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Anyone who thought Marc was a soulless, cruel, heartless man.... was mostly right. Mostly. He was decidedly cruel, there was no doubt about that, and if his actions were any indication, he was more than likely soulless. You didn't escape well deserved death as many times as he had without having sold your soul at some point.
However, despite these apt assumptions, Marc was not as heartless as some would believe. There was still a bit of dark, shriveled, heart-like mass hiding in there somewhere that he hadn't been able to excise just yet. He was working on it, though. It was his New Years Resolution.
Anyway, this unfortunate surplus of chest-meats meant that he couldn't just watch "the Kid" die from the cold. It was a slow, painful death and worse, he had nothing to do with it. She was his charge, albeit a very reluctant one, and he had to show her some semblance of care. And it was Christmas! Not that he held much love for the holiday and vice verse, but most people did. The least he could do was give her another sweater, considering the cheap one she was wearing when he took her was now in tatters.
Without knocking, because that would show more concern than he was comfortable with, Marc marched in and tossed a package containing a pencil, an orange and an old, motheaten sweater. It was hardly in fashion but it was warm and that should be enough. More than he had ever gotten. "Happy Christmas." He said gruffly, forcing the words out like they were spicy vomit.
He begin to leave, feeling awkward at this show of kindness, but the forlorn look in her eyes caused him to pause. Normally he would sit there and bask in her misery but he was surprisingly upset to see the mischievous spark gone from her dark gaze. She was a spunky little lass that he had secretly come to enjoy the company of, for no other reason than that he could see a bit of his younger self in her. The him before it had been beaten out of him, that is.
Something deep in that husk of a heart he had stirred and he found himself doing something he swore he would never do, giving hope. "I talked to your brother a bit ago. He knows that we have you, just doesn't know where yet...." He turned away from her so he didn't have to look at her as he added "... So um... I am sure he will be here for you soon."
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| 1. | Scrumptious, or an attractive woman |
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Entrance Courtyard / Re: [Dec. 13th] You Never Know What You Have to Lose, Until It is Taken (Closed)
February 03, 2013, 11:08:09 PM
Unlike Devlin, who was too fixated on his mission, Marc took the time to study the boy in front of him. Physically, he was as Marc expected. Average height, if not a tad shorter, built like a box but soft and without much muscle. His eyes were a sharp, probing hazel, or at least would have been had they not been bleary with worry and heavy with lack of sleep. Marc thought he detected just a hint of scarring around the throat. Grumman's work, or so he heard. It was quite a lovely job, if he did say so himself.
It was evident to Marc that Matthews was used to being the brains of the group, whichever group that may be. He had gotten some information out of Lucy regarding her brother, mostly that he was seven feet tall and built like a lumberjack on steroids, and knew that her assertion that he was the most intelligent of her many brothers was the only truth out of the lot. He bet this kid ran his brothers like a mini mafia, ordering them around and staying in the shadows. It was no wonder that Kingstreet liked him enough to give even the tiniest trust to a seventeen year old, nor was it surprising that he had betrayed her. People who were too intelligent, and too unexperienced, tended to overestimate themselves and got it in their heads that they were better suited as leaders than followers. Usually this didn't end well because in the criminal world, ambition was a far more dangerous tool than intelligence, and Kingstreet had both in Spades. Matthews didn't stand a chance.
Marc really wanted to mess with the kid. Send him on a wild goose chase and laugh from the sidelines as he became more and more frantic with worry as the minutes ticked away. However, Kingstreet made it clear that she wanted Devlin on her doorstep, begging for forgiveness, as soon as possible. Risking the authorities finding out by toying with the kid would just serve to piss her off and Marc didn't want to risk incurring her wrath. So, he had to be good and reveal a hint about her location without giving himself away, since he needed to be there to distract anyone else from figuring out the truth.
Snapping the folder shut and tossing it on the desk, Marc laced his fingers together and leaned forward to eye the boy "Well, since you don't seem to understand the concept of waiting... Your aunt picked her up a couple of days ago. Said her name was... Leo... no no, was it Cleo?" He shook his head and then snapped his fingers "Ah yes. Your Aunt Theo. Said she would contact you. If she hasn't yet, you should probably shoot her an owl."
