Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25038310-20160303163426/@comment-7203512-20160323151053

Aelwin woke up, taking the deepest of breaths as he waved his legs and arms, trying not to suffocate. Shaking, he slipped away from Dunistair's grasp, crashing on the dirt and coughing brokenly, squeezing the rotten grass, as if he was falling and trying to grab something to hang upon. His head hit against the old tree trunk, tearing a spot of pus on his temple and causing the black, vile substance to dribble down his face, and the young Hawksly's conscience was regained the very moment he felt the hit ringing in his fragile skull.

He coughed up a decent load of blood on the trunk, before slowly ascending to see the group. However, he was quick to notice an armored figure upon squinting to see more clearly. "A-Abel-lo?..", he muttered silently, before noticing another figure near the knight. He attempted to discern the figure, before a tear rolled down his cheek. Just a tear, he thought, surprised and a bit nervous, since he had few reasons to cry now. As he raised his hand to block the sun's rays, another tear made its way down Hawksly's dirty cheek. He wiped it only to witness a terrifying sight. His hand was stained in blood.

He cried tears of blood.

Aelwin shut his eyes, as blood kept flowing down his face. He sobbed loudly, but bit his lip, trying not to scream.