the first pedestrian of the apocalypse

[myironeyes]

[Marsh hasn't made a public announcement in a long time. Not since before the last convergence with the mirror barge, in fact. He frequently keeps to himself outside of his work shifts in the kitchen, his inmate, and a dwindling circle of friends, so for many newcomers this may be the first good look they've had of him: a stocky, tired man in his late thirties or early forties, wearing a hooded black cloak nazgul-style and thin, spiky red-and-black tattoos around his eyes - or, rather, where his eyes should be. Instead he has two blunt steel spikes that have been pounded into his sockets.]

There are few differences between myself and my counterpart. It does not matter which of us I am, or where.

I am strong, and fast, and difficult to kill. If you need help, call and I will help you.

[There's a pause, and for a moment it seems like that's all he has to say. But not quite. The Dalek had prevented him from being psychically puppeted last time, but that isn't a guarantee that it won't happen in the future.]

Unless you see me smiling. In that case, run.

[Okay, now he's done.]

Comments

[isahumanbeing]

[Sir, you have spikes for eyes.]

Why would smiling...? I probably don't want to know, do i?

[myironeyes]

Likely not.

[Yeppers.]

[isahumanbeing]

Would running make much of a difference, then?

[myironeyes]

It depends on whether I've been told to chase you.

[dinosize]

Smiling.

[myironeyes]

It's a bad sign.

[dinosize]

Why?

[myironeyes]

It generally means I am not myself.

[spam]

[routemistress]

[She has nothing new to say to Marsh's information; but seeing him on her screen jolts her into realising how many people won't have seen him yet, how many are going to react with shock and horror.

Marsh, she knows, will handle it with his usual stolid grace; he's not volatile like Jack is, perversely less easy to hurt, for all his gaps and raw places. But she feels protective of him in the same way she does of Jack, and so she goes to him.]

'Ey Spiny. Hug incoming.

[spam]

[myironeyes]

Gently.

[But he's - been worn down, on the subject. A bit. Enough to reach out an arm of his own as she zeroes in.[

[spam]

[routemistress]

[She's learned, in the process of that wearing, where he can be most easily touched, which places on his flesh hurt less than others and which nerves and pressure points will - not alleviate his pain, it's too large and pervasive for that. But there are counterpressures and places where a careful hand can help, and Iris is very careful with him indeed.]

I never thought I'd be glad about a Dalek. Nor I'm not, not really. It's very 'ard on C'rizz. Does 'e know 'ow much 'e helps you?

[spam]

[myironeyes]

[He shivers, just a little. Six years as a monster and more as a hermit before that have left him touch-starved in ways he's barely aware of, struggles to process anything other than the pain, the way a starving child will throw up rich food. But he doesn't push her away.]

I think it's C'Rizz we're both glad of, underneath.

I've said, a little. But it's the sort of thing that's distressing to be thanked for.

[changeitroundsome]

Mighty nice of you to offer.

[Don't ask about the eyes, don't ask about the eyes...]

Unusual eyes you got there.

[Nothing ventured, nothing gained?]

[myironeyes]

They're spikes.

[Marsh: civil and informative!]

[changeitroundsome]

...Can't say I've ever seen that before. Don't it hurt?

[myironeyes]

I am the last Inquisitor, and that is as it should be.

It does hurt. But you can get used to almost anything.

[walkingmeltdown]

So noted. Thank you.

[He doesn't really have anything else to add, but.]

...Haven't seen you around in awhile.

[How does conversation??]

[myironeyes]

I haven't had much to say.

[Well don't look at Marsh for tips, for god's sake.]

[walkingmeltdown]

I think I had expected you were no longer on the ship. I mean do you just live in your room?

[myironeyes]

I also work in the kitchens.

[yeah tho]

[notgonnabeopencasket]

[Gretel stares flatly for a beat, and then she gestures towards her own eyes.]

You've got a little something, there.

[myironeyes]

Spikes.

[Yes.]

You can ask.

[notgonnabeopencasket]

How can you see? [Right off the bat she's mostly concerned with the practicalities.]

[fireincarnate]

I'll bring you back. [Her voice is quietly, fiercely determined. If someone else has him, is using him - she'll cut those strings and strangle them with them.]

[myironeyes]

I know.

[He does. Trusts that it would end in freedom, the way he never believed under Ruin. But people should be aware, in the interim.]