|| magick ||

two related drabbles

||

He wears a long black cloak with handfuls of tiny silver stars scattered across it. Tiny silver stars that catch the light and shine glitterbright and fearless for the barest of moments. Even later, in the dull glow of the thick wax candle burning on the altar, they spark like a twist of flame slicing through the darkness.

"Do you believe?"

The voice wraps Chris tight, binding him in place with words spoken thick and slow like honey.

"Yes." It's whispered, but Chris knows he's been heard when cool lips brush his own, tasting of smoke and fire and magic.

***

The wax stings as it drips slowly onto his skin. Whitehot pinpricks of sensation fading to a gentle glow drifting over his body, and it almost feels as if he's floating somehow, suspended just above the damp earth, rocked by one thousand warm, strong hands.

"Breathe in," he hears someone say, and he does, the words weaving in and out of the darkness on the edge of his mind. Strange pale-green eyes and tiny silver stars as far as he can see.

Fingertips touch his forehead softly, marking him with thick, hot liquid, and Chris gasps against midnight blue skies.

||

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