Comforted by Jade, Mixine pulled herself together and raised her head up, "They are not human. They are not gods. I need to cleanse myself, a small pond or stream will do... Brother hates how weak this body is, but I do not know why he.... He knew... He knew everything! Brother..." Mixine's hands came up to caress the white mask, "Everyone is alive because of Brother. He knew about the shadows, he knew about the bugs, he wanted to draw the hunter away... Even as the brand struck, Brother..." She lowered her head in shame, "It is all my fault, I am such an idiot... Teach me to kill. I will not hesitate again to protect you, sister. Let me wash away the blood and cowardice, so I can take up the sword to defend and avenge all those who perished in this accursed city."
"Soon," said Jade to Mixine. "I'd rather we did not wander on our own." Too many of the group were maimed or killed, and Jade didn't think she could survive om her own in that city, not before she found out more of the place. "And as for fending for youeself, I will help you as much as I can. Though I'm afraid your blindness and loss of power will be a problem." She looked around, hoping to find someone to plan their next move. There was the child, grief-struck Marcus, Vetiver-lying unconcious on the floor, and Mixine, who was still a strange and crazy Brakenmarshian. That left, Jade sighed, Merrique. "Hey," she went to the witch, who was now comforting Marcus. "I know we took a heavy blow now, but we should get moving, once Vetiver wakes. This eye man has been playing with us like his small playground, and I think we should get the fight back to him, before we all end up like Mixine or ever Marcus' friend. I think we should use what remains of the sunlight to learn of him and fimd anything we could use to our advantage, and camp on the walls, away from the mist that comes at night. And tommorow," Jade let out a breath. "Tommorow we find this son of a bitch and drag him down to hell to burn."
His appraisals and damnations fell on deaf ears, earning only a couple of glances. The bitter cold of his words faded into the warm sunlight of the day, and Henry gritted his teeth, biting back the insults, the poisonous words, those killing weapons. They wouldn't help anybody, as much as it would feel good to let them out. It wouldn't help Marcus in the slightest. People's pity, the one ridiculous thing in the world, could only go so far. His eyes caught a brush of movement from Merrique. She moved towards him, gently, cautiously. "Honey, darling, sweetie," she said as tears suddenly fell from her eyes. Henry could almost laugh, but he realized how tender this moment was. She was comforting Marcus."Come here. I'm here for you." She held out her arms to him, one small sob being made from her lips. He could pretend to be him. Pretend to be despaired beyond belief. That would be fake. Marcus needed to live. He needed help. God knows Henry wouldn't ever be able to do that. So he pulled. He pulled at the dormant soul resting inside of him. Come on, you lazy, arrogant, kind, loving bitch! Come on out and face the music! He felt his soul draining rapidly. He felt the last twinges of it fading away. It hurt. He faced him in that other world. That place where souls meet. He lifted his arms, straightened his chest, and lifted his chin, and opened his eyes. Marcus, I'm not sure if you can hear me... but I love you. Always have. I will never be redeemed. We'll always be separated by that permanent boundary that divides the good and bad. Forget about me. I'm the one holding you back. Let go of your mundane views on magic and of the people who use them. I am not a microcosm of anything, Marcus. I'm just somebody who took advantage. Who forced you into submission to the world. Forced you into your adulthood. I know what I did, and I have no regrets. You, on the other hand... you are something special. Hard, yet soft. Kind, yet cruel. Utilitarian, yet moral. Hot, yet cold. You're right in the middle. I hope to god you don't become like me. As much as I spewed cold, it never got any warmer for me. It was always an icy, deathly freeze. I always wanted your heat. Your warmth. It didn't work... Enough about me. You are a great man, Marcus. Dart and Kent were, too. Know that, and move on. Your companions are kinder than most. Take advantage. Goddamnit, Marcus... LIVE. Live not for my sake... or anyone else's. Your own. You. I won't be there to hurt or support you. I've done enough of the first, and not enough of the second. Goodbye. He fell, then everything stopped. It wasn't cold. It wasn't warm. It was nothing. Henry smiled. *** Marcus opened his eyes, then fell into Merrique's arms, pulling her into him. He'd heard it. All of it. Dart, Kent, Henry... the only company he'd had. All gone. No more watching Dart and Kent practice swordplay in the tent. Dart, who had helped him through his hardest times. Kent, who had protected him through and through. Talking and laughing in the light of the fire. He grabbed at Merrique, pulling her body to his, then breathed in, then out. He felt her soft body beneath his, and he felt all the little curves through her dress. The smell of her was intoxicating.
