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

[mindmills]

... I mean, I did kind of get that idea. Vampire, right?

[peccatore]

"Good. You can tell."

At any rate, she opens the door.

"Shall we? I will be accompanying you."

[mindmills]

Uh, yeah. I just have one question?

[peccatore]

"... Yes?"

Her expression seems to soften, if only slightly.

[mindmills]

Why are you a child?

[peccatore]

"... Because I was turned as a child. Is that all?"

[mindmills]

Is that normal? Getting turned that young?

[peccatore]

"Not... particularly, no."

[mindmills]

Then ... what happened? It wasn't Marco, right?

[peccatore]

"No." She shakes her head. "I am his elder by several centuries."

[mindmills]

... Did you turn him?

[peccatore]

"No, I did not."

She... seems to be growing a little impatient.

[mindmills]

Right, sorry, that was actually several questions.

[ He turns to follow her now! ]

[peccatore]

Seemingly pleased, Agnes actually allows him in first. But regardless...

On the other side of the door is a cobblestone street under a cloudy night. The buildings seem relatively antiquated - definitely European, though that may not mean much to Mark. There is a delicious smell coming from one building in particular; a blond man in a long coat and a hat stumbles towards it, seemingly led by his body more than by his senses.

[mindmills]

[ Nothing specific, but the overall effect is delightful? Mark S pauses a moment to take it all in. It's like nothing he's seen before...

He wanders after the delicious smell, equally drawn in. ]

[peccatore]

The smell might be familiar, in fact. Thick, heavy and metallic, yet impossibly captivating...

At any rate, the window on the building that the scent leads to is difficult to see through, but the sign outside labels it as an apothecary. The blond man - and Mark too, if he's keeping pace with him - steps inside to find a small girl at the counter. It is obviously Agnes, albeit wearing clothes that must have been outdated even on the day this happened.

Also, she's almost definitely standing on a crate or a chair.

[mindmills]

[ Ohhhh yeah that's blood. That's blood as it smelled while he was a vampire. It's still the most pleasurable sensation he's ever had in his short life.

He steps in just after the blond man, then startles to see Agnes. ]

Hello?

[peccatore]

Well, there is still another Agnes behind him. She taps his shoulder - possibly impressive, considering how much shorter she is - and whispers, smiling in a way that looks more suited for Marco's face than hers:

"My, you are adorable. This is only a memory."

And it continues to play out. The Agnes at the counter regards Marco coolly.

"Wipe your feet. Stand up straight." Her eyes narrow. "... State your business."

Marco's response comes in slow, heavily accented English.

"I, I felt... I smell... Why is it this much...?"

[mindmills]

[ Mark S whirls back at her, then back towards the memory. ]

S-sorry, I just - it's so real ...

[ he quiets to let it play out though. ]

Why IS it that much?

[peccatore]

That same smile on her face slips into Marco's - and it is definitely him, despite the lack of glasses - only for a moment. Then the memory continues.

The Agnes at the counter seems to be reaching a conclusion, scrutinizing Marco's dishevelled manner and clumsy use of the language silently until she finally says:

"Come with me."

She walks through a door at the back of the establishment, and Marco follows her. Likewise, the Agnes guiding Mark signals at him to come along as well. The room they take them to contains dozens and dozens of bottles filled with blood, like some kind of bar.

[mindmills]

[ Mark S follows obediently, staring up at all of the bottles. That smell, god - he knows he isn't a vampire and this isn't real, but he wants some SO bad. ]

Why do you have all of this?

[peccatore]

"It was a small... business of sorts, I suppose. There were many others in need of supplements, or even only desiring to sample something different from their usual."

The Agnes from the past 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.

"But he couldn't afford it, of course. I was able to tell right away."

[mindmills]

... Why'd you give it to him then?

[peccatore]

"... He... needed it."

The Agnes in this memory sighs, but there's no sign of exasperation in the sound.

"How long?" she asks Marco.

"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.

[mindmills]

[ Mark S snaps his head up at that. ]

A century? How do you not eat for a century--?