Re: In person: Misha B/Damian W
[That moment of lucidity did not extend long enough for Damian to understand why Misha's gaze dampened as the ether took hold once more. In truth, the man could not even see the angel, not as a person or a being, so much as a warm, near light that glistened in silver. He allowed it to lead him toward the clot that shored up, rimming from periphery to directly opposite them. It thumped like a heart, and there was some hesitancy in Damian, but it was brief, and it was dwarfed by his agreement to whatever it was he had agreed to. He did not remember, but it kept him feeling calm.
He climbed in where he was led, and it was like climbing into the chamber of a heart, the muscle contracting, expanding, breathing, bleeding all around. It was deafening. Damian wished to put his hands to his ears, but he forgot both hands and ears and experienced the moment as if he were blood being oxygenated and moved along the circuitry of a foreign body.—The way Misha saw it, the man sat in the backseat somewhat slackly, though his hand remained snared in the angel's. His gaze shifted, but there was little register there.
After a moment, however, he did sit up, his spine stiff, and he looked to his right, toward his boyfriend—though the point of his gaze was offset about a foot.] Does blood die when it leaves the body? [He spoke without any regard for the driver, obviously.] We are to be shed. [He clung then to Misha and attempted to gather himself in narrow lap as much as was possible, dirty feet on the upholstery.]