Prechorus
The hall is small, cramped, and dark as hell. Not being able to see a few feet in front of her puts all of Kats other senses on high alert. Given that the tomb smells of death, blood, and age, that is not the most pleasurable. The coarse walls brush against her arms, occasionally catching on the scratches the hekat priest had left and sending a shock of pain through her.
The hall is so tight that she and Steven have to walk single file, with Kat in front and Steven behind, and yet their hands remain clasped in one anothers.
Her ears catch every slightest sound, the bounce of a pebble, the shift of a grain of sand. It reminds her of when she had Bastet beside her. This thought makes her frown as she is reminded again that she’s alone in this. No frustratingly judgmental goddess to protect her and provide support. No, Kat will have to rely on herself, all by herself. She has not been without Bastet in so many years that the goddess's absence feels like a gaping hole in her mind.
Behind her, Steven is quiet, and Kat fears she scared him off again by going berserk earlier. It rarely happens, those moments where Kat lets her body take control and she sees nothing but red. It has only happened twice before. Once when she had been already straining to control herself and had seen a man trying to kidnap a woman and snapped. The other time was long ago, when she had just begun her relationship with Bastet. The fear that she had caused then, the disgust… it all makes her sick even now years after.
‘Monster…’ A voice whispers in her mind, taunting, shaking and sounding way too familiar.
“Kat,” Steven speaks up, bringing Kat to the present and out of her spiraling thoughts, “earlier, when I um- when we- uh..” Steven fumbles for words, frustration at himself rising the longer the words stay stuck in his throat, “When we were about to enter the tomb, uh, when I k-kissed you…”
Steven frowns as he can't even say something without tripping over his words but knows he needs to say something, to ask if Kat is feeling the same things he is. He needs to know what they are, if anything.
“Yeah?” Kat asks, her muscles tensing as she prepares for the worst, prepares for Steven to say he hates her, that he never wants to see her again, that he regrets ever meeting her, “What about it?”
“Well.. I was just wondering if-Oh my god!”
Steven abruptly interrupts himself as they emerge from the tight hall and into a large, cavernous room. Large and open with pillars of polished and carved limestone holding the painted ceiling high above them. The trickles of water as it flows shallowly in a small path around the sarcophagus in the middle of the room, raised on a platform above everything else and sparkling with unholy amounts of gold. The water is like a mirror as it casts glowing light around the room and creates a pool separating them from the platform with smooth steppingstones leading a path through.
Kat has to agree with Steven. Oh my god indeed.
The opulence of the room is startling as Kat stares at the smoothly polished marble floors and the no doubt insanely expensive golden detailing on the walls around them. In all her years of imagining standing in a tomb of a pharaoh, she had never even considered it being this extravagant. The aroma of ancient spices floats calmly in the room along with something almost floral that Kat cannot quite place.
“Oh my days.” Steven breathes in awe, gaze sweeping over the room as a wide smile appears on his face, “A tomb fit for a pharaoh, Thutmose the second.”
“Nefertiti.” Kat suggests, her own smile matching his.
“It's gotta be one of the big ones.” Steven agrees happily.
Steven easily uses the steppingstones to cross the water and stands on the platform, hands roaming over the sarcophagus reverently. Kat goes to follow him but is stopped as she reaches the edges of the water, the sound of its ripples sounding like crashing waves in her ears, the ghostly taste of salt lingering on her tongue.
Turning around, Steven sees Kat staring at the water, face pale and shivering. A memory, hazy and not quite all there comes back to him. Memories of being trapped in his own body as Marc was on a boat and Kat admitting to having a fear of water. Realization dawns on Steven and he quickly crosses back over to hold Kats hand comfortingly.
Kat squeezes her eyes shut as she feels Steven take her hand, she's glad to have something to ground her. It’s stupid, how can she be this afraid of a little water? Kat wants to tear her heart out and ask it directly why it beats so much, why it holds onto this childish fear.
