An Old Man's Quest: Part 2

Ghita Marino · 08-23-2010, 01:28 PM

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Don't worry - I love story time too. XD
Wc: 872

"Etiam sit amet lacus sem, vitae dignissim massa."

Instantaneously, she could see the change that came over Marcus with the simple hint of a story. Fighting back a grin that was stirring at the right corner of her mouth, she held her tongue, waiting until another cue had been given. Frankly, she was hoping that she wouldn't have to stand for the entire thing - for a wolf as old as Marcus, there was no telling how long this story could be - but she'd be damned if she yielded at the end of the chase! She wouldn't submit her pride and sit down, displaying her weakness, unless invited to.

Of course, pride won in the end, and Ghita could sit down, gratefully, upon the mound he indicated with moderate fuss. There was the matter of having to limp over there, balance herself and her cane, before delicately dropping her body down, and arranging her leg in a way that it could remain in one position for a comfortable amount of time. When she was fully arranged and ready, she found Marcus already facing her, his two-toned eyes already glittering with the light a story could bring.

Listening to him weave the story was a wondrous thing - he didn't take any knowledge for granted, and this proved to be useful, as Ghita had never heard of the Specialis Lupus Congregatio. Her companion gave the impression that only outsiders knew the details of this secret society, and that would be the first piece of the puzzle Ghita would glean, to be able to piece together Marcus' identity. True enough, the Congregatio hadn't even existed to the fae - she had never heard her parents mention it, or companions, and she had lived in ignorance, unafraid of any shadows that could be lurking underfoot. It was with frightening accuracy that he described the situation of the time, and Ghita found herself shivering as the male's tone grew darker.

She let him lead her through the world through his eyes - his secret society, his entire universe. She could see the crowns of the Kings, the rags of the paupers, and the experts in every field staring at her from behind shadowy covers of secrecy. But one figure stepped from behind this cover, and stood before her, holding a sword in hand, leaning gently on it's tip, nodding once at her. The Musketeer was a tall man, she imagined, nimble and agile - and wearing a crown none could see - the one that granted the title of Righteous.

In essence, he was the hero of all of the stories she and Jazper had told Sophia and Aro, finally coming to life.

Ghita blinked once, and suddenly saw the sea she knew well swirling around her. Nodding to Marcus, she indicated her familiarity, too busy watching the Musketeer stepping into the scene, looking as natural as could be. Taking her by the hand, they flew over the rippling water, reaching the bustling city of Sarajevo in moments. Through two-toned eyes, she saw the males on horseback, a feat she had only seen a few times before here, but seemed so natural in the setting. As well, the weapons that the Musketeer and his companions used were foreign to her - she had seen a sword once or twice in her life, but never a pistol, and her eyes grew understandably wide as she heard the pistol ring out, killing the male.

The closest thing she could think of to a pistol was a bow and arrow, and so that was what the pistol became - a short, one-handed bow and arrow, and the bullet was a shorter arrow that could travel faster, with poison on the end to become lethal. Ghita hid behind the dangerous city's walls, watching as the Musketeer dealt with the thugs quickly and efficiently, making a mental note of the details he easily brought. Could he be...? No - there must be another witness nearby. Maybe an apprentice of some kind?

The fae couldn't help the wince that came with the horses' hooves, nearly feeling the crunch as they ran over the ankles of her new companion. Her shoulders had hunched with the feeling of sympathy rampant in her veins, but was just as relieved as he seemed to be to hear the traitor - Klaus - had been taken down. And she couldn't help but feel the same grief he felt, ears drooping a little at the tips. To kill a friend was awful. To have to kill a friend, even worse. But to be celebrated because you did that? She could only imagine the guilt that would consume him for that.

"That's quite something, Marcus. It sounds like you've had quite the past." Sharing the playful glance with him, she nodded, letting the guilt eat away at her heart for the moment. She was nowhere as regal as the Musketeer, and her injuries were far less grave - so why was she sitting and hating herself for it? Grimacing, she looked away from the Muskateer - she had now decided it was him, and stared down at her knee, who seemed a little less ruined and hopeless after that. "Perhaps you would like to hear my story?"

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