AHHH I love moonknight and as someone who lives off of angst, I really wanted to throw my hat into the ring. This is going to be very Marc-centered, a notable warning for implied child abuse (nothing really written), self hatred through thoughts (Marc believes he doesnt deserve beautiful things), some suicidal imagery and etc (Khonshu is an annoyance at most) . Also I do not have DID, and this NOT meant to used as factual depictions of DID, please make me aware of any mistakes I make, thank you!
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It hurts to hold the pen.
Even with the supernatural powers that being an added benefit to not dying from the bullet wound by his ribs, it doesn't stop the signals of pain caused by the cuts on his hand.
Logically he should be resting, allowing himself to heal properly after the botched job he just did, he can even hear Khonshu's muttering. It's low as if he's speaking underwater, the moon god's presence lingering beyond the shadows and if Marc was conscious enough he would laugh at the sheer thought of the god worrying about him. But he pushed forward as he always has done because it's really all he ever knows and continues to write on the back of the card.
It caught his eye right away, through the window and his own distorted vision, he sees the laminated post card. The picture shifts as you hold it, first showing the Nile River, the beautiful green pastures among the valley and the detailed architecture right next to it. Next it shows a reflection, the clear view of yourself among the ripples of the water, it allows for introspection but it Marc's case it was just the mirror of how shitty he looked with a lack of sleep and crazed hair that resulted in several looks upon the purchase.
He just knew Steven would like it, that Steven was waiting for yet another message from his beloved mother that loved him so. He could feel it whenever Steven would look in the mail, empty with the lack of reassurance that his one fin wonder could only fill so much, the way his heart clenches and twists bitterly at leaving yet another voicemail with no reply. Marc makes sure that her words would last, but paused as all he had left was to sign off with the usual phrase, the last time his mother even smiled and bid him goodbye with such joy, the tangible warmth of locking arms with his younger brother for the last time.
'Take care of your brother, okay?'
'Okay! Laters gators!'
'In a while crocodile.'
Tears brim and he grits his teeth, the bubbling anger sizzling and he tightens the grip on his pen. Conflict brews much like a thunder storm and creates a flood inside that he cant escape from, he could feel panic spreading resembling a disease and phantoms of pain that were supposed to be long forgotten.
Her words were meant to be long forgotten.
The moonlight distracts him, fully illuminating the dark room and bringing small bits serenity to his troubled mind, the panic simmers now and Marc only waits for the god's smugness to begin. It doesn't come and gratitude stills in his mouth, never leaving it cause Khonshu really doesn't need it anyways. He sits right in front of his window, allowing himself to be bathed despite the self loathing that comes bundled with. He's Marc Spector and he does not deserve beautiful things, wonderful people who were meant to live much longer than him.
Steven will live because he deserves to and he'll enjoy the illusion of life and truly live while Marc withers away as an avatar, strangely enough he's unable to see the irony in such sentiment. Any will that slipped away, he regained, in the end it's all for him. For the son that his mother would have wanted, the one who probably would have been able to save his brother. Steven is so much stronger than he realizes, worthy and good, everything that Marc wasn't or really will never be. He remembers Steven reading about the Field of Reeds, how the heart was to be weighed and only those deserving would be able to enter.
There was no doubt that his heart would not even bothered to be weighed, with all the blood that coated his hands from Konshu's bidding. The rope of guilt that has been tied around his neck by his mother since his brothers death, always hanging by it.
He felt like he had been sitting still for a few mere minutes but the world continued on without him by the hours. His wounds are healed, out of pity or duty, he is unsure of but gets up anyways. He could see himself in the reflection, the dried streaks of tears and red rimmed eyes, the scars on his face would hopefully fade away in the morning before the other could question it. He made sure everything was set up, from the postcard to cleaning the remnants of his presence and lying on top of the bed, sleep taking him away gently like it understood that he desperately needed comfort.
When Marc is conscious once again, it's through the reflection he sees Steven, who is very animated on the phone. "Aw Mum, you're so sweet, always thinking about me. This postcard has to be my favorite, even Gus likes it too, he's gotta swim closer to see it better-" Marc lips quirk up slightly, the rambling nothing more than a quite hum, just about to drift into unconsciousness until he hears Steven speaking, "Well I have to get ready for work, you stay safe, Laters gators." Even with no supply of a response, Steven's thoughts fill it for him, satisfied.
