deal with him before taking account of anything else. jude knelt by
            the boy, hand barely touching a shoulder, not looking to frighten but rather to
            soothe and comfort.

                               ’ are you okay ? you didn’t get hurt, did you ? ‘

            trained eyes looked him over, picking him apart to find something wrong,
            something out of place, whatever was needed for the gears in his head to turn
            and spin, to throw the doctor side into casting a healing arte.

                               ’ —— that .. that was a spyrix. it’s a device used in
                                 elympios ; it’s extremely harmful and dangerous
                                 to use. but .. it’s weird. i’d never seen one react
                                 like that to someone. ‘

   Fingers clung to his ears, eyes closed tight
   to avoid such feelings. Hurt, hurt, hurt. His
chest hurt, his body aching, mantra pound
   -ing  in  his  skull.   Deep  voice  resonating
   causing all feelings of anxiety to amplify for
   the summon spirit. Body numb to the touch
   meant  for comfort  as  confusion still clung
   to  his body, stubborn  as  soaked  clothing
   attached to skin.

      “Hu-hurt…” he repeated the words, as if trying to
        put meaning to  something  simplistic, “N-no…I,
        am I? I d-don’t…”

   Warmth,  a  light  of  warmth   capturing  at
   Emil’s  body  through  healing.   Slowly  his
   his sense caught within itself, mantra dead
   behind a voice which could not be heard.

   He was safe, Emil  shuddered  once  more,
   green hues slowly opening  behind  golden
   eyelashes,  looking  up to the man in white.
   Who  was  this person?  Who  touched  his
   shoulder so easily, with  a  look of concern
   that near set Emil’s nerves at ease–

   The   spirit   quickly    shuffled   backwards,
   shoulder  trying  to   move  away  from  the
   help. Worry as he heard the next statement
   capturing  Emil’s  heart in a vice grip. What
   did that mean? 

      “W-what? I don’t– w-what’s different? What does
        a spyrix d-do?” His words were  quick, stuttered
        awkwardly.

   { Spyrix, spirit, something to do with us– }
                          { Death. }

   Emil’s eyes were quick to lower afterward.
   Mouth dry, he slowly whispered– “S-sorry…”

   It   was   one   word   at   first,  but   it  was
   repeated. Again and again it was repeated,
   mumbled  under  his  breath while trying to
   figure out what it was he’d done. What was
   so different…