Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in repose,
Élan/Ronan: lucky #7
The shadow-bound shapes of fellow hunters around them were starting to slip and side into obscurity as the night was cast into the full breadth of darkness, true night now, and they were few enough that Ronan found he had an easier time distinguishing individuals as he felt and listened to and tasted the lingering minds around them. Tinkling piano had moved off down the street with their - her, he could tell that much now - partner, and Ronan figured that they too should get moving.
He’d opened his mouth to suggest as much when the man made his mysterious remark, one that sounded more like this was some kind of child’s game: the blind man, in the field, with an axe, etc. Or maybe the cane disguised as a weapon? Ronan was smiling as he bounced a little on the balls of his feet, but then it faltered as quickly as it had come on and one of his hands moved to cover the rectangular shape of his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. Eyebrows came to knit together, and then - hummingbird. Gaze narrowed as he looked closer at the man, and then the smile had returned in smaller, more knowing form as he gathered himself and directed one thought in a slow, deliberate push.
You, too.
“Ah, alright,” he finally murmured, taking a step sideways and watching carefully for the way that he knew the man would adjust himself in relation. “This way, then?” And off threading into the thicket of brush and trees without waiting for a response, still with those thin-spun threads of netting cast out but directed solely behind him this time, on the man that he knew was following. Could feel following.
It was a mistake, not paying more attention to where he was going until he was practically atop someone else, a third figure amidst the trees. Ronan was alerted only by the pop of a branch under a foot that wasn’t his or Élan’s, and his heart leapt into his throat with the violence of a plucked bowstring. Afraid, until his eyes adjusted in the gloom and he could make out the shape of - was that - yes, thank god.
Relief like a cresting wave, and Ronan was pulled forward in the eddied wake of a riptide, towards the shadowed figure who stood just a few clusters of trees ahead. “Ben!”