PaulHaynek
Lucid Dreaming
AzureKnight
The Otter
Kronshi
JewelSerket
NoriWasHere
Abstract Proxy
The Irish Tree
Lewascan2Marshall largely ignored Amanita, as she spoke. He didn’t really think on the terms of what could have been, but, rather what was to be, and that was caring for the kitten that was savaging the fish. A chuckle escaped him, as she set her upon the table, and flipped off his shirt to bundle her up as a little kitten burrito; all but her shoulders and above exposed so she could eat, while being soaked in the linger warm of Marshall’s core, and the building warmth of her own self.
Due to the removal of his shirt, Marshall was reminded of a certain, overtly inquisitive Harvin; another pet of a beast, like himself. Funny, how she slipped into his thoughts; so insidious, like her serpentine master. “Selmia,” Marshall murmured, as drew her dagger, and admired it. “Astrals be damned, Primals be leashed,” he swore, “I am cursed with boundless greed and infinite obsession. If I want it, so shall I possess it, until it breaks or bores.” Marshall held the knife to the light, and his persona shifted; he called it, “Pleonexia,” the only word befitting its extremeness...
The sound of metal clinking against wood could be heard as Amanita and Oliver concluded their conversation, Amanita taking a seat in the room Cyll and Mushi were resting in. The harvin, rather than simply leaving, strode into the kitchen and with the lightest tap of his gauntlet covered finger, poked at Marshall’s back. ”Excuse me...have a moment for a few questions, sir?”
Marshall snarled, a moment’s lost of sanity, as he turnt the dagger against the Harvin, before his mind settled against the visage of the decidedly masculine figure before him; Selmia banished from his mind, for now. “Another round,” he says, shaking his head, “eh, Bart?” Marshall frowned, “No, no, think, focus...” Sheathing the dagger, Marshall tapped his head, and brought himself back. “Yes?”
”Not here, if you’re looking for a fight. I’ve been looking for clues about a cure to a certain…”illness” a friend of mine has. Primal artifacts, or primals themselves carry this sort of “feeling” thats really easy to sniff out when you get close enough, if you know what it feels like.” Oliver said, eyes focused on Marshall. ”That isn’t your arm, is it? Or rather...that thing’s stuck to your arm, isn’t it?” the short individual would ask, pointing at the gauntlet on Marshall’s arm.
“It’s far from stuck,” Marshall says, “It is my arm, has been for over 1,900 years. But, let’s press on...” he shifted, and looked over, “Illness, you say? I’m not doctor, but, unfortunately, I’ve been a guinea pig for too many, too much, too often for my liking. Immortality is too attractive for the twisted of thought.” Marshall scratched at Harliqueen’s ears, “So, what are you asking for? Blood? Flesh? Bone?”
”No need for any of that. I just need words.” Oliver said as he pulled up a chair, struggling for a moment to actually pull himself up onto it, before he sat across from Marshall. ”Namely, the ones that could tell me the Primal Beast that gave you that arm.” he said, while the small cat in Marshall’s arms shifted around within the blanket burrito that enshrouded it, trying to stretch its legs a little.
“Gave? You think too highly on that one,” Marshall says, loosing Harliqueen’s wrapping. “This is a punishment for my hubris. I stole this; one of seven pieces I intend to fully possess.” Flexing his right fingers, the old thief chuckled, “If you want to talk to the old hag, I could ask her. If she’s kind enough to deign to answer.”
Oliver hummed, netting his armored fingers together. ”Hrm...I can’t really trust the words of a Primal Beast. Not like they’d sell out one of their own. Even if she did know, whoever this ‘hag’ is doesn’t seem to like you much. I can tell. Your ether is...sickly, to say the least. I can smell that underneath, your ether is the same as mine, but its like its being violently pushed back,” he would say, before tilting his head to the right ”So, why are you here? Looking for one of those other seven pieces? Or just here to adopt kittens?”
“Six left,” Marshall corrects. “I couldn’t care less how the Lady of Virtue feels of me; just that she upholds her end of the bargain,” he says. “In any case, I escaped an undesired situation, crashed here, after taking a stowaway’s nap, rescued that child doctor, and, now, I’m here, immortal, and yet under her medical care.” Marshall sighed, “This cutie-pie is just a little bonus in my drab life of fan-splayed shit salad.”
”Language. There are kids in the next room.” Oliver said, with a completely serious tone, before his expression lightened up a bit. Relaxing his posture, Oliver asked: ”So, you stowed away, huh? Funny...we just got telegrammed a report. A prisoner ship went down over the area between here and Ziggurat; Seemed like pirates from the report. That wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with you, would it?”
