( marc hears the sound of the fight before he sees it — he's only human, after all, he can't see in the dark. he relies on the cold illumination of the moon to guide him, now more than ever, now whilst khonshu is quiet and there's no deep voice, all-encompassing, oscillating between mocking and paternal. no guidance. no instruction. no demands.
he stills when he hears the creature die, the sudden silence stark in the darkness. then marc sees it, the corpse, the body, heading straight towards him and— )
Shit.
( he moves before he's had time to consciously think about it, darting to one side and towards a bush, eyes wide and shocked and full of surprise. it's not the strangest thing that's ever happened to him, not at all, but he hadn't really been expecting it. he takes a second to reorient himself as a voice calls out in the darkness. he doesn't recognise it, but he looks nonetheless.
it's easy to pick out the details. the gold jewellery glints in the shine of the moon, and the red eyes—
—the mask—
khonshu had told him this (this? no, not this, that—) had been a trick by set, one to pull marc and khonshu into his grasp. he'd imprisoned anput.
the girl with the green hair had told him something else, but if set's here, what else is he supposed to think? if set's attacking him, then khonshu must have been right after all, and this is just another—.
another.
another example of his broken mind? the overvoid?
(hmm.)
he steps out into set's path. the wide-eyed bemusement of having a corpse thrown at him has been replaced by something calmer, something smoother. though his body is far from relaxed — the tension is there, as ever, coiled in his fists and his shoulders — marc is familiar. he holds an air of expectation, that whatever comes next isn't to be a shock.
(unless it is.) )
Well, ( he gestures with both hands, a loose wave as if to say 'what else?' ), I'm not lost.
YELLS
he stills when he hears the creature die, the sudden silence stark in the darkness. then marc sees it, the corpse, the body, heading straight towards him and— )
Shit.
( he moves before he's had time to consciously think about it, darting to one side and towards a bush, eyes wide and shocked and full of surprise. it's not the strangest thing that's ever happened to him, not at all, but he hadn't really been expecting it. he takes a second to reorient himself as a voice calls out in the darkness. he doesn't recognise it, but he looks nonetheless.
it's easy to pick out the details. the gold jewellery glints in the shine of the moon, and the red eyes—
—the mask—
khonshu had told him this (this? no, not this, that—) had been a trick by set, one to pull marc and khonshu into his grasp. he'd imprisoned anput.
the girl with the green hair had told him something else, but if set's here, what else is he supposed to think? if set's attacking him, then khonshu must have been right after all, and this is just another—.
another.
another example of his broken mind? the overvoid?
(hmm.)
he steps out into set's path. the wide-eyed bemusement of having a corpse thrown at him has been replaced by something calmer, something smoother. though his body is far from relaxed — the tension is there, as ever, coiled in his fists and his shoulders — marc is familiar. he holds an air of expectation, that whatever comes next isn't to be a shock.
(unless it is.) )
Well, ( he gestures with both hands, a loose wave as if to say 'what else?' ), I'm not lost.