STRANGULATE | Markicest

37 | THE CONSERVATORY

Mark groaned as he woke up, running a hand over his face. When he took in the facets of the room, he remembered where he was again, and that dread sank in his chest.

    Prada wearily smiled from the other side of the room, watching Mark through calm eyes. Now that he knew what Mark really was, he couldn't deny that he had a higher respect for him. After all, Mark fit in quite well with the other Evolveds. He wasn't as reserved or content with his surroundings as most, but he would have assumed as much from any other Evolved.

Mark sat up in bed, grumbling to himself.

Prada couldn't help but stare in fascination. Now, in this moment, Mark looked more like his human self. Meager, weak—and though well-built and strong—vulnerable.

"Good morning," said Prada loudly.

Mark startled, and when they made eye contact, that human character was gone. It shifted into a persona that was more glittering and sharp—the menacing, short-fused Evolved more familiarly known as Viper.

    A subtle frown curled on Mark's lips. "Afternoon, you mean?" he mocked, pulling the blankets off himself. He couldn't help but yawn, stretching his black-painted arms high overhead. Prada carefully watched them, the markings on his face flickering with interest.

    "Pearl went shopping for herbs today," said Prada as Mark got ready. "Which means I'll be taking her place for today."

    Mark swallowed as he made the bed, thankful he was turned away from Prada. No matter how welcoming Prada tried to be, he was still intimidating. Even his jokes kept him on edge.

    "I'm not hungry," said Mark, checking his hiding spot between the bed and the wooden frame. He swiftly ran his fingers through there, thankful to feel the device and the cold glass of the vial. He'd need to repaint his skin soon.

    "You have to eat something," said Prada. He ducked and pushed away a few hanging cords of rope from the ceiling, his horns just barely catching onto them. "What did you eat back at the Tear Stealer's?"

    Mark wavered at that. He didn't really eat there, either. He was always too sick or angry... but...

    The more he thought about it, he remembered one of his last meals with Dark: the human.

    Mark salivated at the thought, and Prada cleared his throat, raising a brow.

    Right. He asked a question.

    Mark stared at Prada's intimidating and lean figure. While his old self would've brushed the question off and answered with something else, he couldn't help but smirk at the idea of answering truthfully. While Mark always liked to stay hidden, Viper desired leverage.

    "Have you ever eaten human, Prada?" asked Viper, lips curling up into a smirk. He couldn't help but feel a satisfied shiver at Prada's surprised reaction.

    "A... human..." muttered Prada, his red markings flickering with uncertainty. There it was again—that shifting darkness within Mark; the character he slipped himself into. His brows furrowed. "No... I haven't."

    Viper's smile was sharp like glass.

"They're delectable," he said. He walked forward, slipped past Prada, and opened the door. "But I'm afraid Antinstine could never prepare a meal like that for me."

    Prada couldn't help but blink, stunned. Just the thought of an Evolved eating a human was insane, but a human... eating another—

    He quickly collected himself and cleared his throat, closing the door behind him and following after Mark.

    "Are you saying T.S. kills humans?" asked Prada, catching up with Mark's strides and walking alongside him.