[Well, that's fair. Even in the eighties people were starting to lose tolerance for smoke in every indoor space. He shrugs, following Marco out to the Veranda before lighting the paper in his mouth with a spark of electricity from his thumb.]
... How long have you two been together, Marco? You and Fiddleford.
[The answer that comes to mind first - the easier one - is how long they've been married, but that was just... a formality, right? Well, no, it was more than that. It was sweet, and meaningful, and right. But it certainly wasn't when they got together.
He needs to think. If he's been here for, god, four years now...]
[It's the second time in a short while that somebody has asked him something similar to this, and considering how much Marco hates to think about it, that isn't... thrilling.
He raises a hand to refuse the cigarette, stiffly polite.]
[... A community. With all that's happened between them, Marco has just about forgotten the time period Egon comes from, and in that moment, a pang of guilt hits him harder than he's ready for.]
I didn't know him very well. So I don't really know if that's... a fair assessment or not.
[He liked to forget. Egon wasn't particularly outgoing, but he'd had enough of being belittled in his life time. At least here he could be judged for, say, accidentslly turning people into animals- something under his control.]
I don't know if you two would have gotten along, but he was quite respectable.
[And then he glances back to Marco and frowns.]
Look, Marco, I didn't mean anything personal before, before.
[It may be hard to tell if Marco is being standoffish or if he's just... uncomfortable. He leans on the railing, looking out to the lake. Or beyond it, maybe.]
[That's a surprisingly comforting thing to hear here. The nephilim nods, finishing his cigarette before putting it out against his butt on his massive left arm, allowing it to disappear into the folds and tentacles before starting another.]
I'd worry, knowing how you feel about fog followers. My research into both gods comes before all loyalties though.
[He may be reading too much into it. Maybe Egon didn't mean it that way. After all, no matter whether he realises it or not, Marco has become hyper-vigilant when it comes to the things he needs to work on.
Regardless, there is one thing that immediately springs to mind.]
[Now that is a question he's not all that inclined to give Egon the answer to, his best attempts to be civil be damned.
He joined Elias because he was afraid; the fear grew and grew until it warped into something else, and now that he's better at seeing through it he's remained with Elias because... because he can't just abandon him. Elias doesn't need another Dr. Liewen in his life.
I-- [Marco looks at Egon for a moment; seemingly uncomfortable, he decides to go back to focusing on some point just beyond the lake.] I don't know what you think I'm doing, but it's not... it's not that. I don't see how it's that at all.
Besides, he needs...
[His hands tense up. When he finishes the sentence, it's in a mumble:]
[Egon doesn't look at Marco at all. He's not good at this sort of thing, but at the very least the Merman has never elicited the worst from him. He looks at his arm, then at Marco's hand.]
Then what is it?
Elias is a child, and he deserves to be a child. He won't listen to me and I can't blame him for that, but I stand by that his power is corrupting him.
[Marco shakes his head, and catches a glimpse of Egon looking at his hand in the process.
Right. That's why what Egon is saying doesn't sound right.]
If anything, he's the one handing me power. I can't fight. I'm no good at magic. If it weren't for him... I don't know how much of my old life I would still remember.
[And yet he still calls it his "old life" so easily. Marco gulps and tries to shake the thought.]
We protect each other, that's all. Even if it's not... not quite in the same way I used to believe.
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[Well, that's fair. Even in the eighties people were starting to lose tolerance for smoke in every indoor space. He shrugs, following Marco out to the Veranda before lighting the paper in his mouth with a spark of electricity from his thumb.]
... How long have you two been together, Marco? You and Fiddleford.
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[The answer that comes to mind first - the easier one - is how long they've been married, but that was just... a formality, right? Well, no, it was more than that. It was sweet, and meaningful, and right. But it certainly wasn't when they got together.
He needs to think. If he's been here for, god, four years now...]
I guess... three years. -Ish.
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[He considers for a moment before offering the merman a cigarette of his own, even more cartoonishly small in his hands than the box was.]
What would happen if Fiddleford just... was gone one day?
I'd not threaten either of you unprompted, of course. Purely hypothetical. You know how this place operates better than I do.
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He raises a hand to refuse the cigarette, stiffly polite.]
I don't know.
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[He'll take the cigarette back and put it away, exhaling smoke that sparks as it comes out of his mouth, turning clear and white as he purifies it.]
I didn't think I'd find a community, ever. Especially not under circumstances like this.
Boone was a good man, too good for someone like me.
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I didn't know him very well. So I don't really know if that's... a fair assessment or not.
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I don't know if you two would have gotten along, but he was quite respectable.
[And then he glances back to Marco and frowns.]
Look, Marco, I didn't mean anything personal before, before.
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[It may be hard to tell if Marco is being standoffish or if he's just... uncomfortable. He leans on the railing, looking out to the lake. Or beyond it, maybe.]
I don't... think you're evil, either.
[It's definitely discomfort.]
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I'd worry, knowing how you feel about fog followers. My research into both gods comes before all loyalties though.
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Regardless, there is one thing that immediately springs to mind.]
... I still come across that way, do I?
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But that's not what I came here for. It was about the fallen bodies, and now it's just me here sniveling.
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... I've genuinely been trying not to be so... hostile, you know. It sounds like I have to work on it some more.
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Not many people you can always trust here. I follow the fog because I like my new body and I had someone to be close with I wouldn't have had before.
...why do you dedicate yourself to Elias, if I may ask?
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He joined Elias because he was afraid; the fear grew and grew until it warped into something else, and now that he's better at seeing through it he's remained with Elias because... because he can't just abandon him. Elias doesn't need another Dr. Liewen in his life.
Marco frowns.]
"Dedicate" is... is a little intense, no?
[Dodging the question, then.]
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[He barks out a cynical laugh, then finishes a second cigarette before mashing it into his arm again.]
You don't become a priest of anything without being dedicated to it, unless you're a real grifter type, and I don't think you are.
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... I was a different person...
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Besides, he needs...
[His hands tense up. When he finishes the sentence, it's in a mumble:]
He needs me.
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Then what is it?
Elias is a child, and he deserves to be a child. He won't listen to me and I can't blame him for that, but I stand by that his power is corrupting him.
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Right. That's why what Egon is saying doesn't sound right.]
If anything, he's the one handing me power. I can't fight. I'm no good at magic. If it weren't for him... I don't know how much of my old life I would still remember.
[And yet he still calls it his "old life" so easily. Marco gulps and tries to shake the thought.]
We protect each other, that's all. Even if it's not... not quite in the same way I used to believe.
[... Has he said too much?]