She doesn’t respond. Instead she goes hunting; she’s in human shape this time. She’s going to find him, she’s going to stalk him until she finds him.
She lets him see her, and then she tips her head to signal that she wants to be followed. She’ll take him across the beach, to her house, where the porch overlooks the grim ocean. It’s not a pretty place but it’s hers.
She sits on the edge of the porch, crosses her legs in a lotus position, and she takes a long, deep breath.]
( it doesn't take long for her to find him — which, to be fair, it's not as if he's hard to find. the sight of her doesn't quite catch him by surprise, although the sight of her rather than as a tiger strikes him as — a choice.
he hasn't spent much time by the ocean, a mixture of little need and even less want combined. there's not much to be found there for him.
(except now, evidently—.)
the remark takes him by surprise. it's almost the last comment he'd have expected and it's reflected in the shift of his expression, sharp and sudden and questioning. )
( it's not a difficult question, technically speaking. the answer's simple and easy, but he's never been a fan of vocalising it. admitting it. it'd taken him far longer than it ever should have to admit the truth to marlene, to spell out steven and jake as anything other than disguises, identities he could shrug on and off at whim depending on what circumstances required.
he doesn't think he'd ever discussed it — any of it — with jean-paul. it'd been one of those unspoken things that, by the time marlene knew, it was obvious jean-paul did too and in much the same way that marlene had predominately sought out steven, jean-paul had sought out marc.
(in retrospect, then, he'd been an idiot.)
daphne says she likes him and where he says 'what', what he mostly means is 'why?'. the explanation is—
—enlightening in its own way, but not exactly an answer.
brusquely, almost petulantly, the way the corners of his lips dip—. ) Steven. ( there's an unspoken addendum there, a caveat he doesn't yet add. )
( marc is not blank, stoic and unemotional. he might wish he was all those things, might pretend he is, pretend that's what he's capable of, but it's nowhere near the truth.
(that's the problem—.)
you have DID, she says, and he presses his lips together, features scrunching in unhappy acknowledgement (pointedly not disagreement) at her assessment, and it lingers as she speaks again.
when he'd told soldier and badr and reese, he'd done it individually. not a single one of them had been bothered, not a single one of them had reacted or responded in the way that he'd more-than-he'd-like-to-admit worried they would. and still, he'd done it whilst wearing the mask, whilst dressed as mr. knight because it was easier. because he hadn't wanted his thoughts and feelings to be visible. to be seen.
that would've been uncomfortable, and there'd been something more palatable about approaching the topic as mr. knight, not marc spector. something distancing, in spite of the fact that it — mask and suit — didn't change who he was.
he's veered often between MARC SPECTOR IS THE PROBLEM (and so marc spector, the man who died in selima, is dead and worth little, steven and jake are the better options for a life without guilt and without debt and without violence), to deciding that wasn't working and therefore steven and jake are the problem.
as if, if he brute forced it enough, he could course-correct the perception of moon knight and marc spector by being the latter as infrequently as he possibly could whilst not allowing steven or jake to improve his life at all.
(because they were better at it—.)
"do you want it to matter to me?"
that's a fucking question.
his knee-jerk response is no. that it doesn't matter, that it's not important, that it's not who he is (they are, whatever), but—it does matter. it matters because marc's attitude means it matters. repeated denial, repeated avoidance, repeated anger.
he pinches the bridge of his nose, briefly, then waves a hand dismissively, tightly. )
[She'll give him that. She has not a single notion of what it's like; her body is her own, except when she literally rage blackouts, and she can't precisely say that's not her, either. It is. She's at the helm, making terrible choices, but those choices are hers.
People struggle to understand the difference between her and the tiger, as if there is a difference, but there isn't. They're the same, she's the same. Sure, there are different instincts, but at the end of the day, she's not sharing her body with anyone else, not really.
So she recognizes she can't understand this, and she wants to figure out a manner to handle it that doesn't push Marc away.]
But it doesn't have to matter to me, if you don't want it to.
[A pause.]
You're my friend, Marc. I like you. I don't know Steven. But.
[She scowls, just a little bit.]
I don't know how you want me to approach him. I don't know what...it's like. You don't have to tell me what it's like. You just have to tell me what you want.
