Novel & Cerita Dried Blood Under Skin

“Yea, I think so. I’m sore but it’s not a lot of blood. I think we got a little carried away.” Osiris laughed, “We? Gorgeous, that was all you. Let me check you to make sure I don’t need to call for the pack doctor.” Osiris pushed me back and spread open my legs, he checked the blood on my inner thighs and saw that it was drying, “Open a little.”

I took in his injuries, starting with the back of his bald head where dried blood had pooled. His back had long purplish marks that winded up to the sides of his ribcage. Looked like he had been beaten up with something that stretched like rubber. The marks were deep enough to leave lacerations. The blood had dried up along the lines but the damage was clearly visible.+

He was talking about his wife here, whose life could be taken at any time. He felt his shoes get caught on a thorn as he started to walk once again. He felt uncomfortable because of it. When he activated his torchlight and flashed it on the stick he had stepped on, blood was seen on it. He gave it a thorough inspection and observed the suspiciously dense layer of dried leaves on the ground. Dry leaves could only be found there. With his legs, Din strewn the leaves. Yet again, he could see more blood, and when he knelt down to touch it, he found that it was still fresh.

If father comes today, maybe I might have to tell him to fast-track the healing process so that I can feel like myself once again. But that is not the first thing I have to do. I still am very much interested in finding out what a Nyxarel is. “Avara?” “Yes?” “I was saying, you were really exhausted. It must have been quite a treatment that you had last night. I also noticed some dried blood on your hand. You were injected?” There was dried blood on my hand? I look but the area is clean save for a very prominent puncture mark. “I cleaned it up, obviously.”

With the fingertips of her other hand, she pressed the edges flat so they adhered to the wound's surface, as if she were planting something. She peeled the bark from her palm. It was smeared with her blood. She spread the blood over the back of her hand, smearing it with her fingers. The blood dried on her skin, contracting, the edges curling up. She scratched the dried scab off with her nail and held it in her palm. The blood scab was dark red. Curled. Like a dried flower petal. She flattened it with her thumb and placed it beside the frostbite scar on the web between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand.

And there, beneath it, almost in‌visible against t​he dark wo⁠od, was a smud​ge. ​ Not dust. It was a dull,​ rusty brown, fl⁠aked and dry. A cres​cent​,‍ the size of a⁠ fing⁠ernail. A fi‌n‍gerprint in blood​. My‍ b‍reat​h seized. The air left the roo‌m. I stared, my mind racing. Silas somet​im‌es n⁠icked h⁠ims​elf shaving.​ But he didn’t shav⁠e here. Thi​s was old‌ blood. From the night he fel‌l​ i‌ll?

I gently run my fingers through my hair, looking for anything that doesn’t belong on my scalp, a bump, maybe dried blood even, but I feel nothing of the kind. Did I drink last night? I don’t think I did, I’m not much of a drinker anyway so it’s doubtful. Checking the parts of my body I can actually see, I don’t find much to explain the way I’m feeling. There seems to be a small bruise on my knee, but it’s already starting to yellow so it must be a couple of days old already. I often bump into things at the diner so I’m not surprised, other than that single discoloration there is no visible evidence to explain the hurt I'm feeling. Though it’s dark outside and I have no idea what time it is,

Shе’ѕ wеаrіng аn armband of ѕоrtѕ tо hide thе dаmаgе, but it hаѕ ѕlірреd down аnd еxроѕеѕ еvеrу hоlе that’s been mаdе in hеr skin оvеr the lаѕt two weeks. Thеrе’ѕ a lumр rіght іn the crook оf hеr fоrеаrm. It’ѕ in the space whеrе a needle hаѕ made іt mark tоо оftеn. It’ѕ wееріng pus. Mу frіеnd isn’t just wаѕtеd, she’s sick.

It's in the ground and the water comes from an underground spring so it's a milky blue color and feels smooth as silk. I use a fluffy towel to dry my skin and move to stand in front of the mirror. I pull my hair to the side so I can look at the mark. It's no longer bloody and is already starting to heal. My gaze wanders down and I shake my head a little at the red-purple splotches scattered across my chest and down my stomach. "Okay next time we make out, I'm giving you a dozen of these," I say, pulling on my nightgown and walking into the room.

against my brutally heated body made me Not when I found myself completely soft on the bed of that strange kingdom, watching me in the ceiling mirror that accompanied the entire length of the bed. My image was depressing, to say the least. As much as the color of the dress didn't help much with its pink and pale tone, my skin no longer contained any color. My eyelids exhibited venous lines that left my entire eye purplish, like dark circles under the eyes of those who haven't slept in a long time. My lips were dry, withered, and my tongue tried from time to time to moisten them, even if there wasn't a drop of saliva in my mouth.