It was evident to Marc that Matthews was used to being the brains of the group, whichever group that may be. He had gotten some information out of Lucy regarding her brother, mostly that he was seven feet tall and built like a lumberjack on steroids, and knew that her assertion that he was the most intelligent of her many brothers was the only truth out of the lot. He bet this kid ran his brothers like a mini mafia, ordering them around and staying in the shadows. It was no wonder that Kingstreet liked him enough to give even the tiniest trust to a seventeen year old, nor was it surprising that he had betrayed her. People who were too intelligent, and too unexperienced, tended to overestimate themselves and got it in their heads that they were better suited as leaders than followers. Usually this didn't end well because in the criminal world, ambition was a far more dangerous tool than intelligence, and Kingstreet had both in Spades. Matthews didn't stand a chance.
Marc really wanted to mess with the kid. Send him on a wild goose chase and laugh from the sidelines as he became more and more frantic with worry as the minutes ticked away. However, Kingstreet made it clear that she wanted Devlin on her doorstep, begging for forgiveness, as soon as possible. Risking the authorities finding out by toying with the kid would just serve to piss her off and Marc didn't want to risk incurring her wrath. So, he had to be good and reveal a hint about her location without giving himself away, since he needed to be there to distract anyone else from figuring out the truth.
Snapping the folder shut and tossing it on the desk, Marc laced his fingers together and leaned forward to eye the boy "Well, since you don't seem to understand the concept of waiting... Your aunt picked her up a couple of days ago. Said her name was... Leo... no no, was it Cleo?" He shook his head and then snapped his fingers "Ah yes. Your Aunt Theo. Said she would contact you. If she hasn't yet, you should probably shoot her an owl."
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St. Mungo's / Re: [Nov 15] First Strike (Snapshot, Jason)
January 22, 2013, 11:52:12 PM
Roughly 24 hours later
It had only been a day in Marren's shoes and Marc was already planning some big changes. He had spent those 24 hours calling into work sick and getting to know his new body, which sounds a lot dirtier than it was. Actually, it was downright boring. The only thing all that interesting (read: annoying) was that Jason was not only in a committed relationship but he had two young boys latched on as well. He had managed to stave them off for a day, saying he was quite ill and likely contagious, but... what was her name? Sandy? Sally? Marc didn't care. Anyways, she made it very clear they were to have a talk when he felt better. Something about standing her up the night before. It didn't matter, she wouldn't be in the picture for long.
Marc was rather put out that he couldn't just kill her. It would be pretty easy and he could keep her hidden for at least a couple weeks until the deed was done. However it was made clear to him that there was to be no senseless killing lest it draw the attention of the authorities. Instead, Marc had to pretend to be Jason as naturally as possible and that meant he needed information from the man on all the little quirks he couldn't glean from his home. Which, in turn, meant he got to torture the man, so there was that. Sure he could just ask and see where that got him, but where was the fun in that?
A rather delicious and potent smelling hamburger in hand, Marc made his way to Jason's new 'abode' with a spring in his step. Interrogation had always been a favorite of his and he hadn't practiced it in a long time. He hoped his mothers 'tools' were still in working order or else he might have to get 'handsy' with it. There was something to be said about torturing someone with your hands rather than a wand. Something much more gratifying about feeling a heartbeat pound against your hands, quicker and harder, until you think it is just about to burst and you release them, so they gasp for air like a landlocked fish. Then you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have absolute power over whether they live or die and you know that they know it too. It was such a rush to even think about that Marc had to take a pause before he entered the room, lest he lose his focus.
The smell of the hamburger preceded him, wafting through the stale air like the perfume of a beautiful woman. Jason had to be hungry by now, though he wasn't likely starving just yet, and Marc wanted to use that fact to his benefit. Entering the room, he didn't greet the man slumped in the chair, still chained. Instead, he took a seat across from him, straddling it backwards with a sort of friendly lack of formality that belied his true intentions. He took a huge, wet bite out of the burger and chewed thoughtfully, sauce dripping carelessly from his chin, as he studied the man before him.
This went on for several agonizing moments, bite, chew, stare, repeat, until Marc had finished little over half the burger. Then, he put it carefully down on the table, just out of Jason's reach, and sucked the juices off of his fingers mockingly. Finally, a grin split his face but didn't come near his eyes as he said in a far too pleasant, somewhat patronizing tone "Hey there mate... I do hope you slept well. Hungry?"
