[hider=Collaboration Post with The Irish Tree]
	Pain storms forth, like a cacophonous peal of thunder in the grandiose desert heat; a herald of radical change. Every millimeter of bone could be felt, as it fractured into pieces. Every centimeters of vessel of blood could be felt, as they split open. Every inch of muscle could be felt, as they ripped away and apart. Every moment a repeating loop of agony; a silently screaming herald of Death.

Marshall didn't need to heed the call, however -- he simply followed her soothing voice, murmuring like a brook into his ears, and drawing on his soul. From behind shattered eyes, he beheld her ethereal perfection, and she caressed his cheeks -- crossing the River of Souls. From her lips, passed unspeakable promises, and unspoken affection; as if, delighted to see him, once again. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, before he raised a phantom finger, and pressed it to hers; gently shushing her.

Bemused, she smirked at him, and her face changed from perfection to an unnaturally pale with deep bags beneath her majestically green eyes. Her form change from ethereal to solid; shaping into a small humanoid, a Harvin woman with all the features that Death had took. Marshall opened his eyes, as his knife clattered to the floor. “[color=a187be]Another date, you and I,[/color]” he says, bading his fleeting lover goodbye, before looking up. “[color=a187be]Are you insane...? Do you think, I would tarnish such a beautiful woman for sport?[/color]”

	Marshall eyed the speaking Harvin, sick; twisted; hungering for her. Selmia didn't exist before him, but Death's Nymph; a daughter of his ephemeral lover. He took her in, as she spoke in the same soothing insanity; same aura of finality; same desire to embrace the unending. “[color=a187be]I couldn't bring myself to slaughter such beauty,[/color]” he laments, “[color=a187be]but, I must... Astrals, salve my soul... I must... partake in my greatest sin.[/color]” Marshall picked up his knife, and looked down it, at Selmia. “[color=a187be]Skies above, I hate your kind...[/color]” he says, frowning, “[color=a187be]Harvin.[/color]”

Marshall tested the swing of his knife, the weight upon his wrist, “[color=a187be]So happy. So jovial. So underfoot,[/color]” he flipped the blade, “[color=a187be]But, you... you are so much bigger than your kinfolk. Not happy, unless you are making something suffer; writhe and squirm. Not jovial, under someone is screaming under your knife; bit by bit exposed to your mind.[/color]” Marshall beamed, a Glasgow Smile. “[color=a187be]You... I love.[/color]”

	[color=8882be][b]”Don’t lie to me.”[/b][/color] the harvin said, gently running her hand along his chest as she passed by underneath his left arm. All at once, Marshall would feel his eyes turn towards the ceiling, his back coming into view as his severed head plopped into Selmia’s hand. Looking into his eyes, the Harvin’s glee was gone, only expressing pure, anguished jealousy as she scowled at him. [color=8882be][b]”You’re looking past me.”[/b][/color] was all she said as she tossed his head back up, having it land squarely on his bloodied neck.

Flicking her knife out in full, it was plain to see Marshall’s blood already coated the white shiny metal, her tongue flashing across it for a brief second before she spat her bloodied saliva on the ground. [color=8882be][b]”I forgive you though. After all, you’re the only one that won’t break. The only thing in this world that I want,”[/b][/color] she would say before stooping low and lunging at Marshall, her form beautiful as her knife cut through air, on a path with Marshall’s lungs. 

	Marshall didn’t move a smidge, letting the neck impact with his lung; letting the blood surge within, without, as his neck fused the halves together. “[color=a187be]Endlessly, so special,[/color]” he says, looping an his right arm around her, under the small of her back, and digging his fingers into her spine. “[color=a187be]I can taste it. I want to taste it more. I need to...[/color]” he grinned at her, putting pressure into his hold, and bending her. “[color=a187be]I don’t even know your name. All this time, and I never bothered to learn it -- remember it, if I did,[/color]” he admitted, “[color=a187be]My sweet sociopath.[/color]”

Deftly, he jammed his left thumb under her chin, striking a nerve beneath, within the hallow, and forcing her to face him eye-to-eye. “[color=a187be]You are wrong. I’m not looking past you,[/color]” he says, “[color=a187be]I’m seeing you, for you, and what you are...[/color]” All of a sudden, he relinquished her from the back-breaking hug, hoisting her in the air for a moment, and squarely kicking her in the chest; sending her on a tumble away. “[color=a187be]A Death Nymph... Someone for me to love,[/color]” he smiled, warmly... in the worst way.

