<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/DLM6Wh8.jpg)</div><br/><strong>NAME:</strong>Leasick Valshanner<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>June 16th, 2021, early morning<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>SOPHE Infirmary<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Mallory<br/><strong>EXTRA:</strong><br/><strong>WEARING:</strong>Standard medical ward patient pajamas, also covered in various band-aids and bandages.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Leasick had not slept that night, in the infirmary, where he’d mainly been kept for observation, following the botched mission. He sat upright in bed, staring down at his left hand, slowly balling his hand into a fist before relaxing it again, repeating the motion over and over in silence. He kept thinking it over, what happened, playing the scenes in his head, attempting to process it, understand it. But… it was impossible. There were too many pieces missing.<br/><br/>His arm… It was covered up once more, encased in protective plating meant to suppress the deadly fires that could lash out at any moment. At least, that was the idea. After last night, his demonic arm felt different. The pain was still there. It was always there, clawing at his flesh, like needles sinking deeper still, slowly but surely killing him. However, he felt more… in control. That night, the way he used it, the way he fought, it had shifted things slightly from it being a dangerous weapon that was sewn onto him to an actual extension of himself.<br/><br/>Maybe.<br/><br/>Is what he thought, anyway.<br/><br/>Or perhaps hoped was a more fitting word?<br/><br/>Raising his head, he peered across the only other currently occupied bed of the ten present in the ward. There lay Mallory. She hadn’t stirred since they both were brought in. People had come and gone to visit them both, including master Azmodiel and big sis Oei. He’d spoken to them, told them to the best of his ability what he could recall, and shared his own frustrations and lamentations over the failure of the mission. And how could he not be frustrated? After all, out of all those present in the building, he had by far the most experience. This was on him. He’d fucked up.<br/><br/>With a deep sigh, he leaned back against the pillows and the wall, grunting slightly in discomfort as his body reminded him how much it was aching. Though he’d been injured far worse in the past, the soreness, band-aids, and bandages were testimony of his failure and would remind him that he could not do so again in the future. He had to be better, become stronger, especially if he wanted to bring Rai’Den to justice.<br/><br/>His brow furrowed.<strong>“I’ll get that bastard… and that Mepholes psycho, as well,”</strong>he muttered to himself, hands balling into tight fists as anger flared for a very brief moment, only to fade as quickly as it had come.<br/><br/>What would happen next, he thought.<br/>