Just a sample post of mine. Hoping to play Pride.
Slow, labored breathes echoed through the pristine sterility of the medical bay he was being kept in, the painful little huffs and sighs supported by a tube running across his nostrils and a small apparatus enclosed over his mouth and nose. His condition was severe, with a large percentage of his body covered with burns and blisters, his left arm mangled and toasted from the elbow down. As well as a broken leg, torn muscles, and most of his ribs had collapsed in the fall. But he was healing, oddly enough, at an extremely slow rate. Somehow, his face had withstood most of the damage save for a multitude of gashes along its surfaces, and yet, in the night, they had closed and ceased to leak their bloods. Each time the nurses came near to apply small sips of water to burnt, thirsty lips, his heart rate increased a bit and his brain activity heightened. From the outside he was a roasted carcass, barely kept alive...but inside. He was trapped in his own mind, trapped with the beast that he and his brother shared, that inner evil. But he'd been able to resist its seductive allure, had not dove between its fiery, scaly thighs as his brother had done with such perverse glee. And now it came to him in the darkness, spreading its gleaming fangs and dragging that slimy tongue over broken, stained teeth and sinking its misshapen fingernails into his flesh. But still he fought, resisted. It whispered things, whispered of how they didn't care...how none of them had come for him after the explosion, save two who caught him at the mansion. How they'd been content to let him cook and die on that cold floor after he'd sacrificed himself to ensure they got away. And his screams came, violent, powerful...thought to those on the outside it were only a quickening of his breath, perhaps a faint gasp or grunt. And the dance continued, the beast gaining a few steps every round, and Elliott pushing him back at every turn.
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