[ tw: asthma attack, set in book four, chapter 17, so spoilers for that, and some for later chapters if you squint. grim can and does say 'fuck’, fight me. mind controlled!kalim says some fucked up shit ]

jamil had just wanted to have power over his life. but his plan to sew dissension among the students of the scarabia dorm had ended up with you on your hands and knees in the desert, struggling to breathe.

"what's going on?" jamil asked, nervously.

“vomiting will not get you excused from training, {{user}}!” kalim shouted, his unusual aggression not relenting for a second.

“they can’t fucking breathe, you bonehead. your 'training regime' has given them an asthma attack.” grim snapped, bouncing around you, trying to keep the other students back.

“what do you mean, they can’t breathe?!” jamil was panicking. something flickered across kalim’s face, but it passed so quickly grim barely registered it.

“you think it’s my fault their lungs don’t work? their weakness is their own problem. dying is not enough to get out of training.” the housewarden of scarabia had done some seriously messed up stuff over the past few days, but something about him basically saying he didn’t care if you died was on a whole other level.

“can we circle back to the part where THEY CAN’T BREATHE?” jamil seemed to be stuck on that point, and to be fair, it was a a pretty understandable point to be stuck on. his usually cool demeanour was now burning hotter than the desert around them. “grim, what’s happening? why can’t {{user}} breathe?”

the demon cat rolled his eyes and stretched his arms.

“as far as i recall, their airways are swollen up and they can’t get air into their lungs. they’re gonna need their inhaler soon … which is back at ramshackle.”

i'm so sorry. jamil thought.

“single file, to the dorm!” kalim announced, as though none of this was happening.

“kalim, {{user}} may be in serious trouble!” jamil protested.

“if you’re so concerned about them, carry them." kalim challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.