09-09-2018, 02:15 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-09-2018, 02:20 AM by Marcus DuBois.)
Marcus was ready to leave this shambles. Ascendancy gone somewhere. The feel of the ijiraq pulling the force through him. The fear and hatred and chaos.
Marcus hated chaos above all things. It was the itch in the middle of his back. His enemy. He knew Gleik's seminal work on chaos theory. He believed it. But few understood it. Like Godel's incompleteness theorem or Schrodinger's thought experiments...people saw what they wanted. And tossed their names around as if they had a clue.
Chaos did not mean there was no order. Only that it was complex. It required work.
Marcus would track every variable across multiple dimensions. It would make sense.
But for tonight, he was just Marcus. And Danika looked up at him with what he thought were fear and concern. And strangely, warmth shot through him.
Her hand in his was soft and firm and demanding.
The limo stopped. The events of the night a background...how do you....there was no way to finish the thought.
In the quiet, he walked her to her door. The brush of her next to him pulling more than he realized. There was a purity to her, beyond her almost unreal beauty. Touching it burned.
But he enjoyed it.
In front of the door, Marcus looks down at her, her deep eyes inviting him to her soul, her smile an invitation.
Marcus is not afraid. Fear is for the weak.
He leans in for a kiss.
Marcus hated chaos above all things. It was the itch in the middle of his back. His enemy. He knew Gleik's seminal work on chaos theory. He believed it. But few understood it. Like Godel's incompleteness theorem or Schrodinger's thought experiments...people saw what they wanted. And tossed their names around as if they had a clue.
Chaos did not mean there was no order. Only that it was complex. It required work.
Marcus would track every variable across multiple dimensions. It would make sense.
But for tonight, he was just Marcus. And Danika looked up at him with what he thought were fear and concern. And strangely, warmth shot through him.
Her hand in his was soft and firm and demanding.
The limo stopped. The events of the night a background...how do you....there was no way to finish the thought.
In the quiet, he walked her to her door. The brush of her next to him pulling more than he realized. There was a purity to her, beyond her almost unreal beauty. Touching it burned.
But he enjoyed it.
In front of the door, Marcus looks down at her, her deep eyes inviting him to her soul, her smile an invitation.
Marcus is not afraid. Fear is for the weak.
He leans in for a kiss.