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

[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 It is obviously Agnes, albeit wearing clothes that must have been outdated even on the day this happened.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--?

[peccatore]

Marco looks directly at Mark this time, whispering:

"Since I'd turned."

Agnes tips her head in thought.

"How curious. I'm almost certain I knew what he meant then, but everyone who has seen this made the same assumption."

[mindmills]

... That he must have eaten before? That you can't just not eat?

[ He keeps breathing in that blood smell. ]

It's so good. I couldn't keep from doing it when I was a vampire.

[peccatore]

"That he was either lying or confused, rather than talking about his age."

Agnes fixes Mark with a stare devoid of judgement.

"... Would you like a sample?"

[mindmills]

[ Mark S licks his lips. He's not a vampire now but? He can smell like one?? It would be so nice to repeat that feeling ... ]

Just - just a little.

[peccatore]

The memory around them seems to have paused for a moment. In the meantime, Agnes pours a glass for Mark S.

(A nervous frown crosses Marco's face.)

[mindmills]

[ This is such a bad idea. Mark S lifts the glass to his lips anyway. And just - touches his tongue to it, cautious. ]

[peccatore]

So, how is it, Mark? Is it exactly how you remember Marco's blood tasting, or is it just a gross iron-y sludge?

[mindmills]

I - uh -

[ he takes a deep breath. Trying to remember how Marco had tasted and bringing that to the forefront. ]

I don't know?

[peccatore]

"Know what, Mr. S?"

That was the narration, Mark.

[mindmills]

Nothing, just. Thinking.

[ Look, he's got weird severance bullshit going on, that's why he's responding to the narration out loud and definitely not Rho misreading -

Anyway. It does taste sludgy at first, but the more he thinks about his own memory, the nicer it gets, until he's ravenous. ]

... Not the same. But - close. I think.

[peccatore]

It's a perfectly understandable mistake to make. The narration just felt like being cheeky and indulgent.

"Interesting..."

This seems to be the other Agnes' cue to pick up where the memory left off.

"A century-old vampire wandering the streets in this state..." Despite the clarification regarding what exactly it has been a century since, 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.

[mindmills]

[ Mark S turns to him now, also curious. ]

... where is your sire?

[peccatore]

"... I don't know," Marco says. "I don't think I'll never know."