trick or treat :3
Trick >:3
And since you've sent me *checks notes* way too many boops, you get maximum damage.
[The wound] trickled with a clear liquid. Jon had once read somewhere that it was what a body did when it didn't have the resources for a proper cicatrisation. This, somehow, wasn't a surprise. He'd visibly lost a lot of weight during that month. Not that a year of stress and paranoia had left him with any to spare in the first place.
The gaping hole in place of his voice box had been sown back using a thick black thread, and had probably suffered no prior process of disinfection. It felt like barbed wire with each of his inhales, scrapping against every ragged breath he drew in.
He looked terrible. Far from who he had been. And deep down, he knew the Circus wasn't the one to blame for that. It all came down to the Institute, didn't it? That was what was changing him like that, into that shell of a man. Losing its humanity and personhood. A monster.
The Archivist.
