One question begets another though one coincidence does not beget another. Maybe he was thinking since her bluejay appeared at her home in the same manner of mutilation that did his that meant--
"Uh..."
He has to tell someone. If his therapist drives nothing else into his skull this summer he hopes to drive that he needs to trust people even if people are fleeting finite things. Hard to take advice on trusting anyone when he's lying to the person dispensing the advice. Therapists don't tend to have very good advice for 'I hear dead people and vampires are real' and Nathan doesn't want to experiment with psychotropic medication.
So he trusts Amber. Has to clear his throat to do it but he doesn't say 'Nothing' and change the subject like he might have six months ago.
"A flier. Well... it came with a bunch of coupons and shit, but someone wrote, quote: 'you have been chose.' End quote. On it. And it turns out it's like, an invite to an underground fighting situation. I'm trying to ration my stupid life-threatening situations for a dry spell, so I haven't actually gone yet, but..."
Amber[manip+subt: on a scale of 1-4, how good are you at hiding your AUGHHHHH reaction?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )
Nathan[perc + subt: prob not very well]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 5 )
AmberAmber hasn't exactly been hiding the little extra sideline thing waiting at the periphery of her life, but she hasn't been forthcoming about it, either. Nathan was in the military, sure, she'll buy that, but him as a fighter now? That little stunt in the bookstore's basement showed Amber that if if the man had ever been in fighting shape before he just isn't anymore. She's not going to risk getting him wrapped up in some weird fight club thing if she can help it.
Turns out, shouldn't have bothered, of fucking course. Because when has Amber ever been even marginally successful at protecting her mortal friends from bad things? She doesn't outright groan but Nate can see that she wants to. The way her jaw clenches, muscles working beneath her sandy-toned cheek and all down the side of her neck and into her shoulders. She shifts her posture, head tilting so that he gets the intensity of her slit-eyed glare.
It's not for him, that glare, but it's pointed at him so.
She looks away to the one-way traffic slowing on Santa Fe because a crowd of half-drunk twenty-somethings decided they can cross whenever and wherever they choose they are invincible. Amber looks that direction without seeing much that isn't tinging toward red (red tail-lights, red light of the tattoo parlor across the street, red of the display of the Mexican restaurant just beside it).
"Shit," she mutters.
Swings her head to face forward, watching the heads of the crowd bob and shift ahead of them. "I got one've those. Word on the street's they always get the people they choose, because they've got something on them."
NathanJust because Nathan went through basic training and has been deployed overseas doesn't mean he's ever had to kill another person. That day down in the basement of the bookstore he didn't immediately fly into attack mode. He focused on deflecting the attacks because he knew if he left his face unprotected he was going to get hit. As soon as he moved to push the heavier possessed man off of him that's exactly what happened.
He's been out of the service three years and it was obvious he wasn't infantry even when he was still in. He was a combat correspondent. He shot more film than he did bullets and if he ever fired his rifle he never talks about it. He sure as shit has never killed someone in close quarters.
Amber's right. Nathan isn't a fighter.
That glare hits him and he doesn't flinch away from it. His joke was a poor one and he weathers her reaction not as if it was a flat-fallen joke but as if it was something he said that he shouldn't have said to someone who's already saved his fucking life once. Nothing but red before them.
The reporter runs his hand down his face and sighs heavy.
"So what's Fight Club got to do with dead birds and dog attacks?"
fableA man comes out of the tattoo parlor across the street.
He is a good looking man; dark curling hair, an oil slick black to match oil slick black eyes, ladies and gentlemen you know just the kind of black, the kind of black that seems oh so soulful because when you're looking into them you're wondering whether or not you can see yourself, that air of injury chased away by laughter but there's always a brooding edge, isn't there? Isn't there? It's what makes black eyes like that, and good looking men of this one's particular style, appealing.
None of that is of particular interest to Amber or Nathan at the moment. Or maybe it is. Maybe their attention is drawn to the man for a moment. He's texting, looks across the street once and then twice and then eases between traffic. Comes up behind them.
Not right behind them, just behind them a ways that-a-way because that's where he crossed and now he's moving in their direction. His head is down.