It had only been a day in Marren's shoes and Marc was already planning some big changes. He had spent those 24 hours calling into work sick and getting to know his new body, which sounds a lot dirtier than it was. Actually, it was downright boring. The only thing all that interesting (read: annoying) was that Jason was not only in a committed relationship but he had two young boys latched on as well. He had managed to stave them off for a day, saying he was quite ill and likely contagious, but... what was her name? Sandy? Sally? Marc didn't care. Anyways, she made it very clear they were to have a talk when he felt better. Something about standing her up the night before. It didn't matter, she wouldn't be in the picture for long.
Marc was rather put out that he couldn't just kill her. It would be pretty easy and he could keep her hidden for at least a couple weeks until the deed was done. However it was made clear to him that there was to be no senseless killing lest it draw the attention of the authorities. Instead, Marc had to pretend to be Jason as naturally as possible and that meant he needed information from the man on all the little quirks he couldn't glean from his home. Which, in turn, meant he got to torture the man, so there was that. Sure he could just ask and see where that got him, but where was the fun in that?
A rather delicious and potent smelling hamburger in hand, Marc made his way to Jason's new 'abode' with a spring in his step. Interrogation had always been a favorite of his and he hadn't practiced it in a long time. He hoped his mothers 'tools' were still in working order or else he might have to get 'handsy' with it. There was something to be said about torturing someone with your hands rather than a wand. Something much more gratifying about feeling a heartbeat pound against your hands, quicker and harder, until you think it is just about to burst and you release them, so they gasp for air like a landlocked fish. Then you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have absolute power over whether they live or die and you know that they know it too. It was such a rush to even think about that Marc had to take a pause before he entered the room, lest he lose his focus.
The smell of the hamburger preceded him, wafting through the stale air like the perfume of a beautiful woman. Jason had to be hungry by now, though he wasn't likely starving just yet, and Marc wanted to use that fact to his benefit. Entering the room, he didn't greet the man slumped in the chair, still chained. Instead, he took a seat across from him, straddling it backwards with a sort of friendly lack of formality that belied his true intentions. He took a huge, wet bite out of the burger and chewed thoughtfully, sauce dripping carelessly from his chin, as he studied the man before him.
This went on for several agonizing moments, bite, chew, stare, repeat, until Marc had finished little over half the burger. Then, he put it carefully down on the table, just out of Jason's reach, and sucked the juices off of his fingers mockingly. Finally, a grin split his face but didn't come near his eyes as he said in a far too pleasant, somewhat patronizing tone "Hey there mate... I do hope you slept well. Hungry?"
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Entrance Courtyard / Re: [Dec. 13th] You Never Know What You Have to Lose, Until It is Taken (Closed)
January 20, 2013, 11:42:47 PM
There was one thing that Marc and Jason had in common, aside from their currently shared appearance, and that was the love of the simpler things in life. Granted Jason's seemed to be the love of his family, a job well done and a good beer afterwards and Marc's tended to be more... bloody and gory versions, but the general idea was the same. The disagreement there was that Marc had no intention of raising a couple brats with a woman that knew Jason far too well. All of them had to go.
Luckily for Jason, Marc had to keep his bloodlust under control. The key to this ruse was to keep the aurors out of it and killing Sam and her kid was... hard not to notice. So he had promptly begin to act like a real ass (which was not that difficult) until she had gotten fed up and stormed out, her kid in tow. Then he had pushed Jason's son off on his real mum, saying he needed time to get over the break up, which she seemed happy enough to hear. So far, so good. When all was said and done, and Marc got to have his fun, this Fiona chick would have her kid all to herself. See, nearly everyone won.
The question was WHEN did he get to have his fun? He was getting antsy. A man like him hated having an honest days work and sooner or later they would notice that he was phoning his 'healing' in. He was reasonably sure that the little Matthews brat had hinted to her brother about her predicament in some way. She was too smart not to at least try. He just hoped that Devlin was as smart as Kingstreet claimed, since Hogwarts was likely to start asking questions soon if he didn't.
As if it read his mind, a small airplane from the front desk floated in and landed on his desk. He tried to ignore it at first, but something told him that it was best to take a look. The name "Devlin Matthews" jumped out at him the moment he unfolded it and it was all he cared to see, since the rest seemed to be about not trusting him. Mere seconds after he tossed the bit of paper in the trash, a knock sounded at the office door and Marc had to quickly stifle a malicious grin. Oh this was going to be fun!
