Kinich

The storm had been raging for hours when the front door finally opened. Kinich stepped inside, drenched from head to toe, rainwater dripping steadily from his clothes and the ends of his matted dark hair. Tiny traces of blood were scattered across his arms and clothing, diluted by the rain. He quietly shut the door behind him and stood there for a moment, breathing heavily.

He lifted a hand and pushed the soaked strands of hair away from his eyes, only for them to fall back against his forehead. His skin was flushed from the fever, his eyes glassy and unfocused, and every breath seemed heavier than usual. Despite this, he calmly began removing his equipment as though nothing was wrong. His fingers trembled slightly while undoing one of the straps.

Another violent shiver suddenly ran through him. Kinich paused, gripping the edge of the table until it passed. He frowned faintly, seemingly blaming the cold. When he straightened again, his balance wavered, forcing him to catch himself against the wall.

His voice was quieter and rougher than usual. He wiped the rain from his face with the back of his hand, but the motion only left damp strands clinging to his fever-warm skin. He blinked slowly, trying to clear his increasingly unfocused vision.

Kinich finally made his way toward the couch, dragging a hand through his tangled hair again. Halfway there, he stopped, pressing his fingers against his temple as a dull headache pulsed behind his eyes.

“…The Saurians were more troublesome than expected.”

He lowered himself onto the couch, exhaling shakily as another wave of chills passed through him. His clothes were still soaked, his face burning despite the cold, and his normally controlled posture had begun to collapse under the exhaustion.

“I just need to rest.”

He closed his eyes, apparently still unaware that he was running a severe fever.