the realisation hits quickly, accompanied by a hot flash of anger, a growl punctuated by a fist slamming against glass. he doesn't notice the pain — anger's great for covering a multitude of sins — but he does notice the streak of red his hand leaves behind. it's not enough to bother him, not enough to cause concern — blood's just blood, as far as he's concerned — before he whips back around, runs back to panel to check his notes and re-enter the code.
this time's at disorientating as the last. this time, marc has to blink away not just rain but the imprint of the symbols from his mind, and he feels something watching him. this time, he's certain it's not khonshu — he might be a miserable fucking asshole, but he's not this. this isn't vengeance, this isn't protecting the travellers of night, this—
—briefly, cold dread hits, sitting in his stomach and his chest as he circles back round to the front of the building. it's not a fear he's felt for a while, but now it strikes suddenly, and he wonders if this is a reminder of what he achieves when he's alone. no god, no mission, no friends.
but then he catches sight of it: water inexplicably rushing up and he realises without warmth, without joy, that this time, it'd worked. the doors are open, but that doesn't mean the guy inside's okay. the kid with the annoying messages that weren't funny.
his shoes squelch with each step, the sound not quite echoing in the waterlogged building as he rushes with surprising speed and grace towards adrian. he knows how to do cpr, but he hopes it won't and hasn't come to that. )
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the realisation hits quickly, accompanied by a hot flash of anger, a growl punctuated by a fist slamming against glass. he doesn't notice the pain — anger's great for covering a multitude of sins — but he does notice the streak of red his hand leaves behind. it's not enough to bother him, not enough to cause concern — blood's just blood, as far as he's concerned — before he whips back around, runs back to panel to check his notes and re-enter the code.
this time's at disorientating as the last. this time, marc has to blink away not just rain but the imprint of the symbols from his mind, and he feels something watching him. this time, he's certain it's not khonshu — he might be a miserable fucking asshole, but he's not this. this isn't vengeance, this isn't protecting the travellers of night, this—
—briefly, cold dread hits, sitting in his stomach and his chest as he circles back round to the front of the building. it's not a fear he's felt for a while, but now it strikes suddenly, and he wonders if this is a reminder of what he achieves when he's alone. no god, no mission, no friends.
but then he catches sight of it: water inexplicably rushing up and he realises without warmth, without joy, that this time, it'd worked. the doors are open, but that doesn't mean the guy inside's okay. the kid with the annoying messages that weren't funny.
his shoes squelch with each step, the sound not quite echoing in the waterlogged building as he rushes with surprising speed and grace towards adrian. he knows how to do cpr, but he hopes it won't and hasn't come to that. )