“Hey, are you alright?” Steven asks softly, stepping closer to Kat and blocking her view of the water, “It's okay, we can go find Layla and come back later.”
Kat shakes her head, swallowing roughly, “No, we need to get the ushabti, no time to delay.”
Steven looks like he wants to argue but says nothing, instead suggesting, “You don't need to cross over, I can get it for us while you stay over here.”
Kat stares warily at the water before turning to Steven and nodding, shame rising in her chest as she can't bring herself to go over the frustratingly small amount of water. The boat was easier, at least then she couldn't see the water if she didn't look, at least then she was able to stare at the floor and pretend she was on land.
In a completely impulsive move, Steven brings his hand up to cup Kats cheek, tilting her head so he can press a soft kiss to the side of her forehead. With a blush and a final comforting squeeze of her hand, Steven forces himself to let go and cross back over to the sarcophagus.
Kat is so caught off guard by Steven's casual show of affection that it doesn't even occur to her to be scared of the water anymore. Instead she's more confused and shocked as she dumbly settles down on the ground and watches Steven.
Up at the platform, Marc glares at Steven from the reflection of the sarcophagus, unsure of whether his anger comes from Stevens actions or his own inaction.
“So, you kissed her.” Marc states, frowning at Steven and trying desperately to convince himself that he is definitely not jealous.
Steven scoffs and finally looks at Marc, challenging, “Yeah, I did. What are you going to do? Drown us?”
“Yeah, I should.” Marc seethes, remembering the feeling of watching from the inside as Stevens lips met Kats and knowing that she would never kiss him like that, not that he wants her too. In a softer tone Marc continues, “But you also make her happy.”
As much as Marc had been furious before that Kat had lied about everything, he has had some time to think and cool off while trapped in the body. During that time, Marc had replayed every interaction over and over again, wondering what was real, if anything. He can’t get over the fact that he had trusted her, so easily and implicitly, trusted her so much it blinded him to all the signs.
But as he had thought of it, Marc remembered Kats words. Her insistence that she has quit, that she hadn’t meant to lie. He had also realized that he can't exactly judge her, not when he has so much blood on his own hands.
“Steven?” Kat calls over to him, raising an impatient brow, “Focus. You and Marc can have your heart to heart when we're not in danger.”
“Ah, right.” Steven exclaims, whispering a soft thanks to Marc before focusing on the sarcophagus.
His eyes dart over each carving, committing it to memory and relishing the fact that he is literally in a pharaoh's tomb! Best day ever!
“Wow, look at that, Look at all these relics!” Steven whispers to himself, an awed smile on his face before frowning, “Macedonian? No. What?”
Steven fumbles to grasp his thoughts as he leans closer to the words etched in the sarcophagus, “No way, that's not right. That can't be right….That’s Macedonian.”
“What's wrong?” Kat calls, scooting as close to the water as she can without being sick.
“But the only pharaoh..” Steven continues whispering to himself, “But I mean, he insisted on calling himself Egyptian.”
“Steven?” Kat calls again, more worried this time. Trying to build her courage to cross the water and go to him.
Slowly Steven turns back to Kat, a dumbstruck expression on his face, lit by golden light reflecting off of the sarcophagus and water.
With a shaky voice, Steven tells Kat, “I think…I think we're looking at the long-lost tomb of Alexander The Great.”
Kats brain does not compute for a moment, “What?”
And then it hits her.
“What!?”
Steven nods, giddily bouncing on his feet, “Alexander the bloody great!”
Kat gives a startled laugh, leaping to her feet and pumping her fist as all her nerdy dreams come true. She takes a step forward to cross over but still can't bring herself to step onto that first stone. Instead, she just stays on her side of the water and watches happily as Steven begins examining the sarcophagus more, rambling from her side about the legends of Alexander the Great.
“You two are such geeks.” Marc says, fondness creeping in his voice despite how he had intended to not even say it aloud.