[If either of y'all would like to roll Percept + Alert, feel free.]
Nathan[i bought this dot just for you, pal]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Amber[are Namber new perception dot buddies??? *sings the wedding march*]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )
fableAmber notices that there is indeed a man. He's right there! He carries himself like somebody who's used to getting into brawls. He also seems distracted not by the First Walk spectacle or by the phone in his hands. By something else.
It's good to notice things.
fableNathan notices that there is indeed a man. He's right there! He carries himself like somebody who's used to getting into brawls. He also seems distracted not by the First Walk spectacle or by the phone in his hands. Which he is not actually using. He's holding it like he's texting but he's not. Camoflauge.
It's good to notice things.
As the man comes closer, Nathan can also feel the presence of a Shade in the man's shadow. The world is full of darkness, but it's not as if everybody who dies becomes a ghost -- they're not as common as dandelions (not with the dangers wraiths must face), but Nathan has always known what it feels like when they're around.
AmberNathan's joke was unfortunately mostly missed when Amber's gut twisted into a nice little knot (the twisty kind only sailors and boy scouts know how to make). He's trying to stay out of trouble and so far as Amber knows he's been successful.
Unfortunately, just as they can't go five minutes pretending like they're completely normal - not an immortal vitae-addict, not a ghost whisperer - Nate and Amber can't go much longer than that without trouble rising up from the murky depths of their lives. No matter how they try to shift and twist and dance around it, it finds them, or they dance right into it.
This time, it's a complex mess of a puzzle, at least from where Amber's concerned.
What do dead birds and dog attacks have with underground fight clubs?
"Fuck if I know," Amber says, eyes roving over the crowd, restless. "But if someone-" that guy? the one moving across the street? "-introduces himself as Tyler Durden I'm gonna break his fucking nose."
NathanNathan has always hated the expression 'You look like you've just seen a ghost' and its reference to one's skin going pale. His skin is always pale. It takes him actually sensing a ghost for the expression to lose its grounding.
The first and only time Amber has been in his presence when a shade was not only present but active he looked as if his heart was in his throat. He hyperventilated and refused to blink and kept swallowing like his mouth had gone completely fucking dry. When he spoke he spoke as if he were trying to carry on a phone conversation without disengaging from the person in the room with him.
As that man comes out of the tattoo parlor Nate does in fact lose what little color his face claims to boast. He hesitates for half-a-second before continuing along next to Amber and forcing himself to look away from the other man but then he comes closer and Amber makes a joke about Tyler Durden and Nate takes hold of her elbow not to hurt her or to steer her. Like he needs her to keep him from wandering off.
Even though he swallows hard first Amber can hear Nathan's heart is in his throat when he speaks. A piano-wire note of Shit shit shit shit in it. He both does and does not want to look back at the man. For now he does not look back.
"Tyler Durden wasn't real," he says.
fable[Do I, the NPC, hear that?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (2, 4, 6, 10) ( success x 1 )
fable[Do I, the MYSTERY NPC, have anything to do with what's up?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 7, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
fableAmber's voice cuts through whatever fog his attention is wandering through and acts on the man like a light, ripple-wavering, and he looks up from his phone and over at her and her boyfriend - for so he must assume the pasty-faced blonde is. An errant lock of black falls across his forehead, a tender juxtaposition against the sad soulful eyes and the sudden and knowing smirk. He puts his phone against his ear a moment later. He's closer now. It's not a conversation starter; it's just a touch of superiority which dissolves soon after. He covers his mouth that whatever he's saying into the phone be muffled.
[Another Percept + Alert if either of y'all wanna try and hear it. Diff 8!]
fableAs the man comes near, Nathan can hear from the man's shadow, the voice of another man, young voice all crackling like gold foil from a candy wrapper, You think you're going to get away with it? You think you're not going to have to face justice? You think you're not going to have righteousness come down on you bright light like you're a star? You think you can treat people like that? You think you can forget me? You're never gonna forget me. I come back just for you.
The Shade is not trying to be quiet.
Amber[c'mon Amber notice things you dumb ghoul!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (1, 3, 4, 6, 8) ( success x 1 )
Nathan[c'mon Nathan notice things you dumb medium]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (1, 3, 5, 5) ( fail )
fableAmber can hear him say, "I don't care if you did come back. I don't want to hear it."
