[Public, video]
[Marsh, the barge's resident friendly constantly dour eyeless spike-horror, is currently lounging on Iris's most garish couch, the first time the vast majority of barge residents have seen him without his Nazgul-style engulfing black cloak, which is tossed over one of the arms of the couch. Underneath he's wearing vaguely 19th-century style workman's trousers and and loose shirt, both in a drab, unpurposeful sort of dark grey. Bumps - and a few poked holes - in the shirt reveal a topography of even more spikes, over a dozen of them, impaling his chest and abdomen in odd configurations. Nevertheless, he seems both drunk - an unlabeled bottle of dark green glass hanging from between his second and third fingertips - and entirely cheerful, laughing in a low rumble even as he's in the middle of protesting.]
- said I can doesn't mean - Iris, put that down -
We're celebrating, you plonker. 'E deserves the recognition. If you don't tell them I will!
-aaaugh, fine, woman.
[He throws his head back against the couch in defeat. There is a small ripping sound from the spike-tips at the back of his skull taking their toll on the upholstery, but he'll mend it later. He's not looking right at the camera - but he's beaming.]
C'Rizz graduated.
[That's all. Marsh isn't really a speech guy. But some people may connect this with the abundance of pie at dinner, the last few days.]
[Spam for C'Rizz, backdated to a little after the thread with Roderick.]
[Marsh's heart stops when he sees C'Rizz vanished from his item. Truly stops, falters in its constant aching rhythm, still beating around the spike perforating his ventricle. Not dead, gone. He tears up the stairs to C'Rizz's room, a shadowy blur, gasps and sags against a wall when he sees the door still there. So. So -]
[Spam for Iris]
[A knock, after dinner.]
Iris, it's me. I want to tell you something.
[He sounds happy.]
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