Kaland er Yecine woke to the sound of his younger brother coughing. A wet and miserable noise that made his own chest ache. The sandy substance beneath him shifted with each of his breaths, conforming to his jacketless arms' flesh in ways that felt almost too responsive. Like the bed of material itself was reacting to him.
Monitoring every twitch of damaged tissue knitting back together and… doing something. His head pounded lightly still - the kind of deep, throbbing pain that came from breathing in something he shouldn't have. He'd inhaled his drink once when younger and had to cough out the fluid, but this was thousands of times worse.
