[As soon as Cain lands on solid ground, he twists away, rolling across dirt until he's hunched over his own knees in a curl. His whole body is shaking. Feverish chills cut through him in waves, sick with the illness that has plagued him, nausea roiling in his gut. With a heave, he empties the contents of his stomach--just sour, clear bile and lake water, last meal he's had already several hours ago. The vines are still embedded in his flesh, but they appear to be wilted from the struggle if not completely gone.
His head aches. He can't seem to think clearly. The last few minutes of pure adrenaline and survival have briefly washed out whatever had hold of him, but he can feel it beginning to creep back in, like a dark shroud. Coughing violently, he can't yet respond to the boy next to him.]
Shit… something's… wrong…
[Cain manages an animalistic snarl before a rush of power courses through him, driven by his overactive gem, fists punching the ground in bursts of fire to leave scorched marks behind. In pained warning:]
no subject
His head aches. He can't seem to think clearly. The last few minutes of pure adrenaline and survival have briefly washed out whatever had hold of him, but he can feel it beginning to creep back in, like a dark shroud. Coughing violently, he can't yet respond to the boy next to him.]
Shit… something's… wrong…
[Cain manages an animalistic snarl before a rush of power courses through him, driven by his overactive gem, fists punching the ground in bursts of fire to leave scorched marks behind. In pained warning:]
Get the fuck away from me!