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Post by Isolde Thornton on Aug 11, 2021 1:34:00 GMT
Isolde wasn't in perfect shape--she was tired too--but she had more than enough stubbornness to carry her through the tasks she wanted to accomplish. First priority: Marcus. She poured a glass of water for him and left it on the nightstand, snuck down to the hotel's breakfast room, took a blueberry muffin and a banana to go with the water(Eddie helped her with the security cameras, to ensure they left as little trace as possible), and set out some clean clothes for him. It wasn't much, but she hoped he would wake up feeling cared for. With that handled, she badgered her little brother into taking a shower and changing into clean clothes. She then decided a haircut was in order--with a few simple charms she got Eddie's hair detangled and trimmed. The boy wasn't too happy about it, he preferred it long, but once she explained that they needed to change his appearance a little, to help keep him safe, he agreed. He looked older, like this, as if he'd aged a couple of years overnight. The thought made her sad, but to be fair, she felt as if she herself had trimmed a few years off her lifespan in the last few days. For herself, she added some highlights to her hair, lightening up its usual bitter-chocolate color to a warmer one, and trimmed off a couple of inches at the bottom. It wasn't as large a change as her brother, but it was enough to at least fool a quick glance. With that, though, she ran out of things to prepare. Eddie busied himself with the hotel television again, ordering room service to be delivered in an hour and ensuring that it didn't charge them for it, while Sol watched over Marcus. She had dragged the ugly armchair closer to the bed so that if he needed her, she'd be right there. After losing her bag with her clothes and books, she didn't have much by way of distractions. Before she realized it was happening, Sol had drifted off to sleep, melting further and further into the armchair until she was draped over the armrest with one arm stretched out over Marcus Kanaan's legs on the bed.
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Post by Marcus Kanaan on Aug 11, 2021 3:49:35 GMT
The moment he broke away from Isolde, the moment that magic had ceased, everything was black. Even the air surrounding them had seemed to dull and temporarily lose all energy. Marcus remembered nothing, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep that would take him awhile to break through.
That burning had remained beneath his skin of that tattoo while it worked to rid his body of the absorbed venom throughout the rest of the day and night. It left his body achy, his head throbbing the very second he began to stir awake. At first, he barely registered the faint noise of the hotel's television, slowly blinking his eyes open.
Everything was calm for a moment until his mind finally caught up and he realized what had happened. Marcus rolled to his side, attempting to brush the panic aside before he saw Isolde seated in the chair, fast asleep. That was when he heard the TV but it hurt to turn his head just yet. He was still weak...but he was alive, and he was assuming Sol was alright as well.
Carefully rising up onto an elbow, he reached for her hand that rested against his legs, gently turning to inspect her forearm. All trace of the blackness was gone and this sudden relief washed over him.
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Post by Isolde Thornton on Aug 11, 2021 4:22:19 GMT
The television was still running early morning cartoons--an old rerun of Chowder from a few years ago. Eddie was facing the wrong way on the bed, still fully dressed, asleep with the remote in his hand. He had fallen asleep watching and never turned it off.
Isolde, meanwhile, had spent all night slouched in that chair. Her hair was mussed on the side she'd been laying, and there were little crosshatch fabric prints on part of her cheek. When Marcus took her hand and turned her arm over, she stirred with a soft sound akin to a cat waking from a nap. She lifted her head and squinted to see who had her arm. Finding that it was Marcus woke her up a little more, and she gave him a drowsy smile. Gods, she was glad to see him awake.
"Hey," she greeted him softly, afraid to wake Eddie, although the sleep in her voice softened it even more than she'd intended. He'd been holding onto her hand, and she slid it more comfortably into his so she could squeeze it lightly. "How do you feel?"
He looked a bit pale, still, and the dark circles under his eyes surely mirrored her own, but she was still more relieved than anything else. She'd known that he must just be drained from using all that magic and channeling such power from Sekhmet, but she couldn't help the cruel little worries in the back of her mind that he might not make it back from the brink because he'd pushed too far. And for her. She was beyond grateful for his help, and the goddess's.
Sol sent the lioness another prayer of gratitude, probably her third or fourth since the spell had been done. She couldn't help herself. They still had thousands of miles to go, but somehow she felt lighter. Like there was nothing left that could stop them.
