On any other day, Leonidas would have loved to have a cold, porcelain mask on his face. For sad that today just wasn't his day.
His scream died out, breath sucked out of his very soul, and the world vanished in a violent blur of white and black.
The world had vanished, a connection to his body? Not so much.
Leonidas could feel a million lacerating needles digging into his face, eyes included. The mask was fusing into his skin like an insidious omen of bad luck. The sensation was far from thrilling, but the fear of something fusing into him, something unknown, was enough to overshadow the horrid torture.
Leonidas clawed at his face, nails digging into the rigid surface of the partially fused white mask. They bounced off harmlessly, causing Leonidas to grimace in pain…not that he wasn't already doing it.