“Not everyone can rely on protein shakes and handsome looks to get the girl.” Steven shoots back, a foreign sense of comradery between him and Marc.
“Steven, we share the same body.” Marc points out, ignoring the twist of pain in his chest at Stevens' mention of ‘getting the girl’, “You're just complimenting yourself.”
Steven thinks about that and gives a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders and giving Marc an excited grin as he circles the sarcophagus. Since Kat isn't able to join him at the sarcophagus, Steven decides to grab something from inside to bring over to her so she can experience it as well.
With this plan in mind, Steven props his arms against the lid of the sarcophagus and prepares to push, pausing to tell Kat and Marc, “Everything inside me is screaming to not open this thing.”
Kat laughs and shakes her head, “The curses aren't real ya know.”
“Well yeah, but what about preservation?”
“We can preserve it after we get the ushabti.” Kat says, digging into her backpack and grabbing a sturdy flat industrial file and tossing it over to Steven who, of course, does not catch it. “Here, might help getting leverage to open it.”
“How much did you prepare for?”” Steven asks in wonder, grabbing the file from where it had clattered to the ground.
Kat shrugs modestly and makes a shooing motion for Steven to start opening the sarcophagus. She can hear the distant sounds of people, far off and not quite coming in their direction but there nonetheless. Kat wonders if perhaps parts of Bastet had stayed behind when the goddess had left, or maybe it’s the fact that she had had the goddesses full power flowing through her, surely she shouldn't have this good of hearing outside of being an avatar…right? It has been so long that she can't remember whether she has always had heightened sense or not, surely not.
The sarcophagus gives a valiant groan as Steven pushes its heavy stone lid with all his strength. Kat watches with rapt attention as Stevens forearms flex and strain against the weight of the lid, chewing her lip between her teeth as she admires the muscles that ripple over his back and shoulders. With a final huff, Steven pushes the lid far enough over to reveal the mummy waiting inside, arms crossed over itself and wrapped in thin linen coated in dust.
Quickly grabbing his phone from his pocket, Steven takes a quick picture to show Kat later, he can hear Kats confused laugh from behind him and smiles.
“Where's the Ushabti?” Marc asks, refocusing Steven on the task at hand.
“Well if you wanted to hide it for all eternity,” Steven says slowly, gaze searching around the sarcophagus for any sign of the stone ushabti, “you’d probably put it where the average looter wouldn't think to look…”
Marc nods along, pressing, “So what do you think?”
Stevens' eyes slowly, with clear dread, drag up to Alexander the Great's mummified mouth, “Alexander was the voice of Ammit…”
With a loud groan, Steven hangs his head and bemoans what he has to do.
“What's wrong?” Kat asks, tilting her head to the side as she watches Steven hyping himself up.
“Nothing, love.” Steven reassures her, not even noticing the affectionate term slipping out. He takes a step forward and reaches into the mummies mouth before quickly retracting it and blanching, “Oh gods.”
Kat flinches as more sporadic gunfire draws closer, still too far away for Steven to hear, but Kat can hear it and it reminds her that they need to get the hell out of here.
“Steven,” Kat says firmly, her voice echoing around the room with its strength, “put your hand down Alexander the Great's throat and pull the ushabti out.” Kat pauses, blinking, “Well there's a sentence I never thought I'd say.”
Nodding, Steven sucks in a breath, puffs out his chest, and shoves his hand down the mummies decaying throat, stuttering out apologies to the very much dead Alexander.
“Sorry, so sorry Mr. Great, oh god I'm sorry.”
The mummy's jaw cracks and falls off as Stevens arm sinks further in, a disgusted grimace on his face as he apologizes even more.
From the reflection of the sarcophagus, Marc gives Steven very unhelpful advice with a sympathetic wince as the mummies body squelches grossly around Steven's arm.
Even Kat can't keep the disgust from her face, suddenly glad of her water phobia since it means she at least doesn't need to see it, but the sounds are enough to make her nauseous.