"One moment." He called, taking a swig of his polyjuice and straightening his desk, making sure that nothing incriminating or alluding to Kingstreet was visible. Grabbing a patient file, he acted like he was reading it as he waved open the door and ushered the kid in with a flick of his wrist. "Take a seat there, I will be with you in a moment, Mr. Matthews." He didn't look at Devlin. He couldn't. If he did, he might burst with laughter.
Luckily for Jason, Marc had to keep his bloodlust under control. The key to this ruse was to keep the aurors out of it and killing Sam and her kid was... hard not to notice. So he had promptly begin to act like a real ass (which was not that difficult) until she had gotten fed up and stormed out, her kid in tow. Then he had pushed Jason's son off on his real mum, saying he needed time to get over the break up, which she seemed happy enough to hear. So far, so good. When all was said and done, and Marc got to have his fun, this Fiona chick would have her kid all to herself. See, nearly everyone won.
The question was WHEN did he get to have his fun? He was getting antsy. A man like him hated having an honest days work and sooner or later they would notice that he was phoning his 'healing' in. He was reasonably sure that the little Matthews brat had hinted to her brother about her predicament in some way. She was too smart not to at least try. He just hoped that Devlin was as smart as Kingstreet claimed, since Hogwarts was likely to start asking questions soon if he didn't.
As if it read his mind, a small airplane from the front desk floated in and landed on his desk. He tried to ignore it at first, but something told him that it was best to take a look. The name "Devlin Matthews" jumped out at him the moment he unfolded it and it was all he cared to see, since the rest seemed to be about not trusting him. Mere seconds after he tossed the bit of paper in the trash, a knock sounded at the office door and Marc had to quickly stifle a malicious grin. Oh this was going to be fun!
"One moment." He called, taking a swig of his polyjuice and straightening his desk, making sure that nothing incriminating or alluding to Kingstreet was visible. Grabbing a patient file, he acted like he was reading it as he waved open the door and ushered the kid in with a flick of his wrist. "Take a seat there, I will be with you in a moment, Mr. Matthews." He didn't look at Devlin. He couldn't. If he did, he might burst with laughter.
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First Floor: Creature-Induced Injuries / Re: [Dec 3] Explanations [Donnelly]
December 27, 2012, 12:11:34 AM
"I should probably head back upstairs and finish my shift. Any place in particular you'd like to meet up?"
Marc shrugged nonchalantly, "Eh, not really, but there are some great pubs in the area... Let's meet outside and figure out where to go from there..." This offer should have been creepy and frightening, and would have had it been Marc uttering it, but it sounded friendly, perhaps a bit flirty, coming from Jason. Luckily she didn't seem to be bothered by it. As she stood up to leave, Marc took his chance to study her, his eyes greedily tracing her form. Had she looked closely enough before she left, she would have noticed the odd tinge of green that was already starting to tint the edges of the brilliant blue, like the madman underneath was peeking through.
When the door shut behind her, Marc put his hands behind his head and leaned back with a pleased sigh. Things were really coming up Donnelly. He had a fun job, a handsome new persona with no criminal record and soon, the woman he had obsessed over in his bed. That was the plan anyways, and Marc was fond of plans coming to fruition.
Glancing at his watch, he decided to pop back to the hideout to freshen up and torture Jason until he told him what he knew about Moira. It was shaping up to be a great night.
Marc shrugged nonchalantly, "Eh, not really, but there are some great pubs in the area... Let's meet outside and figure out where to go from there..." This offer should have been creepy and frightening, and would have had it been Marc uttering it, but it sounded friendly, perhaps a bit flirty, coming from Jason. Luckily she didn't seem to be bothered by it. As she stood up to leave, Marc took his chance to study her, his eyes greedily tracing her form. Had she looked closely enough before she left, she would have noticed the odd tinge of green that was already starting to tint the edges of the brilliant blue, like the madman underneath was peeking through.
When the door shut behind her, Marc put his hands behind his head and leaned back with a pleased sigh. Things were really coming up Donnelly. He had a fun job, a handsome new persona with no criminal record and soon, the woman he had obsessed over in his bed. That was the plan anyways, and Marc was fond of plans coming to fruition.
Glancing at his watch, he decided to pop back to the hideout to freshen up and torture Jason until he told him what he knew about Moira. It was shaping up to be a great night.
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Hogwarts School / Re: [Nov 20] Reckoning (Closed)
December 11, 2012, 12:51:28 AM
"P-please. Please, just, just don't kill me. Please."
