Marco's Heart

[peccatore]

You find yourself in a bright white, circular room. It's nearly empty; too bare, almost clinically so. But the bareness of it means that what is visible here stands out:

A podium in the center, where a familiar figure sits, head buried in his hands. Three paths running from the podium to three different spots near the edges of the room - not corners; circles don't have corners - where three doors leading seemingly nowhere stand with no regard for their complete lack of structural support.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where you are, does it? You only have to decide where to start.

Comments

[reddenedgalaxy]

[oh. she doesn't like that tone]

See... what?

[peccatore]

"The truth."

One of his hands squeezes the knuckles of the other one.

"I'm sorry. I was terrified of hurting you."

[reddenedgalaxy]

There's nothing wrong... with wanting to protect me.

...But I can handle things... on my own.

[peccatore]

"... I can't stop you. I can't stop you from seeing... any of this."

[reddenedgalaxy]

No… you can’t.

…I know how much it hurts. It’s scary what people might think… when they know mor about you…

[peccatore]

He curls more tightly into himself.

"Whatever... Whatever happens to me... I deserve it."

[reddenedgalaxy]

...You don't.

[peccatore]

"You don't know that."

[reddenedgalaxy]

I don't... believe you should have to suffer forever...

[peccatore]

"You're... kind, Mordimort."

It seems he doesn't want to argue the point with her any longer.

[reddenedgalaxy]

We're friends... it's what friends do.

...I'm going to look around now. Take care...

[peccatore]

He can't seem to muster a reply, quietly watching her go instead.

But where does she go?

[reddenedgalaxy]

[She heads for the door due south of Marco's podium.]

[peccatore]

And that door is...