#excommune

the slant of morning light made him look like he was about to catch on fire. ( insp. )

          ( marcus keane ) ⟶ my day? subjecting myself to too large crowds for the sake of a few photographs.           ( marcus keane ) ⟶ currently? holed up with whiskey.            ( marcus keane ) ⟶ your day any better?

i mean the thing with him is that he’s content with his life, and already as successful as he can be in his career. he’s doing a ‘humans of the world’ sort of book. so he doesn’t actually have anywhere to go, if that makes sense. and kind of just existing and doing the same stuff is very much who he is, it’s part of his whole thing. he wants to be more social and have relationships, which i’m doing with all my threads already anyway. so IDK.

   “Whyyy d’you talk about Him like that.”

                     ❝ I guess this would be a good time to mention I don’t know how to make tea. ❞ Ashley slid the rather scary looking cup of tea towards Marcus. The only tea he knew how to prepare was makeshift medicinal brews on the battlefield, and he knew all too well how disgusting those were. Perhaps this fell under the ‘ it’s the thought that counts ’ category. A nice gesture is kind regardless of the outcome, is it not? ❝ It probably needs to cool. Maybe the leaves will dissolve in the meantime. Or -- y’know, whatever leaves do in tea. ❞

         “I heard a rumor ----” It’s not the best way to start a conversation, but it’s all she’s got, for the time being. It’s a long shot anyway, going off of hearsay and whispers. But hearsay and whispers were gold, when a community was SMALL. And psychics, real ones anyway, were few and far between. And they talked. And she needed HELP.  Or at the very least, someone to talk to. “That, uhm. You have some experience in the, ah -- exorcism arena.....”

         ‘ fuck’d you do, anyway? ’ he tilts the bottle of alcohol, dips a swab in what little liquid remains, and presses it to marcus’ cheek without warning. ‘ you look shite. ’

❝   How  long  do  you  think  this  is  going  to  last?   The   ———   ❞   There’s  an  exhale,   harsh  and  heavy.   Every  word  for  the  phenomena  that  he  mulls  in  his  mind  is  another  layer  of  bile  atop  his  tongue,   so  he  settles  for  a  vague  gesture  toward  his  temple.   ❝   What  are  we  going  to  do  if  I  can’t   ———   get  rid  of  it?   I  don’t   —   It  helped  me  help  Cindy,   but  what  if  it  keeps  me  from  helping  anyone  else?   What  if  it  keeps  me  from  helping  them?   ❞   @excommune​!