Slowly But Surely

You're Awake!

Steven wakes up on the ground. Surrounded. There's shuffling all around him. He grunts, and with a start, sits up. It isn't graceful, or fast. He slumps over, cradling his head in his hands with a groan, his head still feeling like it's being split open by a hammer. His eyes are closed, though even if he tried to open them, all he would be able to see is.... blur.

He hears movement and voices, like the first time he woke up in the current state he was in. He could almost feel his heartbeat in his brain, the throbbing so intense the only thoughts that are present in his mind at the moment are; throwing himself out of a window.

He felt a hand set itself on his arm, heavy and big. The only response he can give is a pathetic whimper. He hears many footsteps, more than before. His ears still ringing and his eyes still blurred, he's put in a strange spot, confused and helpless. He hates being powerless and useless. He feels as if his existence is only useful when he's well, useful. But right now;

He's useless.

Though, he can't find it in his mind what he needs to be useful for at this moment. This moment, its about him. They're all here.... whoever 'they' are, presumably more of the gems. But maybe that's why he wants to be useful. Because he's not supposed to be weak, or dependent. Because he's supposed to be a savior, a liberator

He hand on his shoulder begins to shake his being gently, as he comes back to, connecting voices, figures and light touches around his back and shoulders. He groans.

Bismuth was shaking him.

He puts a hand on his face, making sure he doesnt stab himself with the sharp, yet small tusks jutting out of his mouth. The ringing in his ears begin to cease, yet he still can't seem to open his eyes. But he can hear, so that's a start.

"-teven?" A voice asks, deep yet feminine. His only response is a weak "mmmmhm.", which warrant gasps of all different tones. "You're awake!" A voice practically screams in his ear, making him flinch and hiss. The voice was cracky and young, full of relief. Amethyst. "Hhhh.... not really." He says, hoarsed.

A few chuckles from across the room. How many people were here? He thinks to himself, as the room goes deathly silent, a new experience from the past.... however long he was in and out of consciousness. Could've been an hour, could've been a week. The pain he feels all over is way to real though, it felt fresh, he assumes he wasnt out for that long.

Steven takes a moment to be deathly aware of his scars of, as Garnet put it, corruption. He felt as if parts of his body were scaled over, dried blood over scales and ripped skin. He shivers. It's just like the Steven he saw in his dream. He felt a tail curl around him, assuming it was lion. But it wasn't soft and silky like fur.

It was tough and brittle, as if it were scaled over the same as the patches on his body. He cringes at the feeling of scales on his bare skin, retracting his tail to lay behind him. It wasn't long, nor was it short. Maybe as tall as his waist up to his... horns?

He felt the cold, crystalline jutting out of his forehead, resting just above his curly hair. He became all too aware of his claws as he gripped his bare legs, drawing blood. He hissed at the realization, sheathing his claws.

The pain soon became numb, and the claw lines turned a pale pink, leaving no trace of blood, only a hot pink liquid at the edges of the cuts. He couldn't see this, of course, but the others could.

Of course, his eyes. They had patterns over them, almost as if it were gem glyph, close, or wasn't legible if it was. They were formed as cracks, hot pink and, albeit sort of cool looking in a weird way, burned like hell. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, covered by the glowing of the mural-esque patterns. He ignores the pain as best as he can, whimpering slightly, not bothering opening to his eyes at all, knowing the pain that follows in pursuit soon after.

"How're you feeling?" He feels a gentle hand get placed on his hand, that is resting on the ground, holding up his weight. The voice was soft and gentle, and very comforting. "......Connie?" He asks soft and quietly after a minute pause, collecting his thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm here." She says gently, almost whispering. He chuckles, well, more like a sudden exhale. "....not great, to answer your question, hehaaa..." he draws out the chuckle, his voice weak and trembling. The floor underneath him feels unstable, like it could break open and swallow him whole any second. So does the whole room, like its closing on on him ready to squish his body under the pressure. Panick attack.

"C-can someone, uh..." he pauses, rubbing the sweat off of his forehead. "Gh....get my meds?" The rooms goes quiet for a second. "Which ones?" A voice asks, more gruff but still light and almost squeaky. His dad. "Hhh.. I think I ran out of benzodiazepines? If I did, get my antidepressants." He squeezes out barely, panting. He hears a quiet hum and footsteps rushing down the stairs.

He clutches his chest, the one Connie was holding, causing her hand to slide out of his.

"Just, hehe, give me sss- a second." He wheezes.