[ Arcade pulls back reflexively, but he's no match for that manic intensity, immediately alarmed and beyond confused as the dream twists and contorts itself to match, around them. The room darkens, no longer some comfortable, familiar place. ]
It was his lungs - I don't know anything about his heart. Except that it... [ His brow furrows, as he tries to remember something beyond a vague, unpleasant swirl of nauseating color. Clotted blood. Cold skin. ] It wasn't good.
no subject
[ Arcade pulls back reflexively, but he's no match for that manic intensity, immediately alarmed and beyond confused as the dream twists and contorts itself to match, around them. The room darkens, no longer some comfortable, familiar place. ]
It was his lungs - I don't know anything about his heart. Except that it... [ His brow furrows, as he tries to remember something beyond a vague, unpleasant swirl of nauseating color. Clotted blood. Cold skin. ] It wasn't good.