[ This is wrong. It's not just the fact that it's a beach, covered in snow, that Marcos has never seen before. It's also that he'd been with John and Clarice, and he'd gone through Clarice's own portal, and now neither of them are here and he's alone. Breathless, Marcos scans the area.

Something explodes above him. He jumps, and ducks, as something burning and heavy hits the sand beside him. Marcos backs off with wide eyes, staring at it, and then he starts to run as more pieces start to land. ]

John! Clarice?!

[ His shouts are drowned out by more crashes, one of which sends him flying and landing hard on the sand again. He flips onto his back just in time to see another piece heading straight for him. On instinct, he lifts his hands and two blinding beams of light shoot from his hands to carve the debris in half. The two shards fall safely to either side of him.

This is crazy. He's back on his feet at once, running for the trees in the distance, until he realizes that he's not
alone. He can hear other people here, people calling out for help beneath the wreckage. And it's still falling. ]

Mierda. [ He mutters under his breath, and changes direction. Seeing someone trapped, he lifts his hands again. This time he's more precise, sending golden lasers from each fingertip to cut the metal apart. ]

Hang on! Don't move, I got you! You all right?

[ The piece falls apart a second later, freeing the person. Marcos' power shuts off and he holds out his hand to help them up. ]

We gotta go.

[ Marcos isn't at the dinner party for five minutes before he knows it's not for him. Fancy formal settings don't do it for him anyway, and he wouldn't even have considered it if it didn't seem like the best way to meet people.
The bottom line is that he needs to know who's here, needs to get a feel for who his allies might end up being. If you want people on your side - the right people - you need to know who you're dealing with.

He's already passed by two rooms full of strangers having sex. It's already clear there are more. This is not the place for him.

Tense and uncomfortable, he ignores as much as that as he can and sticks to safe zones. In the house's defence,
the food is really good. Better than Marcos has had for a long time. Some of it has already found its way into his pockets.
He has a plate in his hand, and he's quick to snag a passing glass of wine from a tray. Maybe not all indulgences are against his principles. He takes his stash outside onto a balcony, which seems safer than exploring any more of the rooms, and he settles by to people-watch. His shabby jeans, brown jacket and old henley are completely out of place in this scene, and his expression doesn't do anything to make him seem more like he belongs. He knows he has to make some kind of effort,
though. A sip of wine fortifies him before he turns to the next person hiding out here. ]

So they're serious when they call themselves succubi here. It just looked like an art gallery. I didn't expect...this.

synchr

Marcos Diaz ▐ 25

I'm not interested in a war, I'm just looking to get back home. If you're on that page let me know, maybe we can help each other.
Friends of mine should get in touch. You know who you are.

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