13 Dark silent hall and An unexpected call

EVERY DAY DEATH CAME, slowly, painfully, and every night Marcel would awoke in his bed. His greatest curse and his eternal punishment. To never see the daylight, to never feel its warmth. All he felt was cold, numb.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, wishing it were a blade over his enemy's throat. Most of the day had already passed. He'd heard the time seep away, a poisonous tick-tock in his mind, every beat of the clock a mocking reminder of his mortality and pain.

"You fuckin' bastard-" Grayson's eyes were a knife in his ribs, the sharp point digging deeper. Where there should have been love and admiration, there was only emptiness and hatred, but not in any way vulnerable sense. Uncomfortable with the void, Grayson filled it with an emotion he was more at ease with - raw anger.

"I should have know it was one of your illusions." The unmoving gaze was accompanied by deliberate slow breathing, like he was fighting something back and loosing. Marcel knew he was, the beast he inherited from his biological mother ran wild and wanted to be free, it felt imprisoned. Suffocated in its cage of a human body, it wanted to be free and do as it pleases but it lived with another, it's human counterpart didn't want the same thing as it did. But he was unable to tame it.

He was certain it hated Marcel's gusts, the need for his blood to be spilt grew thicker and thicker with each tick the clock pasted, it wanted his heart to stop, to just... stop. To watch his eyes become glossy and vacant. Desperate for the spillage of its prey and it was clear it would do anything for it, you could smell the hunger. But Marcel didn't care, he had an agenda. If only Grayson would just let go and give in. Give into that hunger, too that need for destruction and chaos. He wanted the world to burn, for them to burn.

When he'd heard Grayson was on the outskirts of his enemy's territory, he couldn't resist the temptation to make his presence known, it would give him great satisfaction, joy even. That one of their own had gone against them, spilled their own blood. But Grayson's rebellion against him, had cost him quite a few of his own people to fall, although he had to give it up to the kid, he sure was determined for his freedom. He defiantly didn't care who fell, something to keep in mind he thought.

"You're falling apart Gray." He simply said, He knew Grayson's temper has always been his greatest weakness, but he also knew it could be his greatest strength, if only he knew how to channel it. But in this moment his temper was a slowly filling his half empty glass. Rising to its limit for only to over flow with his limitations. There was no problem, no outward sign of fury until the liquid reached the top, then bets were off. If you were smart you ran for cover.

Grayson's temper didn't slow at Marcel's unwelcome intrusion. He was trying to gain control over his frustration and anger but he was failing miserably. He truly was the embodiment of violence and destruction. A ticking time bomb and Marcel knew that by just looking at him, it was about to go off. Sweat ran from his bare chest and arms, riding the ropes of his muscles in clear rivulets. With everything that had gone off Grayson should be exhausted mentally, but his emotions were only growing darker. More powerful.

"You shouldn't be here Gray," he said.

"Neither should you," Marcel knew that he hated him but he wasn't going to leave him here with them. Them Damned beasts, he had made a promise and he intended to keep it, no matter the cost.

"You need to come with me," he simply said, demanding with a no further discussion.

"NO"

"You either come willingly or I'll take matters into my own hands" These past few weeks very little was needed to send him into a killing haze where no one around him was safe. Even his "friends". He knew his limitations, had know them for thousands of years. Ever since that doomed day, those witches had bestowed upon him with this curse, only to teach him a lesson for killing one of their own, he pleaded it to be self-defence but who would listen to someone who only was to serve the people, a low ranked. Destruction and havoc had soon reigned, plunging the world into darkness until the king of supernaturals had finally intervened, cursing him for eternity, to live blood thirsty and empty. For him too slowly, painfully die again and again, for death to come and plunge his soul into the flames of hell during daylight and awoke in the night, alone and empty for only the pain never went away. For only the darkness in his soul twisted and ripping away at his soul, until everything felt numb. For that giant jagged hole only became more prominent, its presence never left him, it lived there every day, rooted like some old wretched tree. lingering there for eternity.

A fitting punishment.

Some people say he was evil, but he was just wired differently. They wired him that way, taking everything form him. They created that darkness, that resided in him, rumbling in his mind. He wanted them to burn, every last one of them. To see them rotting and burning in hell.

Grayson didn't move, staying rooted in his place. Stubbornness didn't allow him to see clearly.

