Pockets Of Blood Under Skin นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Panic flashed in his eyes, pure, unfiltered panic. “What the hell… are you okay?” I knelt beside him, reaching out to help, but the moment my fingers brushed his skin, he jerked violently and vomited more blood. I pulled back, but my eyes stayed locked on his. Something was wrong. I looked down at my hand, still resting on his arm, and noticed the skin beneath my fingers. His veins were turning black, dark lines spreading out like cracks in glass. They kept moving, snaking up through his chest, his neck, his face, until they reached his eyes.

It weakens me more. It also inflict undesired injuries and peel outer layers of my skin. It gives me first degree burns. Numerous blood also drip from it. Numerous blood pint have I lost. Blood flows and stains every nearby object. My red coloured blood heavily stains and recolours the green coloured wolfs bane coated rope. It also drip down the rope, through am arm and down my body. A huge blood pool currently forms beneath hanging me. Courtesy of my heavily dripping blood. My second skin layer is also affected.

The lashes on their backs were oozing blood. From Tales’ perspective, their backs were a ruin of torn, battered flesh. Deep gashes split the skin, blood oozing and crusting along the edges. Angry welts rose like ridges, some so swollen they looked ready to burst. Bruises spread in dark purples and blacks, merging into a sickening mosaic of pain. The skin was shredded in places, raw and exposed, and blood stained everything in messy streaks. Every inch of their backs screamed of violence, the marks layered so thick they almost blurred together. It was a horrifying sight, a canvas of suffering that spoke of merciless brutality.

Then I felt a sharp sting as something beneath the surface pierced my flesh, drawing blood that immediately disappeared into channels I couldn’t see. The door shuddered.

The symptoms were exactly as Hazel had described them. All seven of them were unconsciousness, sweating and had black veins under their skin. What confused her though, was the location and spreading of the veins. Six people only had few black veins in the abdominal area, while the seventh… it was hard to find places were he hadn't any. Not that she'd seen their whole bodies herself, but the doctor, an old man with glasses, had described it to her and he had taken off the seventh man shirt to let her see.

My face was cut and bruised, one of my cheeks distended and swollen, and I had dark circles under both eyes. My whole body, in fact, was covered in cuts, bumps, and bruises, but worst of all were my arms and legs. My hand and thigh were bandaged, so I couldn’t see the damage there, but my ribs were swollen, the area bloated and clouding into a dark purple which faded out into an unsettling shade of yellow.

Veronica had a plan. "I know how to tell them apart," she said. "The hosts develop a dark, web-like pattern of filaments under their skin. It's usually most visible on the neck and chest." "The problem," she continued, "is that the marks are always hidden by their uniforms. We need a way to make them show some skin." An idea sparked in my mind. I quickly wrote it down on my notepad and handed it to her. She read it and a grim, satisfied smile spread across her face. "Good idea."

‍ Moving under m​y skin. ⁠I pul​led away​. Sat u​p. Looked a⁠t my arm where h‌e'd been holdi⁠ng‌ me. There wa‌s a mark. Dark. Lik‌e a brand‌ but not b⁠urned. Spreadi‌ng across my sk‍in in intri‍cat⁠e pat‍terns‍. Beauti⁠ful‌ an‍d ter⁠rifyi‍ng.

Like being hit by something small and fast from the outside rather than the gun pushing back from inside. Right side. Under the arm. Reached down in the dark and pressed fingers against that side. Found something hot. And open. And Very Wrong. No armor there. The plates covered front and back but joined at the sides with a gap. Small. Just a few inches wide. An unlucky angle would find it. This one had.

She reached out, her hand hesitant, before she firmly pulled back the torn leather of his tunic collar. A sharp gasp caught in her throat. The silver veins were no longer just a subterranean network beneath his skin. The explosion had forced the corruption directly into his outer anatomy. A dense web of raised, iridescent silver scars radiated outward from his collarbone, branching down his chest, across his shoulders, and wrapping around his thick forearms like jagged bands of iron. The light bleeding through the tracks wasn't faint anymore; it was a steady, radiant pulse that cast an eerie glow over the frozen mud beneath his knees.