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

[nevercaught]

Yes, Jarlaxle is not unaccustomed to people who treat him in such a fashion. He keeps smiling brightly.

"Ah, yes. Well, you know how it is. When one's religion tells one to mutilate oneself as a preventative to sinning, often times one would rather take the chance and sin boldly. Perhaps not so boldly in Marco's case."

[peccatore]

"God would NEVER demand that our son hurt himself!"
"The Lord is merciful! If fear leads you to sin, you were a sinner to begin with!"

Their voices... do they even sound like they belong to father or a mother...?

[nevercaught]

Jarlaxle wouldn't know. He wasn't raised by his mother and he doesn't know who his father is. The latter is not so unusual for drow.

"I was talking about the demigod Jesus," he says, with a shrug, "not his very uncreatively named father. I did read some of the Bible Marco handed to me and the demigod Jesus did tell people to mutilate themselves to prevent sinning."

[peccatore]

"Jesus Christ is NOT a demigod," one of them hisses. "He is the Son."

[nevercaught]

"Is there another term for the child of a god with a mortal?" Jarlaxle asks. "On Toril we would call that a demigod."

[peccatore]

Increasingly aggravated: "Christ is NOT the child of 'a god' with a mortal!"

[nevercaught]

"I read the book," Jarlaxle says, mildly. "Your god who calls himself God because he isn't very creative had a child with a woman named Mary, did he not?"

[peccatore]

"T-- The Holy Spirit doesn't make Jesus Christ a DEMIGOD--"

... Marco actually raises his voice from all the way back on the podium.

"What are you doing? My-- My head hurts."

[nevercaught]

"Arguing with these guides about your Bible," Jarlaxle calls over. "I do not think they actually read it!"

[peccatore]

Marco's head sinks into his hands.

"Please stop arguing with my parents about the Bible."

[nevercaught]

"If I must."

He turns back to the guides and smiles brightly. "So, you are Marco's parents, yes? I do not think I see the resemblance."

[peccatore]

The Mother immediately slips back into a register she seems much more accustomed to.

"Our poor son has strayed so far."
"So far from us."

[nevercaught]

"Such things happen," Jarlaxle says, with a sympathetic tone. "I myself ended up far from the caverns I was born to."

[peccatore]

The Parents are silent for a good five seconds before they simply open the door.

"Come in."

[nevercaught]

Jarlaxle enters.

[peccatore]

"Be careful," the Mother warns. Though they keep their distance, the Parents follow Jarlaxle inside.

On the other side of the door is a dirt road, lit only by the stars. This road leads to what appears to be a town densely populated with stone buildings; it's late enough at night that most people are probably indoors.

And, between the town and Jarlaxle, a halting, stumbling shape is rising to its feet.

[nevercaught]

Jarlaxle's hand rests upon the hilt of his blade as he approaches the figure.

[peccatore]

The Mother gasps. "Is he going to slay it?"
"Imagine that. Imagine, if only someone would have slain it..."

The figure's eyes, glowing in the dark like an animal's fall on Jarlaxle. As it turns out, it looks like this.

[nevercaught]

"Marco?" Jarlaxle asks, keeping his hand on his hilt, though his tone is gentle. "Are you in command of yourself?"

[peccatore]

"... H... Huh?" Marco blinks. He seems... aware, but dazed in a way that the Marco outside was not. "Do I know you...?"

[nevercaught]

"Not yet," Jarlaxle says, "but you will in the future. I think I am in one of your memories."

[peccatore]

He seems to disregard this, opting to look around instead.

"I... wasn't I going home? How did I get here...?"

[nevercaught]

"I do not know," Jarlaxle says honestly. "Why don't we try to find the way to your home together?"

[peccatore]

"... I know the way."

He turns towards the town.

[nevercaught]

Jarlaxle follows him.