Amber"I know some peop-" that's as far as Amber gets before she recognizes that strangled sound, like Nate's trying to talk around something lodged in his throat and it just keeps thmp-thumping and getting in the way of his words. Brows scrunching together, the earthen creature at his side does not yank her arm away when she feels his fingers wrap around her elbow. He can feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers, the strength of muscle and tendon. Whether or not he recognizes it, though, that's another and not nearly so interesting thing.
It takes all her effort not to look back right then and there. Instead she sublimates the motion her head wants to make to look at Nathan, trying to use her peripheral to keep an eye on the stranger indirectly. It means her ear's more receptive to that chat he's trying to hide, if only a little.
Whatever she hears, it doesn't cause her expression to change, though she does close one hand over Nate's. Nate, who uh, looks like he's seen a ghost. Except that Amber knows just how literal that expression is when applied to the jouralist.
The hand that covers his curls its fingers to wrap around his, pulling it off her elbow so that she can hold onto it properly. With barely a glance back to the soulful-eyed stranger, Amber moves to the side, dragging Nate along with her as she ducks into the closest gallery.
NathanIn the midst of an acute stress episode the body prepares itself to survive a threat to its survival while the brain's higher reasoning functions are as suppressed as the life functions not essential to either escaping or subduing the threat. Most people's hands shake when they're terrified but most people haven't learned how to steady a weapon in situations where most people would hide.
His hand is freezing when Amber takes hold of it but it does not shake. He grips her hand tighter than he had gripped her elbow and this seems to be the tether to reality he needed because Nate blinks hard and glances at her once before something tugs at his attention again.
If she weren't here he would have confronted the stranger. She's seen him do it before. He doesn't fight as she leads him into the gallery but he does glance back at the man just before their path takes him out of sight.
"He's--Amber, wait."
AmberAmber does not wait. Amber pulls Nate through a red door surrounded by large nearly-floor-to-ceiling windows. The door is doubled, with one opening out and the other opening in - both open tonight to let in the the promise of cool, fresh air. Printed on the glass windows to either side are lists of names of artists for this cooperative gallery. It is not a place for hiding but then Amber doesn't want to hide, precisely. She wants to get Nathan somewhere off that guy's path, even for a moment.
Which Nate will realize the moment they're through the door. Amber drags him with her, her strength relentless, and then she pulls him up in front of her. Eyes darting to the windows to watch for the man's passage, she says as a cluster of people pushes in around them, looking at the various art pieces on display, "Tell me what you saw."
NathanIf they had gone into the reception where Nate started the evening they wouldn't have blended in. Amber looks as if she's on her way to the corner store for a pack of cigarettes and Nate looks as if he couldn't tell the difference between a soiled canvas and a finished piece.
The reception where Nate started the evening was serving wine and not crowded. They could have spoken in a low tone to each other and no one would have noticed. This place is packed and Nate looks as if he's having some sort of psychiatric disturbance. His agitation is more obvious indoors than it is out in the natural light. He's breathing heavy through his nose to try and keep himself calm and his eyes cling to the front windows for several seconds after Amber addresses him though he shakes his head like to dissuade her of the notion he saw anything. Wrong sense.
Someone is going to overhear them if he starts telling her about what the voice trailing the man outside said. Probably several someones. He swallows hard and forces himself to look back at her.
"There's a shade right behind him," he whispers. One of them may have to lean in closer for her to hear him. Either way: "It was asking him if he thinks he's gonna 'get away with it.'"
fableThe dark-haired young man is still talking into his phone. He pauses on the kerb, digging around in his cargos until he finds a pack.
If anybody were watching him, they'd see the phone fling out of his hands and into traffic when he starts tapping out a cigarette. They'd see him take a quick step after it and then stop himself abruptly.
Somebody on a motorcycle speeding by, would've hit him. Wouldn't've been fatal, but still.