It's not as simple as that, Daphne. Spend enough time around me and it'll matter one way or another.
( it's curt and as matter of fact as he can manage it — which is to say, not all that much. somewhere between tired and frustrated, as if this is hardly the first time he's had a variation of this exact conversation.
(—well, perhaps not this one, but something close to it.)
gena blaming marc for jake not attending ricky's funeral, for not reaching out after his death. marlene blaming marc for keeping steven from being steven all the time, for continuing to be moon knight.
( he follows the handwave but doesn't react beyond that, not until she reaches out, pauses, then — surprisingly gently — touches his hair. it's unexpected, but not as unexpected as the apology.
his expression is an immediate lack of certainty — an arching of eyebrows that immediately shifts into a bemused frown. he could say it's fine (that's not the word for it). he could say she should have (should she? no). he's not the sort, either, to make a joke about it (because it's not funny, even if it'd been entertaining and more than a little charming when marlene had joked about dating four men—.) )
Why would you? ( is what he settles on instead. ) It's not most people's first assumption.
No. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I thought he was you.
[Its not exactly the same, which is why she feels the need to differentiate. Anyway. She leans in towards him, and she’s quiet a moment, just a moment.
She is almost sorry she pressed this, anyway.]
I thought, at first, you were acting strangely. Just not quite how you talk to me.
( she leans in and he's almost tempted to lean away, a physical reaction to the conversation. he doesn't, not yet anyway, and instead shifts his glance away from daphne. )
Given everything, that's not unreasonable. ( a concession of sorts. ) But Steven wouldn't have told you anything. ( a beat and he looks back to her. )I can be touchy.
[She moves both her hands into her lap, and she sighs, but she doesn’t move away, either. The urge is to hold him, to hug him close and keep him there where she can protect him.
She knows it’s not the right move.
So she shifts her tail and fiddles it out of the top of her leggings, moving awkwardly until it comes up between her legs, and pulls it into her lap to hold there, almost like a doll. It would look even weirder but her shirt hides the view of her pants half pulled down.]
You’re not touchy with me. Or you haven’t been, and I’ve been very forceful with you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Who was I talking to the other day? Using your device?
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He’s not your twin. He’s not your brother.
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I don't like to lie, Daphne.
It's complicated.
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I am a woman and a tiger. Do you think I don’t understand complicated?
I’m not going to judge whatever is going on here.
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And that was an interesting way you told me about it.
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Please.
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She doesn’t respond. Instead she goes hunting; she’s in human shape this time. She’s going to find him, she’s going to stalk him until she finds him.
She lets him see her, and then she tips her head to signal that she wants to be followed. She’ll take him across the beach, to her house, where the porch overlooks the grim ocean. It’s not a pretty place but it’s hers.
She sits on the edge of the porch, crosses her legs in a lotus position, and she takes a long, deep breath.]
I find myself liking you more and more.
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he hasn't spent much time by the ocean, a mixture of little need and even less want combined. there's not much to be found there for him.
(except now, evidently—.)
the remark takes him by surprise. it's almost the last comment he'd have expected and it's reflected in the shift of his expression, sharp and sudden and questioning. )
—What?
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[She says it again, without impatience.]
I’m not going to flatter you. But you remind me of a cat, a little. Full of secrets.
[She says it with a warmth in her voice. Her hands settle in her lap, and she blinks at him, placid as anything.]
Who did I speak to the other day?
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he doesn't think he'd ever discussed it — any of it — with jean-paul. it'd been one of those unspoken things that, by the time marlene knew, it was obvious jean-paul did too and in much the same way that marlene had predominately sought out steven, jean-paul had sought out marc.
(in retrospect, then, he'd been an idiot.)
daphne says she likes him and where he says 'what', what he mostly means is 'why?'. the explanation is—
—enlightening in its own way, but not exactly an answer.
brusquely, almost petulantly, the way the corners of his lips dip—. ) Steven. ( there's an unspoken addendum there, a caveat he doesn't yet add. )
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You have DID.
[She says it like she's not anticipating being told she's wrong; Daphne almost never does. And she shrugs, a bit, and leans back on her hands. Okay.
That's fine, really.
She looks over at him, again.]
Marc. Do you want it to matter to me?