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Post by Marcus Kanaan on Aug 11, 2021 21:19:29 GMT
The moment she awoke, he was lifting tired eyes up to her face. The relief that she was okay tripled in that very second, and on top of it, the mere sight of her was enough to jumpstart his brain a bit more. Even with the softly messed hair and imprints against her cheek from the chair, she was the very vision he wished he could wake up to every day.
And with that thought, his heart sank a bit more.
Still, Marcus managed a light smile in return. "Hey," he replied, feeling that his throat was dry. When she squeezed his hand, his gaze dropped before finding the voice to answer her question. "Groggy, drained..." It was when he slowly sat up that he winced slightly at the phantom pains across his back. Or, at least, what he thought were phantom pains.
He recalled Sekhmet, her challenge bearing down on him, and Marcus released Isolde's hand to carefully rise up to his feet. Shakily moving to the mirror on the wall, he turned enough to see the thin, stretches of blood that had seeped through his shirt. They weren't terrible or devastating, and he could already tell that the goddess had healed most of them, leaving a few to remind him.
Perhaps one might think he should be angry, wondering why he would follow such a deity, but that warrior side of Sekhmet ensured that he remained strong, that it was his strength as well as his heart, that made him so. One could achieve their goal by sheer will or just by strength alone, but not many did it both ways. It was why he was balanced and his sister was not. Not even his parents could say they were.
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Post by Isolde Thornton on Aug 11, 2021 23:40:51 GMT
Sol frowned as Marcus released her hand again, already drawing away from her. She was beginning to feel like she was chasing him, and he was always running. But then, he'd reached for her first, hadn't he? She sighed softly as he got to his feet. She didn't have any right to be thinking like this, anyway. He could do whatever was most comfortable for him, and she shouldn't ask for more.
Once she caught sight of the thin lines of blood on his shirt, all traces of sleep fled her body in an instant. She jumped to her feet and hurried after him, hovering near his shoulder in case he needed someone to lean on. He'd gone through so much trouble, so much energy and pain over her, and she hadn't even noticed that he was injured, ungrateful wretch that she was.
"I'm sorry, I should have noticed those," she apologized fervently, "I would have taken care of it while you were sleeping." Where had these scratches come from? The answer sent a chill down her spine as she remembered the goddess's claws. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who'd been in pain during the process. She raised her hand without thinking, tracing one of the lines with her fingertip. She might not be able to heal them the same way that Marcus would have done, but at the very least she could make sure he was well taken care of.
"We should clean those, make sure they can heal properly," she murmured, "Do we have that first aid kit inside?"
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Post by Marcus Kanaan on Aug 14, 2021 1:05:30 GMT
Marcus was still barely awake, and hardly noticed her get up; it was like she suddenly materialized at his side. Blinking the rest of the sleep away, she was apologizing to him, and it caused him to frown slightly. "No...no, it's fine," he replied slowly and quietly. "I didn't even think they were real..." And he had promptly passed out after.
Then, as if time suddenly froze and the rest of the world dissipated around them, Marcus watched through the reflection as she traced one of the small cuts. Surely he was imagining things, because the touch of her fingers felt warm through the fabric, like a comforting fire blazing beneath his skin. Every time he thought he succeeded in distancing himself, she unknowingly began to reel him back in. What she didn't know was that he'd gladly be an unsuspecting fish dangling on her hook. In ways, he already was.
He drew in a staggered breath, letting it out slowly when she asked that question. "One of the bags...on the table." At the moment, he couldn't seem to recall which one it might have been, or if they'd even carried all of their luggage in from the truck. Everything had been such a rush.
Carefully, he was moving again, stepping into the bathroom and leaving it ajar- he didn't want to disturb Eddie's sleep. He grimaced at the sight of himself in the brighter light before turning the faucet on and splashing cold water against his face, then a little through his hair to try and manage the curls somewhat. It helped to wake him up a little further. Drying with a towel, he winced in discomfort as he drew the shirt over his head and discarded it to the floor, turning once more to the mirror to inspect the cuts closer.
As he thought, they weren't terrible; they would just be a little uncomfortable. What he did notice, however, was that one had already scarred. It was thin and white on the right side of his spine, curling a little underneath his shoulder blade. Perhaps a souvenir to remember what he had managed to do, what he had asked for.
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Post by Isolde Thornton on Aug 17, 2021 0:30:01 GMT
Didn't think they were real? Well...actually, that made sense. It wasn't exactly a common occurrence for a goddess to leave physical marks on her followers. Isolde had certainly never encountered a deity so strongly before.