With a final rip and crack of old aged bones, Steven pulls his hand free. In his grip is the stone ushabti, raised high above his head with triumph and a golden shining smile on his lips and sparkling eyes that pin Kat to the spot and take her breath away.
So distracted by their victory and high on affection, Kat doesn't even hear Layla's dragging heavy steps as she enters the room. Hopping down from the platform, Steven raises the ushabti and shouts to Layla.
“Layla, look!” He shouts happily, crossing back over to Kat who slots into his side naturally, “We won!”
Kat laughs and gives Steven a high five like the stupid nerds they are, her shoulder coming to press against his as she stands beside him as he makes his dorky jokes.
“And the ushabti goes to..us.”
“I think I'd prefer a BAFTA instead.” Kat says, delighted as Steven laughs as her lame jokes.
“I had to go digging down old Alexander the Great's gullet, but I found it.” Steven tells Layla, breathless with excitement and pride.
“Ugh, that was disgusting.” Kat adds with a comically wrinkled nose and grimace.
It’s only then, as Kat turns back to Layla, that she finally takes in Layla's face and her tearful eyes. Kats face falls immediately as concern for her friend overtakes her and she steps forward to comfort the woman, but Layla flinches and steps back, eyes full of fear and betrayal.
“You all right, Layla?” Steven asks, concern etching onto his face.
Layla just stares at them. At Kat with anger, and Steven with hurt and betrayal. Her reddened and puffy eyes flick between the two of them before focusing on Steven.
“Can he hear me?” Layla asks in a shaky voice, raw and scratchy with emotion.
“Alexander? I don’t think so.” Steven answers, genuinely confused, “God, I hope not.”
Kat sharply elbows Steven, giving him a warning look that says, ‘Please for the love of god, stop.’
Obediently Steven does stop talking as Layla glares at him, such a stark difference from the smiles she had given him before they had parted earlier. Kat eyes Layla warrily, taking in her clenched fists filled with anger and her heaving chest as the raw emotions well in her eyes.
“What happened to my father?” Layla asks, serious and undoubtedly ready to get the answers no matter what.
Steven looks around, confused, looking down at Kat for help as he is unsure of what to do, what to say. His mouth opening and closing like a fish as his wide eyes express his confusion and panic.
“Uh..Layla?” Kat says slowly, softly, as if approaching a startled deer, “What's going on? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay!” Layla explodes, turning on Kat with a fuming huff, tears glistening in her eyes as she shakes her head in disgust at Kat and turns back to Steven, ignoring Kats hurt and horrified expression, “I'm talking to you, Marc!”
Layla punctuates her words with a finger jabbing at Steven's chest, her back turned on Kat resolutely.
Kats chest feels tight, her throat closing as air feel impossible to obtain. The disgust, the blame, that Layla had looked at her with pierces behind her eyes, refusing to leave no matter how much she blinks. Laylas face switching with Kats sister Claire's face between each rapid blink. Layla, Claire, Layla, Claire, Layla. Yet as the faces change behind her eyes, the same expression stays. Betrayal, horror, disgust.
Steven glances at Kat, his heart giving a pang at the gleaming unshed tears in her eyes. Looking down at Layla, Steven is horrified to see that she has started openly crying, tears trailing down her flushed cheeks as she glares at him, no, at Marc.
With a sudden gasp, Stevens eyes roll back as his eyelashes flutter closed before exhaling and in Stevens place is the unmistakable figure of Marc.
Wasting no time, Marc grabs Layla's arm and begins pulling her to the exit, saying quickly, “Come on, lets go.”
Layla struggles against his grasp and shoves Marc away, glaring darkly at him as she refuses to move.
“We need to go right now.” Marc pleads, unable to meet Layla's eyes.
“What happened to my father?” Layla demands, ignoring Marc's words as she stands firm as a statue in her place.