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(that's the problem—.)
you have DID, she says, and he presses his lips together, features scrunching in unhappy acknowledgement (pointedly not disagreement) at her assessment, and it lingers as she speaks again.
when he'd told soldier and badr and reese, he'd done it individually. not a single one of them had been bothered, not a single one of them had reacted or responded in the way that he'd more-than-he'd-like-to-admit worried they would. and still, he'd done it whilst wearing the mask, whilst dressed as mr. knight because it was easier. because he hadn't wanted his thoughts and feelings to be visible. to be seen.
that would've been uncomfortable, and there'd been something more palatable about approaching the topic as mr. knight, not marc spector. something distancing, in spite of the fact that it — mask and suit — didn't change who he was.
he's veered often between MARC SPECTOR IS THE PROBLEM (and so marc spector, the man who died in selima, is dead and worth little, steven and jake are the better options for a life without guilt and without debt and without violence), to deciding that wasn't working and therefore steven and jake are the problem.
as if, if he brute forced it enough, he could course-correct the perception of moon knight and marc spector by being the latter as infrequently as he possibly could whilst not allowing steven or jake to improve his life at all.
(because they were better at it—.)
"do you want it to matter to me?"
that's a fucking question.
his knee-jerk response is no. that it doesn't matter, that it's not important, that it's not who he is (they are, whatever), but—it does matter. it matters because marc's attitude means it matters. repeated denial, repeated avoidance, repeated anger.
he pinches the bridge of his nose, briefly, then waves a hand dismissively, tightly. )
It doesn't not matter.
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Yes.
It does matter.
[She'll give him that. She has not a single notion of what it's like; her body is her own, except when she literally rage blackouts, and she can't precisely say that's not her, either. It is. She's at the helm, making terrible choices, but those choices are hers.
People struggle to understand the difference between her and the tiger, as if there is a difference, but there isn't. They're the same, she's the same. Sure, there are different instincts, but at the end of the day, she's not sharing her body with anyone else, not really.
So she recognizes she can't understand this, and she wants to figure out a manner to handle it that doesn't push Marc away.]
But it doesn't have to matter to me, if you don't want it to.
[A pause.]
You're my friend, Marc. I like you. I don't know Steven. But.
[She scowls, just a little bit.]
I don't know how you want me to approach him. I don't know what...it's like. You don't have to tell me what it's like. You just have to tell me what you want.
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( it's curt and as matter of fact as he can manage it — which is to say, not all that much. somewhere between tired and frustrated, as if this is hardly the first time he's had a variation of this exact conversation.
(—well, perhaps not this one, but something close to it.)
gena blaming marc for jake not attending ricky's funeral, for not reaching out after his death. marlene blaming marc for keeping steven from being steven all the time, for continuing to be moon knight.
a pause, heavy and weighted albeit brief. )
Steven's not me. Approach him however you want.
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She’s not often at a loss for words, but that hardly matters.
She moves her other hand towards him. Stops. And then touches his hair, very gently.]
I know.
I’m sorry I didn’t notice.
[That she wasn’t speaking to him.]
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his expression is an immediate lack of certainty — an arching of eyebrows that immediately shifts into a bemused frown. he could say it's fine (that's not the word for it). he could say she should have (should she? no). he's not the sort, either, to make a joke about it (because it's not funny, even if it'd been entertaining and more than a little charming when marlene had joked about dating four men—.) )
Why would you? ( is what he settles on instead. ) It's not most people's first assumption.
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[Its not exactly the same, which is why she feels the need to differentiate. Anyway. She leans in towards him, and she’s quiet a moment, just a moment.
She is almost sorry she pressed this, anyway.]
I thought, at first, you were acting strangely. Just not quite how you talk to me.
But I should have pressed it then.
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Given everything, that's not unreasonable. ( a concession of sorts. ) But Steven wouldn't have told you anything. ( a beat and he looks back to her. ) I can be touchy.
—Or so I'm told.
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She knows it’s not the right move.
So she shifts her tail and fiddles it out of the top of her leggings, moving awkwardly until it comes up between her legs, and pulls it into her lap to hold there, almost like a doll. It would look even weirder but her shirt hides the view of her pants half pulled down.]
You’re not touchy with me. Or you haven’t been, and I’ve been very forceful with you.
[Her fingers curl over her tail.]
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