[ Standing there, motionless for a while, Gabriel looks directly at her. These visions are probably a sign of fatigue, mental strain — it's no lie that he is tired. His fingers stir to curl inward, around the paper in his hand, crumpling it into a creased ball, crushing it. Finally, he turns back to the supply room door to check it again. It's locked. The keys have been returned.
It's locked. He unlocks the door, opens it.
No one is here, and today's inventory list hasn't changed. Still, Gabriel doesn't leave, there until he has confirmed what he already knows. Then he locks the door, rechecks it, and darkness swallows up the surrounding space.
The door is unlocked. Elijah emerges from behind it, a dream within a dream that stumbles across the threshold, the crumbling boundary between lucidity and lunacy. Gabriel's hands catch her by the shoulders, but upon contact, her arms begin to disintegrate, dissolving into green, soaking her coat and dripping from the ends of her sleeves. Her eyes are open, sclera discolored, empty before they slowly liquefy in their sockets like molten wax, spilling over her cheeks, onto his fingers trying in vain to hold her together.
Elijah's lips part — to speak, to cry out? To smile?
It's only a dream. The truth is much worse, and there is no waking from it. ]
cw: mild body horror
It's locked. He unlocks the door, opens it.
No one is here, and today's inventory list hasn't changed. Still, Gabriel doesn't leave, there until he has confirmed what he already knows. Then he locks the door, rechecks it, and darkness swallows up the surrounding space.
The door is unlocked. Elijah emerges from behind it, a dream within a dream that stumbles across the threshold, the crumbling boundary between lucidity and lunacy. Gabriel's hands catch her by the shoulders, but upon contact, her arms begin to disintegrate, dissolving into green, soaking her coat and dripping from the ends of her sleeves. Her eyes are open, sclera discolored, empty before they slowly liquefy in their sockets like molten wax, spilling over her cheeks, onto his fingers trying in vain to hold her together.
Elijah's lips part — to speak, to cry out? To smile?
It's only a dream. The truth is much worse, and there is no waking from it. ]