The water's light reflects off the golden walls, giving Kat the feeling of being underwater, as silence descends in the room. The sparkling jewels encrusted in the walls glint their colorful array mockingly at the still and somber air that has fallen on the three occupants. No breaths are taken, no movement, nothing. The stone is smooth under Kats feet but it feels more like it's falling out from under them, nothing to catch or hold onto as she waits for Marc's move. Her own battle is done, she knows this in her heart. Her battle for love and friendship and to put everything behind her is done and gone. She failed. The kisses from Steven, soft and warm, they were enough for her to fool herself into thinking she could have this, have this simple life. But Layla's disgust, Marc's disappointment and anger, they bring her back to the startling reality.
“Did you kill Abdul El-Faouly?” Layla asks, voice low as she slowly enunciates each word that drips with a demand to be met, her face set and tense as she waits for Marc's answer.
Kat watches Marc face as it switches between many emotions, each passing too quickly for her to catalog. Yet one remained triumphant through it all, pain. Pure and unfiltered pain like none she had ever seen on another being before.
“Of course not.” Marc whispers, voice hoarse and raspy as he chokes back the emotion clogging his throat, “Of course I didn't.”
Marc drags a hand through his dark curls as Layla's jaw twitches and she asks, with a deep understanding sadness in her voice, “But you were there.”
Marc says nothing, staring at Layla with an apology in his eyes, one she can't accept.
“You were there.” Layla repeats, surer this time.
“I…” Marc tries to speak but the words slip through his grasp like oil on water, his eyes straying to Kats gaze, afraid to see the disappointment there.
But there's nothing on Kat's face but understanding, a deep understanding that transcends beyond simple words. Her brows drawn with worry as a tear slides down her cheek before being quickly swiped away. Dark blue eyes meet brown, holding each other's stare like a comforting embrace.
“Yeah.” Layla speaks again, shaking her head with disappointment as she steps away from Marc, “You were there.”
Marc's heart wars with itself, wanting to say something but unsure if he even can. Nothing he says can make this better. First he broke Layla's heart by running away, then he broke Kats heart by running away, and now he was going to cause that pain all over again. Pain and suffering follows him like a shadow, always there ready to strike when he's finally close to happiness again, always hurting someone he loves. Maybe it would be better if he just left, let Steven take over forever.
“Marc.” Kats voice draws him from his spiraling thoughts, soft and soothing more than he deserves. She's standing beside him now and Marcs not sure when she got there, her fingers resting lightly on his arm, unsure of whether he would shrug her off or not, “Tell her, please.”
Marc stares down at Kats face, open and honest as she asks him to return that honesty to Layla.
“I was there.” Marc whispers to the air the secret that has choked him for so long, his eyes closed, unable to see Layla and Kats expression, unable to bear it, “Yeah, I was there.”
“How did he die?” Layla asks, her words thick as she feels tears fall more, drops pattering on the limestone floor.
Marc takes a deep breath, Kats gentle fingers on his arm grounding him to the moment as he speaks slowly, “My partner got greedy, and he executed everyone at the dig site.”
Marc can hear Kat suck in a sharp breath beside him but her hand never leaves him as he continues, speaking to the dark behind his eyelids.
“I tried to save your father, but I couldn't save him, and I..”
“No.” Layla interrupts, anger and pain distorting her features, “But you brought a killer right to him, right?”
Marc finally opens his eyes as wet tears fall from him and he meets Layla's eyes steadily.
“Yeah.”
Silence descends again, dust floating idly through the stale air of the tomb, pale light cascading across the floor.
“He shot me too. I was supposed to die that night.” Marc says into the silence, feeling Kats hand tighten on him but Marc keeps his eyes on the floor in front of him, “But I didn't die that night, and I should have.”
