Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in repose,
Re: board to Death/consumed
His eyelids were too bright. Which didn't make sense, with the roiling maelstrom happening between his temples. Not even as an invisible hand reached out and wrapped around one of his ankles, dragging him back up from the depths towards the surface. His face flickered once, then stilled again. A mirror of his heart giving a stubborn throb in his chest. Those fingers still, biting instead of caressing. Rattling his bones against the hard pavement.
The trickle came next. It started as a dizzying rush of euphoria, condensed into a few seconds like someone was holding their finger on the fast-forward button. It wasn't limited to just himself but spread outwards from his body like a bubble expanding with air, encompassing the other young man hunched over him. A mental-image memory echoing in outward projection, plucking at any nearby open mind it could find: slick pleasure and raw adrenaline that started in his toes and then curled up the entire length of his body, making his spine arch against the ground with a force that resembled violence. His shoulder blades dug into the pavement and so did the back of his head, knocking the Reaper mask off where he'd been wearing it pushed up.
And then his eyes opened. Wide and a little bloodshot. The bubble of his consciousness turned cold with fear, confusion. Ronan slumped back against the ground, chest heaving as he tried to find the precious air that'd been stolen from him. He blinked at the sky, too bright. Not his eyelids, then.
After a minute or two, he focused on the shape of the other silhouetted against the sky, and the bubble turned again, to slow, hazy confusion this time. Who the hell is that? The thought echoed outward from his mind, with no awareness present to reign in his ability. One hand came up to rub over his own chest, as if to reassure himself that he was real. He tried to sit up.