One by one, the others followed suit, entering into their assigned circles and confirming that they were ready once they had knelt down in the middle of them. China stood by, an eagle eye on her own work; her movements suggested a sort of calm she didn't truly feel. Where the others were tied to the outcome either through a desire for everyone to be safe, or a deep trust that anything involving two Archangels had to go perfectly smoothly - or both - the only thing keeping China focused was fear. And she wasn't used to that. It snapped at her otherwise orderly mind like a little yappy terrier, dangerous only because China's mind wasn't currently its usual orderly self.
So she was currently double-checking everything, just to be sure. Even as the sigils started to pulse, China continued to edit herself. Edit herself. Second-guess herself like some less intelligent sorcerer.
The only thing keeping her from unacceptable panic due to that fear, really, was an equal measure of fascination with it all. The preparation, the execution. The others' reactions to being put in obvious pairs. And she found herself unspeakably glad that Merlin hadn't asked her to participate - not because it would have drained her dry, even though it would have. China would easily have said no.
She was glad because now, she didn't have to say no. She didn't have to disappoint everyone else in the room.
It was alien. So, so alien. But... it also didn't quite feel wrong.
In the middle of the innermost circle, Skulduggery had almost no awareness of any of these other events at all.
He'd waited for Raphael to arrive with the knowledge that he really was doing something to help, as the other Archangel had briefly shown him before withdrawing back into the Gaol from the unfamiliar contact. It wasn't just Skulduggery trying to convince himself anymore; it was fact.
In that brief instant, Skulduggery had even understood it. Like he could manipulate the metaphysical himself.
And then Gabe's pain and deliriousness came crashing back down, washing over the sand of that understanding, wiping it clean until all Skulduggery had left was the memory of its existence, which kept him there and focused. Strong, like a rock by seaside cliffs. Anchoring Gabe to some form of consciousness.
It was hard. It was hard because Skulduggery didn't like the feeling of his own mind being so open, particularly when he didn't understand exactly what was causing it. It was a feeling just similar enough to certain abilities he had as a Necromancer; expanding his awareness to encompass everyone else's, then drawing their very life forces back into him. Similar enough to be unnerving, even if it was different in all the ways that counted. For one thing, Skulduggery was pretty sure it wasn't his awareness expanding out.
It was Gabe's. There was nothing holding the Archangel's thoughts together anymore, thoughts which scattered and faded just like his wings trailed off into nonexistence. And the thoughts that were there rang delirious, delirious in a way only Gabe could ever be. Skulduggery was just... somehow along for the ride. And he felt it, every stab of pain, everywhere those thoughts traveled. Skulduggery made an effort to steel himself against them, as much for Gabe's benefit as his own. If Gabe could take Skulduggery along for mind-rides, why couldn't Skulduggery try to exert some influence of his own?
It worked, to some minimal degree, and Skulduggery was well on the way to maybe getting some control of his mental state back when he felt Raphael arrive.
Raphael disrupted it. Raphael knew Gabe's mind and existence far better than Skulduggery did, which the detective normally wouldn't have had a problem with, except that it was a little like getting caught in a gentle maelstrom. Or getting lost in the merge of two planet-sized consciousnesses. Skulduggery's mind seemed to twist out of his skull entirely for a few moments, crashed into everything Gabe knew and expected of his older brother - far, far more than Skulduggery could handle - and in a last minute panic, Skulduggery tried to withdraw.
He couldn't. Not completely. Maybe Raphael wasn't letting him, maybe Gabe wasn't. Maybe he wasn't letting himself. Either way, the only reason Skulduggery knew they'd even changed location within the safehouse was because Raphael had broadcast the intent.
He focused on the bones of his hand, spread out against the floor to prop himself up. It was illuminated with a strange kind of light. Oily. Faded. With a detached sort of fascination, Skulduggery let himself get drawn back in and marveled at the way his vision faded completely. The ocean and the seaside cliffs surrounded him again.
One thought. He needed something to anchor himself just as much as he was anchoring Gabe. The gentle maelstrom, the sudden clatter of souls all around them, the pain and the sheer openness... they weren't even working in combination to overwhelm Skulduggery, as would have been the decent thing to do. They worked separately, jabbing into each other just as often as they jabbed into him, and Skulduggery didn't have the knowledge or the experience to ride it all over and see anything worthwhile on the other side.
A thought.
Gabe used my true name.
