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	Marshall shook his right arm, and flexed his fingers. '[color=a187be][i]That's what the bandages are for, you walking, candle flame.[/i][/color]’ he shot back. ‘[color=a187be][i]In any case, friends, Karma and I shall never be. I'm a Thief, after all. Karma's always on the side of good.[/i][/color]’ he looked up, '[color=a187be][i]Your side, last I checked. So, for the sake of my own personal victory, I can blame you.[/i][/color]’ Marshall sighed, and then, tapped his head with her right hand. ‘[color=a187be][i]Additionally, I feel I have to correct you, since, I’ll always have you. After all, you cast such a wonderfully hypocritical shadow for me to survive in.[/i][/color]’ he returned her smugness with a broad grin of his own, and had another retort readied, before he was taken off guard, and sent to hand and knee.

There was a soft sheathing of knife in ground, as he root himself in placed with Selmia's Dagger, and angled his right hand to shoot a bullet through himself. If it weren't for the fact he'd remembered the exact weight and density of Amanita's blood, he would have shoot through himself, and through her; taken aback, as he was. Fortunately, he was aware of this, and the the almost ethereally dainty arms that surrounded him. ‘[color=a187be][i]Is this truly a child? Have I been dealt two Jokers in one hand?[/i][/color]’ Marshall asks, '[color=a187be][i]or, have I been so bereft of human contact, I've forgotten what a child truly is?[/i][/color]’

Neither answer would please the ancient thief, of course, but, he drew himself, and thoughts, to the present, as Amanita slipped off him. “[color=a187be]I don't drink blood,[/color]” Marshall says. “[color=a187be]Not in any traditional sense, anyways. I am well adjusted to cooked meals, as any man, even if I am without need of them,[/color]” he says, looking at her, as she told him to follow her, and thanked him, “[color=a187be]I told you... Hm, never mind.[/color]” Marshall sided the scolding for another day; perhaps. At this moment, her demeanor and posture were all too fragile, and her offer bespoke of lodgings; a bath, meal, and bed -- all warm.

	So, he followed her in silence; determined to entertain neither his own curiosities nor those of his Benefactor. Surely, someone as engrossed in the corruption of light would have less than savory opinion; perverse assumptions to make, and use as taunt and sword against his personage, until she bored of it. His own thoughts conflicted, as well. He treated life as a black and white scenario; everything, everyone, all broken into a simple outcome of 1s and 0s -- “[color=808080][i][b]You make frighteningly binary decisions,[/b][/i][/color]” someone told him, long gone. And, he agreed, as it kept his mind from wandering, as it sought to do.

His mind had myriads of avenues to walk; simple questions and complex questions. What was Mucu? Was he a threat? He, if Marshall had to apply gender, was clearly smarter than another mushroom off the floor. He could withstand a fair degree of damage, and dish it out, as well. Yet, he seemed easy to placate. Then, there was Rumaya. Why? Why had she been dealt into his life; renew, his Amaya? His first and only victim. He didn't believe in victims, as they were too easy to intertwine with emotion, and sew doubt into his cause, or rashness into his form.

And yet, her she was, a perfect reflection down to the scar. A birthmark, now; if the simple offset of pigmentation was to be believed. Had his mere caress, a great 1,904 years ago, been enough to pervert her very blood, and force Amaya's descendants to bare an echo of his greatest mistake? It was so much to think on, but, insurmountable in comparison to the child that led him across the field encircling the ruined forest. Was she a child? Or, was she another Harvin, playing at being a child for some game or reason? Or, was she of the Nymphs, determined to be seen as more than a Spectre of Beauty?

	No matter the answers, he knew they would all fail to please, and bring only more aching. Amanita had presented herself as a savior, and yet, truly, she was but a curse that brought damnation... one that stirred up what he'd buried beneath a protective seal of compassionless bluntness, controlled insanity, and bestial ferocity:

[center][color=a187be][i][b][u]Genuine Affection.[/u][/b][/i][/color][/center]
By the Primals above and Astral before them, this just wasn't Marshall's day...
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