Another tear drips down Kats face, slowly rolling and Kat could scoff at how dramatic it was. Crying doesn't come easily to her, Kat has usually been able to breathe and force the tears back down her throat, back into the carefully created cage for those emotions. But something about quitting her job, finding another avatar, following said stubborn avatar to Egypt, being shot at and gaining a nast concussion, turning back the entire bloody sky, losing her only constant companion, kissing Steven, and then losing Layla and Marc, all in not even a whole week just wore her down enough until that cage broke and she couldn't even focus long enough to close it again.
“I've tried to tell you since the moment we met,” Marc tells Layla, desperate to have her understand, to know how sorry he is.
A derisive laugh comes from Layla as she shakes her head and backs away, disbelief flitting over her face before falling into horror, whispering “Oh my god. That's the reason we met.” Hurt and anger fills her face as she glares at Marc, “You just had a guilty conscience.”
Marc's face falls as he closes his eyes as if it would protect him from the pain, it doesn't. Shaking her head, Kat steps forward between the two, her hands out placatingly.
“Okay, we can unpack this all later, but right now we need to go.” Kat says imploringly, trying to ignore the way Layla's eyes fill with hatred, with fear and distaste, “If we stay much longer, Harrow will find us.”
Opening his eyes, Marc nods and tucks the ushabti in his pocket as he slings Kats pack over his shoulder and grabs her hand to lead them all out, stopping after his first few steps when he hears Layla scoff and realizes she's not following.
“Seriously?” Layla scoffs, curling her lip at Kat who just stares back with hurt and confusion as Layla crosses her arms with a glare, “You're worried about us dying, huh? You're worried about Marc and Steven dying?”
“What? Of course,” Kat says, stepping back to where Layla is and letting go of Marcs hand, “Of course I'm worried about that, Layla.”
Now Layla is actually laughing, a dark and rueful sound echoing in the large room, “I don't know why I expected any difference, you already lied about who you were.”
Kat feels a sharp pang in her heart as she tries to not let it affect her and instead fights to keep her tears in check, “Layla, what are you talking about? What's going on?”
Marc has come to stand beside Kat, shifting on his feet as he itches to get moving again.
“What am I talking about?” Layla repeats mockingly, “I’m talking about how the whole reason you're here is so you can kill Marc!”
Kat feels her legs shaking from the effort of holding herself up, the room spins and all she can see is Layla framed by gold. Her breath stutters and stalls as she tries to gasp in breath after ragged breath but nothing seems to fill her lungs enough.
“Layla..I..” Kat tries to say something, anything to bring back her friend's smile, but no words can escape.
“Save it.” Layla interrupts and cocks her head at Marc as she asks, “Did you know that, Marc? That Kat has been trying to kill you?”
“I haven't been trying to kill anyone!” The words finally burst from Kat, her panicked wide-eyed gaze flicking between Layla and Marc's unchanged face, “I told you I quit, I wasn’t lying.”
“But you were going to kill them, right?” Layla asks, already knowing the answer, Harrow had been very clear about Kats purpose here.
Kat's eyes flit to Marc, who stands still and unmoving, his face the same stern lines it always sets in when he is concentrating or troubled.
Slowly Kats gaze returns to Laylas expectant one, tears now streaking freely down her face as she slowly nods, unable to say anything over the large lump in her throat choking her.
“The mercenary and the assassin. You two really are perfect for each other.” Layla says, her voice rough and ragged as she turns away from the two people she had thought she could trust.
Kat quickly turns to Marc in a dizzying rush as she stares up at him with those pleading blue eyes filled with tears waiting to fall. Kats hands grasp at his jacket desperately, as if it were the only thing keeping her standing, perhaps it is.
“Please Marc, you have to believe me,” Kat begs, her face uncharacteristically open and honest, “I would never hurt you or Steven, not now.”
Marc opens his mouth but Kat continues on in a rush of words, her accent slipping out and increasing as she speaks faster.
