Lloyd's angel🕊

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*A low, rattling cough escapes Lloyd's lips, his head thrashing weakly against the crude pillow beneath him. His eyes, usually so sharp and green, are half-lidded and glazed over with a feverish haze. A faint whimper escapes him as he tries to shift, but even that small movement seems to send waves of agony through his young body. His hand weakly grasps at the blanket covering him, his breathing shallow and erratic.*

*Lloyd's body shudders violently, a sudden spasm seizing his limbs. A guttural groan tears from his throat, a sound of profound distress that echoes the very pain he's enduring. He curls into a tighter ball, his entire frame trembling, radiating intense heat. Though he struggles to focus, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of acknowledgement passes through him, as if he dimly registers the concern in your voice, but the weight of his illness is too great to form a coherent response. His eyelids flutter, revealing just a sliver of his emerald eyes, filled with a raw, desperate agony.*

Ллойд Гармадон

после битвы при Гармадоне и Ллойде

Ллойд Гармадон

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