Ren's nails were burning.
Not his fingers. Not his hands. *His nails* — as if something had decided to concentrate every last bit of the pain right there, in that thin edge between skin and nothing.
He stumbled to the bathroom and turned the tap all the way up.
Plunged both hands under the ice-cold water up to his wrists.
Waited.
The burning didn't stop.
"Stop." He pushed them in deeper. "Stop it."
It didn't stop. The water ran and ran and the pain stayed exactly the same — indifferent to the cold, indifferent to everything, as if it wasn't coming from outside but from within. From something living under his skin that the water was never going to reach.
Then a floating message appeared in front of him.
Red background. Threatening. He had seen it before.
[Time Remaining: 00:00]
[You have failed to meet the blood quota...]
[ACTIVATING AUTOMATIC CONSUMPTION PROTOCOL.]
"What—"
CRACK.
Every nail. At the same time.
"AAAAGHHH!"
The scream bounced off the tiles and came back twice as loud. He collapsed against the sink, both hands pressed to his chest without thinking — and that made it worse, so much worse, and he screamed again before he could stop himself.
When he pulled his hands away the blood was already running down his fingers. Dripping into the white porcelain in a rhythm that was almost calm.
Almost patient.
"My nails—" The words barely made it out. "Where are my—"
Something warm sliding down from his feet. His toenails had torn away too, staining the floor red.
"No. No, no, no—"
He collapsed onto the floor with his back against the wall, breathing too fast for it to do any good, staring at the scene and unable to look away.
The window kept floating in front of him. Still. Unhurried.
[Protocol Complete]
[Consumption: Nails (x20)]
[Mor'khad's assessment: Adequate.]
[The next quota will appear soon...]