Markus sat there, unfazed. "Okay, I get the gist. I'm king of the dead or some shit now, and you two my humble servants. Fine, whatever, I don't mind having a couple of cute boys at my feet. But what do you want me to do about it?" he asked, not believing them in the slightest but hoping to entertain himself with this strange proposition. "And what the hell is a Sors?"
"One, you aren't a king. Two, we aren't your servants." Dorian seemed to bristle a little bit at the assertion. "You're the lord incumbent. The Sors is the house. Kind of. It…" he glanced over at John for help.
"The Sors is a magical force that chooses the next lord and takes care of said lord. It's magic." John replied, crossing his arms and looking down at Markus. "Essentially, anyways. It possesses some form of limited sentience."
Markus shrugged. "Alrighty then. Well, fun talking, but I have a client I need to meet here in a few minutes, and you two certainly aren't a good look. Stalkers, man." he walked off, taking a look at his watch and brushing crumbs off of his suit. He didn't particularly like the frills and fluff that came with the job, but it paid bills so Markus was hence the best mortician anyone could find.
Dorian frowned when Markus walked away, grimacing, but not willing to chase him. Not yet. They could speak to Markus again at a later time, and it would be fine. Hopefully.
John, for his part, grimaced, and ran after Markus, getting in front of him to block his path. "I can prove it." he said, looking down at him. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled off his sunglasses, revealing those unsettling, crimson eyes of his. "They aren't fake. And if that's not enough for you, we can show you the car." the car. It was a gorgeous thing, and the only way to get back and forth from the Sors to Earth.
Markus shrugged. "Nice contacts, and nice car, but I'm not in the mood for games. You know my office phone, call if you have a corpse." he said, seeing the woman he was supposed to meet. "If you'll excuse me…?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the woman.
"They aren't contacts." John replied. "And this is not a game."
"John, you're going to fucking scare him, back off." Dorian said as he came up, glaring at the darker haired man. "We can try again some other time."
"Or we can–"
"Absolutely not, John, we've talked about this." Dorian's stance changed just a little, and he glared daggers now. "Father agrees with me on this."
John rolled his eyes, scoffing beneath his breath. "I don't see why you think it would be so bad. It would work."
"We can have this argument later." Dorian shook his head, looking down at Markus.
Markus felt pissed, more than he had in years. Blame it on mood swings, blame it on mental illness, but something in him just wanted to beat the absolute shit out of this John guy, for mocking him, literally looking down on him, making him feel worthless and useless for no reason, confused, like he was less than a plaything. He turned around rapidly, swinging a fist and landing it square on John's nose, hearing a satisfying sharp crack as his knuckles slammed into the man's face. "Stay away from me!" he screamed, running off, not caring about clients, not caring about stalkers, just needing to get out of here.
John took a single step back when he was punched, one hand moving to cover the area that was punched. "Jesus fucking Christ." he said, watching Markus run. He looked at Dorian, arching his eyebrows.
"Don't look at me, you're the one that was being an asshole." Dorian replied placidly, shrugging his shoulders at John and keeping an eye on Markus.
Markus ran away, out of the mall and into the silent parking lot. Something felt off, something felt wrong, he was in danger and he needed to get away, far away, as far away as he could. Everything was too loud and too quiet and whatever these two assholes were up to, it was nothing good. He was so distraught, he didn’t even notice that he’d ran almost into the street, just seconds away from being hit by a car. He quickly backed up, and noticed he’d been crying, too. Wow, what a pathetic piece of shit he was.
John cursed at him. "Should we follow him?" he asked.
Dorian whacked him on the back of the head. "You idiot. No. We aren't following him. We're both a foot taller than he is, and you've already terrified him enough." he shook his head. "Let's go to the car and wait for a bit. It'll be fine."
John glared at him, then shrugged. "Fine, fine."
(Is there anything that could, like, put Markus in danger and make them need to rescue him? Magical, I mean. I wanna make them just like, need to interact in this next scene.)
(mm with the way the Sors works I wasn't planning on there being a way for anything really dangerous to get through the barrier between the Sors and Earth, so the only magical-ish things on Earth are human spirits?)
