[ The voice ebbs and so does the pressure in his lungs, that overwhelming weight. Ask Gus to pinpoint exactly what it was that made him so uneasy, and he couldn't tell you— no voice should be able to incapacitate a person, no matter how hauntingly beautiful— but he's finding more and more often that there are things he'd previously had no reference for that are, in fact, very supernatural and yet very real.
So here he is, pitching facefirst onto a pile of old jackets as Iona seals off the entrance to the basement dungeons. Like a big dog, he just. Lies there, limbs starfished and his voice muffled through thick fabric. ]
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So here he is, pitching facefirst onto a pile of old jackets as Iona seals off the entrance to the basement dungeons. Like a big dog, he just. Lies there, limbs starfished and his voice muffled through thick fabric. ]
I don't want to dieeeeeeeeeeee. [ WOW GUS ]