She went to the bags on the table, looking for the black one the kit had been in before. It took a bit of rummaging through other supplies, but she did find it. She took it and turned around, only to find that Marcus had disappeared. She stood still, surprised for a moment, before she noticed the light coming from the slight opening of the bathroom door.
She followed it but hesitated to go in, at first. Had he meant to leave it ajar? She pushed it slowly, hoping to leave time for him to protest if she shouldn't come in. She was able to see his reflection in the mirror by the time Marcus hauled his shirt over his head, and her breath caught in her throat. Oh no.
The rush of attraction knocked the wind out of her, and she quickly dropped her gaze to the ground. No, no, no. She could not do that. This wasn't one of those silly romance novels she'd been reading, this was real life. Marcus was a real person. Someone who deserved her respect, her loyalty. Not some frivolous crush. The fact that she was just now realizing exactly how handsome he was couldn't change the way she treated him. She would never, not in a million years, want to make him uncomfortable.
She kept her gaze on the floor as she hurried into the room, shoved the kit onto the counter, and spun immediately after to slowly, gingerly, close the door behind her: one hand held the handle turned while the other rested flat against the wood and pressed it closed. Once the door was flush with the jamb, she painstakingly released the handle. She didn't want to wake Eddie, of course, but she was also buying time to slow the racing of her heart.
By the time she turned back to Marcus with an apologetic smile, she had gotten her brief reaction under control. She was here to help, and she was going to do exactly that.
She opened the kit and plucked out an individually wrapped alcohol wipe. It would hurt, but at least she'd be able to disinfect those cuts. With the way they'd been traveling in a rush, Marcus's back and shirt probably hadn't been the cleanest. She also set aside a big bandage for the worst one, down at the small of his back, which was still bloody--maybe it had been pulled open when he got up. The ones higher up were in various stages of healing, not too bad.
Tearing open the package for the wipe, she looked up to meet Marcus's gaze in the mirror.
"This might sting a little…"
Once he gave her the go-ahead, she carefully wiped each cut, meticulously making sure she went over each one and cleaned up any smeared blood. Her movements were delicate as if she were afraid to make things worse, and although she didn't realize it, she wound up resting her left hand lightly on his waist to steady her movements.
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Post by Marcus Kanaan on Sept 8, 2021 21:19:59 GMT
He had left that door open for her, so there was no protest since she was retrieving the med kit for him. Marcus also didn't want to wake Eddie and have him possibly ask questions- questions he didn't really have answers to. This had never happened before, he'd never actually seen even a small glimpse of the goddess, and now she left him with a reminder of that. It had been dangerous, even foolish to an extent, but even after everything, he couldn't seem to regret it.
He got what he had wanted. Isolde was safe and alive, and he'd have willingly suffered far worse to make it so.
It wasn't long before that door was opening and he caught sight of her through the mirror's reflection. There was this brief moment of surprise before his head swiveled and he was facing her properly, only she was already dropping her gaze to turn and close the door. For once, his attention remained upon her, lingering longer than it should have, feeling the erratic beat of his heart until she was turning back around. Then, like a good soldier, he studied the bathroom tiles and faced the sink once more.
The fatigue was still there, but he was improving with each waking moment that passed. Still, he hunched a little, hands on the edge of the counter to support himself and stay upright.
A subtle nod at her mention of it stinging, Marcus barely felt the discomfort from the alcohol, but his muscles gently tensed beneath her soft touch. And that wasn't because it hurt. He was hyper aware of her closeness, and he tried to keep his gaze down, yet every now and then he'd try to catch a glimpse of her in the mirror while she worked.
He couldn't seem to help it, and there was no overbearing presence around telling him he couldn't. Then, like it had a mind of its own, his arm crossed over himself so that he could casually rest his hand over hers at his waist. "Thank you," he murmured quietly.
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Post by Isolde Thornton on Sept 8, 2021 22:48:44 GMT
More than her breath caught in her throat, now; Isolde felt as if her heart itself had jumped into it as Marcus rested a hand over hers. Her gaze snapped to where she'd set her hand on his skin without thinking, and she stared at their hands like she was trying to read a foreign language--trying to decipher what meaning they were making with this gesture. Was gratitude all it was?
She swallowed as if hoping that would put her heart back where it belonged, and looked up to his face in the mirror. A small smile tugged her lips, though her eyes still gave away her nervousness as she flicked her gaze to the counter, then back up again, unsure.
