[ COMPLETED ]
German Translations Provided By @vanessanats
BOOK 1 of the ORPHIC series
ZEITGEIST
/ˈtsītˌɡīst,ˈzītˌɡīst/
the defining spirit or mood of a particular period of history as shown by the ideas and beliefs of the time.
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"I get lost in pretending to be human."
???, Monaco May, 2010
STARK GRABBED HER ARM, EVADING the ambulance and press, who tried to fight their way through the armored guards set around the entrance to the locker rooms. Pepper and Happy followed immediately after, joined by Natalia who'd slipped around the guards. He stalked forwards with purpose and Verfall managed not to trip over her feet as she followed after him. Her heart bubbled with panic- he wasn't happy, whether it was because of her or the enemy.
He wasn't happy and he was upset with her, wasn't he?
Her breath came out in short, quick, stutters as they entered the locker room, door slamming shut before Pepper, Happy or Natalia could enter. If they were taken aback by the motion, none of them protested outside of the door. Stark turned on his feet, stepping towards one of the lockers before his suit dispersed, metal pulling away from his arms and falling back into the form of a tidy suitcase.
He exhaled loudly, putting one hand on his hip, the other running over his face.
Verfall swallowed the anxiety climbing up her spine.
"You okay?" He finally asked, genuine concern in his gaze as he approached her.
She flinched instinctively and Stark drew his hand back immediately. He opened his mouth, then shut it. He drew closer slower this time, pushing his hands into his pockets. The worry in his eyes was still there, brighter, as he stopped a foot in front of her.
"You- uh- you here with me, right now?" He asked.
Verfall inhaled deeply.
Her mind hadn't wandered, and she wasn't dissociating. She was still functional, though her arm still ached like a deep cut with a bruising hand tight around her skin. Her breathing grew normal and she let her shoulders slump, tension leaving her bones.
She nodded sharply once.
"Your arm- can I?" He questioned and Verfall moved without really moving, lifting her arm with a pained grimace.
He tore the barely hanging sleeve away from her forearm, stitching snapping as he did so. He drew his lips inward with uncertainty as the bloody mess glared up at him with full force.
Verfall let her eyes shift to the wound.
The boils around her skin had faded, although a deep cut was still visible. The flesh was having a difficult time stitching around the pieces of metal that'd lodged itself into her muscle. The bone couldn't be seen, so she supposed she should be grateful for the little things.
