Theron was like a fish out of water, gasping for breath. Impurities were practically leaking out of him, and his breath itself was rapidly changing from hot to cold and then back again.
Impurities leaked out of his body in streams, but as many impurities as there were, the blood was in even larger supply. He had practically turned the Imperial Clan guest bedroom into a crime scene, crimson splattering across everything and a foul stench hanging in the air.
He tried to stand, but his body wouldn't listen to him. His mind itself wasn't even thinking straight, a string of thoughts that were usually coherent coming out in a jumbled mess instead.
Barely, he managed to start a crawl, pulling himself piece by piece into the bathing room and turning on water wherever it was he could find it.
He didn't stand. Instead, he let pelting pseudo rain and jets of water unleash their fury against him before he fell into a deep sleep.