Marc's brows raised in amusement at her tears. This kid was a trip! One second she is acting all tough and cocksure, and the next she is pulling out the old 'puppy dog' eyes and trying to appeal to his better nature. Unfortunately for her, he didn't have a better nature. But there was the pesky fact that he was hired to keep her alive and slicing off body parts wasn't going to make his boss happy. Instead, he had to keep her marginally alive in a horrible cell of a room that smelt of feces and blood, with only bread and water to sustain her. You know, every day of his decade in Azkaban.
Lucky her.
He bit out a spiteful snort and tossed her back on the bed by her hair. "Today's your lucky day lass... I have better things to do than chop up little girls..." He started to leave but suddenly turned back to her, tapping his chin and musing loudly "But then, I do have some hag friends who would love a succulent bit of little girl meat..." He paused for effect, letting the chilling words sink in for a moment. Then he let out a barking laugh that somehow managed to echo in the room, "It's a joke lass...Get a sense of humor..."
The laughter stopped abruptly and his expression went cold, as he hissed "But if you even try... or even think of trying... to escape..." With a jerk and a flick of his wrist, the knife flew across the room, barely missing her, and buried itself to the hilt in the wooden window frame. Turning away, the knife still vibrating from impact, he left without saying anything else. He didn't have to.
Marc's brows raised in amusement at her tears. This kid was a trip! One second she is acting all tough and cocksure, and the next she is pulling out the old 'puppy dog' eyes and trying to appeal to his better nature. Unfortunately for her, he didn't have a better nature. But there was the pesky fact that he was hired to keep her alive and slicing off body parts wasn't going to make his boss happy. Instead, he had to keep her marginally alive in a horrible cell of a room that smelt of feces and blood, with only bread and water to sustain her. You know, every day of his decade in Azkaban.
Lucky her.
He bit out a spiteful snort and tossed her back on the bed by her hair. "Today's your lucky day lass... I have better things to do than chop up little girls..." He started to leave but suddenly turned back to her, tapping his chin and musing loudly "But then, I do have some hag friends who would love a succulent bit of little girl meat..." He paused for effect, letting the chilling words sink in for a moment. Then he let out a barking laugh that somehow managed to echo in the room, "It's a joke lass...Get a sense of humor..."
The laughter stopped abruptly and his expression went cold, as he hissed "But if you even try... or even think of trying... to escape..." With a jerk and a flick of his wrist, the knife flew across the room, barely missing her, and buried itself to the hilt in the wooden window frame. Turning away, the knife still vibrating from impact, he left without saying anything else. He didn't have to.
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First Floor: Creature-Induced Injuries / Re: [Dec 3] Explanations [Donnelly]
December 10, 2012, 07:59:22 PM
"I don't find it imprudent, I would like that....it would nice to chat a bit outside the hospital walls. Perhaps get to know a bit about each other's non-professional side. Aside from work, at the moment my schedule is looking quite sad....so I can take you up on that offer whenever you have a bit of free time."
Marc smirked in satisfaction at the hesitance in her voice. It was quite clear that she was feeling a bit put out by his addition of 'just as friends'. If he played his cards right, she would be in his arms by morning. He had to be careful, though. If he came across as too desperate, she would probably sense something was wrong. Although he didn't fear that she would discover what was really wrong, he didn't need her asking around or getting suspicious. When you were using someones life you had to tread lightly.
However, Lucy's disappearance would be noticed any day now and Marc knew now was the best time. Lacing his fingers together, he sat them on the desk and grinned "Whenever's good for me. I'm not doing anything after work iiiin...." He made a show of looking at his watch without actually looking at the time "... about an hour. So...." He shrugged a little with a rakish grin, and added "I'm free tonight..."
Marc smirked in satisfaction at the hesitance in her voice. It was quite clear that she was feeling a bit put out by his addition of 'just as friends'. If he played his cards right, she would be in his arms by morning. He had to be careful, though. If he came across as too desperate, she would probably sense something was wrong. Although he didn't fear that she would discover what was really wrong, he didn't need her asking around or getting suspicious. When you were using someones life you had to tread lightly.
However, Lucy's disappearance would be noticed any day now and Marc knew now was the best time. Lacing his fingers together, he sat them on the desk and grinned "Whenever's good for me. I'm not doing anything after work iiiin...." He made a show of looking at his watch without actually looking at the time "... about an hour. So...." He shrugged a little with a rakish grin, and added "I'm free tonight..."
