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]

[Sure, she'll follow the strange child inside. Of course she will. This is Marco's friend, after all!]

...Where are we going?

[peccatore]

Agnes opens the door and gestures at it, inviting Mordimort to go first. Agnes follows, and...

On the other side of the door is a cobblestone street under a cloudy night. The buildings seem relatively antiquated - definitely European, if that means anything to Mordi. There is a delicious smell coming from one 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.

[reddenedgalaxy]

[Considering she lives in a very European inspired city back home, the buildings are recognizable and feel familiar to her. As she looks around she spots what she assumes to be Marco, and follows behind him quietly.]

[peccatore]

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 Mordi too, if she's keeping pace with him - step 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 It is obviously Agnes, albeit wearing clothes that must have been outdated even on the day this happened.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.

[reddenedgalaxy]

Agnes...

[she looks from Agnes to Marco(?).]

Is this... how you met...?

[peccatore]

The Agnes guiding Mordimort nods, a very small smile on her face. It's easy to miss, but the man who is almost certainly Marco nods as well.

The Agnes at the counter, meanwhile, 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...?"

[reddenedgalaxy]

The smell...

[Mordi smells it too, and she knows enough about vampires to be able to guess what that smell might be. She looks towards the Agnes next to her and asks the same question as Marco.]

...why is it... this much?

[peccatore]

The smell might feel at least a little strange. It's not as if it doesn't smell like blood; it's a thick, heavy, metallic scent. It just happens to be incredibly appealing at the same time, somehow.

"I had... started a small business," Agnes tells her. "In the back."

Which is precisely where the Agnes at the counter is instructing Marco to follow her to.

[reddenedgalaxy]

A business...

[well, might as well find out what this business is. Mordi follows behind Marco to the back.]

[peccatore]

The room in the back contains dozens and dozens of bottles filled with blood, like some kind of bar.

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. She sighs, but there's no sign of exasperation in her voice.

[reddenedgalaxy]

I knew it...

[Mordi looks to the Agnes she's with]

...where did all of this... come from?

[peccatore]

With an unbreakable poker face:

"Willing donors, for the most part."

[reddenedgalaxy]

Oh...

[she wants to ask about the "most part" part but, maybe it's for the best not to. So instead she waddles over to Marco's side to check on him. By staring at him.]

[peccatore]

Boy, he is DRINKING. When he's done, the Agnes from this memory asks:

"How long?"

"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..."

Agnes blinks.

[reddenedgalaxy]

A century... since he was turned...?

[Mordi's realizing that she doesn't actually know how old Marco is. People who are hundreds of years old aren't really uncommon in Tributary, but it's still a bit surprising.]

[peccatore]

"A century-old vampire wandering the streets in this state..." Agnes also seems shocked, though not for the same reasons as Mordimort.. "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.

[reddenedgalaxy]

Marco...

[What would Alto do in a situation like this? Hesitantly, she places a hand on his shoulder.]

[peccatore]

Well, that gets Marco to glance at her with a sheepish smile.

"Hi, Mordimort."

[reddenedgalaxy]

Oh... sorry, I hope I'm not... interrupting...

[peccatore]

"It's fine. I think we can meander a bit here."

[reddenedgalaxy]

...okay.

[despite saying that, she looks back to Agnes for confirmation that this is, in fact, okay]

[peccatore]

Agnes nods. She is just a part of Marco, you know.

[reddenedgalaxy]

...one hundred years? That sounds... hard.

[peccatore]

"I... did wander a lot, I'll admit. But-- But it did lead me here. So I guess it's not all bad."

Huh. Marco seems a lot more at ease than he was in the lobby.

[reddenedgalaxy]

You got to meet Agnes...

...are you... close?