Crowley's shoulder is entirely rigid; the only response to Raguel's hand is a slight tremor in the muscles of his jaw, and a jerky dip of his adam's apple as he swallows.
Until, a moment later, something glitters in his eyes. He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring - and on the exhale, the chopsticks in his hand begin to smoke.
(Ehyeh asher Ehyeh)
Crowley blinks in surprise at the small pile of ashes in his palm, gluey in parts with melted plastic.
His fingers seem much warmer now; so too his shoulder. The air immediately around him seems as hot as though the sun had never set.
Flagror, non consumor.
"What did you order?" he manages. There's a little colour in his face now, too.
no subject
Until, a moment later, something glitters in his eyes. He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring - and on the exhale, the chopsticks in his hand begin to smoke.
Crowley blinks in surprise at the small pile of ashes in his palm, gluey in parts with melted plastic.
His fingers seem much warmer now; so too his shoulder. The air immediately around him seems as hot as though the sun had never set.
Flagror, non consumor.
"What did you order?" he manages. There's a little colour in his face now, too.
(Red.)
Ardens, sed virens.