	Falling and tumbling from the kick, Selmia lied limp on the ground for a moment, before her hand twitched, and her body rise, one foot at a time. Staggered over, she looked at Marshall, eyes flashing and her pupil turning into a vertical slit before she charged forward, this time far faster than she had been before. Wordlessly she sliced at the tendons in Marshall’s ankles, sliding beneath him before swiftly turning and cutting at the base of his spine. Something had changed about her movements...the way her joints bent and sprung wasn’t like anything a normal being was capable of. 

[color=8882be][b]”I don’t really need someone to love...just a plaything, really.”[/b][/color] she said, painfully following Marshall’s spin with her knife, intending to fully dissect him then and there.

	“[color=a187be]Then, let’s play...[/color]” Marshall says, letting himself slip straight into the knife, and bury itself into him. Her attack on his tendons were healing before they could even become issue. “[color=a187be]Let’s play, ‘[i]Can You Get Your Knife Back with Broken Fingers,[/i]’ yeah,[/color]” he asks, before turning and slamming his palm into his right foot, and releasing a shotgun-like burst of blood against the flesh and bone. “[color=a187be]Oh,[/color]” he chuckled, pleasantly, “[color=a187be]I’m sorry, I mean, ‘[i]A Broken Foot.[/i]’ I did. Honest.[/color]”

	Letting out a sharp gasp of pain, Selmia was on the ground once more, but Marshall would see no damage done to the foot at all...instead, he’d see a single large snake, completely riddled with holes lying at his back, dead on the floor as its body writhed in death throes. Rising once again, Selmia snorted, before letting out a loud, uproariously laughter. [color=8882be][b]”This fight will never end! Neither of us can die! This is the best!”[/b][/color] she said, delighting in the chaos brought by two seemingly immortal beings fighting to the death. Marshall would see her knife slither back to Selmia, carried in the mouth of a small violet snake with a yellow ringed pattern. He would also soon start feeling its poison course through his veins. Even if he was immortal, if that circulated to his heart, it would greatly impact his ability to fight.

	Marshall looked at Selmia, for a moment. “[color=a187be]It’s over,[/color]” he says, turning around, and walking away. “[color=a187be]I am more than willing to be the plaything of my lovers,[/color]” he says, kicking his foot forward, and an object up like a hacky sack, “[color=a187be]but, a cheater...[/color]” Marshall scoffed, disgusted. “[color=a187be]To use poison. There’s no such thing as honor in combat, but, such an underhanded move by such an intelligent...[/color]” he paused, and looked back at her, “[color=a187be]Harvin...[/color]” he snarled the word, “[color=a187be]That’s ground for our divorce.[/color]”

All of a sudden, Marshall turned, and raised his hand; his body seemed to rapidly dehydrate, as a massive ball of crimson gathered above the sparking gauntlet. It was the size of a watermelon, considering what created it, and reeked of the liquid. “[color=a187be]Here, my signature in blood![/color]” he roared, before firing the bullet in a hail of shots that punched through everything they hit. He didn’t expect a single one to stop her, but, he wasn’t banking on that.

No. It was his knife which he’d slung at amid them to impact her throat he was counting in, when she shed her skin. It wasn’t a grand plan, but, he gave him enough time to install his heart, purged the poison, and put a lot of spare “ammo” on the battlefield. Small victories, he supposed.

	Stunned by his statement of saying its over, before she trembled, clutching her sides as Marshall began launching his hail of bullets. Rather than defending herself, the small Harvin simply took it, all the while something writhed beneath her skin. Walking forward slowly amidst the hail, Marshall would see that rather than just simply walking headlong into fire, she was subtly weaving past his bullets, the worst damage being done were a series of grazes. The knife however found purchase just below her chin, before her eyes opened wide. Struggling to stand, she sank to her knees, blood pouring from her mouth and wound before she smiled at Marshall. 

[color=8882be][b]”A...Po...Phis…”[/b][/color] she murmured before Marshall could see her skin squirm, the knife falling from her wound as a small flash of scales was visible beneath her wounded flesh. Selmia’s body thrashed violently for a moment, the wound closing. Before Marshall could see more however, a familiar Primal Presence neared him, a tentacle of Charybdis lashing out at him from the side of the wall, having reached around the entire way by order of the Woman in Gray to protect Selmia.