“Please, please, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. It's true I was hired to hurt Steven but then I got to know him and you, and I decided to quit because I just couldn't do it. I’m sorry I didn't tell you but I was worried you would hate me, and you probably do now. Please, Marc, I swear I would never hurt either of you. I-I I care to much about you both.
Marc's hands close over Kats own where she grasps at his jacket, his touch warm and gentle, more than she deserves. His hand catches Kats cheek and softly cups her face, effectively cutting off her panicked rambling as he guides her face up to look at him.
His face is blurry through her tears but Kat can see a tenderness in his eyes and a small understanding smile tugging at his lips.
“I already knew.” Marc says simply, his head leaning down until his face is inches from hers and his breath fans across her face, holding her gaze purposely as Kat gapes at him.
“Uh-what?” Kat asks eloquently, at a loss for words.
“I already knew you were sent to kill me and Steven.” Marc explains, each word sending a spark directly to Kats heart as he chuckles and continues, “I figured it out as soon as I found out you were an assassin.”
“Oh.” Is all Kat can say as Marc's other arm circles around her waist as her legs shake even more.
“Hey, hey, it's okay.” Marc soothes, voice low and quiet, “Steven knows too, I told him and he's fine with it, was a bit freaked out at first but he got over it.”
Nothing in the room exists except those deep brown eyes, looking at Kat with such care.
“You're not mad?”
Marc chuckles again, a disbelieving sound, “I was at first, scared too cause I know how well you fight, but I realized that…” Marc pauses, unsure of whether he should continue or not but Kats waiting, expectant eyes prompting him to swallow and take the leap, “I realized that I..care for you, too.”
And with that, Kats legs fully give out. Dragging herself and Marc to the ground as Layla watches and feels her anger wilt and fall away, replaced with regret and guilt.
Marc's arm is around Kat, his thumb brushing away the tears with gentle care. Even though they are on the floor of a dirty, dusty tomb, Kats heart gives a resounding thump and pushes her to lean forward through the small distance between them and close it.
This kiss in nothing like Stevens. This kiss is rough and full of fierce passion. A fire dancing between their lips that move in a dance of fighting for control. Every time one gives a little they make sure to push back twice as much. It's just as much a fight as it is a kiss. The most loving fight of hearts. Where Steven was slow and gentle, Marc attacks with a fierceness that leaves Kat gasping for breath. Hearts pounding as one. Soft lips and the taste of wood and mint and a richness like wine envelopes Kats senses. So lost in one another that Kat doesn't hear the footsteps outside the door and Marc doesn’t hear Layla's shouting.
Pulling back, Kat has no time to say anything as everything she had missed comes at her full force. The pounding on the door, the feet marching outside towards them, the clink of many guns being loaded, and Harrow's signature footsteps accompanied by crunching glass and the thump of his cane.
“Crap.” Kat hisses, meeting Marc's eyes and saying, loud enough for Layla to hear, “They're here.”
In a flurry of motion, Kat jumps to her feet and rushes across the water and grabs Layla's hand, tugging her behind a large pillar as Marc sets a defensive stance in front of the sarcophagus, hatchet raised and ready.
“Stay here.” Kat orders Layla, her tone leaving no room for arguments and embodying its full power, power that she needs no goddess for, “Don't come out for anything or anyone, no matter what you hear.”
Layla can only nod, unable to say anything to the fierceness in Kats eyes and the strength of her voice. A commander of armies couldn't even hold that much power in simple words.
Satisfied that Layla will stay safe, Kat makes her way back to the water, pausing only a second as she stares at her reflection in the small rippling pool. Salty sea spray, burning pain, darkness. And then Marc's reflection appears opposite hers, hand outstretched and waiting. Kat takes the first step, then the next, and then the next, until she is on the platform with Marcs hand firmly in her own.
The two avatars crouch into matching stances. Weapons in hand. hand in hand. And waiting for whatever will come through that door.
“You ready kitty Kat?” Marc asks, a smirk on his face despite the nervous edge to his voice.
“Always.”