marcus (_drac) wrote in cirque_rp, |
Marcus was an unassuming danger when he walked. With a killers experience, he was silent to the nonsupernatural ear. He was a muted, static hum of magic with a soft ember of heat. A magic user could never place him. Could never find him while scrying or nail down an idea of his depth of power and he walked like he knew it. Quiet confidence in his little world. So, when he saw Alex so feverishly working, again, on the fences, Marcus quietly trailed the younger witch. Just watching. Just following. Secure in the knowledge that Alex wouldn't be able to feel him.
The boy looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over. Pale and slightly beaded with an exertive sweat. After some time of observing, Marcus tightened the gap between himself and Alex. Just a foot away would Alex had felt that static magic, that soft heat, before a calloused hand would rest on his forearm and lightly push it and the talisman away from the gate, "That's enough for now." Marcus rumbled in his East Londoner accident.
He stepped into Alex's view, that quiet matter-of-fact expression he was known for, "If you fall over with exhaustion, I can't use you later."