A slow return to silence was as satisfying as any other part of a song, and the acolyte's entire body shutting down, quieting the noise of his breath and heart and blood, was much like that.
Meister did not need to gesture to him -- or he did not need to see that gesture -- for him to know to return to his side, walking... almost normally. He felt almost euphoric, and the rising brightness didn't bother his eyes at all as every line between them and the music blurred further--
It was strange and unfamiliar, and tempting, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Which was strange, because he felt like everything was perfectly right, incredible really, felt the powerful draw of the music, and that there didn't need to be anything else. But some corner part of his mind that was always sequestered away thought-- this? forever? is this necessary? There would be no difference between them, or between them and the music; they would be the music and the god, and he would be neither Ragdoll nor Peter Merkel, Jr., which might be all to the good, really, wouldn't it be boring? How could it be? It was strange.
("Hey--" Lori felt frozen, and somehow she knew they were all frozen, watching in awe, almost overcome by it. Her voice was quiet, but she forced it to raise, somehow-- "Hey!!")
Ragdoll reached over, taking hold of William's arm with both hands, unable to see his arm or his hands or really tell much difference between them. He wasn't sure he was grabbing onto anything solid at all, and that was fine. But he didn't let go, all the same.
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Date: 2013-05-26 09:50 pm (UTC)Meister did not need to gesture to him -- or he did not need to see that gesture -- for him to know to return to his side, walking... almost normally. He felt almost euphoric, and the rising brightness didn't bother his eyes at all as every line between them and the music blurred further--
It was strange and unfamiliar, and tempting, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Which was strange, because he felt like everything was perfectly right, incredible really, felt the powerful draw of the music, and that there didn't need to be anything else. But some corner part of his mind that was always sequestered away thought-- this? forever? is this necessary? There would be no difference between them, or between them and the music; they would be the music and the god, and he would be neither Ragdoll nor Peter Merkel, Jr., which might be all to the good, really, wouldn't it be boring? How could it be? It was strange.
("Hey--" Lori felt frozen, and somehow she knew they were all frozen, watching in awe, almost overcome by it. Her voice was quiet, but she forced it to raise, somehow-- "Hey!!")
Ragdoll reached over, taking hold of William's arm with both hands, unable to see his arm or his hands or really tell much difference between them. He wasn't sure he was grabbing onto anything solid at all, and that was fine. But he didn't let go, all the same.