"It's only fair, I think," she answered gently. Only, that wasn't quite it. I mean, ah, I'd help anyway…" That still didn't help. She didn't know how to express what she meant. Or, she didn't know how to do it without sounding like a madwoman. I'd do anything if you needed me.
How long had it been? Three days? No… She'd trusted him all this time. Almost twenty years, then. Always in each other's orbit, but never the same plane. And now, not even twenty-four hours together, and it was like they'd gotten rid of a barbed-wire fence between them. The freedom to make a connection was exhilarating...but she hardly knew where to begin.
She hesitated again, wanting to return his gesture, somehow. What could she do without stepping too far? She couldn't really turn her hand to hold his, while they were standing this way. She didn't want to squeeze his waist or rub her thumb on his skin--something about that felt too flirty.
She settled for putting her other hand flat against his shoulder, between the healing cuts.
"I'm happy to help, really," she told him earnestly, hoping he'd hear what she meant, even if she couldn't say it. "Any way I can."
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Post by Marcus Kanaan on Sept 9, 2021 23:49:41 GMT
Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he never would have been that brazen previously. Sure, it could be considered an innocent gesture, but it wasn't just that for him, even if he wasn't trying to make it anything more than it was. He might not have scrutinizing eyes on him right now, but Marcus involuntarily heard that warning at the back of his mind: you're not good enough for her, dog.
Still, he had done it, and even with her wavering gaze, he didn't withdraw his touch right away like he normally would have, and had done so a few times already. Perhaps it was just to prove his gratitude, but within the haze of his mind, he didn't know anymore. For a split second, he actually didn't care to know.
Marcus caught her gaze in the mirror briefly again, and he almost smiled; his eyes crinkled at the corners but that was all. He knew he had to keep that mask up, especially when it nearly felt like she was glossing over it. That was what he wanted, right? Or, in truth, what it should be?
Why was he even still debating this? He knew better.
Her touch against his shoulder caused him to gently tense again, and he didn't dare look at her through the mirror. Marcus nodded, however, smiling softly at her following words. She was sweet and kind, even with being raised by that madman. Sometimes, he didn't know how it had even been possible, yet it was one of many reasons why he'd always been drawn to her.
As if he was remembering all of those reasons, the feeling of her fingers intensified, and his lips parted to speak...only to close when he thought better of it. Suddenly, he felt shame.
After a moment, he pulled his hand away and gripped the edge of the counter again. "Whenever you are ready...we should probably continue on," he said quietly, afraid to say anything else. Afraid of misstepping by saying something foolish.
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Post by Isolde Thornton on Sept 10, 2021 0:46:33 GMT
"Whenever you are ready...we should probably continue on," he said quietly
Sol's face fell immediately, and she withdrew her hands to wring the disinfectant wipe she'd been using between them. The openness she'd been starting to show vanished as she drew herself tightly back into her shell, back into the habits of invisibility she'd developed over the last thirty years.
"Right, of course. Sorry," she murmured.
She was already beginning to shred the wipe into strips, venting the destructive energy that was building in her ribcage, when she caught herself mid-tear. She needed that, she couldn't just let herself ruin it! Stupid, useless girl. She was wasting time, worrying about something that he probably didn't think anything of. She should know better. He was hurt, she shouldn't be wasting time. She hurried to wipe the last of the cuts, the one in the small of his back. "Nearly finished," she assured him as she tossed the bloodied cloth into the trash and opened the bandage she'd set aside. She took a little packet of antibacterial ointment and tore the corner, taking the opportunity to draw a small protection sigil with it on the cotton portion of the bandage.
She pressed the bandage, nearly the size of her hand, into place on the small of his back, then traced the outer adhesive edges with her fingertips to smooth it into place.
"Done." Her voice was nearly a whisper as she stepped back and clasped her hands tightly behind her back. "I'll, um, I'll get ready to go."
With a passive nod that kept her gaze on the floor, she turned to go.
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Post by Marcus Kanaan on Sept 10, 2021 1:49:07 GMT
Oh. He had done or said something wrong, and he wasn't sure what. Or was it something he didn't say or do? Nevertheless, he saw the sudden change in her demeanor, if only because it was the exact same thing he always did. It was second nature, even if he might've been more stoic or subtle about it. The point, however, was that it bothered him, and maybe he had no right to feel that way.
"Don't be sorry," he breathed apologetically. It would seem they were both beginning to spiral back down into that dark hole, back into that routine that had been ingrained into their heads.
