reflectedlight | 🌙 Inbox - Marc Spector's Dead Drop

"Yeah. God, yeah. I owe you that much."

The end of the conversation isn't even something he's got a strong memory of, which is NOT a good sign.

"I'm sorry about... what I said. Fuck. I know why I freaked out, I think, but remembering it is like watching it happen to somebody else, which, you know. Isn't good.

I'll answer whatever I can."

He drops into a chair and immediately slumps down like he's trying to vanish into it.

At least he's cooperating. That's good. Relief, to some extent. Some people like to hide further or bottle up. He knows the type. Poke and you get stung.

Does he go easy or... no. He's kind of over it.

"You gonna tell me what happened thirty years ago?"

Marc starts to panic again. It's visible in the line of his shoulders, the wideness of his eyes. But he's got it this time, he takes a breath in, holds it, breathes it out.

"Fuck. You aren't messing around. Jesus. Okay.

Yeah."

Give him a second.

"You ever seen someone break under torture? Like really break, not just give up what you needed. Like, they're not going back to who they were afterwards, maybe ever."

It sucks when you've been training your mind for years to remember ridiculously complex things while under immense pressure. His master used to spar (attempt to murder?) him while making him recite complex calculations or extensive history. So, unfortunately, he picked up on that small piece of information very quickly.

"Yes. I have." He does not elaborate and his response gives no room for emotional debate, there simply is none. It's cold in here.

"Well. This shit happens when you break a kid like that before they're like..."

Marc isn't even showing his face any more, he's got his head ducked down and clutched between his hands. "I don't know, the literature says six, but I think we were ten."

Edited 2026-04-14 08:55 (UTC)

He's quiet, just observing for a long moment.

"Is that why you were asking me about Azoth?"

"Azoth?"

(There's no way Marc asked the kid his name. He was more focused on like, getting him to chill out and maybe stop bleeding.)

A dismissive wave, like it's a bad smell (because it was...).

"Never mind. So what happened? That something you can say?" He wants to understand better but he also is aware that there appears to be a limitation here as well. It's skirting that boundary that he's trying to figure out.

"Hey. No. Wait."

Marc sits up.

"What? Go back, what'd I say?"

??Azoth??

Answer the question, though.

"Do you wanna know what hurt the kid specifically, or do you wanna know how it meant we're two guys now?"

Edited 2026-04-14 09:38 (UTC)

"Both. Whatever is easiest to start, if that's needed." He'd be willing to go an eye for an eye again, so to speak. But he's not backing up now about Azoth. He shouldn't have even said his name. It's an unpleasant and very distant thought. There's disgust that he's choking down, subtly so.

"Fuck."

Both are hard, and the easier one he doesn't even understand.

"Look, there's bad parents in your world, I know there are. Everyone's got bad parents. But you - I don't know, you didn't have them to begin with, so it's hard to explain. When you're little, you don't even really get that they're people that can be fucked up, you just know they tell you everything about how life works and they love you and they're going to teach you what's bad or good. And if they really fucking hurt you, it's because it's proportional punishment for something you did that was really bad, and if you can figure it out and fix it, you can make it stop.

Afterwards, just - after each incident, although long-term this went on for a decade, we had to try to understand why it was happening. And there'd be these... lull periods between where we had to pretend it wasn't happening, because my dad was on her side, everybody was on her side.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't do both, I couldn't take it and then go back to trying to help take care of her. She was sick, really sick, and it was important that we all be understanding and-"

Marc's voice goes hollow.

"Give her a second chance at redemption. And a third one, and a fourth one, and over and over. And you can't get mad at her, and you gotta be patient and kind and sweet, because she loves you, and she's a good person on the inside, and it's not her fault."

Marc's accent is drifting.

Nope. Nope. You stay asleep.

"Just - gimme a second."

