Ciel
Location - Leaving Franklin
Ciel's vision still hadn't cleared up, even though he'd been still for a few minutes now. His difficulty breathing persisted, not quite to the point of gasping like a fish out of the water, but he definitely would have reached for his inhaler by now if he hadn't left it in his backpack, which as far as he knew had been left in the infirmary. Certainly this did nothing to ease his discomfort, neither did the ominous silence. At least in the infirmary, there were some lights on and the room's other inhabitants carried on a conversation, which served to keep him fairly certain of his own consciousness. As much as in better states he was often quiet himself, the silence was really getting to him.
The eleven year old tried to speak up, but only succeeded in triggering a violent cough, serving as yet another reminder that he was dehydrated and his asthma was acting up. As if he could possibly have forgotten. Being unable to move or speak was possibly one of the worst experiences of his life. Granted, his life before the outbreak was quite comfortable, which only served to put a little bad luck like a zombie apocalypse, the loss of his entire family, the destruction of his hometown, and prolonged estrangement from civilization resulting in advanced starvation in a hyperbolically negative perspective.
Feeling pent up frustration quickly build to seething rage at his own useless state and poor health, Ciel had no choice but to continue what he'd been doing for the last few hours since he'd arrived here: lying still and looking as pathetic as a sick puppy. Which did not at all feel like a natural course of action to a pissed off preteen. But then again, there was remarkably little he could do about it.
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