07-20-2018, 04:15 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: verdana;"]♦ — unfortunately, marko could always rely on his friends to look out for him. even if sometimes they could be pretty mean to him (see: two thirds of the people who showed up once he collapsed). he felt nearly uncomfortable by the time alex stepped into his field of view, although maybe that was himself catching up with the fact that he was breathing almost as fast as a human would, his heart racing to the point where he might be able to count multiple beats in a minute if he could focus on it. he felt rather lightheaded, too.
marko forced a smile and a chuckle, one much dimmer and maybe even desperate than what was common for him. he was trying, at least. "bigass rock, somewhere on the hills," he joked, answering rialto's question as truthfully as he could. sitting up as much as he could without sounding actively hurt, pulling off a fingerless glove and wiping his face off. he didn't want to ruin the leather, after all. he managed to get most of his victim's blood off of his face, too exhausted to think about the fact that, y'know, it was on his neck and chest too, and without the knowledge that he had a few nasty-looking cuts on his face that were still seeping out blood.
frankly put, he was in denial of how bad his injuries were, or at least decided to project himself that way. "i'm fine, ezzie, you don't have to worry," marko mumbled, sounding decisively not fine. his attempts at not looking like a sad puppy were failing, probably making him look even more out of it than he actually was.
if he was being honest with himself, though, whatever he was showing on the outside was about a million times worse on the inside. going through the night's events, it did seem pretty terrifying. after all, he veered off of a cliff after losing control of his bike. marko fell, like, more than a story. he probably could've died, if his bike ended up landing on him or if he landed more onto his head. hell, he didn't even wear a helmet, which was absolutely idiotic now that he thought about it. all of the injuries were starting to catch up to him, more than just the stuff he could immediately tell was off. perhaps, the vampire decided, it was more than possible that he got a concussion, that things could've gotten dislocated or broken even with heavy leather gear keeping him safer than otherwise.
"i..." he started, before immediately cutting himself off. admitting this defeat would be a disaster, knowing rialto and alex would absolutely freak out if he so much as asked for ezra to look over him. he just had to hope nothing major actually happened.
marko forced a smile and a chuckle, one much dimmer and maybe even desperate than what was common for him. he was trying, at least. "bigass rock, somewhere on the hills," he joked, answering rialto's question as truthfully as he could. sitting up as much as he could without sounding actively hurt, pulling off a fingerless glove and wiping his face off. he didn't want to ruin the leather, after all. he managed to get most of his victim's blood off of his face, too exhausted to think about the fact that, y'know, it was on his neck and chest too, and without the knowledge that he had a few nasty-looking cuts on his face that were still seeping out blood.
frankly put, he was in denial of how bad his injuries were, or at least decided to project himself that way. "i'm fine, ezzie, you don't have to worry," marko mumbled, sounding decisively not fine. his attempts at not looking like a sad puppy were failing, probably making him look even more out of it than he actually was.
if he was being honest with himself, though, whatever he was showing on the outside was about a million times worse on the inside. going through the night's events, it did seem pretty terrifying. after all, he veered off of a cliff after losing control of his bike. marko fell, like, more than a story. he probably could've died, if his bike ended up landing on him or if he landed more onto his head. hell, he didn't even wear a helmet, which was absolutely idiotic now that he thought about it. all of the injuries were starting to catch up to him, more than just the stuff he could immediately tell was off. perhaps, the vampire decided, it was more than possible that he got a concussion, that things could've gotten dislocated or broken even with heavy leather gear keeping him safer than otherwise.
"i..." he started, before immediately cutting himself off. admitting this defeat would be a disaster, knowing rialto and alex would absolutely freak out if he so much as asked for ezra to look over him. he just had to hope nothing major actually happened.
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[color=lightcoral]♦ ♦ ♦ DON'T YOU LOSE MY NUMBER