AmberThere is a moment, one brief, tense moment, when Amber sees Nate staring out the window like he's about to piss his pants that she has to fight the urge to slap him. Right there. Right across his face. In front of God and everyone in this gallery. Right in sight of- well you get the idea. She wants to hit him, not just to make him focus but because damn it this is important and how annoying is it to ask someone a question and have them freeze up on you when it's important?
She doesn't hit him, though, doesn't even tense like the thought's entered her mind. She leans in a little when he finally answers her she relaxes a touch, turning her head so that she's looking outside because there's the guy. Still talking into his phone. Amber's eyes narrow to slits and her jaw tightens. Shooting a look at Nate, she tips her head toward the door just as a phone goes skittering down into the street.
Amber releases Nate, though if he continues to cling to her hand she won't shake him off. Then she starts heading out the door, striding ahead of a couple headed in the same direction.
"You okay there, man?" she calls to the man, but her chin lifts and she looks off after the motorcycle. Like that's what drew her attention.
[manip+subt]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
fable[NPC Perc + Emp.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )
NathanOne can only imagine the stories his parents will never tell other people about the weird shit he used to do when he was little. Or what used to come out of his mouth. Children aren't afraid of anything. It's only through time and experience that they learn to fear things like darkness and heights and fire and wild animals. A voice come creeping like icy fingers up the back of your neck wiggling into your ear.
Maybe when he was little he didn't mind the voices so much. At a certain age he started reacting to them all the same whether they were benign or homicidal. It isn't anything he can help just yet. Maybe one day his attention won't tunnel just as soon as he realizes a shade is in the vicinity.
At least this one isn't touching him. It doesn't follow them into the gallery. He calms down enough that he can maybe maintain as the encounter morphs into an incident. He does not cling to Amber's hand.
"Shit," he says as he follows her. Either in response to the man throwing the phone or because Amber is just going to walk right up to him.
fableHe is scowling, although he looks like a puppy when he scowls. There might be a capacity for violence in those oil black eyes of his, contained within his well-muscled frame, but it's hidden well enough by that air of almost always sadness, hangdog surprise around a mouth some women and men would probably linger over, the scowl makes him look like a little boy. Little boys are sinister and amoral and everybody knows that from J. M. Barrie to William Golding. He seems to be scowling at the fact that he dropped his phone into traffic and almost got hit by a motorcycle rather than beautiful woman and her beta boyfriend approaching, but who knows. He looks the pair of them over, then shrugs. "I'll survive, thanks."
He's eying the traffic again, looking for his phone which is -- there it is. He hesitates before jumping in after it. The hesitation spins out.
fableInteresting choice of words, Nathan hears, sussuration around the man, Very interesting choice of words. You think you're gonna? You think you're gonna last? You think you're not gonna slip up I'm not going to be there ready to be the ice under your heel? You think that's not what I'm here for? You think it's going to be this easy? You think I'd let you die easy? You're going to hear about it, pal. You're going to hear it when you fuck your girlfriend tonight. You're going to hear it when you're in the fucking ring. You're going to hear it when you're placing bets.
AmberUttering an expletive, Nathan follows Amber out onto the sidewalk once more. She calls out to the man before she intends to walk right up to him, because she doesn't know. Will he sprout claws? Will she wish she had her knife on her today? Her hand returns to her pocket where she feels the familiar and slight weight of a set of keys. There is a keychain on it, one that looks like a cat, but with wicked sharp pointed ears. She does not slide her fingers through the rings of its eyes, not yet.
The young man with the dark hair slicked back - Amber might have found him attractive once, but these nights she has eyes for only one man - stares at her and he looks at Nate and if Amber knew he thought that Nate was her boyfriend she would probably want very much to let the loony remove his genetic code from the gene pool.
She doesn't know that, though, thank goodness. It means she has a chance to try to keep her conscience clear a little while longer. The chance presents itself all the more strongly when the young man tells her he'll survive, then looks like he's seriously considering walking into traffic.
"Are you fucking kidding me." It's not even a question, not the way the words fall like hard flat stones to the earth. As though the words are real stones that create a real path, Amber stalks forward. She is not terribly kind, this woman, but she is pragmatic. And Nathan has seen her be thoughtlessly thoughtful. When she brought him books and food while he was in the hospital (because her mom got lonely, and her mom got hungry for "real" food), and when she put out her cigarette tonight (it'd be rude not to).
