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[indent][indent][indent][color=gray][sub][right][color=dc143c][b]Location:[/b][/color] City Streets -- City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria[/right][/sub][/color]
[hr]Pain rippled through every facet of his being. Body broken. Blood flooded freely from the tears in his chest, his arm, his face. He'd lost his footing somehow, landed several feet away from where he'd started. Couldn't place how, or why. Thumping in his head like a jackhammer was tearing out of his brain and trying to get through his skull next. Taste of iron and vomit filled his mouth. Scent of blood- so much blood- overwhelming his nostrils. Vision was blurred from sweat, tears, other shit he couldn't place. 

Graves was drowning in sensation. The magic in his veins was working overtime to block out the intense pain; to replace it with exhilaration and a need for continued violence. Those feelings tore at his attention until he felt like he'd split in half- tear straight down the center until there was a sickening snap of his halves coming apart.

He saw something in front of him. A shape, dark, impossible to place. His brain screamed threat. Urged him to act when he could barely keep breathing. Felt hands on his body and fear forced him to move. Reaching out, Graves grabbed their arm and attempted to yank them down to the ground with him. Squeeze, break the hand, twist it til their vision goes white.

[color=dc143c][i]'Stop stop stop stop-'[/i][/color]

[sub][color=dc143c][i]'You'll die if you don't.'[/i][/color][/sub]

Then he felt the ground shift underneath him. Heard the air twisting, bubbling, turning in ways it was never meant to. Dozens of shapes in his vision, even less defined than the person he'd grabbed. Ephemeral, phantom things, dragged up from the depths of hell to take him there. He'd never been particularly religious but if someone told him this was how the sinful were delivered to the lake of fire he'd believe them. It took Graves a moment to recognize something approaching speech in his ears. Whispers, a voice unfamiliar, growing louder and louder as something wrapped about his form and pinned him to the ground. Cold iron appeared around his wrists, heavier than anything he'd ever felt before.

[i][color=dc143c]'What the fuck? What the fuck?!'[/color][/i]

The voice in his mind screamed, anguished and desperate and pleading. Terror seized his throat as he screamed, too, thrashing in a vain attempt to escape whatever tormentor had wished this upon him. He dropped whoever he'd grabbed and wrapped his good arm around himself, as if it might somehow shield him from the cacophony in his mind. The thundering of waves against the cliffs swam in his ears. Water filled his lungs yet he could not drown.

[sub][i][color=dc143c]we deserve this[/color][/i][/sub]

He bucked, thrashed, fought with all his draining might to break free from his shackles. He must've looked a madman the way he bashed his skull against the ground, the way he kicked and tore and screamed. Oh how he [i]screamed[/i]. Every terrible dream he'd had since the Glitch came roaring back into his head. Memories of all the people he'd failed. The family he'd hurt. The strangers that had died under his watch. Enos' body sanguinated. Will, lying on his back with vomit in his throat.

With one last howl Graves lifted his head as high as he could and brought it back down against the stone. The voice went silent.
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