Romans & histoires Very Blue Veins In Arms

Black spots danced in and out like they were testing how far they could go before I dropped. I waited it out, counting sheeps slowly in my head until the spinning eased enough for me to stand. Each step toward the mirror felt heavier than it should have. And when I finally looked? I went completely still. The veins had changed though they appear faint and one will miss if you weren’t looking for them. But they were darker now and it wasn’t just around the mark. They’d spread slightly witj thin lines branching just beneath the skin creeping downward toward my chest like cracks in glass.

Crying definitely didn't help with my dehydration. "May I see your arm that your IV was in?" she asks nicely. I show her my swollen arm. It was covered in a nasty bruise from about the middle of my forearm all the wat up to my bicep. "OH MY GOD! How long did they leave your IV in after your vein blew? This looks horrible!" She asks.

she replied. Clutching tightly at her arm, he then said, “Listen to me, Vee. I need you to use your hand and work with me to bandage your wound.” Vivian had already calmed down after getting used to the darkness. She knew there were a lot of arteries and veins in the human thighs. Once injured, it might lead to massive blood loss and eventually, death. She did not want to die yet, or at least, she did not want to die here. She asked calmly, “Is it an artery or a vein?”

I placed one hand on the mid column of my neck trying to stop the uncomfortable feeling. I looked at my reflection on the mirror of the dresser opposite to my bed. My skin turned paler than a white paper. Blue veins were prominent . My irises were deep crimson red. My canines extended not in wolf teeth but vampire's. It had been a long time since I had blood.

I put my hand on my forehead and waited for everything to stop moving. The black veins caught my eye. They were worse. So much worse. Yesterday, they had only been on my hands and wrists, creeping up my arms like dark little rivers under my skin. Now they had spread past my elbows. I could see them clearly through my nightgown, crawling up toward my shoulders. When I touched my neck, I felt the bumpy lines there too. They had reached my collarbone. I was running out of time.

The pain came without warning. Not the dull pulse I’d gotten used to, the low constant reminder that the curse was there and moving. This was different. This was every nerve in my left arm lighting up at once, a white hot thing that started at my wrist and drove straight up to my shoulder, and I knocked the report off the desk getting my sleeve up. The veins had crossed my elbow. I sat very still and breathed through it, both hands flat on the desk, watching the black lines pulse visibly under my skin. Moving. I could actually see them moving, slow and deliberate, branching.

His palm tore away from the stone, leaving a bloodstain that was slowly absorbed by the black rock, as if the stone were licking it clean. "Damn it! You were out for three minutes!" Stefan shouted, his face frantic. Siron coughed, his head throbbing with pain. But inside him, something was different. The weave in his veins, his golden threads, were now adorned with two new, thin strands: one pale blue, one light pink. They were fragile, almost transparent, but they were THERE. "Can you see them?" Siron hissed, showing his veins to Stefan. Stefan narrowed his eyes, then gave a slow nod. "There are... other colors. Very faint. You did it?"

I was sure of it. I had lots of questions, but with the way he kept acting oblivious, I wasn't sure if I should ask. I realized I'd been holding eye contact with him for an uncomfortable amount of time and awkwardly turned away. My gaze shifted to Xlynor. He was leaned back, eyes fixed on the arena and his expression closed and unreadable. My eyes accidentally drifted down to his hand on the armrest, and then I saw it. Black veins visible through his skin, running along his fingers and stretching up into his arm like roots.

The blue veins resembled tributaries of a river. His pulse beat beneath her fingertips. With each beat, it struck her knuckles, at a faster rate than she had expected. “You’re nervous,” she said. His thumb came to a stop in the palm of her hand. He raised his head and looked at her. His blue eyes appeared even darker in the warm light from the nightstand. Around the edges of his pupils were dark gray markings, like ripples on water stirred by the wind. "What about you?" he asked.

Avery stood in the shadows, a few steps away from the bed. When his bare chest was fully exposed under the harsh surgical light, her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze locked onto his skin. Beneath his collarbones and along his ribcage, a dense network of purple and blue marks spread across his torso like a map of hidden wounds. The bruises weren't recent injuries. They were the result of repeated injections, subcutaneous hemorrhaging, vascular necrosis from the cocktail of blockers he had been forcing into his body over the past months.