Welcome to Gaia! ::

Des had been home, working on some projects for school. They had to paint some things involving the seasons. So naturally, he had chosen fall. Around him were various bottles of paint. Red, orange, yellow, brown, and gold. In all different hues and tints. Hell, he had even pulled out some green just for that little bit of contrast.

Despite the colors around him however, the teenagers vision suddenly went white as bits and pieces of images flashed across his eyes. He jerked away from the table, scattering things everywhere across the table and his art, as well as the floor and himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, as his hands came up and held his head, fingertips disappearing into his hair.

The memories were fuzzy, and their were so many of them. But Desmond remembered black. It was everywhere. Pools of it.. It wasn't as if it was just some inanimate object.. It was living, breathing. It was everywhere. He sank to the ground, not hearing his boyfriend when the other shouted his name. Instead he just whined pathetically.

If the memories weren't bad enough, all of a sudden he pitched forward and suddenly he could feel someone touching him. Des screamed instantly, thrashing slightly. His glasses fell from his face and skittered across the floor with a clatter. The sound drew his attention and he finally opened his eyes. Though his panic rose twice fold as his eyes settled on the red substance that was all over him. His breathing quickened. It already felt like he was suffocating. Why couldn't he breathe.

He had to get it off.

He clawed at his arms, clawed at the fabric that covered them as he tried to rid himself of the red stains. Even the black fabric was wrong. It was all just wrong. It wasn't until Gabriel grabbed his wrists, forcing him to stop. He stared for a moment, looking at the familiar face before dropping his head.

Des stared wide eyed at Gabriel as he continued his labored breathing. Paint, his brain repeated. It was paint. Teal eyes flickered to where red was smeared over black. It didn't look like paint. His eyes shifted between the not-quite-paint-looking paint and Gabriel a few times before he closed his eyes and slumped against Gabriel. He felt weak, sick, and a various mixture of other things that he just couldn't quite explain now. He tried to slow his breathing, relax himself as he lay against Gabriel, but it was hard. A soft noise to their side drew his attention and Des opened his eyes just enough to see an ashen gray creature peaking out from behind the couch at him. Arsenic. "...My cat..." He mumbled. Though, that wasn't entirely right was it?

Des blinked as the cat inserted herself between them, not particularly caring in the least that she was making it awkward for them both.. "I took her... I didn't want to leave her.. Even if I didn't remember her." He remembered flashes of white and electric blue. "Mimis...had her. She said she'd look over Arsenic while I walked around the camp.. But I got lost." He had wound up in the woods. Des ran his fingers through her fur slowly, almost as if he was enthralled by it before all of a sudden jerking away as if he had been burned.

Arsenic was none to pleased with the sudden reaction and she pressed herself as flat as she could and hissed at Des.

Des however had scrambed to his feet, awkwardly mind you, he was still a bit shakey and was beginning to frantically search the house for something.

In his frantic unease, Des nearly toppled over the back of the couch. "Airi. Where's Airi? I can't find him." He whined. His brain automatically supplied that the wolf had always been out, following him around the house much like Arsenic would, acting more like a pet then a creature from the void. "I had to leave him. I couldn't take him or he'd die. They would have killed him on the spot."

An eyebrow raised as he blinked slowly. "...Oh. Uh... Right." That made sense. Slowly the teen sunk down onto the couch with a sigh. "...He was out a lot. He'd follow me around the house almost like he was a regular dog. Hell, the b*****d bit me half a dozen times.." He rambled pulling up his sleeves to glance at the scars. ...Only they weren't there. The skin was smooth, devoid of any lighter, jagged marks that littered his arm. "...Right. That... didn't happen. I guess."

"...Right.. I showed you." The teen said, glancing down at his arms as if the wounds would be there again. "...None of it's happened, yet." Des shifted slightly on the couch, glancing around the room. There was the possibility that it still could. It may not happen the way they saw it... But there were still other ways, other things that could influence the out come of what could be. Both good and bad. Then his arms were full of Gabriel, and the shorter man was clinging to him and apologizing. "Don't.. I don't wanna talk about it."