Bygone

18

Dilemma

All Marcus could do was keep walking. Keep walking further and further from the suppressed weeping and sobbing and never turn back, never look back and never remind himself of how this day would come to feel for the rest of the days he's chosen to live.

I don't want to lose you.

But he couldn't help but shed even a few tears, even just a few salty, love-filled and heartbroken droplets. They were just children, they were just children and there wouldn't be another soul out there that understood this feeling in him.

Jaclyn cried on and on, and despite the quietude, he could hear her. Hear the needles on her skin, hear the blades on his wrists, the sharp hammer against his back.

That was all it was. An ending. It was as simple as that.

The night was getting later than it already was, but he couldn't help but appreciate that they were at least here now. No risk of being spotted by soldiers, no risk of losing the sword, no risk of dying to unaccounted deviations.

Marcus wasn't sure whether the girls were beginning to blame Orion for Jaclyn's almost untimely death. He knew he couldn't, he doubted that the Prime would've ever entered Clypeum this way often enough to understand whether there were deviations or differences.

Maybe it was misplaced trust, but then that'd mean his trust in his own personal design would be misplaced.

He looked outward again, into the endless horizon. The only light that could've come would have had to be from the border patrol almost at a direct ninety degrees below them, so noticing the details in the black of the greenery was a gift he had for now.

Amidst those sightly details, the lively metropolitan sounds of party and glamour were beginning to settle into their ears. They were closer now to the wall's height, so it would make sense, but it was a nice reminder that they were a step closer to attaining this next component.

This next component for the Archangel.

Marcus was drawn back to his senses. There was a reason he was doing this, a reason he believed was deserved. A reason he knew was right for him. A reason that wasn't why Jaclyn was still there with them.

He turned his head to the side, catching a glimpse at Orion aiding the girls in managing their Odium dresses. It was almost humorous seeing the Prime struggle to keep his composure adjusting their sleeves and locking their pins.

Humorous enough to radiate a smile from the supposed Feurno. But his eyes turned toward the girl in the glittery navy blue dress.

Jaclyn's hair was tied neatly into a bun, the same hairstyle that would get him head over heels the moment she pulled two strands of loosely hanging hairs over her fringe. Her eyes were drooping from exhaustion, her arms too punished from what he assumed was the final few minutes of the climb that Orion had to carry their weight.

Marcus found her so beautiful. She was always so beautiful.

She wasn't the girl that he deserved her to be, the girl that even she admitted she wanted to be for him. But she was so much more than enough.

It was ironic really, but he couldn't put a pin in why.

The gravity of his recent realisation of strength wasn't even due to him recognising his connection and potential as one of Siluvar's Chosen, it was because he wanted–No, needed, to save Jaclyn then and there.

And in a way, in the most twisted and fantastical way possible, Marcus could realise that Jaclyn siphoned her spirits energy through the very human feelings they both allowed to make them their vessels.