11
Hogwarts School / Re: [Nov 20] Reckoning (Closed, M)
December 08, 2012, 11:47:24 PM
er... rated M now for language >>
She shouted, she cursed, she ran in and out of the door and reappeared back in the room each time. Marc just stood there, silent, smoking his cigarette with a broad smirk of amusement as she frantically tried to escape. It wasn't going to work. His mother had made sure of that long ago, back when this was primarily his childhood home and secondly a torture chamber for deserters, snitches and the like. He puffed on his cigarette, blowing a few lopsided rings, before saying with a laugh, "What are you on about lass? This room has character... and quite an interesting history. My mum called it her 'interrogation' room, hence the revolving door charm."
He begin to walk towards the bed, touching the wall in the enthralled way a man might study millennia old cave paintings. If she looked closely, she would see old bloodstains soaked into the plaster behind the peeling wallpaper. He smiled fondly. "Many men were broken in this room. Some lived... some didn't. Spent many a punishment here myself, in fact..." He mused, mostly to himself. When he turned back to her, his face was in mid-transformation, slowly rippling as it broke down Jason's countenance and replaced it with his own. It felt nice to be back in his own body.
Dropping the cigarette, he crushed it with the toe of his boot and dropped her bag on the table. Opening it, he begin to toss stuff out onto the bed with little care. It was mostly clothes and school books, all obviously second hand. It was unlikely he would find anything dangerous, but there was a part of him that enjoyed the knowledge he was destroying what little she had. So he ripped into the lining of the bag until it was in shambles and was rewarded with a small, worn butterfly knife. "Ah. Ah. Ahh... Can't be weilding one of these at St. Mungos..." He chuckled, as if he had found a candybar in a kids sock drawer at fat camp. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped out the blade and twirled it with the the effortless grace of an expert.
Then, without warning, he struck with surprising speed. Grasping her long, dark hair in one hand, he sheared off a chunk with a quick jerk of the blade. "I'll be needing this for later..." He sneered and then paused, realizing that sounded somewhat creepy. Well, creepy in a different way. He quickly added, "... I mean, how else is your brother going to know that I have you?" With his hand firmly tangled in her hair, he pressed the knife against her hand at first "... A finger maybe?..." He moved it to her cheek, trailing it to the corner of her eye "... Or an eye perhaps? No? How about your tongue then? No one would miss that, I promise you..."
She shouted, she cursed, she ran in and out of the door and reappeared back in the room each time. Marc just stood there, silent, smoking his cigarette with a broad smirk of amusement as she frantically tried to escape. It wasn't going to work. His mother had made sure of that long ago, back when this was primarily his childhood home and secondly a torture chamber for deserters, snitches and the like. He puffed on his cigarette, blowing a few lopsided rings, before saying with a laugh, "What are you on about lass? This room has character... and quite an interesting history. My mum called it her 'interrogation' room, hence the revolving door charm."
He begin to walk towards the bed, touching the wall in the enthralled way a man might study millennia old cave paintings. If she looked closely, she would see old bloodstains soaked into the plaster behind the peeling wallpaper. He smiled fondly. "Many men were broken in this room. Some lived... some didn't. Spent many a punishment here myself, in fact..." He mused, mostly to himself. When he turned back to her, his face was in mid-transformation, slowly rippling as it broke down Jason's countenance and replaced it with his own. It felt nice to be back in his own body.
Dropping the cigarette, he crushed it with the toe of his boot and dropped her bag on the table. Opening it, he begin to toss stuff out onto the bed with little care. It was mostly clothes and school books, all obviously second hand. It was unlikely he would find anything dangerous, but there was a part of him that enjoyed the knowledge he was destroying what little she had. So he ripped into the lining of the bag until it was in shambles and was rewarded with a small, worn butterfly knife. "Ah. Ah. Ahh... Can't be weilding one of these at St. Mungos..." He chuckled, as if he had found a candybar in a kids sock drawer at fat camp. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped out the blade and twirled it with the the effortless grace of an expert.
Then, without warning, he struck with surprising speed. Grasping her long, dark hair in one hand, he sheared off a chunk with a quick jerk of the blade. "I'll be needing this for later..." He sneered and then paused, realizing that sounded somewhat creepy. Well, creepy in a different way. He quickly added, "... I mean, how else is your brother going to know that I have you?" With his hand firmly tangled in her hair, he pressed the knife against her hand at first "... A finger maybe?..." He moved it to her cheek, trailing it to the corner of her eye "... Or an eye perhaps? No? How about your tongue then? No one would miss that, I promise you..."
