Marsh || Steel Inquisitor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
myironeyes) wrote2015-03-05 11:17 pm
myironeyes) wrote2015-03-05 11:17 pm
Entry tags:
- big brothers bad choices club,
- brood brood cluck cluck,
- dramatic yet unhelpful,
- journey's end,
- no crying you don't have eyeballs,
- oops i apocalypse club,
- phoenix rousant a bright shield,
- shattered soul club,
- sorry about the evil puppet thing,
- take care of my kitchen ducklings,
- why does she call him norman tho,
- zane is totally stitch
(no subject)
[Public, video]
[Marsh looks, if possible, even more grave than usual. He looks very tired.]
Kara Zor-El's door appears to have reverted to barge standard.
[His mouth pinches, and then he takes a breath, as though to say something else - but he doesn't. The silence stretches, for a few more seconds.]
I will be leaving the barge and returning to my own world. Shortly.
[Private to Luna]
I would like you to consider taking my place as Kitchen Supervisor for the dinner shift.
[Spam for Zane]
[He's there when Zane wakes, as they lurch and rumble and sail away from Karazhan. He couldn't go back, of course, not like Iris did, would be more a hindrance and a danger than any help, as much as he hated to watch her descend again. But Zane, at least, was here, safe. He makes tea with shaking hands, and keeps vigil like he once had for Kelsier. It feels like it was very long ago.]
[Spam for Cassel]
[A knock on his door, the day after their return.]
It's Marsh. I have. Something for you.
[Private to Jean]
[Heavily,]
Thank you.
[Spam for T'Pol]
[It's in the middle of one of their irregular - by barge necessity - sewing lessons, after they've settled into the rhythmic silence of practicing a new technique. Without looking up, or any particular emotional inflection, he murmurs,]
When we were small, you asked how I knew about allomancy, if it was supposed to be a secret.
My mother was skaa, but my father was noble. It was very illegal.
[Private to Dean]
I apologize for my actions.
[Private to Clementine]
When you are done here, I hope you will visit me. I think you might enjoy meeting my god.
[Private to Sylvanas]
I hope someday you find peace in a manner that suits you.
[Private for Iris, backdated to right after the Pacific Rim breach]
[The first few minutes, after the spikes come back to him, are alway a special sort of excruciating. He sprawls on his chair, tries not to shudder, tries not to whimper. Later, when the fog of pain retreats just slightly, clears a space for thought, the rest seeps in, Zane's baby toes and the white-hot meld of drifting and Iris, a life with Iris, in patches and screaming and tight knuckles holding on, the smell of her hair, the slow march of lines on her face and the way he knows each one. Knew. Knew each -
- it's something. And he doesn't know what to do about it at all. He opens a voice channel, because he loves her too much to let it make him a coward, has no idea what to say.]
Iris...
[It comes out raspy and tender at once, more than he meant it to. Did you win, he thinks, even though he was watching everyone's progress when the breach ended. They regaled each other so many times.]
[Marsh looks, if possible, even more grave than usual. He looks very tired.]
Kara Zor-El's door appears to have reverted to barge standard.
[His mouth pinches, and then he takes a breath, as though to say something else - but he doesn't. The silence stretches, for a few more seconds.]
I will be leaving the barge and returning to my own world. Shortly.
[Private to Luna]
I would like you to consider taking my place as Kitchen Supervisor for the dinner shift.
[Spam for Zane]
[He's there when Zane wakes, as they lurch and rumble and sail away from Karazhan. He couldn't go back, of course, not like Iris did, would be more a hindrance and a danger than any help, as much as he hated to watch her descend again. But Zane, at least, was here, safe. He makes tea with shaking hands, and keeps vigil like he once had for Kelsier. It feels like it was very long ago.]
[Spam for Cassel]
[A knock on his door, the day after their return.]
It's Marsh. I have. Something for you.
[Private to Jean]
[Heavily,]
Thank you.
[Spam for T'Pol]
[It's in the middle of one of their irregular - by barge necessity - sewing lessons, after they've settled into the rhythmic silence of practicing a new technique. Without looking up, or any particular emotional inflection, he murmurs,]
When we were small, you asked how I knew about allomancy, if it was supposed to be a secret.
My mother was skaa, but my father was noble. It was very illegal.
[Private to Dean]
I apologize for my actions.
[Private to Clementine]
When you are done here, I hope you will visit me. I think you might enjoy meeting my god.
[Private to Sylvanas]
I hope someday you find peace in a manner that suits you.
[Private for Iris, backdated to right after the Pacific Rim breach]
[The first few minutes, after the spikes come back to him, are alway a special sort of excruciating. He sprawls on his chair, tries not to shudder, tries not to whimper. Later, when the fog of pain retreats just slightly, clears a space for thought, the rest seeps in, Zane's baby toes and the white-hot meld of drifting and Iris, a life with Iris, in patches and screaming and tight knuckles holding on, the smell of her hair, the slow march of lines on her face and the way he knows each one. Knew. Knew each -
- it's something. And he doesn't know what to do about it at all. He opens a voice channel, because he loves her too much to let it make him a coward, has no idea what to say.]
Iris...
[It comes out raspy and tender at once, more than he meant it to. Did you win, he thinks, even though he was watching everyone's progress when the breach ended. They regaled each other so many times.]
spam
[He says it lightly, but it's absolutely true. Cassel was the first one he listened to.]
spam
[He hesitates, chewing his lip. Then leans forward and wraps Marsh in a careful hug.]
spam
[Murmured quietly into Cassel's hair. The care is a matter of mitigation; it still hurts. Marsh wraps his arms around Cassel equally carefully, pulls them together a little harder, even though pressing against the knobbled terrain of nearly two-dozen spikes is uncomfortable for Cassel and just this side of excruciating for Marsh. Pain is his constant companion, but this is more than worth it, rare and precious.]
spam
Are you gonna keep the tea set?
spam
[You little rascal. Not that he's actually worried Cassel wants to. But Cassel has always reminded him of the best of Kelsier, and it's a little of the way he talked to Kelsier in the rare good times, easy and prissy, elbows-in-sides, comfortable familiarity, a sliver of the way they could have loved each other if Marsh hadn't been so utterly unprepared for parenting him.
Cassel is not his brother, or his son. Cassel is a bit of brightness that just latched onto him and refused to leave, and Marsh is so very grateful.]
spam
[At least there'll be something to remember him by. At least there'll be something concrete for Marsh to latch onto if he needs reminding of the Barge and what it does and how it changes people.]
[He pulls back and smiles, his eyes bright. No crying.]
What are you gonna do without me?
spam
Then there's a king who needs watching, and a god who needs someone to argue with him, and I ought to look in on Zane's flower, where he replanted it.
And I suppose Aster will find a boy bird when I have my back turned and I'll be stuck fretting for weeks while she looks all smug with her nest and her crown.
[He won't forget.]
spam
[He pets Aster, who is looking smug, on the head.]
spam
We have...painters?
spam
spam
spam