See No

It felt like the air was pulled from his throat in the passing hours. Like those tricks where the clowns/magicians pull ropes of colorful square fabric(s) out of their mouths! But less scary and life-threatening. Well, no, not really. -The way you were able to just listen to him made him feel ecstatic. Every sentence ended with a slight gasp that he would be ashamed of if it wasn't for you staring into the display in awe.

That exact look is why he signed up for this job. To lure people into the love of Egyptian Mythology and talk to him about it with equal excitement. Just having someone to talk to about your interest is addicting. Yes, you didn't know as much as he did but Steven wouldn't dare hold that against you. It simply gave him more reason to talk to you. After all, most tour guides would just leave their party alone after the end of the tour but oh no no- he wouldn't dare do that to you. You deserved to know every single thing that you wanted to know, and Steven will happily be that source of education even if it runs his mouth dry. (Or Donna yells/threatens him, he's more than happy to do stock if it meant talking to you longer.)

I never thought I'd see you be more excited over something than when you got this job.

Marc met Steven's quick look. A smirk of amusement flickering his lips as he watches the alter pack his things for the day. A bit more force and speed than necessary because of you waiting outside. "Me neither! But here we are!" Steven laughed, zipping up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

Marc knew what this feeling was. The way the body urged to chase - it was familiar, painfully so. But, Steven deserved this. He deserved all the happiness he could get with this predicament.

Hey, Steven.

"Yeah?" He stops, looking over his shoulder. The reflection held a gentle stare, along with a strained smile.

Have fun.

"Of course. I will. I'll tell you all about it after, yeah?"

I'll be waiting.

With that, Steven was off. Marc letting out an airy scoff before closing his eyes, disappearing into the depths of his brain.

“Hiya. I’m here.”

Steven tapped your shoulder with his knuckles, bringing you forward. The two of you shared a faint smile before heading off. He goes on a distant rant about him being vegan and how meat makes him go crazy or something— but you couldn't process those words right now. Your attention far too focused on the way the gold lights kiss his face.

Such a color compliments his tan and eases the bags under his eyes. Not like you were going to judge his appearance. The both of you suffer from the terrors of the night, leaving the ceiling to be your closest friend... Your eyes travel to a curl laying on his forehead, one that he ruffled and pushed back as he moved to another topic.

“It's a bit silly, innit?”

Steven chuckles as he looks at you. The both of you staring with this regard as his eyebrows tense.

“What is?”

Give the body to Marc, worm.

The train of thought tipped with the roar. If this was the first time he met Khonshu he would've thought you heard him too with your reaction! But it was just suddenly cold and you weren't wearing a thick coat.

“Uh- me! I’m a bit silly... I mean, it's not every day I get to talk to someone like you. Or go on a date– this is a date? Right? No, it isn’t is it? I’m sorry I,”

He stopped the moment your name left your lips. His eyes returned to the ones he could barely see but feel. “It’s a date if you want it to be. I wouldn't mind, or it's just a hang-out. Whatever makes you feel safer.”

What if it's you that made him feel safer? How does he deal with that? How does he create this stable web of solace when it's with another person? It for sure won’t hold because the two of you wouldn't be around each other all the time. Is it even possible then? Especially when someone he just met?... Perhaps this is why he hasn't found someone yet. He's too much of a hopeless romantic and thinks that everything happens as it does in literature.

Marc Spector!

A harsh wind bashes through the plaza. A chorus of diverse responses from others being thrown in the air as Steven cradles an arm around you. It wouldn't be much due to the cause of the wind, but maybe it’d cause the God to back off just a bit; to give him the room to breathe, to think.

“[Name], I’m enjoying this a whole lot already. You’re just really nice— really nice,"

Now!

"But you have to get going." You finish off his struggle. A strained smile fluttering with the stars as you give a bow of your head; understanding. "I didn't want to keep you late anyway, you have work tomorrow after all." The warmth his body emitted soothed the building discomfort over your body, shallowing out the screaming of those scaring your skin.

Deep down you knew it was his own fear that calmed you. Your instincts wanting to take over to calm him down but, you can't, not right now. Not with the things that made you want to vomit in your presence. You may not be able to see them face to face with the glasses but you could feel it.

"Yeah. I'm sorry- I know it sounds like an excuse-"

WORM.

"Don't." You whisper. Your hand traveled to grasp the flesh of his retreating hand. "Don't stress yourself out. Go. There's always another night, yeah?"

“Yeah...”

“That isn't bloody fair and you know that! Y-You, don’t just get to ruin something for me because you can’t wait!” Steven boils with new anger, his voice echoing off of the walls of the small street. Just loud enough to wake Marc up.

Steven? What's going on?

“Him! That God! He is what's wrong! He ruined it with them! They’re going to think I’m the worse! Oh bollocks, I didn't get their cell!”

Who do you think you’re talking to like that? You’re my avatar. You answer my calls no matter the time.

“No! No, I’m not your avatar! He is!” Steven practically throws his hand at the closest reflection; a window of a closed candy shop. “Marc is your avatar! I didn't sign up for this! No! No!”

Steven... Calm down, buddy. Breathe.