"Your hatred of me is nothing but a useless emotion right now-" Marcel continued, keeping his composure, as he always did. "Don't you hear them," he stop for a second, allowing Grayson to hear and catch what he was on about. He Knew all too well they were after him but would rather be dead than go with Marcel, he would plunge his claws in his stomach that had elongated in his fit of rage, then go with Marcel, trust him.

"They want your head for what you did," Grayson knew that, it wasn't a secret.

"I know."

"And yet you choose to be on their side?" Marcel's curiosity got the better of him, betrayed. He'd felt the knife before he saw it. He looked into the eyes of the wielder.

Grayson could hold it in any longer, a cruel yet mocking laugh erupted within him. Sides? He thought, he defiantly didn't want to chose a side. He didn't particularly have a side, "I'm not on anybody's side," he said through laughters.

"Haven't you all realised, I just don't give a shit about your disagreements." He could feel the tension and hear the intensity in his tone. There's a great deal of emotion behind these words he was speaking, the determination to get away was high. He would die to achieve it. It suddenly became clear to Marcel for the first time. He just wanted out. Too late for that... he had no choice but to chose, Marcel would make sure of it.

Grayson stood, folding both arms over his chest. He didn't fear him in the least. Immortal or human. But when Marcel approached, Grayson was close to changing that disposition when when Marcel's balled fist collided with his cheekbone, flaying his neck backwards like a willow caught in the wind,

" You will."

As he stumbled, he nearly fell over, rubbing his cheek with his palm. His reaction didn't even surprise him at this point, he'd had worse done to him. Much worse.

"You pussy" he said, regaining his balance. For a moment there was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. Then suddenly movement, so much force in every blow. When it came to the fight there was no honour, no code. All that matters is the win and they both took nothing for granted. Grayson rained blows onto Marcel as if he meant to smash him into the very earth and Marcel did the same. Each didn't just want the other dead, they wanted him smashed, obliterated. nothing left to bury.

As Grayson's agile movement was far too slow in placing his blow, the pair of rough hands tried to seize him. Marcel's right shot out, catching the other side of his cheekbone, he defiantly was going to bruise. It defiantly hurt more this time, It was the rings on his fingers that really hurt. Marcel wasn't afraid to get blood on his jewel encrusted rings. Grayson's head jerked back, tasting that familiar copper tang in his mouth. Didn't need to look at it to know that Marcel wasn't going to win this fight. He knew Marcel was arrogant for one, but he wasn't a stupid one that flaunted with flurries of kicks and flips, fast, yes, but left himself open. For him to jab him just to get his blood rushing in heat.

Grayson had fought him before, and had lost, he knew what Marcel was capable and he knew when he was going easy on him.

He was fast and more focused, and Grayson knew that the mumbling of his beast didn't help, the encouraging ideas and thoughts didn't help him in the least, so he tried to remain focused. Moving just as fast, just as focused, not staring in his eyes, but at his chest, the centre point for all attacks. He wasn't sure as to why Marcel was holding back but he used it to his advantage, he could see the shoulder, waist, and wherever he was going to attack, from whenever, he was was going to greet him. Marcel came with a leg, only for Grayson to grab it and then hit it with a hammering fist. Hard. He screamed.

Grayson was on him in seconds. Each blow he'd made was precise, an exhale of breath with each one. Breathe. He remembered Marcel's own words telling him to breath. Breath.

He felt his fist land in his gut, the once hard bones along his body now crumpled like cereal. He stated to get slower. So Grayson got faster. Penetrating his defences before he could turn around in the middle of the fight. Grayson anger faded and blankness was its replacement. Like he was watching his own body at work.

He could see all his soft spots. So when he finally gagged then spat blood one last time before he said, "Is this what you wanted."

"Very much so." Grayson said, his chest rose fast, out of breathe. But before Grayson had a chance to place his last final blow, to end everything. A faint pound off the ground, their paws pounding the ground as they collided together in a rhythm, getting louder and louder and louder. Closer and closer and closer to where they- Marcel and him were.

"Fuck sake..." Grayson uttered lowly. It seemed everyone wanted him dead today. Was it too much too ask, just to be left alone. All he wanted to be is left alone, by everyone.

His attention wavered away from Marcel to the pounding of paws on the ground, listening. Honing in on their positions. But as he returned his attention back to his opponent, he was no longer there. Coward he thought, groaning in frustration of his opponents absence, for once he wanted things to go his way. Just for once.