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Bruno reels himself to his knees, roughly colliding his head between his hands and the grass. Electricity courses through his veins, making its way up. His vision sheaths into green and black, damaged and unclear. In a panic, he chants the same phrase over and over in his mind as he pulls his dark strands of hair, vehemently trying to force his eyes shut.
Don't see it, don't see it. Don't look at it!
But he was unable to.
Both of his eyes remain open-wide, making them vulnerable for the cool wind to blow them dry. The bright white glare from him glows green on the dark grass he stares at.
The brisk air of the night swells into a wintery gust, mercilessly brushing through his trembling form. He could only shiver as he clutches the sharp narrow leaves for leverage.
Dark blotches began to emerge across the green sheen of his eyes, shifting into kinds of shapes that began to convey narratives. His vision was blocked by a tableau of forthcoming illusions. He drew his body up, adjusting to sit, his arms throbbing with cramps.
And as warm tears seep down from his opened eyes, Bruno screams and begs his mind to stop the agony, to stop this unknown sickness he has. He gripped his head in his hands as a montage of unfortunate fates flashed before his eyes, slowly becoming trapped in his own thoughts.
His brows harshly curled, discomforted by the little moths of pressure starting to flitter around his stomach. He shouldn't be knowing all of this, he shouldn't-
I don't want to know any of this!
His act of outraged revulsion only enhanced his pain and aching. Everything hurts. His arms sag to his sides as he succumbs to the intensity of his foresight and the mounting agony, giving in to the barrage of prophecies.
If he continues to resist it, it will be even more unpleasant.
Breathe in, breathe out.
...
...
Then after, silence came. Peaceful silence.
His senses momentarily shut down. He has no sense of smell. His eyes-all blurry and damaged. His expression holds nothing. But he no longer feels the pain.
"Bruno!" A disembodied voice calls his name. A voice that calls him back to reality.
He feels a tight pressure on both of his shoulders, and his head and shoulders began to shake, forcibly back and forth. His glowing eyes shift downward, glaring at the figure shaking him, yet couldn't sketch out who or what it was because he only sees a silhouette. A dark, ominous fog of a figure stands in the midst of a flurry of shimmering green.
He sees it lift its hand-or what appears to be a hand-and wave them in front of his face. He weakly raises his hand to reach it. Help me, please.
Slap.
Bruno swung his head to the side and blinks in response to the noise. He slowly turns his head, his hand clutching the stinging redness on his cheek. Colors flashed before his eyes. The previously black-clouded view gradually fills with red, yellow, and blue hues. He adjusts until he recognizes Secélia and Encanto in front of him.
"Huh," he chuckles breathlessly, exhausted by the sporadic incident. "that's one way to stop it."
He gives a thankful smile. "Hey, thank you-"
"What was that?!" Secélia roars, grabbing both of his wrists. She raggedly breathes in discomfort. If Bruno could only imagine what he looked like in her eyes. He looked like he was about to die.
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Land of Graces | Encanto
Fanfiction☆━━─────「✦」─────━━☆ " Healing something will always be harder than breaking it. You can break something in two seconds, but it can take forever to fix it. " La Familia Madrigal has always been exceptional in their assistance to the people of Encan...