DECLAN
do not mistake me for my mask
you see light dappling on the water
you see light dappling on the water
Declan's hands and face are covered in a greasy, grimy film of sand. Yep, sand. Why, you might be wondering?
Who can know these things? Who can know where Declan's been for the last... oh, eight hours? He certainly wasn't home, and there are certainly late packages waiting for him to deliver them. Impatient customers who have never seen the man be late a day in his life.
But! Tonight is not his night, and today wasn't his day. Well, most of them aren't, but this one is especially fucked. And the ramifications of what he's just had to do are weighing heavily on his mind now, because damn it all if he doesn't have a conscience. And what of Sunjata? His mind drifts to and fro, always ending up on that man's problems. There's nothing to be done, not now, not until he knows more - and even then, is it his problem to invest in? No. So why does he feel pulled to it?
This is just a hunch, but... it might have something to do with hiding a body for the man - and not knowing much anything else. Regardless, Declan knows he needs to get a grip - especially now, after the fact, after he's already signed up for a fight where he doesn't even know who the opponent is. Words he said to Sunjata come slapping him in the face, 'falling apart, that can wait'.
So Declan, looking hellish in the darkness of Haulani's streets, makes his way towards the only place he really trusts to go for some sort of help. Because, believe it or not, he's gotten himself injured in all of this mess. But Ray's good at keeping secrets, and she knows how to clean and mend a wound. His form saunters up to the back door of the Lunarium Apothecary, because it's an Apothecary now, not a little shop. He's noticed, but he hasn't had the time to stop by and see it for himself lately.
Not that he has much time to be impressed, turning the knob and hurtling in through the door, only to turn around and lock it securely. "Ray!" He shouts, leaning his head against the door and letting out pained breaths. "Need yer help right now," he winces. He slowly puts his back to the door to look around for her, clearly exhausted, clearly out of it, clearly bleeding from a cut on his hand which he's trying to put pressure on to keep from dribbling everywhere. There's a crude piece of cloth wrapped around it, but it's soaked through. The cut is deep.
Who can know these things? Who can know where Declan's been for the last... oh, eight hours? He certainly wasn't home, and there are certainly late packages waiting for him to deliver them. Impatient customers who have never seen the man be late a day in his life.
But! Tonight is not his night, and today wasn't his day. Well, most of them aren't, but this one is especially fucked. And the ramifications of what he's just had to do are weighing heavily on his mind now, because damn it all if he doesn't have a conscience. And what of Sunjata? His mind drifts to and fro, always ending up on that man's problems. There's nothing to be done, not now, not until he knows more - and even then, is it his problem to invest in? No. So why does he feel pulled to it?
This is just a hunch, but... it might have something to do with hiding a body for the man - and not knowing much anything else. Regardless, Declan knows he needs to get a grip - especially now, after the fact, after he's already signed up for a fight where he doesn't even know who the opponent is. Words he said to Sunjata come slapping him in the face, 'falling apart, that can wait'.
So Declan, looking hellish in the darkness of Haulani's streets, makes his way towards the only place he really trusts to go for some sort of help. Because, believe it or not, he's gotten himself injured in all of this mess. But Ray's good at keeping secrets, and she knows how to clean and mend a wound. His form saunters up to the back door of the Lunarium Apothecary, because it's an Apothecary now, not a little shop. He's noticed, but he hasn't had the time to stop by and see it for himself lately.
Not that he has much time to be impressed, turning the knob and hurtling in through the door, only to turn around and lock it securely. "Ray!" He shouts, leaning his head against the door and letting out pained breaths. "Need yer help right now," he winces. He slowly puts his back to the door to look around for her, clearly exhausted, clearly out of it, clearly bleeding from a cut on his hand which he's trying to put pressure on to keep from dribbling everywhere. There's a crude piece of cloth wrapped around it, but it's soaked through. The cut is deep.
and you forget the deep, cold dark beneath
