10-04-2018, 02:43 PM
The texture of the scarring was unnerving, the flat of his palm still expecting to find smooth skin. But it was the voicelessness that bothered him most; a unique kind of torture whilst in a room full of strangers lit from the afterglow of the cabaret. It cast him an outsider, not an unusual role it had to be said, but here amongst a congregation of similar misfits it stung surprisingly soundly to realise he was quite alone.
The woman leaned in as if to capture the words clogged in his ruined throat, but there was little to hear. She offered her own instead, sharp and glacial as the shining hair pincered about her chin, though from what she said he began to wonder if she was in fact responsible for his lodgings on the couch. Funnily enough, it was the dismissive spike of her tone that tugged at his lips rather than the care of having rescued him from the floor. It reminded him somewhat of Carmen.
Raffe didn't feel right, but he didn't feel drunk either. In fact he couldn't pinpoint the aftereffect to any drug he'd tried before, though someone had to have spiked his drink. The daunting press of shadow hung against his soul, threatening intermittent panic that felt intolerably familiar; it was not normal.
He checked for his friends, but was not unperturbed to find himself abandoned. Two recognisable faces (and voices) radiated attention, though, and for a moment his curious gaze fixed on the scene -- mostly, it had to be said, for the sheer stupidity of those involved. Most people here were faceless; as well they would want to be when the shit hit the fan (this was Moscow; there was no question that it would).
Those two would probably live to regret the openness of their attendance tonight.
He ought to make himself scarce. Not that Raffe had much in the way to lose should the red devils come swooping down on the scene, but he'd rather not play with the fire of Custody hospitality. He'd had a taste of that; he was not eager for another.
Beside him his companion had by now risen. A sigh swelled Raffe's chest, wheezing frustration, though it seemed pointless trying to stop her when he was chained by this damned silence. He might have blithely followed, just for something to do, but was not quite certain enough that his legs would tolerate his weight. The thought was distracted soon enough, when a sudden thunderclap shuddered through his ears. Raffe's eyes narrowed. He stared.
The woman leaned in as if to capture the words clogged in his ruined throat, but there was little to hear. She offered her own instead, sharp and glacial as the shining hair pincered about her chin, though from what she said he began to wonder if she was in fact responsible for his lodgings on the couch. Funnily enough, it was the dismissive spike of her tone that tugged at his lips rather than the care of having rescued him from the floor. It reminded him somewhat of Carmen.
Raffe didn't feel right, but he didn't feel drunk either. In fact he couldn't pinpoint the aftereffect to any drug he'd tried before, though someone had to have spiked his drink. The daunting press of shadow hung against his soul, threatening intermittent panic that felt intolerably familiar; it was not normal.
He checked for his friends, but was not unperturbed to find himself abandoned. Two recognisable faces (and voices) radiated attention, though, and for a moment his curious gaze fixed on the scene -- mostly, it had to be said, for the sheer stupidity of those involved. Most people here were faceless; as well they would want to be when the shit hit the fan (this was Moscow; there was no question that it would).
Those two would probably live to regret the openness of their attendance tonight.
He ought to make himself scarce. Not that Raffe had much in the way to lose should the red devils come swooping down on the scene, but he'd rather not play with the fire of Custody hospitality. He'd had a taste of that; he was not eager for another.
Beside him his companion had by now risen. A sigh swelled Raffe's chest, wheezing frustration, though it seemed pointless trying to stop her when he was chained by this damned silence. He might have blithely followed, just for something to do, but was not quite certain enough that his legs would tolerate his weight. The thought was distracted soon enough, when a sudden thunderclap shuddered through his ears. Raffe's eyes narrowed. He stared.