The pain lessened. And then, all at once, it swelled, up to and beyond the level the rest of the room had just been at. The noise Skulduggery made was of someone trying to scream, but physically unable to, the scream dying almost immediately as it passed by his teeth. His bones shuddered, his jaw rattled, the perceived source of it all clinging tightly to him, and all it did was cement the belief that he should have been here sooner. Somehow, someway, this should have been Skulduggery's burden to take, not Gabe's. Not an angel's. Not Gabe's.
Something scraped. Hurts it hurts make it stop make it stop!
It scraped hard, and it forced Skulduggery to be dimly aware that while something wracked his bones, his mind felt terrifyingly loose. Not his consciousness, which was still angrily and painfully attached to his skeleton, but his mind. He could feel it cascading out, crashing against something nearby, pouring in the pain and the thoughts of someone who wasn't him, of Gabe.
He instinctively shied away from the contact, but it followed him. It couldn't be shaken. This wasn't a physical contact, and it couldn't be shaken. Moreover, Skulduggery didn't want to shake it. This was just like when Gabe took on the pain of his broken jaw, and Skulduggery was determined to return the favour. This was worse, of course, so much worse, but it was only a portion of what Gabriel felt. Every little bit taken away from the Archangel's suffering would bolster him through this.
Skulduggery's entire frame spasmed, and his grip on Gabe grew tighter until the sharp spike passed.
Only it didn't just pass, this time. It lessened again, very suddenly and without warning, leaving Skulduggery with the curious need to gasp for breath.
His mind was so much more open than he could previously feel through that pain. But it wasn't, as he'd imagined, some side effect of being near such a powerfully injured being. He wasn't leaking into Gabe's consciousness, or vice versa. It couldn't be called leaking, because there was something very magnetic and firm about the connection. They were aligned, somehow, on some far deeper level, and the only reason Skulduggery knew that was because when something else connected with Gabe, it collided with him as well.
A swirl of something went by so fast Skulduggery couldn't make out anything in it. It seemed to crash somewhere high over his head, but he didn't try to reach for it because however this was happening, he wasn't used to it, and the mental strength he had for it was close to nothing. Immensely powerful floods were right next to him, and a yawning emptiness beyond them that terrified Skulduggery to his very core. There were vague presences behind him, tiny washes of emotions he thought he recognised. Skulduggery didn't get the chance to find out, as whatever connected with Gabe turned its attention to him.
Raphael.
Relief spun somewhere remote. For the moment, Skulduggery ignored it. Relief, in this strange and terrifying state, would only get in the way. He had no idea how to answer, barely knew how to understand. The only way he could think of was by letting Raphael in to his own consciousness, and the idea of that towering presence searching through him was one Skulduggery thrust as far away from himself as possible. He could do this. His thoughts were spinning out of control, but he shouldn't need thoughts for this. He concentrated all of his energy, all of his concentration, into a single point - as simple as he could make it - and then just beamed.
Acknowledgment. His name. A mixture of confusion, friendship, and a touch of something more. As much knowledge of the safe house as he could muster. And, most importantly, an assent. Because he recognised the name floating around within the knowledge of the prison.
"Valkyrie." The sound of Skulduggery's own voice, loud and clear and almost deafening, penetrated through the murk of that knowledge. "Hammer Lane Gaol. Oscillates between dimensions, I think. Raphael and Merlin need help getting out."
He didn't hear any response, but something in the presences behind him showed a slow turn of determination. With a painful jolt, Skulduggery realised it was their souls. Their souls as only Gabe could see them, trapped and hurting and faded as he was. Skulduggery consciously drew away from them. It was a trespass he didn't intend to take; he wasn't an angel.
no subject
Something scraped. Hurts it hurts make it stop make it stop!
It scraped hard, and it forced Skulduggery to be dimly aware that while something wracked his bones, his mind felt terrifyingly loose. Not his consciousness, which was still angrily and painfully attached to his skeleton, but his mind. He could feel it cascading out, crashing against something nearby, pouring in the pain and the thoughts of someone who wasn't him, of Gabe.
He instinctively shied away from the contact, but it followed him. It couldn't be shaken. This wasn't a physical contact, and it couldn't be shaken. Moreover, Skulduggery didn't want to shake it. This was just like when Gabe took on the pain of his broken jaw, and Skulduggery was determined to return the favour. This was worse, of course, so much worse, but it was only a portion of what Gabriel felt. Every little bit taken away from the Archangel's suffering would bolster him through this.
Skulduggery's entire frame spasmed, and his grip on Gabe grew tighter until the sharp spike passed.
Only it didn't just pass, this time. It lessened again, very suddenly and without warning, leaving Skulduggery with the curious need to gasp for breath.
His mind was so much more open than he could previously feel through that pain. But it wasn't, as he'd imagined, some side effect of being near such a powerfully injured being. He wasn't leaking into Gabe's consciousness, or vice versa. It couldn't be called leaking, because there was something very magnetic and firm about the connection. They were aligned, somehow, on some far deeper level, and the only reason Skulduggery knew that was because when something else connected with Gabe, it collided with him as well.
A swirl of something went by so fast Skulduggery couldn't make out anything in it. It seemed to crash somewhere high over his head, but he didn't try to reach for it because however this was happening, he wasn't used to it, and the mental strength he had for it was close to nothing. Immensely powerful floods were right next to him, and a yawning emptiness beyond them that terrified Skulduggery to his very core. There were vague presences behind him, tiny washes of emotions he thought he recognised. Skulduggery didn't get the chance to find out, as whatever connected with Gabe turned its attention to him.
Raphael.
Relief spun somewhere remote. For the moment, Skulduggery ignored it. Relief, in this strange and terrifying state, would only get in the way. He had no idea how to answer, barely knew how to understand. The only way he could think of was by letting Raphael in to his own consciousness, and the idea of that towering presence searching through him was one Skulduggery thrust as far away from himself as possible. He could do this. His thoughts were spinning out of control, but he shouldn't need thoughts for this. He concentrated all of his energy, all of his concentration, into a single point - as simple as he could make it - and then just beamed.
Acknowledgment. His name. A mixture of confusion, friendship, and a touch of something more. As much knowledge of the safe house as he could muster. And, most importantly, an assent. Because he recognised the name floating around within the knowledge of the prison.
"Valkyrie." The sound of Skulduggery's own voice, loud and clear and almost deafening, penetrated through the murk of that knowledge. "Hammer Lane Gaol. Oscillates between dimensions, I think. Raphael and Merlin need help getting out."
He didn't hear any response, but something in the presences behind him showed a slow turn of determination. With a painful jolt, Skulduggery realised it was their souls. Their souls as only Gabe could see them, trapped and hurting and faded as he was. Skulduggery consciously drew away from them. It was a trespass he didn't intend to take; he wasn't an angel.