An Old Man's Quest: Part 2

[Marcus Biscay]

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Ahaha no problem! You must be a walking talking thesaurus! Great vocabulary! :-D

Female. This was the first of many words to come to Marcus' head in his brief deduction. Cane, weaker right side. No sign of scarring. Bone shattered, perhaps. Crushed. Yes. Recovering, about two months along. Injury therefore sustained in early June, late May. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Ear pierced. Slim build. Stunning resemblance to Ehno Marcus blinked. Savina... No. Cane. Injury. Alphess would need to impose upon the whole of the pack. Impossible for a leader to show a sign of weakness... She doesn't look weak to me. The old man looked the female before him up and down, and drew more and more conclusions. Clothing. Well, partial clothing. Well, sarong. Pretty colour. Marcus had not seen a sarong in quite some time. His mother used to wear them around the house. She would wear a bright red one, with beads and heavy detail which she had added herself. All of Marcus' clothing was made by her. Including the vest he was wearing this day. The tell tale beads and detail were present. The beads closed the pockets, and the entire backing on the vest had a tremendous amount of detail. Thinking about his mother often made Marcus fall into a fit of depression, and so, all thought on that subject ceased and desisted.

Marcus regarded the woman in front of him as she spoke. Another Italian, he thought. Glorious! A smile was becoming familiar to his face at this point. There were so many wonderful things in these lands. How could he resist? Everything around him was pulsating with nuance and adventure, something which he longed for, even as a child. At the age of 6 months, Marcus had uncovered a locksmithing kit from a shop in Kensington. He quickly picked up basic lock-picking after disassembling a few lock mechanisms, and so, decided to try out his skill on a larger target. Namely, the Tower of London. This new world, the people, the places, the air, even the grass, gave him the same rush as the prison antechambers inside the great fortress of the White Tower. " Good morning. No, I can't imagine you would have seen me here before. I'm new, said Marcus with a sort of odd pride. "La mia nave ha portato a me a queste terre. Vengo da Europa anche." The Musketeer smiled, and gave his counterpart a wonderful glance. My name is Marcus Thadeus Biscay. No, you won't have to say that every time. I'm old, I save time by sticking to 'Marcus'. Come ti chiami, signora?" It did Marcus good to brush up on his languages. And surprising people with foreign words was always a good time.

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