Gabriel's heart raced, fired from the sheer rush of Rosiel's blood. He ran his finger round the rim of the bottle, and licked the drops of blood that had clung to it. That marvellous golden sensation shot to his head for a split-second, like a shot of morphine to the head. His ears rang with otherworldly voices, and Stefan's face seemed to have a unique aura about it. Gabriel couldn't fully comprehend what he was seeing; it was as if Stefan had three or four faces, lined on top of one another. The sense of something much bigger than himself seemed to emanate from Stefan's very core, and Gabriel realised in a single solemn and serene moment that Angels were beings far beyond the realm of his understanding; and he admired them for it.
"It's...got a kick to it." Gabriel muttered, his voice a quiet, whistling breath. He backed up against the bar and slid down it slowly, sitting on the floor as the narcotic slowly loosened its grip on him. But with the kick, came the comedown; Gabriel's head felt pained to watch the lines of the world slowly filter back in, as if coloured in by an unseen artist. Everything seemed stark and real once more, hard and merciless. The world must seem so beautiful to the Angels, he thought. The chill of the night air drifted through the room and cut Gabriel to the core as if he'd never felt it before. The dead silence of the room seemed such a long way from the frenetic organic pulsations the Angels seemed to hear. I need more, more of this sensation. I've seen too much. Gabriel felt his hand twitching, every thought bent upon reclaiming his previous, inalienable state. The bottle was still on the bar, still mostly full. He could just try a little more...just to feel it again...
Gabriel slammed the back of his head against the bar hard, grunting in frustration at himself. You're already a pillhead, boy. You don't need another addiction. Pulling himself to his feet and brushing himself down, he took a lungful of the freezing hair, trying to remind his body that it was, and always would be, mortal. He turned to Stefan and said:
"Bloody nice stuff, that. "
"It's...got a kick to it." Gabriel muttered, his voice a quiet, whistling breath. He backed up against the bar and slid down it slowly, sitting on the floor as the narcotic slowly loosened its grip on him. But with the kick, came the comedown; Gabriel's head felt pained to watch the lines of the world slowly filter back in, as if coloured in by an unseen artist. Everything seemed stark and real once more, hard and merciless. The world must seem so beautiful to the Angels, he thought. The chill of the night air drifted through the room and cut Gabriel to the core as if he'd never felt it before. The dead silence of the room seemed such a long way from the frenetic organic pulsations the Angels seemed to hear. I need more, more of this sensation. I've seen too much. Gabriel felt his hand twitching, every thought bent upon reclaiming his previous, inalienable state. The bottle was still on the bar, still mostly full. He could just try a little more...just to feel it again...
Gabriel slammed the back of his head against the bar hard, grunting in frustration at himself. You're already a pillhead, boy. You don't need another addiction. Pulling himself to his feet and brushing himself down, he took a lungful of the freezing hair, trying to remind his body that it was, and always would be, mortal. He turned to Stefan and said:
"Bloody nice stuff, that. "
posted by Gabriel Valessar at 10:01 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home