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❦ ════ •⊰❂ ¤ ❂⊱• ════ ❦
𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑺 𝑼𝑷 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝒁𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑫.
It's unpleasant, despite what he's been led to believe in the past few months he's been holed up in this wretched place. This whole time, they've been telling him of how he's supposed to be immune to the cold, even at temperatures more than what the human body can actually handle, how he's actually supposed to be stronger in the cold. They've done numerous tests on him, and they have actual theoretical proof on the credibility of these assumptions. He'ssupposed to, that's what they've been telling him. He's supposed to, yet he's not. Not entirely, at least-and August thinks that their stupid fucking theories are bullcrap, anyway.
That's what got them killed in the first place.
He sees white all around him, in the snow piled high on the floor, in the frost covering the drab walls, in the crystal like icicles hanging from the ceiling, in the bodies frozen to death just a few feet away from him.
The realisation of what he's done hasn't quite sunk in yet, because he's shivering on the cold ground he's lying on, there's an incessant pang in his head, his fingers feel like they've been bitten clean off and his nose feels like it has been stuffed with ice- and it probably is, considering the circumstances. He knows he's killed them all, that much he can register, but he doesn't think he's properly processing that fact as well as he should be.
Using his half frozen hands, he pushes himself up to sit, and the pain that jolts within him forces a pained gasp out of him and his breath is fogged when it comes out from in between his clattering teeth. If this goes on for much longer, he might just start losing feeling in his jaw.
His hands come to grasp at the walls of the cryotank confining him, and frost bleeds out of the tips of his fingers rapidly to form another layer of ice over the metal interior. He grits his teeth in equal parts determination and frustration, but his jaw trembles still.
He pushes himself to stand, but the task proves to be torturous with the amount of pain he's in. He lets out an agonised cry of pain when he pulls his other hand out from the ice trapping it to the floor. Drops of blood seep through the newly formed cuts on his hands, but they quickly stop when the wounds immediately freeze over.
He slaps the hand to the other wall and he tries with the little strength he has left to bring himself to stand on the softened bones of his legs and the numbing toes of his bare feet. The ache in his head gets worse the more he struggles, but he doesn't let that deter him. He's decided he's going to get out this dreadful place even if it kills him. He knows the reinforcements that were called in before he fucking murdered everyone won't take much longer to arrive here and put him down or worse, send him to another prison.
