( ooc: omg thanks for the info pages!! rubs hands together excitedly. let me know if you need any more info from me ofc! )
( He wasn't expecting any help at all, so the grip alone would have been a surprise. But it comes so quickly, and with a rush of sensing something almost suffocating. Demonic aura clouds his every sense, his own angelic aura muffled by the intensity of it. Memories flood back and his reaction is visceral— even if he normally only vomits from the sight of demon wings, the aura alone brings back enough memories to make him lurch.
It means that even with the supportive chest here to catch him, he almost doubles over, staggering slightly in the way he settles back. He'd spent so much time yelling accusations at others, trying to blame things on demons, but this is the first clear demon he's run into in this place. It's like something is clawing from beneath his skin, itching and burning and throbbing, and his sight and sound are muffled as he struggles to breathe. In, out, in, out...
Shealtiel manages to keep it in. There are no flapping wings to push him over the edge, and so once he's in his right mind again, he yanks and pushes against the chest that had been a support for him, aiming to gain another foot or two in distance. He stumbles for it, catching himself on a wall, instead. )
Ugh—
( Disgusting. Disgusting. Vile. Awful. Demons are vile and hated.
His thoughts echo on like a chant, and he has to refocus his eyes on the stranger in front of him. He can't even be fully aggressive like he'd normally be. He's busy being confused. )
no subject
( He wasn't expecting any help at all, so the grip alone would have been a surprise. But it comes so quickly, and with a rush of sensing something almost suffocating. Demonic aura clouds his every sense, his own angelic aura muffled by the intensity of it. Memories flood back and his reaction is visceral— even if he normally only vomits from the sight of demon wings, the aura alone brings back enough memories to make him lurch.
It means that even with the supportive chest here to catch him, he almost doubles over, staggering slightly in the way he settles back. He'd spent so much time yelling accusations at others, trying to blame things on demons, but this is the first clear demon he's run into in this place. It's like something is clawing from beneath his skin, itching and burning and throbbing, and his sight and sound are muffled as he struggles to breathe. In, out, in, out...
Shealtiel manages to keep it in. There are no flapping wings to push him over the edge, and so once he's in his right mind again, he yanks and pushes against the chest that had been a support for him, aiming to gain another foot or two in distance. He stumbles for it, catching himself on a wall, instead. )
Ugh—
( Disgusting. Disgusting. Vile. Awful. Demons are vile and hated.
His thoughts echo on like a chant, and he has to refocus his eyes on the stranger in front of him. He can't even be fully aggressive like he'd normally be. He's busy being confused. )
Demon... Why did you help me?