"And as for fending for youeself, I will help you as much as I can. Though I'm afraid your blindness and loss of power will be a problem." Mixine let out a short sharp laugh and twitched slightly, her back rising and cracking as her gear shifted and fell to the ground at her feet. The black cloak flapped as she cast it aside and she stood proudly and with confidence, the masculine voice signaled that it was not madness within Mixine - it was anticipation at hearing Mixine utter those words herself. Dwelling within her, listening and waiting for Mixine to come around, he was the puppetmaster of an invisible stage. "Sister," Mix's voice had a superior and confident tone, "Sorry for not letting you in on my suspicions, but this body is far from weak. It is stronger now than ever before. The chains have been released and we were not wiped out because of my actions to lure him away. The distance, the power, the movements... two useless eyes and freedom from a curse is a paltry sum to pay. Even better, I will not have to worry about Mixine settling down... Is it terrible? Is it? Tell me how bad the burn is on this little pure flower." Mix raised his hands up and unfurled the hairbands, letting each of the ten fall away and free that dark mass of clean and methodically combed mane of hair. Two long bands of hair pulled forward and down over Mix's chest and stopped just above the belly. Twirling and curling the two locks in each hand, Mix raised his head up and stared into the sky and laughed, "The swirling... Mixine is drowning is despair... This is wonderful. I won't have to share this body much more. Everything she wanted is killing her. And I owe it all to strangers like you..." He laughed and turned in the general direction of Merrique from the sound of her voice, "Though it is really the two of you which I must thank. Pushed her over the edge and broke her little heart in short order, but she already was in pieces to begin with." Mix bowed and laughed, "Welcome to the birdcage, it won't be long before we kill one another... Though you pathetic mages need to stop helping the hunters. Just get cleansed and embrace the natural order."
Merrique Merrique was about to respond to Jade when Marcus accepted her offer for a hug. He hugged her more deeply than she anticipated, pressed tightly against her. Merrique held out her arms behind him stiffly for a moment, not sure how to react. Then she slowly relaxed and put her hands on his wide back. She could feel his hard muscles through his clothes and her heart beat faster. Heat rushed up her neck to her face. Well, duh, what did you expect? He's a seasoned fighter, he's bound to have some muscles. But that didn't take away from the fact that his muscles were pressed against her and there was practically no space between them. Then something else occurred to her. If I can feel this much of him, then he can feel all of me, too. Merrique briefly considered extricating herself from their embrace, but it felt too good, too warm. She sighed with pleasure next to his ear without even realizing it, stepping even closer into him. When Mixine started talking crazy, Merrique snapped out of it. She quickly pushed away from Marcus, giving him a shy smile, and smoothed down her clothes. It seemed that Mix had taken over again. Merrique remembered her vow to kill Mix. She imagined it would be infinitely easier, now that he was blind and powerless. Plus, Merrique was a better fighter and she had knives and arrows, while he just had a blunt metal rod. She quickly came to a decision. "Stop talking crazy, or I'll be forced to kill you," Merrique told Mix in a calm, polite tone. "I believe Vetiver already explained we don't need any crack-pot mages on our team. If you keep it up, I will dispose of you without any regrets." Im going to dispose of you anyway, but I'd rather deal with the problem at hand first. That said, Merrique walked over to Vetiver and knelt by his side. She gently shook his shoulder and tried to wake him. "Vetiver?" she whispered. "We kinda need to get going. Can you hear me?"
Mix's head turned to Merrique, trying to commit one blurry figure to memory, but he knew well the boundaries of Merrique's own unpredictability, "Says the one who advised me to take Mixine from this place and delivered us quite literally right into the arms of our enemy. Though, if you are going to recognize my existence then realize that I have twice saved Vetiver's life. First from that "crackpot" and then from dear "Rundas" who you know nothing of. It does not matter if you realize the importance of my actions or my insight, but you need me." Mix turned towards Jade and the others, "Do not count this body out though. All my best work has been with these slender feminine hands. Pardon these useless eyes of mine, but who is injured?"
