[ The fantasy feels like it has his brain on a torsion spring, pulling it back in every time he begins to spin away. Joseph Kavinsky is remembered only as his face presses out from the haze like he's surfacing.
God, what has he even been saying? Doing?
He gives a full-bodied twitch of revulsion when Sarissa's voice slithers out from between Kavinsky's less cute teeth. The bony weight on his thighs feels like a paralytic, and metal whines and clinks as fisted hands make a valiant attempting at wrenching fastenings from fixtures.
It takes him a second, then, to realise that that dull buzz-whine is coming from somewhere external, not just his own brain. ]
no subject
God, what has he even been saying? Doing?
He gives a full-bodied twitch of revulsion when Sarissa's voice slithers out from between Kavinsky's less cute teeth. The bony weight on his thighs feels like a paralytic, and metal whines and clinks as fisted hands make a valiant attempting at wrenching fastenings from fixtures.
It takes him a second, then, to realise that that dull buzz-whine is coming from somewhere external, not just his own brain. ]