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Troy felt his vision clouding at the edges, lids growing heavy. He broke into a dazed smile as the drugs circulated through his system, slowing his reactions, making everything seem as if it were delayed, that he was seeing and hearing echos of things already passed, no longer reacting in real time.
Strange noises, impossible sounds trickled through the haze; the flutter of wings, the satisfying crunch of bone, the soft pitter patter of blood dripping. The smell of incense grew stronger, the sweet smell of decay and spice mixing with sweat and sex flooding his nostrils.
(Ritual Troy/COV Cult sex ahoy~)