He heard the sigh. Her head was right next to his ear, after all. He gazed at her for a moment when she pulled away, and he took the moment to breathe out. There were too many things happening. The monsters had come, and Dart and Kent had died. Right in front of him. Henry had killed himself protecting him. The apparent leader, the one who had spoken, had dropped a weakened Mix/ine in front of them, then threatened Vetiver. Now he was struggling with hormonal feelings towards Merrique? Ridiculous. He needed to pull himself together. He would never forgive Henry. Nothing would ever redeem him. However, he could thank him for this one act. "Stop talking crazy, or I'll be forced to kill you," Merrique was speaking, and it took his attention away from his thoughts. It was a colder voice than before. "I believe Vetiver already explained we don't need any crack-pot mages on our team. If you keep it up, I will dispose of you without any regrets." Marcus analyzed the situation quickly. Merrique was clearly not happy with Mix. Or Mixine. Given her actions towards Mixine, however, it seems to be the former. Why? He wasn't sure, but it could be the conflicting attitudes and attitude of Mix that has somehow convinced Mixine that Mixine is being held against her will. Like Marcus himself had been. However, that's where the parallels seem to stop. They seem to have a symbiotic relationship. Mix replied in a slightly irritated voice. "Says the one who advised me to take Mixine from this place and delivered us quite literally right into the arms of our enemy. Though, if you are going to recognize my existence then realize that I have twice saved Vetiver's life. First from that "crackpot" and then from dear "Rundas" who you know nothing of. It does not matter if you realize the importance of my actions or my insight, but you need me." Mix turned to the others, his eyes glancing over Marcus in the process. "Do not count this body out though. All my best work has been with these slender feminine hands. Pardon these useless eyes of mine, but who is injured?" "I don't think anybody is. Anybody still alive, that is." Marcus replied, pushing the frothing emotions down. Then he remembered that he had seen the monster drop the ring on the ground. "The ring." He walked over to the glinting object, making sure he had gloves on. He picked it up off of the ground.
Put it on. The voice grumbled, clearly struggling to maintain whatever connection it had. Put it on. Find the first scholar. At the end the voice faded, incapable of maintaining itself any more and leaving Marcus with the others.
"I don't think anybody is. Anybody still alive, that is." Marcus replied, pushing the frothing emotions down. Then he remembered that he had seen the monster drop the ring on the ground. "The ring." He walked over to the glinting object, making sure he had gloves on. He picked it up off of the ground. Mix let out a sigh, "That ring better be worth it. Someone give me a sword or magical trinket so that I do not need to pilfer one. Rundas kept me alive for a reason, but I do not intend to be defenseless until I find out why. Though by any chance, we are on borrowed time." To Jade, Mix said softly, "I will tell you what happened tonight so as to not bother the others. May I give your gift of strength to Acai, since I have been cleansed?"
Marcus heard the small voice, and felt intensely conflicted. His mind was telling him two things. The logical side told him that it could be hugely dangerous. If it interfered with his mind in any negative way, then it could mean his death. However, there was the urge to solve the mystery of this town. There was an ache to avenge Kent and Dart too, but he knew that was just the primitive animal inside of him. He felt the surges of new energy through his blood. The cleansed brain. It was working perfectly fine now. Henry had said not to hate magic; but he couldn't do that. The world was fine before magic; magic only made it a desolate, barren landscape. It did no good. It was a weapon. A weapon of death and destruction. He tried to do a simple fire spell in the air, but nothing. He was glad it had left him completely. This ring was obviously magical. It would lead him somewhere, he was sure of it. Although he wasn't sure if it was worth it. What could be more worth it though? Exploring a new town, apparently an ancient one of the gods. Maybe he could learn some more about history, and the world around him. There was nothing left for him to learn out in those barren landscapes of this desolate world. He hesitated for a second, before slipping the ring onto his ring finger.
A voice began to speak, or, more accurately, thousands of voices speaking as one began to whisper. The sounds seemed to ring from all directions, out of the ground, above him, from the walls and the grey stone paths. Then a female voice managed to drive its way to the top, hovering above the others. Slightly clearer, but still filled with the words of the others. Ring of the Curator. One of two rings given to Lady Mary Shallette, who first chronicled the acts of saints. Allows the purpose and origin of relics to be known, as well as the placement and reading of unseen text. With that the voices faded, though there was still a hushed whisper that seemed to radiate from the band.
Marcus breathed out a sigh of relief. There was no terrible effect. It was only a cacophony of voices telling him what it was... Ring of the Curator. Once he finds a relic, he guessed it would be more useful. He would keep an eye out for hidden text. "The ring is interesting... If I find an artifact, it seems to be able to tell me its purpose and origin." He considered telling them about the unseen text, and decided it was better that everyone was on the same page. "It also lets me see unseen text and allow me to read it... So there's that, too. If you find anything you think is a relic of importance, I'll see if the ring can tell us anything about it." He glanced at Mix, his eye twitching. "I hope it was worth it for you, but it wasn't for me. I take full responsibility; I was the one who suggested we come here." He looked down the path, and the memory of the giant sky view of the city reappeared in his head. "In the meantime, we should head West, to Tynivia's Quarter. I remember seeing some housing there, and we might find The Dueling Dancer there, as our old friend Duke Selzec told us earlier."