Marc ‘reached’ out, frowning as Steven falls to his knees. The hands he so desperately tried to keep still found their way into his hair. “I ruined it with them... Bloody hell, they were the nicest to me.”

I know, Steven... I’ll help you make it up to them. Just let me– take over so we can get this done with. C’mon.

"Just take over already.”

Khonshu scowled at the outburst as he steps back, his back being kissed by the moon; a full moon.

You need to keep that worm in place, Spector.

“Don’t. Talk about him like that. You've been gone for months, of course, he's gonna react like that.” Marc, dusts off Steven's clothes, fixing up his appearance as best as he could. It wouldn't be important until after the mission but it’d make Steven feel a bit better in the meantime.

You wish to protect– Steven, this will ensure his safety.

Marc watched as Khonshu craned his skull to the sky. The odd endings of his head danced with a new wind— one that he didn't cause and one that didn't feel normal. It was eerie, making goosebumps rise on the avatars’ skin.

We must talk under the moon's eye, hurry.

————

The mouse must be hunted, Marc. Khonshu stood tall on the top of a building, looking below his 'devoted follower.' The power that they both emitted was breathtaking tonight.

“The– mouse?”

The little human that worm was with. They've run from me and hid in the shadows but, tonight. The moon is whole. There are only so many places that it can’t reach... Today must be the night my Knight confronts them.

Marc was still for a moment. The words of Khonshu sinking into his flesh and nerves as he breathes in the words. You? This person who was nearly a double Steven was being hunted by Khonshu?

"Why are you hunting them? They're someone who has chronic migraines and insomnia, who likes frogs and doesn't really eat red meat but isn't vegan." The words were rushed, poured from the front of his brain with a freshness like he was reading off of something. He didn't know why he knew this... Well, he does because he was co-fronting a majority of the time during the museum talk(s). (He'd call it a date but it'd trigger Steven out.) He was the one to control the body to ensure they didn't trash some exhibit and get screamed at. Sure, Marc wasn't talking but he did borrow an ear from time to time, along with a glance that seemed to go noticed by you. It was interesting to be part of. To witness such awareness that could go unnoticed by an untrained eye.

But again. It didn't trigger any red flags. He watched you grow comfortable with talking a bit more and even relaxing your body to further invite Steven to chatter.

Do not be fooled, Spector. Those who can hide in the shadows of night and day hold many skills; manipulation is one.

With a final order of your capture, the breathing moon disappeared. The sounds of his bandages trailing at the tips of Marc's ears, chilling the cartilage to a flush.

It felt like you'd been stabbed with a thousand needles simultaneously, that they were then dragged through your skin to reach the small of your back and fingertips. The tails of the claw marks were more muted than the body, all of which you found were easily covered up by your attire. But, they bellowed in a misery that you could only grimace at and not verbally scream about.

Such uncalled behavior irked you. Their panicky voices of this gunky mush make you want to bare your teeth like a wolf and scowl at them. As if they were your children and needed to be scolded. Maybe they needed to be scolded - or blessed away. They'd find their way back in time and be angrier than before but they can't blame you. You feel like a fucking cat scratch post.

Run... Home. No. Shadows. Danger. — Lurk. Moon. – Out, Moon.

"Shut up assholes." A growl breaks through your teeth, the blood trickling down your arms stuck the wool to your skin. The feeling aggravating the open wounds of the darkness that your mind and body began to descend into.

Failure - Bad. Your... Fault. Protect.

"Protect? Protecting me from what? Living my life?" You would've slammed the stair door if there wasn't a stopper. Jeez, that thought of just, letting out your anger with such an action feels really good about now. "Assholes. Bastards. All of you. Pass the fuck on already!"

The group trailed and stuck to you through the walk up to your floor. Your voice booming up and down the staircase with your stomping steps. Pain, Helplessness, Anger; Resentment. They were emotions that you could pick off of each soul that came to you with a problem, they were the emotions that you felt now.

Safe. Shadow. You, Dark, No. Moon. Steven? No. DEATH. No! Fault! Steven!

"Stop saying his name." You flip on your heel, pointing into the darkness of the long hallway. The moonlight coming in at the window at the end of the hall, praising the back of your shoes. "Stop talking. Stop whispering. Stop existing. Stop, saying his name out of your decaying mouths. How entitled do you think you all are, huh?" The eyes formed into the dark, varying in eye level and shape... Dammit, there was kids. Dammit. No, stop. "I don't know where the hell the God that takes you off is. I don't know where or what anything you want is because no matter what I offer- none of you are happy. I threw a damn ball around my house before and played games with you. I learned how to cook the most complicated dishes to put on a stand for you to feel full again. I learned languages so I could understand what you wanted, what you NEEDED because I thought that would make you happy!" The light falls from some, their gaze diverting in shame. Shame that reflecting into your living soul.

"And this is how you repay me?... Imagine how I feel for a second, okay? Just imagine it. How insane I look when I speak to the air. When I randomly start bleeding or when I take off my clothes and stare at my body with scars that shouldn't be possible! I feel horrible. That's what I feel. But, then I listen, I feel, I hear YOUR complaints and I can't help but feel the need to help. To try, to keep going for things that I cannot control. That just don't, accept it."

