Secret's Out

[egyptianoracle]

Characters: Isis, Marik
Summary: After this, Isis returns to the hotel and finds out that Marik didn't take her suggestion to go make friends...

*

I knew I should have chosen green tea instead of chai, Isis thought, pressing a hand to her head as she walked down the street back towards the hotel. Although her talk with Timaeus had been an

Comments

[endure_reality]

Boredom was not the word, and he was pretty sure there was no word to go with it. Malik had disappeared somewhere off into the distance of the evening like Isis had requested of him and well, some requests went unheard and of course where promptly ignored by certain individuals who would rather watch infomercials than even consider ‘making friends’ with the sad pathetic sods that inhabited the city beyond the hotels windows.

Granted he ha already done what he could to keep himself entertained and was currently musing on how foolish it was to put two beds in one hotel room for one guest. Scratching the bottom of his chin for a moment in contemplation, the darkness formed, surveyed the scene

[egyptianoracle]

Isis' sleep -- if it could be called that, which was questionable, given the circumstances -- was fitful, and in her unaware state, she'd tried to push the sheet away to allow cool air to soothe her bit of fever. Half-formed images of old dreams and elusive memories seemed determined not to allow her a peaceful rest, which she probably could have used after the past few weeks of stress.

[endure_reality]

In the darkness he could see someone shift amongst skewed sheets of the bed. Pillows on the floor and a figure looking most uncomfortable slowly became more clear as he stepped out of the path of the light, a small beam spilling upon a body of a woman, a woman he knew all to well, but this was not the woman he normally saw, that much was certain

[egyptianoracle]

It was like a sixth sense; something in the room just wasn't right. It urged Isis back to a reluctant wakefulness, even though opening her eyes was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. Waking meant thinking, meant not feeling well, meant many things, few of which seemed pleasant anymore.

Still, it was hard to ignore. With a sigh, she rolled over, casting dark strands of hair across the pillow, and reluctantly forced her eyes open to the darkened room.

There was someone standing next to her bed, a silhouette.

A second's pause; then she gave a short shriek, sitting up and grabbing the nearest thing (the alarm clock off the nightstand) and threw it at the person's head.