Being hit with the dust, pollen, whatever it is: it activates a old and buried deep panic within him of some unknown substance meant to harm him.
As does not being able to resist taking a breath until it dissipates, because it doesn't disperse, and there's no choice but to keep inhaling it and only adding to the choking feeling as if the vines wound around his arms and hands have reached up to his throat. Maybe it's his imagination but they could be there while he doesn't open his eyes like that'll block out the horror around them.
It doesn't. There are cries and screams echoing around them even as he grits his teeth, attempting to force nausea back down from how it's wracking him. The lack of air isn't helping though now it's more from panic and what's perceived where Claude's mind is helpfully filling in the blanks to noises he can only guess at.
Vertigo makes the ground shift beneath him as the dizziness gets too much to bear and he retches, but eating next to nothing for so long means there's nothing which comes up. Just another uncomfortable contortion of muscles, and he opens his eyes when it feels like insect legs are climbing over him.
Claude soon discovers he wishes it was. The vines are the color of his skin now, with ooze spreading and bringing something along with it, and now he struggles with his bonds, as if there's any chance of escaping.
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As does not being able to resist taking a breath until it dissipates, because it doesn't disperse, and there's no choice but to keep inhaling it and only adding to the choking feeling as if the vines wound around his arms and hands have reached up to his throat. Maybe it's his imagination but they could be there while he doesn't open his eyes like that'll block out the horror around them.
It doesn't. There are cries and screams echoing around them even as he grits his teeth, attempting to force nausea back down from how it's wracking him. The lack of air isn't helping though now it's more from panic and what's perceived where Claude's mind is helpfully filling in the blanks to noises he can only guess at.
Vertigo makes the ground shift beneath him as the dizziness gets too much to bear and he retches, but eating next to nothing for so long means there's nothing which comes up. Just another uncomfortable contortion of muscles, and he opens his eyes when it feels like insect legs are climbing over him.
Claude soon discovers he wishes it was. The vines are the color of his skin now, with ooze spreading and bringing something along with it, and now he struggles with his bonds, as if there's any chance of escaping.