*screen opens, Darien adjusts the lens downward to catch his face*
...but not much else. In this state, my Spark didn't emerge for another three years. I tried to build something in my workshop and came out with a couple of wind-up toys. I stare at the surgical tools and get queasy. The only ace up my sleeve is the magic my mother taught me. I didn't realize it back then, but now I know what to do with it...I only have the basics, but they are fresh in my mind.
My body seems to be recalling what was going on the last time. I find myself gasping and peeking down hallways thinking please please don't let him come back. One thing is different. I'm not looking under the bed for the Monster that hunted out family. I always felt him just out of sight. What I didn't realize was he was waiting inside. Now, that space is empty. The confidence I lacked before fills that void.
*He shuts off the camera. A moment of static and his face returns, closer, the soft glow of the screen of the portable aether transmitter in this hand shows his face blurred against the darkness*
Bloodwing led me down many dark paths when he "borrowed" me after final exams and on shore leave. Some corners he stumbled upon were so...unspeakable that even he would back away and take flight. Gematria is now somewhere in that labyrinth. She's playing the siren...prey that turns and consumes the predator. Yes, I've got Ash and the Consulate following me, but I still feel like the worm riding the hook.
*static...from the frame of an alleyway small sihlouettes lean against a gaslight, fighting to keep their confident poses over the exhaustion that darkens their eyes*
As a doctor, I've seen exactly what the back alleys do to the weak. There's a side to every city...even the best ones...that you don't read about in the journals. Things I dare not mention. Things that bring down the wrath of the gods.
*static...he adjusts his costume, then turns the screen towards the velvet ropes and the red carpet...shapes entering the shimmering blue curtain are too blurry to identify as the lens pans out to show the massive building...flanked by spinxes and etched with repeating rows of heiroglyphics, the crossing of spotlights wreaking havoc on the lens filters. The thumping of raucous music is heard*
I don't think they'll recognize me without the mustache. This was one of the best hosting gigs I ever had, this place. As long as you don't ask where the tips come from...
*turns lens back to himself and adjusts his baseball cap*
Wish me luck...this is "Marcus" signing off.