Marc Spector (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knightlyperformance) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2022-12-12 12:34 am
knightlyperformance) wrote in revivalproject2022-12-12 12:34 am
In Restless Dreams I Walked Alone
WHO: Marc Spector/Steven Grant & you I guess
WHERE: Edge of Temba, let's say westsiiiide
WHAT: The Moon boys had a narrow escape. Someone help a guy out?
WHEN: Now
WARNINGS: Bloooood
"One more time... From the start..."
"We've gone over it several times already-"
"Again, Steven-" Marc said testily as he continued to trudge along through the snow. In his current state he was quite the picture of bedraggled; several long, bloody furrows clawed across his coat from his left shoulder down past his waist, the right leg of his pants in a similar state though not quite as deep. Blood was smeared across the side of his face, mostly the result of a bad attempt to wipe it from where it had earlier run down from a gash just beside his right temple. His right sleeve was nearly stained in it and practically shredded to boot, his hand practically wearing a glove of caked red although he was sure it wasn't completely all his. His fingers remained locked around an odd, slightly twisting spike of sorts that appeared to have been broken off of something. His other hand clutched an old pocket watch he'd found. Broken it was pretty much useless, but he'd managed to buff the casing to a shine that he could see his reflection, see Steven. He vaguely recalled they had a shovel when they'd left earlier, but hell if he knew where it was now.
On the pocket watch's faint surface, Steven's tongue darted nervously over his lips, his gaze dropping off to one side as his brow nearly pinched in slight frustration. Worry, however, was ever present in regards to Marc's current condition.
"The day started off with a disagreement - you decided it was time to try exploring the territory in this weather and I of course said 'no, we shouldn't go out on our own, we may need a travel buddy if we're going out like this' to which you replied 'No, we'll be fine, we got a plan, let's go' - which isn't much of a plan, mind you - and we went. But our little segue into the wilderness decidedly took a turn for the worse with that giant...feline...beast?" The memory was fresh, yet didn't stick around as long as he had hoped for in retreading their steps, which led him to glance back up at the man who shared his face. "Huge. Could've killed us. Look, mate, we really need to ring for help- "
"...almost...there..." Marc knew he was being stubborn, but at the same time he wasn't sure who all to contact. Most of those he'd spoken with were acquaintances at best, wary about him and reasonably so, he'd admit. He knew he was probably pretty bad off though. Steven was right. Whatever they'd run into could've gotten them killed, probably should have. And then he blacked out, and the next thing he knew they were alone, in a questionable however alive condition.
He knew Steven was still talking, but he'd long since forgotten to tune in. It was getting harder to see. Maybe a lot of that blood was his after all. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and rest for a moment. The pain was nothing new, in a way nostalgic, like an old friend. Or maybe the roommate you never wanted. Usually it faded away by now, but that was back when he still was attached to the hip of an Egyptian god.
The sudden cold briefly brought him to his senses. He squinted against the snow, both comforting and burning against his skin. He was lying face first in the snow and wasn't sure when he'd fallen, but it seemed his body had decided it had had enough. Barely managing to lift his head, he could see the outline of buildings. They'd made it. They were so close. But it was so cold that he wasn't sure if he was moving his arms to try pushing himself up or they just gave up on him. Slowly his eyes closed. Maybe he'd just rest a moment. Just a quick moment...
WHERE: Edge of Temba, let's say westsiiiide
WHAT: The Moon boys had a narrow escape. Someone help a guy out?
WHEN: Now
WARNINGS: Bloooood
"One more time... From the start..."
"We've gone over it several times already-"
"Again, Steven-" Marc said testily as he continued to trudge along through the snow. In his current state he was quite the picture of bedraggled; several long, bloody furrows clawed across his coat from his left shoulder down past his waist, the right leg of his pants in a similar state though not quite as deep. Blood was smeared across the side of his face, mostly the result of a bad attempt to wipe it from where it had earlier run down from a gash just beside his right temple. His right sleeve was nearly stained in it and practically shredded to boot, his hand practically wearing a glove of caked red although he was sure it wasn't completely all his. His fingers remained locked around an odd, slightly twisting spike of sorts that appeared to have been broken off of something. His other hand clutched an old pocket watch he'd found. Broken it was pretty much useless, but he'd managed to buff the casing to a shine that he could see his reflection, see Steven. He vaguely recalled they had a shovel when they'd left earlier, but hell if he knew where it was now.
On the pocket watch's faint surface, Steven's tongue darted nervously over his lips, his gaze dropping off to one side as his brow nearly pinched in slight frustration. Worry, however, was ever present in regards to Marc's current condition.
"The day started off with a disagreement - you decided it was time to try exploring the territory in this weather and I of course said 'no, we shouldn't go out on our own, we may need a travel buddy if we're going out like this' to which you replied 'No, we'll be fine, we got a plan, let's go' - which isn't much of a plan, mind you - and we went. But our little segue into the wilderness decidedly took a turn for the worse with that giant...feline...beast?" The memory was fresh, yet didn't stick around as long as he had hoped for in retreading their steps, which led him to glance back up at the man who shared his face. "Huge. Could've killed us. Look, mate, we really need to ring for help- "
"...almost...there..." Marc knew he was being stubborn, but at the same time he wasn't sure who all to contact. Most of those he'd spoken with were acquaintances at best, wary about him and reasonably so, he'd admit. He knew he was probably pretty bad off though. Steven was right. Whatever they'd run into could've gotten them killed, probably should have. And then he blacked out, and the next thing he knew they were alone, in a questionable however alive condition.
He knew Steven was still talking, but he'd long since forgotten to tune in. It was getting harder to see. Maybe a lot of that blood was his after all. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and rest for a moment. The pain was nothing new, in a way nostalgic, like an old friend. Or maybe the roommate you never wanted. Usually it faded away by now, but that was back when he still was attached to the hip of an Egyptian god.
The sudden cold briefly brought him to his senses. He squinted against the snow, both comforting and burning against his skin. He was lying face first in the snow and wasn't sure when he'd fallen, but it seemed his body had decided it had had enough. Barely managing to lift his head, he could see the outline of buildings. They'd made it. They were so close. But it was so cold that he wasn't sure if he was moving his arms to try pushing himself up or they just gave up on him. Slowly his eyes closed. Maybe he'd just rest a moment. Just a quick moment...