Edited 2026-04-14 15:05 (UTC)

There aren't really any comments to be made. Kylar stays quiet. Marc is correct. He understands this all second hand. He doesn't know a single person that was not abused at some point in their life for an extended period. Maybe Ilana, or Logan. Nobility seem to get off easier, even the minor ones. But you'd hope the High King hasn't dealt with abuse. Besides the Hole. But that was.. Kylar isn't going there. Even he can't handle that.

There's only a quiet exhale. Again, second-hand attempt at understanding, but he can visually see this is a struggle. He knows he's asking for a lot. But he's still not seeing what made that come up from their earlier conversation. So he waits, patient. "Take the time you need."

He is not sure he can make himself even talk about the thing that brought it all up earlier, in the Enclosure. He can do this much, though.

"So we - so Steven got made to do the part I can't do, which is letting her apologize and saying we forgive her and we understand. And still showing her report cards and giving her Mother's day drawings that say I love you. I can't do that. I remembered too much, I was too fucking ashamed of how much she hated me. You don't know what's good or bad yet at that age, you just know your parents punish bad behavior and reward good behavior.

We were just ... too young to make it all reconcile together. So there had to have been a good kid she loves and a bad kid she hates. It probably started out that simple. So I'm part of whoever we were before he split himself up to try to be everything contradictory she was telling him he was, so he could do his best to develop the way he was being taught to by a fucking - batshit crazy adult. And so is Steven. And we don't fit back together at this point.

Is that enough for what you asked?"

Edited 2026-04-14 19:09 (UTC)

"You tell me, Marc." He says with a shrug.

"I'm trying to figure out what caused your outburst before so it can be avoided later. You talked about my being a warden and a murderer and how that's somehow fine. First off, it's not. It's fucked up. I'm aware. I'm an awful person, I probably don't deserve to be here at all. Didn't deserve it the first time, either. I don't get why this works and yours doesn't."

There's another sigh. "But I'm not seeing why that caused your..." Oh, no. What can he even call it? He lacks the vocabulary for this so he goes with the word he knows, usually just reserved for Dorian. It's not fair. They're on different levels. "madness before I had to knock you out. We've had an ongoing discussion about it already. So yeah, something's missing. As far as I can tell. But if you can't tell then I'm not pushing it." For now.

Fffuuuck okay.

"She started beating the hell out of me because I killed her other son. Little brother. Eight.

She was... sane before that. We were normal."

Marc's voice is flat. Just facts, no emotions.

"So if it's not me as an adult killing targets that means I'm an inmate because of-" He still can't say his dead brother's name, actually. Nope. "That. That incident. Which means she was right.

That was a little much."

But he's got it now. It tracks. It's fine. It's depressing, but it's fine.

Edited 2026-04-14 19:39 (UTC)

"Sorry." He says a bit awkwardly. It's what you're supposed to say for these things, right? It's less second-hand. He lived with the Drakes for ten years. Serah, Mags, Ilena, they may as well have been his sisters and now only Ilena's alive. Even Ulana used to care for him and she's gone, too. It's just the Count and Ilena left. And it's because of him.

"But I know you're not here because of that, either. I don't know the circumstances, but I know that can't be why."

Honestly? This is way better. Way easier than someone trying to be sweet about it. That makes Marc's skin crawl. The facts? He can do that. They can just talk about this like it's something that doesn't bother him.

"What, you did it too?"

What a miserable pair they make.

He grimaces. "Yeah." It's a quiet admission.

He does not have the emotional distance to state things like facts. So he divulges nothing more. He doesn't feel like turning into a depressed puddle today if he can avoid it.

"Okay."

Okay. So.

"So, what the fuck," Marc says. Still very flat. "What the fuck am I doing that you're not doing. How could it be worse than that?"

The bitterness is back. How much lower does he have to go? That was the big one.

Edited 2026-04-14 20:32 (UTC)

"I don't know." He says it still quiet.

"Maybe it's less what and more how or why. I can't tell you that. Even with a file I can't tell you that. Those things never hold the answers you think they do. But I don't think it's because of your brother and I don't think it's because of your profession."

There's a long pause, he's trying to find some asymmetry here.