You shake your head, letting your hand fall with a breath. The feeling of emptiness burrowing into the center of your soul as a couple of bodies disappear; the young. They left this lingering pain in the air as the older spirits stared. No anger behind their looks or company... Just there. They watched as your jaw clenched in regret and your head fall in forgiveness...

They know. They know it's their fault you're the way you are. No one is so troubled and confused as you are without a reason. The dead being your reason. The insanity that they've put you through as you tried to please them. They can now only question how much longer until your strength breaks into the madness with them.

Hide.

Your sunglasses twitch with a touch. You couldn't see it, but, you could feel it. The pads of a calloused hand trying to fix your appearance, trying to soothe your hair down and wipe away the lingering red.

Care — You, -self. Shadows. Close, Blinds... Protect... Believe.

Silence was all you could muster up as you flush your keys from your pocket. Your fingers twitching with pain as you work your way through the lock. Souls, Spirits, things alike. You've studied them ever since you could read. You told yourself to never be mean, that they've suffered through enough. With the thing you've become, what you are, they truly are your only friends.

“You are only a human. A human.” You comfort yourself, the door creaking to a close and tinks with the three locked. The clothes you wore were stripped and absconded on the ground as you make your way to the lone window. The clump of souls peeks into existence, lingering at your form as you stand in the light.

The moon worshiped the skin it was offered. Its chilly hands traveling over the bare and licking the injuries in a way of care... Sometimes the souls were like this. They were caring, and sentimental in the ways they’d touch. Not always known for claws and bites. But, they became different after moving here. You feel as if they're angry with the move but they had a choice to stay in New York. They didn't need you and well— you don't need them (sometimes).

With a quick shut and pull, the dark took over your apartment. Your eyes welcoming the smallest light from your frog tank to adapt to your surroundings. 

You will take care of yourself with the traveling souls. You will take the time to breathe and accept the things that haunt you as you mend, as you hide.

It was harsh when Jake was finally able to front. Marc putting up a fight before being overpowered. The ceremonial suit absorbed into a void of black that molded with the cackling teasing of the dead. The full moon weakens their strength and make them slip— uncovering the prey from the tall grass.

He’s never seen such an aura before— the trail that your scattering steps left was interesting; new. Khonshu informed him that it was the variety of souls that were attached to your “weak vessel.” Some good but most bad, showing no mercy to you or him as they warn when danger is near. It's a hassle, a burden to him as it's hard to catch something that's always in a panic.

The only time Jake believed you weren't was at the museum. While he's never co-existed with the others at the same time, it was oddly, easy. His timing different from Marc’s to collect information and stare into the side of your face... The first time you gave a side glance of this— knowing, made him internally tilt his head. Did you see something? Have you been seeing something or are you planning? Planning on harming, Steven? Harming, Steven. That didn't settle right with Jake.

The window.

Jake stands tall, eyes breaking into a squint. The air was the only sound as he found you. The white of his eyes and cape picked up to lift toward the moon. The warm color that fell from your cold body bothered him. Especially with what causes such volume to pour. Those marks— are brutal. Something he wouldn't do if he had a gun handy.

They won't die because of that, nor by you. As the hands of life and death are indecisive with this peculiar being.

Khonshucasts a shadow over the man.

Now, confront them, Jake Lockley.

Jake huffed as he stepped off the building. The tail of his cape rippled into the moon before growing quiet. The smell of blood was intoxicating to the point he could taste the copper all over his tongue. How can someone even walk all the way home with this amount of blood loss?

“This is the same building Steven lives in.” He mutters as he follows the drying blood trail. You've really been under their noses, huh...

His eye twitched at the abnormally dark hall before closing the staircase door... He wonders why you took the stairs– maybe the elevator was too much of a risk? Or... “Estúpido.” Jake grunts as he reaches the end of the trail.

This–, reminds me of someone... Someone very familiar.

Jake raises a brow at the echoing voice, glancing left and right.

The complete darkness doesn't welcome me. Get inside and open the window and I will present myself.

Jake pulls out a tool, flicking through a couple of things before shoving it into the lock. He could kick the door down, break it right off its hinges even without the power of the Moon. But, he chose not to, flicking the other locks with a metal rod off their bar to push the door open.

The door creaked with his entry.

He took in his surrounding, drinking it in like it's whiskey. Letting it burn into his body as he slowly steps in... Every move he made caused the building to scream, the wood under his boots crying out and the frogs croaking louder than usual. The chains of the locks banged against the door, louder and louder as he approached the window.

He can feel something watching him. He can feel it but he can't see and something new ignites in his chest as he closes in on the drapes. His fingers zap with unknown emotions as he grabs fistfuls of the fabric. The metal hoops yell against the bar as he throws it open. The moon hits his face like the hot sun as he nearly breaks the window with the force he used.

The mouse is here.

Khonshu crawls through the window, the staff shaking the floor as his beak scratches it. The full moon strengthens him, adjusting his being to a new height. If he wanted to, he could rip open the ceiling with the sharpened bone of his face. Let the moon absorb this room and rip the shadow dweller from its den.