No. Wrong thought. Bad thought. It wasn't going to do anything to help anyone, least of all Gabe. But it was too late; it caught and it grew, slowly but surely, into the anchor Skulduggery needed. Because the implications explained everything, up to and including what was happening now; tied it all up in a neat, smug little bow.
And so Skulduggery clung to that one thought and to the parts of Gabe he thought he could recognise.
no subject
So she was currently double-checking everything, just to be sure. Even as the sigils started to pulse, China continued to edit herself. Edit herself. Second-guess herself like some less intelligent sorcerer.
The only thing keeping her from unacceptable panic due to that fear, really, was an equal measure of fascination with it all. The preparation, the execution. The others' reactions to being put in obvious pairs. And she found herself unspeakably glad that Merlin hadn't asked her to participate - not because it would have drained her dry, even though it would have. China would easily have said no.
She was glad because now, she didn't have to say no. She didn't have to disappoint everyone else in the room.
It was alien. So, so alien. But... it also didn't quite feel wrong.
In the middle of the innermost circle, Skulduggery had almost no awareness of any of these other events at all.
He'd waited for Raphael to arrive with the knowledge that he really was doing something to help, as the other Archangel had briefly shown him before withdrawing back into the Gaol from the unfamiliar contact. It wasn't just Skulduggery trying to convince himself anymore; it was fact.
In that brief instant, Skulduggery had even understood it. Like he could manipulate the metaphysical himself.
And then Gabe's pain and deliriousness came crashing back down, washing over the sand of that understanding, wiping it clean until all Skulduggery had left was the memory of its existence, which kept him there and focused. Strong, like a rock by seaside cliffs. Anchoring Gabe to some form of consciousness.
It was hard. It was hard because Skulduggery didn't like the feeling of his own mind being so open, particularly when he didn't understand exactly what was causing it. It was a feeling just similar enough to certain abilities he had as a Necromancer; expanding his awareness to encompass everyone else's, then drawing their very life forces back into him. Similar enough to be unnerving, even if it was different in all the ways that counted. For one thing, Skulduggery was pretty sure it wasn't his awareness expanding out.
It was Gabe's. There was nothing holding the Archangel's thoughts together anymore, thoughts which scattered and faded just like his wings trailed off into nonexistence. And the thoughts that were there rang delirious, delirious in a way only Gabe could ever be. Skulduggery was just... somehow along for the ride. And he felt it, every stab of pain, everywhere those thoughts traveled. Skulduggery made an effort to steel himself against them, as much for Gabe's benefit as his own. If Gabe could take Skulduggery along for mind-rides, why couldn't Skulduggery try to exert some influence of his own?
It worked, to some minimal degree, and Skulduggery was well on the way to maybe getting some control of his mental state back when he felt Raphael arrive.
Raphael disrupted it. Raphael knew Gabe's mind and existence far better than Skulduggery did, which the detective normally wouldn't have had a problem with, except that it was a little like getting caught in a gentle maelstrom. Or getting lost in the merge of two planet-sized consciousnesses. Skulduggery's mind seemed to twist out of his skull entirely for a few moments, crashed into everything Gabe knew and expected of his older brother - far, far more than Skulduggery could handle - and in a last minute panic, Skulduggery tried to withdraw.
He couldn't. Not completely. Maybe Raphael wasn't letting him, maybe Gabe wasn't. Maybe he wasn't letting himself. Either way, the only reason Skulduggery knew they'd even changed location within the safehouse was because Raphael had broadcast the intent.
He focused on the bones of his hand, spread out against the floor to prop himself up. It was illuminated with a strange kind of light. Oily. Faded. With a detached sort of fascination, Skulduggery let himself get drawn back in and marveled at the way his vision faded completely. The ocean and the seaside cliffs surrounded him again.
One thought. He needed something to anchor himself just as much as he was anchoring Gabe. The gentle maelstrom, the sudden clatter of souls all around them, the pain and the sheer openness... they weren't even working in combination to overwhelm Skulduggery, as would have been the decent thing to do. They worked separately, jabbing into each other just as often as they jabbed into him, and Skulduggery didn't have the knowledge or the experience to ride it all over and see anything worthwhile on the other side.
A thought.
Gabe used my true name.
No. Wrong thought. Bad thought. It wasn't going to do anything to help anyone, least of all Gabe. But it was too late; it caught and it grew, slowly but surely, into the anchor Skulduggery needed. Because the implications explained everything, up to and including what was happening now; tied it all up in a neat, smug little bow.
And so Skulduggery clung to that one thought and to the parts of Gabe he thought he could recognise.