	Marshall grinned, “[color=a187be]How curious,[/color]” he says, before darting forward at the tentacle, and arming himself. He didn’t have a lot of blood inside, so he dragged the Touch of Virtue along the ground, stockpiling blood, before releasing it in a rapid series of closely packed shot. Years of practice had taught him how to manipulate the release types, from concussive blasts to near-beam shots. “[color=a187be]Hup![/color]” he grunted, scooping Selmia up with his left arm, and tossing her forward -- away -- while snapping up his knife with his boot. “[color=a187be]What’s so important that a Primal Beast would be seeking you,[/color]” he asks, catching her, and tossing her again. “[color=a187be]I wonder, who benefacts you,[/color]” he caught her, again, and tossed her, again; turning around, and shooting at Charybdis once again, before catching Selmia and flunging her behind himself.

“[color=a187be]And, yes, I could carry you,[/color]” he says, catching her, and throwing her, “[color=a187be]No. I won’t.[/color]”

Selmia was unconscious, but judging from the literal hundreds of snakes biting Marshall as he tossed her, it was safe to say that taking her ANYWHERE wasn’t a safe idea, especially since each wound to the tentacle spawned a few of the beasts the others were encountering.

Marshall would see airships parked a bit further down, personal ones fit for only a few people to ride within. However, standing in the middle of it all was the woman he’d vaguely remember hovering around Selmia while she had dissected him. Standing, she stared right at him, as if looking through him completely. Marshall’s arm covered by the Touch of Virtue would quiver, her eyes fixed upon him. [color=E0FFFF][b]”Return Selmia. Do so and I’ll let you escape, no questions asked.”[/b][/color] she said, not saying anything else.

	“[color=a187be]Sure,[/color]” Marshall says. “[color=a187be]]In return, I want what’s mine back. And, her knife.[/color]” He slowed to a stop before her, holding Selmia in a sleeper hold beneath her neck. “[color=a187be]I’ll exchange that equivalently. Mine for hers. No reason, beyond I want what’s seen me so intimately,[/color]” he smirked. “[color=a187be]Simple enough?[/color]”

[color=E0FFFF][b]”Very well then.”[/b][/color] the woman said, snapping her fingers as the snakes ceased biting Marshall. She simply stood there motionless for a moment, before Marshall could see one of the beasts slither towards him, the jarred Heart of Lust carried in its tendrils carefully, as it placed it before him, and backed away. Removing Marshall’s knife, she forced Marshall’s hand to move without his accord, which accepted Selmia’s dagger in return. [color=E0FFFF][b]”Will that be all?”[/b][/color] she asked, looking at Marshall with nothing short of burning hatred.

	“[color=a187be]Just one more thing,[/color]” Marshall says, taking the jar and sheathing the dagger, “[color=a187be]Keep her chaste for me.[/color]” Smartly, both in expression and action, he stepped back with a gauntlet full of poisoned blood. “[color=a187be]She stole much from me...[/color]” he says, “[color=a187be]So, I’ll steal much in return. Someday. We’ll trade knives, once again. That’s a promise.[/color]”

“[color=a187be]Until then...[/color]” Marshall’s entire persona shifted into something of absolute and wonton greed, “[color=a187be]Protect it.[/color]”

	The Woman in Gray listened to him speak, cradling Selmia in her arms as the snakes timidly clung to Selmia, rather than biting her. [color=E0FFFF][b]”You presume far too much. If I ever see you again, I will make sure you plummet to the bottom of the skies. Immortality might make you immune to death, but an eternity falling is befitting for one as disgusting as you are.”[/b][/color] she said, turning away from him and waving her hand dismissively. [color=E0FFFF][b]”These airships are all fueled. Feel free to take one, if you desire, Child of Man. Wherever you run, make sure it is away from her.”[/b][/color]

	Marshall didn’t say anything, but, he relaxed, and headed to the near airship. He’d no traditional helmsman training, so he wasn’t flying anywhere; besides, he fully trusted that he’d be shot cleanly out the sky. As such, he opted to get from much needed to get some sleep, and, if the ship happened to be take out of port while he was stowed away, and he happened to be taken to a neutral port, and he happened to get off, while, all that happenstance would be pretty nice.

As he found a nice corner of a cargo hold to settle in, he looked at Selmia’s dagger. “[color=a187be]Just as sweet...[/color]” he says, “[color=a187be]Hey, Lady... sing me a song to sleep, eh?[/color]” He didn’t wait for the Lady of Virtue to even reply, as he settled into his first, actual sleep in a while. In the back of his mind, he had a moment’s thought, ‘[color=a187be][i]Maybe, I should have asked her to get rid of the Primal. Then again, if I did, nobody would brother to leave, would they? Ah, well. I got greedy.[/i][/color]’
[/hider]