compassion is an illness - [taemin + heron]
[ mwxtaemin ]
The shivers came even in broad daylight when the day’s warmth crashed over Mei Ling. The never ending yawns shook her up even more. Every couple of steps, a yawn. Every few minutes, a yawn. She lost count of how many it had been. The yawns forced her eyes to close-- her body’s way of letting her know what it desperately needed, but to the pleas she remained deaf. This was not by choice. She did not choose this for herself.
Fatigue became her companion ever since she lost the previous one. Whenever the moon rose to greet her, she knew the time where she was most vulnerable came as well. It wasn’t just other contestants or the wild beasts dwelling in the forests that she feared anymore. Night time was when scenes of the past relived themselves over and over. Her arms still tensed as if they could feel the full weight of a body pressing down on them. An overwhelming compulsion inhibited her legs. They wanted to run and to keep running. Even without a destination to run to or a target to run from, they just wanted to run.
( The last words of the dead were far more compelling than anything her powers conjured. )
Her head throbbed as demons dances within it. She had to lay down with her head firmly gripped between her hands in sad attempts to contain the pain. She hated that all she could ever see was phantoms of blood coating her body when she should’ve seen that shadow in the distance approaching her. She hated that all she could hear were the bloodthirsty howls of the sentinel when she should’ve heard the rustling of someone stealing her supply bag.
Well all’s said and done, she caught everything much too late. She barked out a command for the man to let go of the bag. The command and the rasp of her voice grated against her already sore throat. For her to have to fight in this ill condition was too much. Her punch didn’t even connect but she doubted it would’ve even caused much damage in her state. Was she ready to die over a few berries, sharp metal scraps, water bottles, and matches? Logics and strategies would urge her not to but with everything that had been stripped from her, she wanted to put up a fight.
