[ Steve's hands are all torn up, sliced by the thorns he'd had to break apart to get him and Sylvain free, but they're not healing up the way they should. Whenever he gets too close to any of the fires that have been made, he finds himself skirting away, averting his gaze. Sleep is even harder than it was before, and sometimes he wakes up to the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, his throat raw from coughing.

Whatever they did to them, whatever this "ascension" is, they need to fight against it. They're trying to break them down, to make them lose hope so that they simply succumb to this illness that's taken root in them, but he refuses.

He's not the only one suffering. Sometimes he'll be able to offer a reassuring word, even with his hoarse voice, even with his body twisting on him.

Other times, he'll be too irritated for that. Someone could ask a simple question or look at him the wrong way and he'll snap out: ] What is it? What do you want?

[ When he thinks he might have a moment alone (though that's impossible here), he'll stare into one of the open lesions on the inside of his forearm, watching as teeth-like thorns appear inside the wound. He's heard of a potential cure, and is starting to wonder if it might be worth giving it a shot. ]

[ The last thing they should all being doing right now is turning on each other. Whether or not Steve has received a cure, the moment that he gets wind that someone has lost control of their temper in a dangerous way or is actively attacking others, he'll step in.

It's not them. They're seeing things, or the infection (or whatever it is) has burned through their mind. He's done this before, with the person who matters to him most. He can do it again, and it doesn't matter whether or not his fellow captive thanks him later. ]

Hey.

[ He'll grab them harshly, by the arm or the shoulder — his grip sometimes stronger than it should be, but always firm. ]

Enough. This isn't you. It's whatever they did. Just—

[ But of course, no one's going to make it that easy. ]

[ Steve's not about to give up. There's signs that there is even worse in store for all of them if they don't get the hell out of here, and so he's keeping an eye out for any possible opening.

The sudden appearance of a new, unknown stranger naturally captures his attention, but he's not sure that he can trust his own eyes anymore. He taps on the shoulder of another captive, and then nods toward the newcomer. ]

Are you seeing that?

[ At another point, he wakes up from another vision-filled dream, his head feeling like it might crack in two. But in the haze of coming out of sleep, he sees something he never has before, set into the wall. Cracks in the wall. A heavy boulder that could potentially moved out of the way with brute strength or magic.

He drags himself to his feet and moves toward the area in question to investigate further, still not sure if he can believe what he's seeing. ]