It's the same now, as she comes forward, hand outstretched to grab the stranger by the arm and drag him back from the edge if she has to.
"You might, but you'll ruin all these people's night in the process. They came to see paintings and shit, not some idiot's blood splattered all over their cars. Stupid shit."
NathanRumor has it Nathan will put himself in danger if it means it will keep other people safe. This isn't a universal truism but he has gone into dark basements to try and save people from vengeful spirits and he once grabbed a volatile woman by the wrist to stave off a probable assault in a public place even though she could have broken his wrist in the same moment.
Yet Nathan does nothing as the man moves to retrieve his phone and Amber moves to stop him. Anyone watching them might think he's cowed or if not cowed just completely useless. One of those skittish agoraphobic types who would rather be at home on the Internet counting down the hours until he can take his next dose of medication and chase it with a nap.
He's listening to something no one else can hear. Means when he speaks at a last he's speaking quiet like he's butting into a conversation that isn't any of his goddamn business. Hoping the spectacle between the slick man and Amber is enough of a spectacle to bury whatever he ends up doing.
"Hey," he says. Like if he can hear the shade then it can pick him out of a crowd of people who have no idea it's there if he lets it know it just so happens that he can hear it.
Sorry Amber. Your imaginary beta boyfriend is talks-to-the-voices-in-his-head crazy.
fableLet's talk about Marie. Isn't she sweet? The things she'd do for you. They number as few as the things I'd do for you. Ha, ha, ha. (Chuckling. Dry as leaves whispering against each other.) Afraid to go into the street? No wonder she doesn't love you. No wonder she's trying to leave you. They say boys marry their mothers, but ooh-wee. You got it down perfectly didn't you, right down to way she's gonna leave you. Oh, yeah, you already suspect it, don't you? You know she's trying to get the fuck out. She can smell it on you, all the shit you wade through, she knows you're no fucking good. That's why she fucked your best friend in your shower, the one you installed. They sure liked the pressure nozzle.
fable[Mystery NPC: Notice things?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 5, 5) ( fail )
fable[NPC: Self Control for reasons.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (3, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 1 )
fable[Wait, that was the wrong Self Control. He actually has this much.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN8 (3, 9) ( success x 1 )
fable[Good job, boy.]
fableHe seems a touch harried. This attractive young man, all dark of eye and hair, all sad and strong at once; he seems a touch godamned harried, although he does an admirable (admirable, perhaps, if you know) job of not letting himself actually be harried. He runs his fingers through his hair, both hands, like he'd wanted to fling them up but stopped himself, and says wryly, "What do you suggest then? I should just leave my phone in the street to get crushed?"
fableNathan gets a quick upjerk of his chin. A slightly more considering look. "I need it for work." Addendum: gaze swinging back to Amber.
AmberNate says Hey with a bit of stress, a touch of emphasis, but Amber is not looking at him. She is looking at the darkhaired man who is needs to catch his phone because work.
"It's just a fucking phone. Pretty sure you're work'll be more willing to pay a couple hundred for a new one over a few grand fixing you up again."
She says, as she moves forward to the curb herself. Out of habit she looks both ways, though she really only needs to look the one. Then she cuts a sharp, hard look at the stranger. "What do you even do that they give you a phone?" She can think of a lot of different options, but if she's going to try and flag down cars to stop long enough for her to rescue the damn thing she's not going to guess about it.
Just before she starts leaning, holding her palm flat and facing the oncoming traffic in hopes that they'll at least slow down, she looks at Nate. Nate who is perhaps not talking to either of them when he says hey like that.
Amber[app+perf: STAHP! (thank you, Gary, for helping Amber get that dot of performance)]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )
Nathan[I'm going to go to bed, we can sort out what Nate is doing later I reckon. Thanks for the scene guys!]
fableThe beautiful woman does manage to snag attention and the driver in the forefront slows; palms up is a universal signal for stop, isn't it?
So one driver slows, which slows the driver behind them, and then the next one slows too in the next lane over, and there's a window of opportunity to run out and get the phone. Amber's looking at Nate and Jon Marc (for that is the dark haired man's name) swoops in on his phone and swoops out again.