"I hope it was worth it for you, but it wasn't for me. I take full responsibility; I was the one who suggested we come here." Mix nodded his head slightly, "Then I will follow you. Just remember that thirty feet is not enough against the hunters anti-magic field and that they are not human, can essentially appear and disappear at whim. All I ask is that someone be my eyes and not dismiss my conclusions as some madness. Just be on the look out for a good body of water, I need to bathe Mixine and wash away the blood and shame of her weakness... Though that sword should be our next target. Just please give me a weapon to defend myself." He was exposed and vulnerable in this state, it was far from and ideal situation, but he made the best of it. Trapped in this accursed city, Mix knew that he needed them as much as they would need him. If Marcus was taking responsibility for the blunder, then even Mix was content to let him lead the way.
"Then I will follow you. Just remember that thirty feet is not enough against the hunters anti-magic field and that they are not human, can essentially appear and disappear at whim. All I ask is that someone be my eyes and not dismiss my conclusions as some madness. Just be on the look out for a good body of water, I need to bathe Mixine and wash away the blood and shame of her weakness... Though that sword should be our next target. Just please give me a weapon to defend myself." Marcus considered Mix. He wanted desperately to defend himself. He thought Mixine as weak. The thirty feet anti-magic field. This would mean that the others wouldn't be able to use magic in some cases, and that they would need to be more organized and strategic in their fighting. However, in his experience, that also hadn't worked too well. Mix also seemed to be a being of honor; he considered that his taking responsibility for what happened to be an act worthy of leadership. As much as he himself was not confident in his leadership abilities, he was less so in the abilities of the others. He would see if Mix'x conclusions were worth anything along the road. "Right. We'll be on the lookout for weapons and water. Although, it doesn't seem to be the case that we will ever get hungry or thirsty here, if what Selzek told us is to be believed. Which is convenient." Marcus chuckles to himself. "This tastes delicious, Marcus! I'm glad I taught you how to cook! So much better than before!" Dart had laughed. Before this. Before this madness. However, he felt as if he was doing something important. Something worth more than two lives. As much as it pained him to think it, those two would not be missed. Dart had no family, and Kent was someone who would be happily replaced. He couldn't imagine life in the gang without either of them. What would he do after he left this goddamned city? Return to his family? Train himself to be a solo mercenary? That would be immoral. However... he could hunt magicians. Sorcerers. Eliminate the bloodlines. Forget the money. He would eliminate the taint from the world. Maybe, just maybe, things would be better then. No more curses. No more firestorms and murderous, unstoppable warlocks. It would be a wonderful world. He would help people learn how to live without fear. Dart and Kent did not deserve to die. They were good people, trying to make their way in life. Even Henry was good before he fell into magic. All ends with magic. Ugly, godly, magic. Magic come from a city transformed from heaven to hell. Because the world knows magic does not restore; it corrupts. It forsakes. It tarnishes the land. Tarnishes people. Tarnishes cities. "We should get going west." Marcus turns westward, and starts walking westward, towards the courtyard where they began.
Jade followed Marcus. They were moving, finally. She wanted to ask Mixine more about that Rundas. The more she knew about him the easier he will be to kill. Disadvantaged or not, Jade had few contracts she could not complete, and Rundas was not going to be one of them. Jade will make sure of that.
Mix kicked the rear basket of Mixine's pack and a bundle of black cloth fell out. He reached down and felt around for the familiar shape and placed it atop the front pack for a moment. A scent of blood came from the cloth, but he did not let it linger in the open for long. Releasing the two bolts from the side, the pack separated so that two hollow rods bound in leather slipped apart. Affixing the straps to their respective slots in the base, the front pack became a backpack. The rounded basket which carried a collection of food, extra materials, an the heavy waterskin were all discarded as dead weight under the circumstances. Mix made very precise movements despite being blind, these actions were ritualized and were not based on a need for sight. The actions normally conducted under the thick black cloak were done hundreds of times without the need for the sun or moon. At last, Mix drew up the cloak, held it out at arm's length and folded it into a humble black square and slipped it into the lower drawer and stashed the bloodied cloth on top. Packed and ready to go in just a minute, Mix slung the backpack on and hunched forward under the still considerable weight. "West?" He did not know the direction from which they were facing and realized how much Rundas had taken, "Lead on...." With a quick twirl of his right hand, the protective wrapping of Mix's hand loosed around the wrist and a thin ribbon of a strong fabric fell free. Six, seven, ten, twirls and almost all of Mixine's soft gray right hand was exposed for all to see. Soft, calloused hands which had never seen hard work, but still marred with darker scar tissue through the palm and finger tips. Mix let the strong seal and knot hold tight on Mixine's wrist and held out the ribbon as a rope as if to offer to to Jade, "Please guide me without shame and tonight I will answer anything you ask."
