eat a sandwich. (appetentia) wrote in mythopoeics, @ 2012-05-01 01:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | !event #019, famine, mordred |
t w e l v e.
Sometimes, there was such a thing as too many siblings in one place. There was no doubt in Famine's mind that he loved his fellow Horsemen, but being cooped up in an apartment with them was stifling at times. He'd spent hours on the balcony just watching them through the glass, like a patron at a zoo admiring the caged animals. Pestilence with working legs both bothered and relieved him, but the former won over just enough to force him out of the apartment and toward one he hadn't visited in some time.
The copied key to Mordred's flat slid in perfectly. The key hadn't been tossed, yet it had never graced his keychain. What greeted him was an eerie silence. Famine couldn't tell how fast his eyes had narrowed in on the crumped figure on the floor, but he was moving toward Mordred in seconds -- not in the fast scurry of a worried friend, but at a normal pace. Blood soaked his knee as he kneeled, curious fingers brushing the hair from Mordred's closed eyes.
And it was in that position that he remained for a good two minutes, eyes taking in the bloodied sight. When it was enough for him, he reached for the cellphone in his back pocket, automatically moving to dial for an ambulance. Pestilence was texted, told he'd be home late into the night. From the other room, he heard chatter, but it was ignored in favor of finding a piece of paper to write on.
Upon waking up in New York Presbytarian, Mordred would find a short note next to his bed that read (in handwriting he would or wouldn't be able to recognize):You don't get to clock out early to escape the game. This is the second time I've held your life in my hands. Is the third time the charm?