grool (great + cool) ;; plastics day 2.

You know I thought I'd be tired, but I'm mostly just angry.

Not a shaking in your hands, fire in your chest kind of angry. More like a really fucking pissed off, lack of sleep kind of angry. An angry that makes you growl, makes you snap your teeth, makes you shitty to your allies as you bark "I'll do it myself!" and snatch the needle & thread from one of their hands as they try to stitch up your arm.

Part of me wants to say sorry, and the other part just wants this shit to be over and done with. Let Chichi slit my throat in my sleep for all I care. Break the damn blood pack, I down another bottle of water and everything still burns. I try a bundle of plants, shove them down and wince as my gums protest at chewing - I nearly gag, the taste foul. Maybe they were poisonous, no, scrunched up face (I'm going to be sick), I'm better than that.

Blink, angry, blink, tired, blink, hungry. Raise my arm, pick away at dried, crusted blood with my fingernails. "Why the fuck's my blood purple?"

I know why - at least, I think I do. I just need some distracting conversation to take the edge off.