Sheila trailed their group and walked past Elliot as she neared an intersection of passageways. Her blue aura intermingled with Elliot’s as she passed, driving curious pangs through her consciousness. The sensation was reminiscent of him and compelling. Is touching bad here? she asked him.
I don’t know. Elliot raised his hand to her midsection and ran his fingers through her dancing aura to taste her cobalt. Her aura flickered and increased its dance in its recognition of him. Both ran their fingers over the other until it wasn’t enough and he impulsively plunged his hand clear through her white, inner form to discover her ghost-like nature. His fingers flexed and curled as they protruded out her lower back in serendipitous spasms. Their glow reached a brilliance that intermingled their hues.
Vance turned, watching as the two swam hands through each other. He stepped toward them and raised a thin ebony hand to Sheila, then lowered it.
As their hands moved inward, they surpassed the conscious thoughts of their minds at their specter skins and penetrated deep to the core of their figures to achieve a networking of the hearts. Sheila likened the journey of her hands to the exploration of catacombs of which the underground tunnels and immured burials she did not fear to explore. Some memories rested happily; others were dark and broken. Painful experiences provoked investigation and pleasures of backward viewpoints ingrained into them. They each understood what it was to be the other and held all secrets.