Bright, he says. The admonishment nearly comes, too—Regis cracks an eye, thinks about turning his head—but Dettlaff goes on, precisely when he ought. Perhaps he's learnt just how long any given silence between them can stretch before it's sure to break. The character of quietudes. Instinctive? Yes, in all likelihood, he's come to know them without having tried.
A warming thought flowing among warm thoughts. Fantasy and memory intermingling. Sun's warmth and crypt's chill seeking homeostasis. Fragility reduced by degrees no less profound for their microscopic breadth. In the distance, towering things. Margins softening. Mountains. Air's flavour borne through the skin. Whose body is this? He is drinking from himself—
And that's when he knows it's time to stop.
Regis carefully extracts his teeth from the impressions they've made—short of puncturing, he is always so aware and so careful—but doesn't take his mouth away, lingering alongside the wound. The barely perceptible movement of his body, rhythmic, stirred by his pulse. He breathes in, a soft suck of cool air across skin—breathes in like he's going to speak, and doesn't.
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slides back in with a bad powerpoint effect, hello
A warming thought flowing among warm thoughts. Fantasy and memory intermingling. Sun's warmth and crypt's chill seeking homeostasis. Fragility reduced by degrees no less profound for their microscopic breadth. In the distance, towering things. Margins softening. Mountains. Air's flavour borne through the skin. Whose body is this? He is drinking from himself—
And that's when he knows it's time to stop.
Regis carefully extracts his teeth from the impressions they've made—short of puncturing, he is always so aware and so careful—but doesn't take his mouth away, lingering alongside the wound. The barely perceptible movement of his body, rhythmic, stirred by his pulse. He breathes in, a soft suck of cool air across skin—breathes in like he's going to speak, and doesn't.