For certain points to be clarified, the night prior to the rude awakening of the male dormitory, a few events occurred. For starters, the whole group had teased Acherus over and over when he had finally returned ("Oh look, the engaged guy is back, did you two have fun doing what you should not have been doing?"). They had gone to bed in relatively good moods, save Lethe, who still could not get over Lacier.
Cocytus dreamed. What he had dreamt about, he could not remember. However, it made him sweat and it freaked him out to think about it. The whole group felt emanations of fear from him throughout the night in his sleep. Then he started feeling pain.
When the scream in the morning came, it was quite obvious that Cocytus was not feeling very well. One could look at him and tell. You could see from his eyes closed tightly shut as if in pain, which he probably was. Or the way his muscles were tensed so hard as if he was carrying something several times his own weight. Or the blood-stained, actually blood-soaked bedding. Yes, the blood was a definite giveaway. But most people who witnessed it agreed that it was his hands that were the biggest sign that something was wrong. Well, not exactly his hands, his hands were just clenched as tightly as his muscles, it was his wrists. His blood vessels, to be precise. Where the blood vessels should have been under the skin, they had somehow contrived to rip out of his flesh and dangle out in long, bloody threads and tendrils which went further and longer than his hands by at least six inches. The poor person who slept under him was the one who had shrieked when he was awakened by drops of blood falling onto his forehead from an overhanging artery. That person had rushed out from his bed and stood there staring at the gruesome sight. The lines of skin which had been torn out with the emergence of his blood vessels still remained as a ragged wound, seeming like a grosteque tattoo of crimson. In some places, you could just make out a little bit of bone through the cover of red.
Cocytus himself was simply lying on the bed, saying, "Is my bed soaked with blood? I can feel how wet it is. Please do me a favour and don't ask whether it hurts. Ow. Ow. Ow." He paused, and started repeating. "Ow. Ow. Ow ow ow ow. Please help me get a teacher. Ow."
The once white bedding had turned completely crimson. Not an inch of it was the same chaste white that it was just a few minutes ago. It was so saturated with blood that it was dripping.
A large group which had been watching quickly grew into a group comprising everyone in the dormitory. Even Gerdion Eryfi was there, watching with horrified envy.
Phlegyas ran out as soon as he saw what had happened and tried to look for a teacher to help while Acherus attempted to heal Cocytus, but the wounds were large and the immense waves of pain emanating from Cocytus to the whole group did not exactly help his concentration. He was surprised that Cocytus had the willpower to not scream. If the scale of pain were mountains, his would have rated at least two and three-quarters of an Olympus, though he didn't believe in that pantheon.
A couple of teachers soon arrived, the draenix Kara and Mr. Ary. Karasondrias quickly cordoned off the area while Mr. Ary, surprisingly, healed Cocytus much the same way Acherus had, but with a much stronger force. No one ever thought that Mr. Ary knew healing magic. Acherus' wounds sealed up quickly and the muscles inside that were torn quickly reknit themselves. By this point, Cocytus had lost so much blood it was a wonder he still had some more to bleed out and looked extremely pale. Mr. Ary swiftly carried him to the medical bay as Kara barked out, "Well, what are you all staring at? Do you want me to punish all of you?" With which words, she strode out swiftly, the only evidence of anything mysterious happening being the bloody bedsheet. The girls were quickly updated on the situation by Acheros.
"Oh Archon, of all the so-called abilities he could have! I wonder how he's coping with the pain." Kestrel worried endlessly about her significant half, a trait extremely unlike her efficient self. In actual fact, Cocytus was doing fine. He was just lying in one of the bay's beds on a drip. Which is a great deal harder than one would believe, considering that IVs are meant to be sent directly into your bloodstream, and all his veins and arteries were just hanging around. Out of his skin. From slightly above the wrists, all the way down. The healing was not foolproof, and he would bear scars trailing down. He was, quite simply, thinking, "Huh. That wasn't so bad. Painful, yes, but damn if this isn't cool.". He fiddled around with his arteries. "How the heck is my hand getting blood anyway?" He felt his hands. He could definitely feel the pumping of the blood through his hands. The arteries and veins themselves appeared to throb with each heartbeat, but blood was not flowing. Well, it was, but somehow, in response to his desire to not bleed all over the bed again and to preserve his blood, it simply did not flow out of the end of the blood vessels. And the thought that perhaps, he could control blood? Could he? His first response was, don't be such an idiot. His second response was, nobody's around, if it doesn't work, no one will know. If it does...
He visualised blood dripping out of his dangling blood vessels and closed his eyes. Seconds passed. Nothing. Huh. So it didn't wor-
He felt a wetness suffuse his blanket. He opened his eyes and true enough, blood dripping slowly from his veins was wetting the bed.
He whispered very quietly to himself and projected to the rest of the group. "Ho...Ly...Shit."
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