(no subject)
He starts, violently, eyes wide, panicked, scared. Dark eyes, dark and lost--like holes through time--and a face of excrutiating beauty, cheekbones like razors, and he starts, gazing around with wild terror.
"Arkady--" is the first word off his lips, voice cracked like a stained glass window, but when he speaks again his voice is clear golden liquid, a sound so pure it rolls over the tongue like honey. The sound of his voice is tasted, not heard.
"Where am I? How--?"
He raises his hands to his face--the way one pulls off a bandaid, fast, so it won't hurt as much--and shudders with relief and some darker, more terrible emotion he doesn't want to name, when he finds it whole and unmarred. "I'm dead," he moans. "I should be dead."
Ashley Raventon, beauty of the Raventons, collapses on the floor, long hair the color of burgandy pooling around him in tangled strands like rotting silk.
"Arkady--" is the first word off his lips, voice cracked like a stained glass window, but when he speaks again his voice is clear golden liquid, a sound so pure it rolls over the tongue like honey. The sound of his voice is tasted, not heard.
"Where am I? How--?"
He raises his hands to his face--the way one pulls off a bandaid, fast, so it won't hurt as much--and shudders with relief and some darker, more terrible emotion he doesn't want to name, when he finds it whole and unmarred. "I'm dead," he moans. "I should be dead."
Ashley Raventon, beauty of the Raventons, collapses on the floor, long hair the color of burgandy pooling around him in tangled strands like rotting silk.