Mark's outfit up above :)
Sunlight filtered through the window, and Mark groaned, stirring in bed. He felt the sheets beneath him, wondering why they were so soft, and opened his eyes, jolting as he saw his surroundings. He glanced around, blinking, remembering that he spent the night in the Tear Stealer's room.
He glanced at the drawer beside him, stomach getting queasy at the sight. Subconsciously, he pressed a finger to the corner of his eye.
He took one of my tears.
Mark had no idea what the Tear Stealer did with the vials, nor had he any idea what benefit they had on him, and that was the scary part.
Not knowing.
He clambered out of bed, lazily making the bed, and caught sight of a pile of clothes on the edge of the bed—each article a smooth burgundy. Mark rose a brow and lifted one of the pieces, stretching it out before him. It was a burgundy, long-sleeve turtleneck.
A paper fluttered down to the ground, and he set down the shirt, kneeling down to pick it up. Familiar, elegant black scrawl peered up at him—Dark's writing.
'Find the dining hall,' it said.
Mark scoffed and smiled, running his fingers along the clothes he'd been provided. Minutes later, he got himself dressed, setting his night clothes aside and staring at himself in the by the closet. His cheeks flared with heat, and he tugged at his turtleneck.
"Awfully fancy," he said, eyeing the all-burgundy suit and shifting in place. He stowed the note in his pocket, keeping his jacket unbuttoned.
Find the dining hall, he repeated in his head, giving one last glance at the room before leaving. Looks like he's putting more trust in me.
He closed the door, pleased to see the two other doors—still in the same position as last night. Trying to remember the way, he turned right, blinking at a hallway adorned with paintings.
"Haven't seen that before," he mumbled.
He turned around, gazing down the other hallway and scratching the back of his neck.
Oh, how funny, he thought bitterly. He thinks I can't find my way.
Mark narrowed his eyes, determined, and went down the hallway on the left, passing a few doors and separate hallways. He turned into an opening, and a room opened up before him, sloping and grand and enormous. Stained-glass windows made up an entire wall, curving from the floor to the ceiling. He blinked at it all, mind whirring at the mere beauty of it, allowing himself to forget about breakfast to take everything in.
A staircase sloped up and into shadows away from the sunlight, and Mark hummed, heading towards it. As he walked up a few steps, he bumped into an invisible barrier like he had the night he snuck in, frowning. He took a step again, ramming into the barrier.
Right, said Mark, remembering the Tear Stealer's words from last night. There's someone connected to this house. And they know his every move.
He grumbled and went down the stairs, turning around to venture down the hallways again. Looks like I can't escape at all, then.
Mark walked through more hallways, lingering whenever there were paintings on the walls. People he didn't even recognize stared off through acrylic gazes, all serious and regal. Through his confusing, maze-like walk, he noticed that he hadn't seen any paintings of the Evolveds who lived here.
He passed through another hallway, meeting the four sets of doors, and perked up. He headed towards the first one on the right and opened it, inwardly cheering as he saw the bathhouse.
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STRANGULATE | Markicest
Fanfiction"I have tears from presidents, kings and queens, even servants. From them, I have power. Not the power of reigning over nations, but the power of knowing one's secrets." ➿ Mark, a renowned serial killer, murders celebrities of all kinds. He makes i...
