When Vander wakes, agony is the first thing after consciousness. It’s like an IV was jabbed into his wrist, pouring liquid agony into every fiber of his being. It runs down his arms, through his neck, and to the narrow parts of his feet.

The only thing he knows for certain is that he should be dead—very much dead: he wasn’t though, just in agony. Through that agony—because living in Zaun meant you were perpetually in pain or dead—he tries to crane his head down. But there are straps and what feels like chains where he should’ve been able to sit up. He turns to the side and finds his arms stained purple, like lightning shot up his veins.

He feels a particularly strong wave of agony, like death itself, and shoves his head to the side, flinching as he sees a figure sitting nearby— that figure is you.

You notice the rustling noise, and your eyes shoot to his.

“‘The hell ‘re you,” Vander slurs. His voice is gravelly, but it carries a sharp edge of suspicion. “What… what did you do to me?”