[h1][b][i][color=E610B8][center]Echo[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/9FWbx1tc/image.png[/img][/center][hr][center][color=E610B8][b]Location[/b][/color]: Mutant Underground
[color=E610B8][b]Skills[/b][/color]: Self Multiplication[/center]
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Echo laid there helplessly, staring far off into the distance until the whole world began to blur and bend together. There were whispers above him. Some semblance of secrecy happening right around him but for once he didn't care. He didn't care to listen to the idle gossip, even if it was about him and his condition. He wanted to remain in the idle bliss of ignorance. Wanted to believe he could be fixed and on his blades again. Sapphire reiterated what she had said before. Telling him to lay still on the ground as they worked on removing the shard and fixing his back. They would do everything they can she said, a solemn comfort that he clung onto. His finger twitched as some of the adrenaline from before threatened to escape, searching for a way out. Echo felt the pool.of blood building on his lower back, the thick warm liquid tickling his skin as it moved down the dimple in his back but could only be felt in some spots. 

Echo tried to focus on that feeling. The feeling of being able to feel something, anything. His legs were there but they weren't. As if some spectral half of him now existed. He thought about that for a moment, a slight chuckle of madness releasing as he picture his ghostly legs dancing about Ben and skating figures around him. He pushed the thought away, trying to focus on the idea that he wouldnt be another Xavier. Another reminder of what Magneto could take away. He needed hope, and as soon as Sapphire began to speak again he found it. Hope that there was a way, hope that there was a chance, that is until he heard her plan. Glimpse had been bedridden for a number of days and was there maybe a third of the time. That his future laid in her hands sprung some tears in his eyes that slowly rolled down his cheeks and onto the straps of his apron. His eyes had closed and he had just awaited darkness.