"I told you I graduated from this mess. Well, I went back for a while. Just a few months. It wasn't long here. I still was able to come back as a Warden, despite what I did. Even though that didn't work out..." He shrugs. "In the time I messed that up and came back this time I've killed..." Oh, no. Wait. It's a few. Shit. "Maybe like 10? People? One of them was personal. None of them were innocent. I can guarantee that. But my methods are different. Just thinking that might be the difference between us. Granted, at this point, I work for the High King, if not myself. I don't have to follow orders if I don't want to so long as the end result reaches the same goal."

"Methods meaning what? ... Knives?"

Marc, you're being too literal, buddy.

"I work for... Khonshu, now. Mostly. He's better than the boss I had before him, but it's a low bar."

"Right, but maybe there are still things you can do within those boundaries. But I don't know your Khonshu."

"Hey, I've always used knives and probably weapons you haven't even heard of. You can't be picky for some jobs so you plan for them all. But that's not the point."

He grasps his chin, rubbing at it in a thought.

"I don't kill unless I mean to. I needed someone dead a week before I got here. I was sitting on it, debating it for months. Then the High King comes out with a clemency for all previous nobility who allied with the wrong side during the coup. He's a much better person than me. And this woman who should've been hanged would've got off free for all she did. So I handled it myself. There were witnesses. Two kids. A guard I had to knockout. Several other guards. The asshole noble who—" Might be a demon? If that's even a thing? Let's not get into it. "who was hiding her away had his whole armed guard after me. I could've killed those kids for seeing my face and every guard. Most would've deserved it. But I spared them.

... Most. I caught one of their eyes and that one needed to be dealt with, but I didn't kill him."

He rubs at his neck. "My point is, I still killed her and another me might've killed everyone in that noble's house for being a witness and they would've all deserved it. Especially that nobleman himself. I kind of wish I had now. Maybe not the kids, but they were guild rats, no one would miss. But I did think about it and I kept to my... morals, if you want to call them that."

He shrugs, arms falling by his side. "Or I'm completely wrong and there's a whole other reason."

"Imagine a guy that's annoying."

That's Marc's entire description of Khonshu. He paints a beautiful and vivid world, doesn't he?

Marc slumps more and more as Kylar goes on.

"You know. I kinda feel like an asshole for judging you. I mean, I already did. Kinda. But - fuck, I don't know. I know how hard it is to not just clean sweep the whole place. I try to do the same. And I never do kids, no matter what - too much, uh -"

Personal baggage.

"... Not worth it. Khonshu is -"

Sigh.

"He's a god of vengeance, he can identify people that have been dangerous to innocent people traveling by night and are going to get away with it. I hope he can, anyway, or I'm just killing random guys."

There's a smirk on his lips that Marc would admit to judging him. Well, someone should. He's always wondered what would happen if he looked in the mirror to judge and consistently decided it was the worst idea imaginable. He already knows what he'd see.

"Could just be the blindness of following orders, maybe they are random. But I'm not saying what I did worked either. You see, letting all of those witnesses live? That held consequences. They saw my face, they knew my name, my status, my allies. With the right intel they could harm a lot of people close to me. And that noble tried it and he won, Marc. He has the twins. He's my next deader when I go back, with or without my deal finished. And none of that would've happened if I had actually done a sweep of that damned place."

He sounds pissed and he can't help it. It was a frustrating week that only just ended up dragging him back to this place. He takes a second to calm, but he can't get the sternness out of his voice.

"Look, I won't tell you that morals are what went wrong. But it's consequences. I picked those morals, I stuck to them and now I'm facing the consequences for them. I'm not hiding or ducking out, I'm dealing with it. And even though I fucked things up, I'm still going to stick to them. Even if everything else says it's easier or feels easier. I wouldn't say I know you, but I think that's our difference or something like it."

"What, I'm running from the consequences of stuff?"

Ew. That could be right.

.....Ew.

🌙 Inbox - Marc Spector's Dead Drop

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