Jade nodded and took Mix by her hand. "Tred carefuly," she said. "And please, explain to me all you found out about this Rundas. He will die, do not worry." They were moving towards Tynevia's quarters. Jade looked forward to collecting the Duelling Dancer. She had a feeling that a god's weapon might be able to bypass the fog's antimagical properties.
Marcus led the group forward, confident in the knowledge that those that wanted to follow him would. He heard a conversation behind him in a language he couldn't understand, and dismissed it. If it was anything important, and if his companions were smart, they would share any knowledge they had gained. He wouldn't press it, but he knew Mix had probably learned something about the monsters that the others hadn't. He made it to the entrance way, and saw the beauty of it. He turned around to point out the flock of geese in the sky to Dart, but stopped midway. He turned about again, face hard and stone, like the statue near him. To the West was the forested part of the city. There was the Dueling Dancer, according to Duke Selzek. He knew nothing about the sword, or where he was going, other than what the eagle vision had shown him, which was more than his companions could say. So he would take a lead. He knew that scattered throughout the forest were different small cottages. Who inhabited them however, was a mystery. Wherein the Dueling Dancer lay was also a mystery. Mysteries were abundant in this city. He walked across the front of the city, eyeing the front gates, lying wide open for any to come inside. It was a miracle they had not encountered anybody else. Maybe they had all been killed by the monsters, or had fled. He had no idea. He hoped they would not encounter anyone else. Dead grass lay across the artificial meadows, long and forgotten, of the city. The air, which smelled lightly of burnt cigarettes to his nose, was only part of the arid nature of it. The central courtyard, where they had first camped out, was barren. He remembered Mix's insult to Merrique, and his left lip twitched. The campground. The food. Kent's armor. The Duke. Coward. He could leave. Just leave the city with the ring. Sell it for an ungodly amount somewhere. He'd be just fine. However, the ringing of that term resounded in his head over and over again. He knew it was useless; a term used by reckless idiots who felt like they had to live up to some code in order to live. He was alive. He could feel his hands, his body, the air, the wind, the pain, the world. He felt so much older than 17. Marcus thought for a moment, his walking a steady rhythm for his thoughts. He could be 18, for all he knew. He could even be 19. It had been a long time since he'd left home, and it's been a long time since he knew the date. As if it ever mattered. He was old enough to kill and to think for himself. Whatever that meant. He walked West. He thought it was forwards. Maybe it was. He walked for a while until he saw the start of the forest. He could see some of the light filtering through the forest, but the ground there was much darker than before. He ran forwards to a tree, laying his hand on the trunk of it, sliding down until he was sitting. He saw the others catching up to him, and took the time to look around.
The forest was an ashen colour, as if it had been burnt or scorched long ago and refused to regrow, yet the forest was still thick with, blocking the half light that managed to penetrate the clouds that veiled the city. Roughly fifty feet to the north was a lodge, a small building made of aged red brick, crumbling mortar holding the clay together. There were a few windows, mostly shutters, though all were in disrepair, either hanging on a sole rusted hinge or lying in the dirt beneath. The tiles were a blueish colour, though caked in dirt and dust and droppings that gave them a brownish hue. On the side a symbol had been placed, a grey powder thrown against the wall in the shape of a hand, a small circle between each finger. There was a snap. The sound of a twig breaking. A series of leaves rustled as something moved amidst the trees. At first it was north. Then south, then east and west. Then, there was the sound of scraping, and something coming down the tree opposite him. It was a large creature, covered in a coat of wood coloured fur. It's ears were long and pointed, small tufts of fur on the tips. It's face had a feline quality, small slitted green eyes staring at him in a curios manner, yet its snout was that of a bear, along with its fangs and paws. When it reached the base of the tree, it stared it him, meeting his gaze, and baring its teeth. "I suppose I should say good afternoon, though it is bordering evening."