He grins at Amber, and maybe it's a charming grin; he can be charming, sad eyed thing that he is, though sometimes - well.
"Thanks. And I do a little of this, a little of that. Personal assistant, like."
[I charm. Do I charm? I could charm. Charisma + Emp. + Specialty.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )
fable[4. He is so charming.]
fable[Oh, one more die.]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (5) ( fail )
Amber[do i see through charm? probably not because the dice like Amber to be blind to things: percept+emp]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 7, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
AmberPhone retrieved, Amber motions the leading car forward and steps away. Traffic is free to go unimpeded once more.
Leaving Amber alone with Nathan who is distracted by his new shade-friend, and a charming stranger. Ugh. Amber is not a fan of charmers (save one), because usually when they turn on the charm they want something.
"Yeah?" she says, chin tipping upward as she watches him, guarded. "Sounds like a pretty cushy gig."
fableJon Marc checks his phone (scowls, briefly and savagely) for cracks on the casing or the screen and then slides it into the pockets of his cargos. That pack of cigarettes he'd pulled earlier is long since forgotten; he still has it in his hands. Puts it away too.
"It is," he says, and there's just the slightest touch of knowing. He's charming, but that doesn't mean he's a good guy. Charming, vulnerable: not a good guy. Or maybe he is. Maybe he's misunderstood. He looks like he's misunderstood. "But my boss wouldn't take kindly if they couldn't reach me. You know how it is. Slave driver."
His eyes go from Amber back to Nate. He tips his chin up. Angles so the chin up nod goes to Amber as well.
"I'll seeya round." A pause; as if he might say something else -
AmberShe does know how that is, though she hasn't had to deal with it herself for a while. Nobody gets pissy with her because she forgot to check in one morning, not anymore. Slave driver, hm.
Amber doesn't know who this kid (kid? he looks about her age) is or how he could be connected to...well anything. All she knows is that he's got a "shade" trailing him and asking him things about getting away with something. That's not suspicious at all.
So when he says he'll see her around but pauses, Amber's eyes narrow. No, stop that. She is an intense presence to be around, a wild force of nature created when some lonely god scooped up a handful of earth and stretched it out into a person-shape. She is the daughter of a whore and a woman who almost had her own ill reputation. She has her defenses and she has her attitudes which have been part of her personality regardless of her history or her situation.
Which is all to say that when she lifts her chin and looks at him, she does try to keep some of that intensity in check.
"Yeah?"
[charisma+emp!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 5 )
fable"Yeah. I've always got time for Palahniuk fan."
That's the quip that he paused on the edge of making; hesitated until Amber's sheer godamned presence made him decide to make the interaction something more. He doesn't trust in her but he is moved by her.
Charisma.
He thinks he's being clever, Jon Marc does, and he gives the pair of them another nod. Almost harried again, and a nearby light flickers. Dampens.
His smile flickers away and he waves two fingers. Turns to go.
AmberAmber frowns, which on her astonishingly lovely face and with her terribly intense presence sweeping back in looks more like a scowl.
"What?" she asks, not really expecting an answer and that is what irritates her. That she doesn't get it and that's probably the end of this. And even if it wasn't going to be, even if he might have relented and explained what he thought was so funny (and who would? explaining the joke ruins it), Amber turns her head sharply away with a, "Tch."
She will start to walk away, hopefully with one Nathan Amherst in tow, but she will stop a few steps off and turn to watch the stranger, if he's still in sight.
fableHe glances back once, the stranger, then up at a light. He stays away from the kerb, and he starts fumbling for a cigarette again before he has entirely vanished into the crowd. Amber can track him for a little while, but like most people in the world of darkness, the city eventually swallows him up.
One gulp.
fableBut Nathan can hear Jon Marc's haunt, his Shade, the thing in his shadow shout, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, HOW DARE YOU BRING UP, YOU PIECE OF MOTHERFUCKING SHIT, before the light flickers out. Back to an insinuation of, You're not going to survive it you're not going to survive it you will not be and then they're too far for Nathan to hear. Sound's swallowed up, echo diminished, eventually gone like everything in the dark dark world.
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