As soon as he sees the telltale glow, feels the familiar way time slows around him, he sees the truth written plain. Because there's no other explanation. Because suddenly the Whalers' rumors of witchcraft fall into place. Because Daud knows he's not the only one who's ever taken the Mark. Because Daud knows the feeling of the Void's energy too well, and he knows that glow on the man's hand.
That bastard. That black-eyed Void-forsaken plague-ridden bastard.
(It shouldn't matter. Daud accepted long ago that the Outsider was through with him, has told himself that he's better off without the bastard's interference. But to see another man Marked. To find so suddenly that there's another still who can harness the Void's powers—)
Daud tenses, reaching for his sword, and his first instinct is to take a fighting stance, ready to defend himself, to attack, to deal with this unexpected mess in whatever way he must. Only the man in front of him doesn't move to charge, doesn't tense himself for combat. The man simply looks, moves forward - Daud tenses further at the disappearance, hand wrapping a firmer hold around his sword - and...
Talks. Begins to speak and Daud could believe he'll never cease. Speaks Daud's name, speaks quickly, speaks of— 'He'? 'He,' who is the man—? Oh. For fuck's sake. Everything. Everything leads back to the Outsider. Daud suspects the snide little shit of a god's determined to toy with him again. Suspects he watching this encounter with a smirk, pleased with himself as always.
Caught up in his irritation (no, rage; it's fast becoming a feeling of rage) with the Outsider, Daud has to almost force himself to focus on the man before him, taking note of the ways he moves, the tenor of his voice, some strange flash in his hidden eye socket, each and every tension that might signal an attack.
He should kill this blathering wreck of a man before this goes any further.
Only for all Daud knows, the Outsider's expecting a fight, hoping to pit two of his Marked against each other. It'd be another form of entertainment. It doesn't hurt that among this man's onslaught of words included a handful of indications that he's not especially enamored of the Outsider. And it's true that Daud's curious. There's that focus he'd detected in the display of the man's victims. There's the question of why this man - this Marked man - had worked so extensively to call Daud's attention.
Daud will need to play this careful - and he doesn't intend to give the man much leeway - but for the moment he opts not to plunge his blade into the wretched man's throat. ]
You.
[ His voice cuts through the air between them, rough and impactful. ]
He found you interesting.
[ It has the ring of an accusation, the vague suggestion of a question. ]
meanwhile daud hates everything
As soon as he sees the telltale glow, feels the familiar way time slows around him, he sees the truth written plain. Because there's no other explanation. Because suddenly the Whalers' rumors of witchcraft fall into place. Because Daud knows he's not the only one who's ever taken the Mark. Because Daud knows the feeling of the Void's energy too well, and he knows that glow on the man's hand.
That bastard. That black-eyed Void-forsaken plague-ridden bastard.
(It shouldn't matter. Daud accepted long ago that the Outsider was through with him, has told himself that he's better off without the bastard's interference. But to see another man Marked. To find so suddenly that there's another still who can harness the Void's powers—)
Daud tenses, reaching for his sword, and his first instinct is to take a fighting stance, ready to defend himself, to attack, to deal with this unexpected mess in whatever way he must. Only the man in front of him doesn't move to charge, doesn't tense himself for combat. The man simply looks, moves forward - Daud tenses further at the disappearance, hand wrapping a firmer hold around his sword - and...
Talks. Begins to speak and Daud could believe he'll never cease. Speaks Daud's name, speaks quickly, speaks of— 'He'? 'He,' who is the man—? Oh. For fuck's sake. Everything. Everything leads back to the Outsider. Daud suspects the snide little shit of a god's determined to toy with him again. Suspects he watching this encounter with a smirk, pleased with himself as always.
Caught up in his irritation (no, rage; it's fast becoming a feeling of rage) with the Outsider, Daud has to almost force himself to focus on the man before him, taking note of the ways he moves, the tenor of his voice, some strange flash in his hidden eye socket, each and every tension that might signal an attack.
He should kill this blathering wreck of a man before this goes any further.
Only for all Daud knows, the Outsider's expecting a fight, hoping to pit two of his Marked against each other. It'd be another form of entertainment. It doesn't hurt that among this man's onslaught of words included a handful of indications that he's not especially enamored of the Outsider. And it's true that Daud's curious. There's that focus he'd detected in the display of the man's victims. There's the question of why this man - this Marked man - had worked so extensively to call Daud's attention.
Daud will need to play this careful - and he doesn't intend to give the man much leeway - but for the moment he opts not to plunge his blade into the wretched man's throat. ]
You.
[ His voice cuts through the air between them, rough and impactful. ]
He found you interesting.
[ It has the ring of an accusation, the vague suggestion of a question. ]