peccatore | Marco's Heart

Marco's Heart

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.

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[Void follows along, just kinda watching this play out. And a little bit enticed by the blood herself honestly. She can't properly drink it, but there's still something about it that's... pleasant.]

In the past, Agnes pours blood from a bottle into a cup, then hands it to Marco, who drinks it like a man dying of thirst. Maybe he was. She sighs, but there's no sign of exasperation in the sound.

"How long?" She asks him.

"Ah..." He is visibly trying to do the math in a language he doesn't have the most solid grasp on yet. The words take longer to come to him than the numbers. "Maybe, a... cccentury... Not exactly..."

She blinks. Surely, he must have the wrong word.

Meanwhile, the other Agnes is... curious about something. Eyeing you with no judgement, she asks,

"Are you hungry?"

A century?

[She says it with such pure disbelief. Surely he must have the wrong word. She cannot imagine going that long without eating. Maybe she could, physically... she's not sure. It's truly impossible to know. But something in her would break long before then.]

[She turns to the other Agnes, the shock still dressing her face.]

I mean- y-yeah. Always. There's something about me I... don't think can ever be full, honestly.

It's actually Marco who turns to address you in that moment, like an actor making an aside for the audience:

"Since I'd turned."

The two Agnes (Agneses? Agnii?) nod. "Since he'd turned." And then, only the Guide. "That is what I meant."

She nods patiently at your answer, too.

"I wonder if your hunger is truly that different from ours. Marco believes he is greedy, but..."

[She folds her arms and looks away]

I... I wouldn't be able to tell. Some things he says sound... familiar... but does that mean it's actually the same feeling? I'm not sure how I'm meant to know...

"Perhaps that's... okay. Must you know if it's exactly the same? Isn't it enough to understand?"

That is if I actually manage to understand. I hope I do! Hopefully. I try...

...I try really hard to.

Agnes smiles. It's hard to tell, but Marco might just smile a tiny bit, too.

This memory isn't quite done yet, though. The other Agnes asks:

"A century-old vampire wandering the streets in this state..." Despite the clarification, she looks no less shocked. "Do you not know how to hunt? Where is your sire?"

For his part, Marco seems less eager to answer these questions, and not because of the language barrier; he doesn't even start trying.

[turns back towards Marco]

...An entire century lost and confused. I can't imagine.

Agnes, not Marco, is the one to address you.

"He had managed to pick things up here and there, naturally. But not enough. Therefore, I..."

The background blurs. When it coalesces into a solid shape again, Marco and Agnes are sitting at a table; he's gripping a book, staring it down intently. Squinting.

[...Cautiously creeps forward to see what's in the book]

It's... a penny dreadful?! Maybe not the best learning material... but that may not be the only reason Marco is struggling so visibly, not only squinting, but searching for a proper viewing distance.

He doesn't wear glasses yet.

[Well first things first, Void does read everything on the open pages. You don't need to narrate everything in there but she does read it. Only when she turns to Marco expectantly waiting for him to turn to the next page does she begin to realize he's struggling]

...Oh shit, your glasses...

Look I don't know the only penny dreadful I'm aware of is the original Sweeney Todd. Either way, congratulations on your reading speed.

And don't feel embarrassed. It takes the Agnes from the past this long to realise, too.

"... Could it be that--?" She sighs. "One moment."

...

[While Agnes is assumedly grabbing glasses, Ellie flips the page for Marco so she can keep reading.]

"... You know, I'm not sure I remember the story all that well anymore," Marco whispers. "I don't know that there's much to read."

Then again, dream logic is dream logic. Maybe you won't need to parse any words to enjoy the book?

In any case, Agnes returns with a pair of glasses that doesn't suit Marco terribly well, but it does help; he still reads somewhat haltingly, but he's no longer squinting.

If there's not much too read, that's a little interesting too, isn't it? What parts stick out, what gets conveyed anyways... isn't that kinda fascinating too?

[She flips the page again.]

Marco smiles. Agnes - the guide, not the one from the memory, though at this point the distinction hardly matters - places a hand on your shoulder.

"There isn't much else to see in this particular memory, I believe. But if you wish to keep reading, I can wait."

...Ah...

... No no, I... shouldn't get distracted.

"Onward, then."

This memory is fading, now; there really wasn't that much to see. Your surroundings take a little longer to solidify this time, but once they do, Marco is sitting alone at a desk in a sparsely-decorated room. It looks like he's writing a letter.

"... Ah," Agnes says. "This is... after he set out on his own again."

How long did that take...?

[Continuing her trend, she'll read the letter over Marco's shoulder]

"Hm... Let me think. Some fifty years, perhaps? Sixty...?"

It seems Marco has written a decent bit! He keeps at it, but even though he doesn't move his lips, his voice reads it all out...

Dear Agnes,

I believe I am finally settling, despite my wretched timing (as I mentioned previously). Even in this short time, I have hopes that the economy is starting to recover. Maybe unfounded? I have tried to read some theory, but I have to admit it's somewhat tedious.

Regardless, I have carved myself a little niche in this city. I work most nights as a pianist. The pay is enough, and I am getting by, so please don't worry. (You are worrying! I know that you worry.)

I do miss your company and, yes, your supplies. As of my writing, I have worked out a method. Much like the piano playing, it is working, and I am getting by...

A method to obtain blood?

"One that he deemed... acceptable," Agnes explains.

She seems reluctant to elaborate.

[taps her foot anxiously]

That's... ominous.

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