“I’m a thief, not a pirate,” Marshall says, simply. “I couldn’t be bothered to be involved in piracy, unless my goal is involved,” he says, “As such,. I cannot say I would be involved. Maybe, my ship was a pirate ship, but, unfortunately for them, I was not such. If I was, they would have lived. Maybe.” Marshall grinned, a twisted half-grin, “If I was, though, what would that mean for me?”
“Ah, it’d be a bit out of my jurisdiction, since this is Zweite territory, but…” Oliver would say, before for just the briefest of moments, Marshall would feel a sense of dread simply looking at the Harvin. ”I’d probably have to drag you back to Geste for a trial. he said, before snickering, then full out laughing. ”You’re no pirate, clear as day. Thievery’s a crime, but seeing as this is Zweite territory, I imagine its not from anything less than their coffers. Oliver said, back to his cheery self.
“So we’ll leave it at that,” Marshall smiled back. “For the best.” Looking up, Marshall hummed, “Good to know where I am, though. Zweite...” his eyes closed, clearly looking at a map in his head. “There’s a village near, and an port to the northwest of it, going to it from this direction,” he says, opening his eyes, “There’s where I need to go.”
”Sorry to say, any public airships aren’t able to leave right now. So unless you can get a private ship on an island that doesn’t sell them, you’re stuck here for a while.” Oliver explained. He had a point, that is, if one actually had the intention of booking a flight through a public channel. Marshall would know from experience that some islands had underground smugglers that could ferry passengers, but for a high cost given the secrecy of the business dealt.
“I’ll just stowaway,” Marshall shrugged. “A corpse get flown fairly far, for free,” he says. “Unless things have changed.”
”Oh, they haven’t, unless you’re planning to go all the way down to the bottom of the sky when they catch you.” Oliver joked, with just a hint of seriousness in his tone. ”This talk has been...informative, in its own way. I appreciate you giving me your time, Marshall.” he would say, leaving Marshall to wonder...at what point did he learn that name that was not given to him? Oliver hadn’t asked, nor had he given his own name, yet in the end walked away with Marshall’s.
Marshall narrowed his eyes. ‘I didn’t pass my name. Not to the best of my knowledge. Amanita, perhaps? No... Maybe...’ he looked up. ‘... did he overhear it, or just...’ Standing, Marshall decided to follow Oliver, and ask.
Oliver would simply keep walking, passing by Amanita, Cyll, and Mushi before stopping in the doorway. ”Did you have a question for me, Marshall?” Oliver would ask, looking up at the human he’d just finished his conversation with.
“How did you know my name,” Marshall asks.
Oliver would tilt his head a moment, before scratching the back of his head. ”I really let that slip, huh? Oh well. Its not important.” Oliver would say dismissively, before opening Amanita’s door to leave.
Marshall’s expression turned rather grim, but didn’t chase. He knew too much, too many... he didn’t... want to hurt again. If Oliver belonged to his past, the Harvin would show up again. They always did...
Stopping on one foot, Oliver looked back at Marshall, before saying: ”Ah, I forgot...its rude for me to leave out the introduction. My name is Oliver Vimmins.” as he looked back at Marshall, he could feel something sinister, from that name he knew. ”And if I ever see you again, Marshall...it may not be on pleasant terms.”
Marshall’s armor bulked up, and he nearly crushed the atmosphere with his sheer anger. “No...” he says, “I doubt it shall be. Such an uncommon surname. Unknown for many, many years.” Marshall inhaled, and exhaled, “Explains things...” he turned. “Try to avoid me, descendant.”
Oliver looked over his shoulder at Marshall, at that armor, and for the briefest of moments, he fully considered killing Marshall where he stood, the ebony blade housed in his sheath revealing itself; And then, all at once, Marshall would feel the impact of not steel against flesh, but of memory against mind. That same exact sword...that had belonged to Bartholomew. ”I will, for a time. But should you show yourself to me again, not even immortality will be enough to keep me from avenging my grandfather.” he would say, clear and loud enough for those inside to hear before he walked off.
Marshall gritted his teeth. ‘Don’t. Don’t. Leave it. It was a gift. Don’t! Don’t! It was a gift! You made it! You gave it! Leave it!’ Marshall screamed at himself. ‘Just... leave it...’ Marshall inhaled deeply, then sighed, equally so. “At least... it’s not lost...” he says, with a sad smile, “Barty would be happy to know, I didn’t lose it, after all.”
Amanita heard what Oliver had said, as well as Marshall’s sighs, rushing over to ask: ”U-Um..is everything okay, Mr. Marshall?” she would ask, wishing she could help in some way but...Oliver sounded less than pleased after that, and Marshall looked like he was in agony.
"Die young, kids, so you don’t make irreparable mistakes,” Marshall sighed, as he flopped onto the couch.
Collab with @The Irish Tree / Attn: @Ammokkx & @The 42nd Gecko
