Jailbreak was.. well.. worse for wear. Brokenrecord had done a number on their body, including electricity and simple gashes, cuts and bruises. Somehow, though, the emotional trauma didn't seem to affect them. They instead felt rather numb, as if nothing had happened, as if a torture had never occurred. Perhaps it was the constant distress. Perhaps it was the guilty, shameful feeling lingering over their head like a cloud. Perhaps it was the depression, the anxiety, both eating away at them with no means to end. It had all just suddenly come to a halt. Jailbreak could say they felt nothing. It was an almost blissful feeling, though also concerning. Their mind was blank, even with the pain radiating through their body and brain. The Guardian supposed they were at a loss for how to feel. They had already undergone so much, so just a bit more had tipped them over the edge, sent them spiraling. They didn't feel crazy. Insane. They simply felt as if they were drifting along, like a piece of driftwood in a river. There was not a care in the world.
A laugh sounded from them as they approached Wind Haven's border, one that sounded almost maniacal. Their gait was sluggish, and they were limping from the damage done to their body. The electricity had done the most damage, though Jailbreak wasn't fully aware of that. It had coursed through their body, but it had also gone through their brain, manipulating the impulses set off by neurons there. Something had changed within the doberman, but it couldn't quite be placed as to what it was. Jail then went silent as they trailed across the border, stumbling along so that they could get back to camp, seek out aid. They needed someone to help with their wounds, after all. They didn't want them to become infected. Jailbreak didn't want to die.
"Hey..! I'm, uh.. back..!"