(Ah. Nevermind then.)
(i mean we could ahve something make its way through the barrier (maybe it hid on the bottom of the car?))
John cursed at him. "Should we follow him?" he asked.
Dorian whacked him on the back of the head. "You idiot. No. We aren't following him. We're both a foot taller than he is, and you've already terrified him enough." he shook his head. "Let's go to the car and wait for a bit. It'll be fine."
John glared at him, then shrugged. "Fine, fine."
With the knowledge securely in his brain that these two were crazy, he began to walk home. The fastest way through here was going past the older graveyards, the one place Markus hated most. Still, it would mean he’d beat traffic, as he hadn’t drove here, and that he’d be able to beat those two assholes by a mile as well, secure in the knowledge that if anything crazy happened, he’d be able to barricade himself in his apartment. It was getting late, and he’d already walked out on a client, what was the worst that could happen?
John and Dorian had no intentions of following him home; they knew where he lived, but had never followed him home. That was a borderline that they were not willing to cross. So they sat down in the car, Dorian in the drivers seat, and waited. John was drumming his fingers on the dash. "I still think we should just…grab him." he said.
Dorian sighed loudly. "Your complete lack of morality about this is worrying." he replied, looking over at John.
John shrugged. "What? It would work. I'm not saying we murder him or anything."
Markus walked through the paths in the graveyard, and the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. He thought he heard voices, but he reassured himself he was just going insane, nothing that those two had said about graveyards was actually real. Then he saw it. Thousands of people, fading in and out of view. They all turned their attention to Markus, and he screamed.
"You sure we shouldn't follow him?" John asked after a moment, frowning a little. "What if something happens?"
"Like what?" Dorian asked, exasperated. "Nothing can get to him on the Earth side of the border."
"Yeah. Except ghosts."
Markus ran, no longer heading home, just trying to get out, out, out. The ghosts chased him, shapeless blobs of nothing yet all too human, all too familiar. He started to cry tears of fear and desperation, sprinting as fast as he could to the exit to no avail. The spirits caught up with him, and dragged him down. There was no hope, he was dead meat at this point.
Dorian considered John's words for a moment. "You're right. Now that he knows about what he is– even if he won't accept it –they'll target him more." he started the car's engine and began driving. It was an older vehicle that looked like something out of approximately the 40's, sleek and black with silver detailing. It was beautiful, and Dorian was always careful when he drove it.
“Help! Please, somebody, I need help!” Markus screamed, suddenly the ghosts disappeared and the air went quiet. An elderly bespectacled man came up to Markus, offering a hand. His cane clacked upon the cold pavement, and Markus took it with confusion and gratitude. “Well, young man, mind explaining what you did trampling through several graves and flowers to get here?” the old man asked. Markus stammered out some nonsense, then said “I-I don’t know. The ghosts, they were…” but they were gone.
He didn't hurry, just drove down the road and looking around for Markus. Hopefully they would spot him, but if they didn't, then they would assume he was fine. "We should have given him my number." Dorian remarked.
"Phones don't work all that well in the Sors, firstly, and secondly, do you even have your phone with you?" John asked, incredulous.
Dorian thought for a moment as he shifted the car's gears. "Uh…no."
“Oh, don’t mind the silly things. They always like to get a bit rowdy with newcomers, trickster spirits and all.” the old man said, leading Markus to the road. “I’ll take care of them. It seems you have unfinished business, too.” he said, and with that he left, waddling back down the pathway. Markus looked, and saw the car coming, the car he somehow knew belonged to John and Dorian. He looked back, but the old man had vanished into the night, and now he was left alone with only his thoughts to comfort him.
Dorian slowed when he saw Markus, frowning faintly. John leaned out the window, flaring his eyes for a moment and hoping to unsettle Markus. Just a little bit. "Everything alright, Markus?" the black haired man asked, leaning his elbow on the edge of the window.
“I just got attacked by an army of ghosts, and then this old guy showed up and I was suddenly fine and… wait, what are you doing here?” he asked, suddenly filled to the brim with anger once more. “Are you seriously stalking me more right now?”