myironeyes: (Default)
[Spam in the infirmary, shortly after this thread.]

[Marsh arrives gingerly bearing an unconscious, injured Riddick. He has several damaged ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and possibly a conscussion. Marsh answers questions curtly and does not interfere with Infirmary staff, but nor does he allow himself to be sent any farther that a few feet from Riddick's bedside. He's angry and worried and agitated, not that anyone who didn't know him well would be able to see it among his usual scowls.]

We have reason to believe he is not in his right mind. Are there restraints available?

[OOC: open to Infirmary people, whether official or just hanging around there, and to anyone who knows about the fight and wants to check in on Marsh and Riddick before Zane's announcement.]


[Spam slightly later, near/after Zane's public query, for Riddick and then Ben]

[Riddick wakes up, ribs taped, his shoulder back in its socket and wrapped with an ice pack, wrists and ankles in metal cuffs, with Marsh looming attentive and still beside him.]


[Private to Iris]

[He's even more shut down than usual.]

Please come to the infirmary. Riddick appears to be one of those modified.

You can...help. Right?

[Please.]
myironeyes: (gave up on her dream)
[Affected filter]

[Marsh is still very, very skinny, but there's less ash on him now. His tone isn't suspicious, just matter-of-fact.]

Okay. The adults are all talking to each other, we should too. How are things with the green lady and the pool guy so far? Has the fishface guy actually hurt anyone yet, or was he just growling? Anybody else proved they're dangerous?

The kitchen on the first floor below the...open level with the really weird sky, it's closed up now, but there's always some food in the room nearby that. There's a lot of people around there sometimes, though, so if you want me to leave food in an empty cabin for you, just say.


[Spam, anywhere]

[Marsh doesn't skulk. When he isn't shadowing Kelsier or Ryan, he keeps his head down, but doesn't hunch. He picks his steps, keeps his eyes on exits and cover, but he doesn't hug the walls. He moves briskly and quietly and parses out eye contact sparingly. He's a kid who doesn't matter, a kid who has every right to be here, who is doing something unimportant but probably necessary. Not so small and shy as a target, but nearly as much of a ghost.]


[Spam, dining hall, odd times.]

[He found a plain canvas satchel in the room where he woke up - his room, supposedly. He's not thinking about it. But it's good for storing pastries and the weird fruit things. He doesn't stuff the bag, doesn't act overexcited or surreptitious. Just tucks away several things, and moves on. He'll be back in another circuit or two. The empty rooms make good places for spare caches, as far as he can tell.]


[Spam, deck, earlier on.]

[He thought this would be an okay place to let the bird fly around a little. But it's - weird. Really really weird. He's not going to be sick but he maybe needs to sit down and hold onto this bench with tight white knuckles for just a minute. And it turns out the bird can't fly yet, so he's just kind of holding it. It ruffles and settles itself in his hand, seemingly content, and it's very small and warm and kind of fluffy, even if it looks really ugly. There's enough pellet food in the room to keep it for awhile without sparing crumbs, so - he will, he decides. In a minute he'll stand up and go back down and his legs will not shake at all.]

[OOC: replies will come from [profile] whipersnapped.]
myironeyes: (Default)
[OOC: backdated to slightly before Mark woke up. Also this will be my last Marsh post for a little while, I swear. Touko lost Mark's hummingbird, and Marsh found it. Oy.]

[Marsh has been adjusting rapidly to new things on this ship. Neverthless, he did not expect to be attacked by a swift, vicious hummingbird the size of a fat chicken. And even though it's a nasty little thing, he doesn't really want to hurt it. A burst of compounded speed later, he manages to catch it, pinning its wings carefully in both hands and holding it so that it can't peck him.

A moment later, he realizes he has no idea what to do next. He can't really let it go, and he has no idea where it came from or where it belong. Which leaves him combing methodically through the ship's levels and hallways, a solemn-faced spike-eyed man in an all-black cloak, gingerly carrying a gigantic, brightly colored, shrilly protesting dire hummingbird.]

...excuse me. Is this your bird?

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Marsh || Steel Inquisitor

March 2015

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