The scene became obscure, swallowed by a haze of swirling smoke that drifted lazily through the air, thick enough to distort the atmosphere itself. Through that murky veil, Asher's figure slowly emerged. His previously flawless skin was now marred by soot and dirt, breaking the usual perfection that clung to him.
Sweat drenched his entire body, coating him in a sheen of dampness that made his clothes cling tightly to his form. His once whitish-grey trousers had darkened, stained nearly black, and his hair, normally smooth and pristine, followed the same unfortunate trend, matted and dusty from the chaos.
Asher lifted a hand to cover his nose, instinctively trying to prevent more of the smoke from entering his lungs. He had no real trouble holding his breath; in fact, although he had never tested the limit, he was confident he could go at least ten minutes without breathing if he tried.
