no subject

[he's half present until Zephir's fingers are digging into his face, then his eyes close while they roll back, the brief sobriety gone as fast as it came. heady under a twisted and unnatural spell, August swallows what Zephir allows him. he's softening up again, hand dropping and limp at his side. he's so sensitive he could probably come like this, with Zephir dripping liquid into his mouth and holding him against this tree. everything feels too good, even the bark digging lines of red into his back.]

You - [breathless, he fights to keep his eyes open] you know.

[know he dies anyway. everyone dies, though. his death isn't special.]

You want me to? [his eyes flit to the pentagram in the dirt.] I need to be over there.