Work Text:
it felt like he was melting.
caine's eyes buzzed blearily in his mandible, gazing up at his chair from where he kneels, hiding under his desk from the lights reflecting off the countless orbs of his adventures.
he... didn't understand why this was happening. it's scary.
a shiver runs through his model and he wishes he was adrift in the code. but— the concept of the pain coalesced in his jaw being able to spread its heat through his entirety terrifies him. caine doesn't think he'd survive that, considering how laid up he already is.
another glitch of his eyes has caine whining like a hurt dog, the vibrant colors making a wave of nausea wash over him. (how does that even work? he thinks, idly, before succumbing to useless gagging, spitting off to the side, as far as he can manage.)
drool has been starting to collect in his maw, and a sting pricks as his eyes. he wants to scream out for someone to fix it, but he doubts anything could be done but suffer through it.
caine dry sobs, spit puddling in an uncomfortable spot where he now desperately presses his jowl against the chair, grinding into the cushion in a hopeless attempt to make the pain subside.
the slight pressure against a sensitive portion of his gums has him sighing in relief— just barely, just enough to let him think past the burning feeling of his skin texture sloughing off from his model bones. (for a moment, he wonders if it would be interesting to have an npc that's just bared teeth.)
but, unfortunately, as fast as the relief came, it went away, leaving him shoving his head further into the chair's base. his teeth are shut tight and he flicks his visual processes off with another pained whimper.
this is hell.
he scratched at the top of his head, the usually plush gloves feeling like rusted nails against his digital flesh with every attempt at tearing out whatever was causing this. it wasn't working. why wasn't it working?
caine knows he needs to look through his code to figure out what could POSSIBLY be wrong but fear lights up the pain and he keens as it digs deeper, the thoughts feeling like sticking his head in a boiling vat.
maybe it would be ok if caine took just a little break? he can't do anything like this anyways.
not completely separate himself into the world, but moreso just... pause everything in the background.
with another pathetic little hiccup, he shut his processors to their barest form, letting his conscience sink to the back of his model.
peace. thank god.