Sigma had curled into a ball beneath a tree before she finished. Now that there was a chance he might survive, it seemed, the vines had begun to bother him again. He fought them off for a few minutes, moving from tree to tree as they chased him, but as the tenth minute approached he gave up, falling still, laid on his side with his knees to his chest.
Once Homura had erected the tent he gathered the last of his mechanical strength and broke from their grasp, though red welts had formed around his ankles (his wrists had no organic skin to devour). After she had explained her plan, Sigma did not wait to discuss her kindness: leaving the hell of the jungle behind him, Sigma ducked into the tent. Now that he was out of the rain he yelped in pain, not realizing how much the torrent had harmed him until it no longer beat against his back. His consciousness swimming as the veins in his head beat loudly and threatened to burst, he felt as if he radiated heat, and realized his condition would prove deadly if he didn't rest at once. His clothes were sopping wet and he removed his shirt with more concern for survival than privacy - the old man was well toned, making it darkly hilarious someone herculeanly large should be left helpless against an invisible foe. Should Homura care to look, there was a seam across his shoulder where tanned olive "new" skin on his arms met a sickly grey complexion, and then it was gone as Sigma removed his boots and burrowed into the sleeping bag.
He brought the blanket to his neck as he removed the rest of his wet clothes. The soft fabric felt so clean and warm after such long suffering that it was a blessing to the dying man. Between chattering teeth and words slurred from blue lips, Sigma attempted to express his overwhelming gratitude. As far as he was concerned in his agony, it was the most undeserved and charitable thing anyone had ever done for him. "Wh..y help me? H-How can I th-thank you, Homura?"
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Once Homura had erected the tent he gathered the last of his mechanical strength and broke from their grasp, though red welts had formed around his ankles (his wrists had no organic skin to devour). After she had explained her plan, Sigma did not wait to discuss her kindness: leaving the hell of the jungle behind him, Sigma ducked into the tent. Now that he was out of the rain he yelped in pain, not realizing how much the torrent had harmed him until it no longer beat against his back. His consciousness swimming as the veins in his head beat loudly and threatened to burst, he felt as if he radiated heat, and realized his condition would prove deadly if he didn't rest at once. His clothes were sopping wet and he removed his shirt with more concern for survival than privacy - the old man was well toned, making it darkly hilarious someone herculeanly large should be left helpless against an invisible foe. Should Homura care to look, there was a seam across his shoulder where tanned olive "new" skin on his arms met a sickly grey complexion, and then it was gone as Sigma removed his boots and burrowed into the sleeping bag.
He brought the blanket to his neck as he removed the rest of his wet clothes. The soft fabric felt so clean and warm after such long suffering that it was a blessing to the dying man. Between chattering teeth and words slurred from blue lips, Sigma attempted to express his overwhelming gratitude. As far as he was concerned in his agony, it was the most undeserved and charitable thing anyone had ever done for him. "Wh..y help me? H-How can I th-thank you, Homura?"