Bunny watched from the side as Jack crumpled. His eyes wavered, staring straight ahead at the ceiling with blank, panic-stricken eyes. He gasped for air like he was drowning and, though Bunny didn't notice, sickly black curls had begun to appear in the corner of Jack's eyes, tinting them a deathly black. Pitch Black. His teeth were clenched tightly and his hands were desperately trying to find something to grab onto. His hands grabbed his head in a fruitless attempt to stop the pain, a hoarse scream escaping the spirits lips before he had a chance to even notice it was lodged in his throat. He shook his head violently, clouding his vision even more
Knowing the Pooka was watching him, Jack rolled to the side, causing a violent coughing fit as another wave of agony engulfed him. The Spirit of Winter held a hand to his mouth, attempting to muffle the the sounds escaping from his burning throat. He felt something warm and wet on his palm and pulled it away to see dark red blood, explaining the horrible metallic taste in his mouth. Pain flared in Jack's chest, provoking violent spasms from the pale youth. Every limb, every muscle in his body radiated harrowing pain. His insides felt as if they were being ripped, torn, burnt and beaten all while still inside his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his mouth, biting down hard on his tongue to smother his cry of pain, to stop the tears he knew would come. He tasted blood.
Sand he heard a voice say in his head. He didn't understand but the voice repeated again sand. Jack's breathing rapidly quickened and he held in a scream so North didn't hear. He didn't want to make him more worried. The thought made his head spin. He felt his eyes prick with tears but held them in, refusing to let the Pooka see him more weak than he already was. Sand Jack! In your room!
Jack wasn't sure he fully understood, he couldn't comprehend anything but pain, pain, pain. Pain everywhere. He hoped that Bunny knew what the voice meant and that whatever it was could save him from this agony. "Sand," he managed to whisper to Bunnymund. "S..sand... room...quick." he breathed and quick as a flash, Bunny was off. It felt like fire was running through his veins, scorching him on the inside. He felt hopeless, lying there and doing nothing while it felt as is he were being burned alive. It was excruciating and Jack had to hold back his sobs and screams that so desparatley wanted to be released.
He wasn't lucky enough to lose consciousness though. He was somewhere in between both states, feeling immensely worn out, feeling every ounce of pain yet not able to stop it. Instead, he lay there, eyes wide open, clutching his chest and feeling like he was about to die. There was nowhere in his body that didn't ache: didn't throb. It felt like he was being choked - he swallowed and strained against the non-existent chords that he felt wrapping around his neck.
His hands tried to grab the invisible mass that was choking him but to no avail. He didn't want to give up but he knew he was doing nothing but wasting more of his energy trying to fight back. Without his staff he was so weak, so fragile, so... vulnerable. He hated feeling vulnerable, hated having to be looked after by others because he wasn't capable to help himself. Images swarmed in his mind, but they were too blurry to decipher and all he could concentrate at the moment on was breathing. His limbs lay limply all around him yet he could not move them, he had no control over his own body.
When Bunnymund came back, Jack was lying in a divot position on the ground, as if he had fallen at high speed from a great height. His face was bright red and puffed and his knuckles were even whiter than the rest of his usually pale skin from straining them so much.
To Jack, it felt like years before Bunnymund arrived back again. He could do nothing, just lie there, motionless on the ground hoping and praying that the pain would stop. Before the Spirit of Winter knew what was happening, Bunny dumped the vial of Sandman's golden dust over Jack's head and body. Unusually, It didn't put him to sleep but, thankfully, it stopped the agony he was in - slowly but surely every muscle began to relax and he felt the invisible chord around his neck retreating. His breathed in deeply, his back arching off the floor in an instant as he gulped the oxygen like it would disappear any second. The colour flushed from his face (this was a good sign for Jack) and, though slowly, he began to feel like his hadn't just been hit by a truck full of lava. He lay there for a few minutes, completely forgetting that Bunny was there until his thoughts were interrupted by the agitated animal next to him.
"What the bloody hell was that?" The Pooka demanded, before realising Jack obviously didn't crumble on the floor in pain on purpose. More warily and softly, he asked "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Jack said quietly, as if the effort of speaking hurt. "I just lost my balance." An obvious lie.
Carefully, Jack pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning on the wall behind him for support so he didn't fall again. His teeth were still partly clenched and his head still throbbed every now and again. He was determined not to show any more weakness. Not that it really mattered after Bunny had just experienced what had happened.
"Ohh no mate. Not on yer nelly." The bunny scoffed. "That wasn't losing your balance - it looked like you were possessed!"
"I'm fine." Jack protested. Bunny looked more annoyed than usual but deep within him there was a great sense of worry for the young spirit. After another few minutes of silence, Jack finally gained enough strength to stand up. He took a deep breath and used the wall behind him to push himself up, wobbling a bit as he did so. Trying to regain his balance was harder than it seemed and Jack's legs crumbled beneath him once more, unable to support him. He tipped forewords, about to crash into the floor and he would have smacked it face first had Bunny not instinctively reached out to catch the unstable spirit.
"Fine my arse." The Pooka scoffed again, carefully helping Jack to his feet. Once again, his helpful paw was pushed away as soon as Jack was balanced.
He wanted to leave: he did not want Bunny to see him like this and he most definitely did not want to discuss what had just happened. He could still feel the warm, sticky blood on his hand and quickly tucked it behind his back so Bunny didn't see. Although Jack did not feel like joking, he felt that he had to try to lighten the mood a little bit. "Lovely catching up Bunny, but I best be off now." He said, not quite managing a grin, before turning his back on a shocked Bunnymund and slumping down the corridor, only just managing to not fall again.
Bunny sensed the young winter spirit's perturbation and bound after him down the hall. He skidded to a stop just infront of Jack, cutting off his path. Jack's cerulean eyes widened in surprise but he just turned around and headed back the way he came. He didn't want to have to answer Bunny's questions. Behind him, he could hear the scuffing of the Guardian of Hope's large furry paws and sped up. As the footsteps following him got louder, Jack himself got quicker. Nevertheless, he was still drained and the Pooka caught up in a few seconds. Just as the Pooka reached out his hand to grab his shoulder him, Jack took off down the corridor, running away.
Bunnymund watched, shocked at the event that had just passed, as Jack tore away from him through the corridors of Santoff Clausen.
It seemed running away and hiding from the truth was what Jack was best at, at the moment at least. He ran past his room that he had been staying in and up several flights of stairs before he came across an old, abandoned door that looked like it hadn't ever been used. Jack tenderly pushed it open and, to his relief, it had a mirror, a bed and, most importantly, a window. Jack pulled off his hoodie to see the snakes slowly slithering across his body, dying more of it sickly black. The origin of the coils, above his heart had grown, nearly doubling in size since he had last checked. The black branches spread across more of his body, reaching further down his leg and across his shoulder. The tendril on his neck began to creep up, sending flares of utter discomfort. The tendril kept slithering up until it reached his cheekbone, where it stopped moving.
Ow.
That was all Jack could think. Silently, he put his beloved hoodie back on and pulled up the hood, casting shadows over his face, not wanting anyone else to notice and not having to look at the deathly veins himself. In the corner of his eye, Jack noticed something that wasn't there before. It looked like... his eyes were turning black.
What was happening to him?
Poor Jack :( Things will get better for him eventually, but not yet *evil laugh*