The large creature surprised him. In a snap, Marcus reacted, leaping up from his sitting position and to his feet, before the stance of the creature made him relax. His question was pleasant; he clearly meant no harm. He took a few deep breaths. The others must have still been catching up. He wondered what was keeping them. Mix had mentioned wanting to bathe in water... was Mix sick? Injured? Either way, he needed to address the creature in front of him. Friendly entities in this unfamiliar environment were always welcome. Marcus smiles pleasantly, trying not to feel threatened. "Good afternoon to you as well. Is this house your abode? I'm sorry if I am intruding." He looked through the clouds of foliage above them, letting in the already faded light from above. "You must be very clever. I would have trouble keeping time in this forest."
As Mix came up behind Marcus, his eyes tried to adjust to the form before them and grew irritated by the inability to perceive the beast as it was. Marcus was attempting the same kind formalities that was so ingrained in Mixine, but they were in no position to risk offending or provoking further conflict in this state. Yet, it was his sense of honor that made it impossible for him to yield to an inferior - for that there was always Mixine. Come out and grovel before... A fragment of Mixine's consciousness surged within and Mix sealed her away before being overwhelmed by a torrent of emotion. Stuck with Mixine's broken body and having to constantly force Mixine's down, Mix was approaching his own limits. This worn down form, stripped of power and branded in the face was just incapable of running on so little sleep. Everything would hurt when the shock wore off and he was quite adverse to the world of pain in Mixine's future. Throughout the walk to this spot, Mix struggled to remain alert and to prevent from collapsing. Placing one foot in front of the other to ward off the vertigo brought on by the sudden blindness and weariness, but it suddenly caught up to him when forced to halt their march. "What do you see, Marcus?" Mix stared straight ahead, "Hunters?"
Marcus eyed Mix, who had ambled up behind him. He was definitely injured. He needed his wounds washed and sleep, probably. It was as if Mix couldn't feel the pain that his own body was sending into his brain. Or maybe it was his. Maybe he was just like Henry. "I don't see any hunters, no." Marcus shakes his head. He turns to the creature. "We are ever so sorry for intruding on your property. We need some rest. We recently battled a force of monsters that killed some of our crew and exhausted our efforts."
The creature tilted its head no longer baring its teeth and instead looking rather placid. However, there was something about it, a certain tenseness to its posture that suggested fear, reinforced by the way it glanced over its shoulder before looking back to them. "This place is not my hostel, nor are you intruding." It leapt to the tree that Marcus was slumped against, claws digging into the bark and pooling into the gap between the branches and looking down at them. "I am Tybalt, Herald of Tyniva and servant of the Silverroot Guardian." He looked over the group, placing a paw against the rim of the bowl formed by the trees branches. "I shall grant thee fair warning. This forest is laced with my fallen kin, not to mention the hunters who follow The False Saint. If you seek sanctuary, head to the large building, the one closest to the central cathedral. Lady Amalthea shall provide you with care for the night, so long as you do her some small favour."
"I shall grant thee fair warning. This forest is laced with my fallen kin, not to mention the hunters who follow The False Saint. If you seek sanctuary, head to the large building, the one closest to the central cathedral. Lady Amalthea shall provide you with care for the night, so long as you do her some small favour." Upon hearing of "The False Saint" Mix tensed up and shake, the soft hand tightening slightly on Jade as his suspicions were confirmed. Those words had a profound effect on both of them and the skeptical Mix believed the words. So moved, Mix dropped to one knee in respect in a formal bow. This humbling act was true and came from the depths of his being, "Thank you, Tybalt - Your presence means my prayers have been answered, the gods be kind. It was I who called out to them and was blinded by their brand, but it only tempered my faith." Rising from the bow was difficult for Mix, it was feeble and sluggish. The prospect of rest was indeed welcome news.
The False Saint. A name to listen for in the future, Marcus could be sure. For Mix's sake, he would seek out the care of this lady Almathea. The prospect of a bed and a house to stay in, if only for a small moment, was massively appealing. He eyed Mix as he talked. His faith. He still believed in the ancient Gods? He also believed that they were the ones who had branded him. However, Marcus was of the opinion that the Gods and the ones who had branded him were two separate entities. "I think we'll follow your advice, Tybalt." Marcus nodded, smiling. "Thank you for your help and for the fair warning." He turned around, waving briefly, before starting to walk away, glancing at Mix behind him. "I can carry you on my shoulders if it's hurting you to walk."
