preston rawlings, psychic accountant (ex_clerk820) wrote in rooms,
Re: telepathic link: loki/preston r
[Maybe it is the amusement that does it, or maybe the screaming, the acidic screaming of the insults and the stab of needle and thread that is so like everything he loved telling him he was not real, that he was wrong, that there was something inside him that could never be loved.]
Not my hell. Not dad's hell. Not mom's.
[Preston's emotion was strong. His power, this power, all emotion and connection, was strong too. He might have been mortal, but he wasn't yet sick, and he had strength. Not to protect himself. Here it was just hatred and a child staring into the blackness and refusing to give up. He colored his words with the sounds of his father, not screaming but serious words that tasted of burnt Thanksgiving turkey.]
The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and hell gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what he had done.
[Preston's emotions grew flames. The connection began to burn. The hatred was not simple, not connection. It was consuming. It was suicidal. It was the absolute certainty that existence would end in nothing but pain, and there was nothing on the other side of it.
In the vision a lake of sulfur burned forever. It was filled with people who screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Everyone, for in Preston's heart his fear was that there was no justice, there was no goodness. Everyone burned. He burned. Everyone connected to him burned, too.
Half the minds in a mile radius collapsed under the pressure.
Preston's identity vanished in a sizzle, and his mind consumed whatever it touched.
And just as abruptly, the agony of the connection snuffed out like a flame.]