the mercy seat // o

[mordecai]

There were hands, grasping, and then teeth, clamping, and then there was pain, overwhelming as the spectre retreated with some garbled phrase on the tongue, transforming from a sudden attacker to the soft, distant clatter of footsteps. The side of his neck felt as if it had been branded and that feeling only continued to pulse further throughout his body and Mordecai didn’t fucking know what was happening but the minute, the instant he found that —

His train of thought was derailed by a sudden jolt of agony that had him cursing into the palm of his hand and holding himself steady against the dark side of a building with the other. The collar of his shirt was wet with rich, heavy red. He could feel it. Could smell it. Whatever the assailant had done to him, a cold weight in the pit of his stomach told him that this was something that was most definitely going to follow him beyond this night. Mordecai straightened up despite the white hot pain that surged under his skin, taking a shaking hand and clawing a few strands of ebony hair back behind one ear, as if he had any semblance of control right now.

Mordecai pushed himself out of the shadows. The sun, which had only just dipped low enough to paint this quiet corner of the community in bold saffron hues, felt unnaturally warm. He held his hand over his neck and hurried home.

//shiddy bc im just trying to coax myself back into activity