All he wanted to do was ignore it all, but maybe it wasn't fair of him to think that way.
Marcus was silent as she finished patching him up, too afraid to catch a glimpse of her in the mirror again. That shame and confusion was beginning to grow, and he was so lost in his head that he didn't hear Sol speak at first. It wasn't until she was stepping away did he realize that she was done. That she was leaving.
Turning, he found her attention was on the floor in the way she had done at home in the coven, and it immediately upset him. Thornton wasn't here, he wasn't here to do this to her, so...had he made her feel that way? It was like a knife to the heart.
Without thinking, he took a step forward as she went to leave, gently snatching her by the wrist. "Wait, please..."
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Post by Isolde Thornton on Sept 10, 2021 18:16:48 GMT
As Marcus's fingers wrapped around her wrist, Isolde's heart lurched as if he'd grabbed that instead of her arm. She froze midstep, then slowly, ever so slowly, turned to face him with wide eyes. The instant reaction from her body was panic--she was trapped and she needed to run. But as the knowledge of just who had stopped her set in to override that impulse, invisible sparks crept up her arm, a slow tingling as if the contact was activating some sense she hadn't known was there. She wasn't afraid, but she was still aware of every nerve, every movement of the air between them. Mirroring the sparks on her own skin, her eyes traced up from his hand to his face.
"Yes?" she asked, some haunted hint of hope in her eyes and her voice. Why did she feel this way? Hadn't she just managed to shove this fluttery feeling back into its cage? She was being ridiculous; she knew she was ridiculous. Marcus was helping her because it was the right thing to do, not because it was her or because of anything between them. Whatever this was that she was imagining, she was making something out of nothing just because she'd never had anyone before this. She'd just been alone for too long. It was silly. It was imaginary. You're making it up!
And yet she waited, half-holding her breath; she waited to be proven wrong.
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Post by Marcus Kanaan on Sept 24, 2021 0:54:14 GMT
What was he doing? Why, all of a sudden, was he becoming so impulsive? Even still, he could feel his heart racing, his mind clouded in confusion as he watched her turn back around. It was as if everything slowed down in that very moment, and his gaze dropped briefly to watch her speak that single word.
Yes, what? Why was he stopping her? Why did he feel this constricting panic within his chest?
"Don't do that," he finally whispered. It wasn't a demand but a gentle plea. His voice dropped even more then as he looked a bit nervous and unsure. "Please...don't look away like that." Did he have to explain? Marcus wasn't sure how because it was simply second nature for him, and perhaps even for her.
Of course, as he was asking this of her, his eyes did drop from her face, but it was only to look down at her hand. His fingers slipped down from her wrist to find her own, daring to run the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. "Not from me," he said, hardly realizing he had spoken because his voice was so quiet. For a moment, Marcus barely recognized himself.
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Post by Isolde Thornton on Sept 24, 2021 1:23:33 GMT
The sparks that had gone up her arm were spreading across her skin, even still. And yet, not even that could distract her. She watched Marcus's face, his eyes, with an almost desperate focus as he found an answer.
"Don't do that," he finally whispered. It wasn't a demand but a gentle plea. His voice dropped even more then, as he looked a bit nervous and unsure. "Please...don't look away like that."
Don't?
She followed his gaze to their hands, and the breath she'd been holding left her lungs in a shaky exhale as his thumb drifted over her knuckles. Such a small gesture, and yet…
The magnetic pull that had been lingering under their interactions grew, so strong she wondered if she was actually leaning in his direction, however slightly. Like gravity, she thought, a force of nature but invisible to the eye.
She'd known she was doing it, that she was closing herself away again. But she'd thought that was what was best. Wasn't that what he'd said? Hadn't he told her she needed to stop?
"Whenever you are ready...we should probably continue on,"
He'd said "when you're ready" and she'd heard "you're wasting time." It was as if she was hearing everything garbled. How had it seemed so clear, then? This, now, his hand on her skin...it was the exact opposite. He wasn't pushing her away, he was trying to hold on.
"I don't mean to--" she began, but her voice dropped out. She licked her lips and tried again. "I know you aren't--you wouldn't--" She bit her lip. "You're not him," she whispered.
She looked to his face again, to see if he understood. She needed him to know she wasn't afraid of him. That she didn't want to run from him.
"Marcus," she sounded like she was begging him to understand, even though she hadn't actually managed to tell him anything.
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