At age eleven, when she had boarded the gleaming, scarlet seam engine that would take her to the gorgeous castle that so easily became home, marlene hadn’t known what was coming. if she had known, back then, that when she boarded, what would happen— well, she wasn’t sure exactly what she could do. chances were, marlene would only become more obnoxious, desperate to make someone like her, as was so frequent from the small mckinnon, whose only friend for so long had been marcus. there was no way of telling then that dirk would become such a prevalent, central, important piece of her life. the flamboyant, determined and otherwise (right now, at least) stupidly impulsive man in front of her was a tether by which her sanity so often cycled. he was like a sun, bright and warm and shining down life into marlene, no matter how little she ever wanted to continue going.
he was one of her favorite people, the one she loved most - second only to her twin. a soulmate that the universe made more than sure to place in her life. even in moments like these, when their differing heights did nothing to chance the size of their presence. her irish temper and deep embedded terror, not only for dirk, but for her father and benjy, every innocent within the ministry, flamed as bright as her hair, dark eyes burning. thinking of it, a small voice in the back of her mind so adamantly hated setting such a gaze onto him. of everyone in her life, he was the one she never wanted to be angry with, and seldom was. but fuck if his idiotic choices sometimes weren’t the absolute bane of her existence.
it was no surprise that the scream was mirrored; merlin forbid they not be mirrored hypocrites. “what’s your excuse?” she hissed, clenching her jaw together at the thought. screw all the torture and destructive tendencies in the world, to lose dirk would be just the same as losing marcus, a devastation to never completely pull back from. “my father was in that building tonight, you idiot! did you even think, and what would have happened to me if you’d gotten your ass kill–” she drew in a deep breath, ready to dig into him once again and remind him just what dying would have done to her, but then she saw it. the way his face was shining crimson, expression fading between conscious and distort, and her pupils widened. “– fuck, you’re hurt.” marlene muttered, immediately beginning to take note, cursing herself for not noticing even with the damned horror mask on his face.
"the ministry is corrupt!" he shouts, teeth gritting, head pounding, voice hoarse and scratchy, his eyes screwed shut against the nauseous sway of the floor beneath his feet -- 'what's your excuse?!' -- dirk does not need an excuse, his convictions howling out of him in waves, his anger freely pouring out all around him. "crawling with death eaters and elitists, people who want us dead! and no one is doing anything! NO ONE!" inaction is death. inaction is acceptance of injustice, of corruption, of defeat -- there is an ingrained terror that is alive in his blood, the fear of sitting by and doing nothing, of being helpless as death and grief took friends and family where he could not follow, the fear of failing those whose lives he'd taken responsibility for, a restless beast that's grown within him day by day as the years dragged on -- first came death for his brother, then came grief for his mother, then came war to tear him away from a sister and a father he'd loved more than life itself.
to lose marlene would be pain beyond pain. there is no doubt in his mind that he will not last another day in this fight should the war take her away again, there is no doubt in his mind that her death would be his own. her kidnapping had made this more than clear to him, those months he'd almost thought her dead --
his eyes drag upwards to meet hers, slowly, half-lidded and tired, but his vision remains unfocused. "orion's pardon is just the beginning," he says, in his daze he forgets the grip of loathing he'd wrapped so tightly around the thought of the man, the name slips past his lips unfiltered -- almost fond, almost gentle, a man he'd begun to regard like a father before betrayal burned all the love he could've held for him to crisps. his teeth grit together, he lets out a shallow breath, he blinks again slowly.
"someone had to do something." he says, the extent of planning he'd put forth reaching its end. someone had to do something -- and someone did. little thought had been put to what lay beyond, little time was spared to consider the consequences of this mission, all the ways it could go wrong, all the ways it did. a distant, detached part of his mind laughs -- you've always been better at thinking on your feet, weren't you? -- but he hadn't thought of the people inside. they didn't plan to kill innocents, that had been enough for him, but marlene's words give him pause. he stands silent as she prepares to go on a proper tirade, before her face shifts from anger to concern. "i'm fine." he says, but slides down to the floor to sit. "i'll be fine, i just -- i need a bit of rest."