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Hogwarts School / Re: [Nov 20] Reckoning (Closed)
December 08, 2012, 10:40:33 PM
"Well, nothing to do but wait until she gets better. Hopefully she'll be fine and healthy before the term is over. She wouldn't want to miss her holiday."
"Oh don't worry, mate... You'll get her back..." Maybe not in one piece... he added internally, glancing at the smirking child out of the corner of his eye. The mouth on this brat was making Marc reconsider his agreement to keep her alive and well. Alive, sure, but it wouldn't be an enjoyable life if he had anything to do with it. Luckily for her, Marc wasn't the one running the show and he preferred not finding out what Kingstreet's bad side looked like. The little shits brother did and look what was about to happen to her.
"Well, all seems to be in order... Good to see you again, Jowd." He said, struggling to keep his contempt for the man from seething over into his friendly tone. Pushing the girl gently towards the general direction of Hogsmeade, he gave one last nod to Sissel, "We'll be off then... Come on lass."
As the castle and Jowd faded behind them, Marc's pleasant smile followed suit. By the time they got to the gate, his smile had become a scowl with a soggy cigarette hanging from it and his eyes had already begun to fade from a bright blue to a sickly green.
When Lucy spoke, regaling him pointedly of her plans to not do a damn thing, he just snorted. Kid would be lucky if she got to use a toilet that wasn't a rusty pot in the corner, let alone be waited on hand and foot. He just smirked at this and said "Oh... I think homework will the least of your problems." Opening the gate, he tugged her through with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "Prepare yourself, lass, this won't be particularly comfortable."
With that, they popped out of existence and reappeared not in St. Mungos but in a small, dilapidated house hidden in the Irish countryside. "Home sweet home." he sneered, sending her tumbling towards a threadbare mattress adorned with a rat chewed blanket. Her new bed for now. "Make yourself comfortable. You're gonna be here a while."
"Oh don't worry, mate... You'll get her back..." Maybe not in one piece... he added internally, glancing at the smirking child out of the corner of his eye. The mouth on this brat was making Marc reconsider his agreement to keep her alive and well. Alive, sure, but it wouldn't be an enjoyable life if he had anything to do with it. Luckily for her, Marc wasn't the one running the show and he preferred not finding out what Kingstreet's bad side looked like. The little shits brother did and look what was about to happen to her.
"Well, all seems to be in order... Good to see you again, Jowd." He said, struggling to keep his contempt for the man from seething over into his friendly tone. Pushing the girl gently towards the general direction of Hogsmeade, he gave one last nod to Sissel, "We'll be off then... Come on lass."
As the castle and Jowd faded behind them, Marc's pleasant smile followed suit. By the time they got to the gate, his smile had become a scowl with a soggy cigarette hanging from it and his eyes had already begun to fade from a bright blue to a sickly green.
When Lucy spoke, regaling him pointedly of her plans to not do a damn thing, he just snorted. Kid would be lucky if she got to use a toilet that wasn't a rusty pot in the corner, let alone be waited on hand and foot. He just smirked at this and said "Oh... I think homework will the least of your problems." Opening the gate, he tugged her through with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "Prepare yourself, lass, this won't be particularly comfortable."
With that, they popped out of existence and reappeared not in St. Mungos but in a small, dilapidated house hidden in the Irish countryside. "Home sweet home." he sneered, sending her tumbling towards a threadbare mattress adorned with a rat chewed blanket. Her new bed for now. "Make yourself comfortable. You're gonna be here a while."
13
St. Mungo's / Re: [Nov 15] First Strike (Snapshot, Jason)
December 08, 2012, 10:18:28 PM
Jason's sudden acquiescence came as no surprise to Marc, who spent a good deal of his life putting thick calluses on his knuckles and breaking his fingers more times than he could count. He had a way with words when they were punctuated by his fist. As the taller man crumpled to the floor, Marc smirked and kiss his knuckle. "Still got it..." He murmured to himself, throughly satisfied.
When this moment of self-satisfaction came to an end, Marc finally turned to his victim. Hoisting his dead weight up by his armpits was not an easy job, but Marc made short work of it. Dropping him carelessly onto a filthy "what must have once been olive colored velvet" chair, he took his time studying his soon to be face. Not too bad, really. Dirty blond hair with a somewhat receeding hair line, not great but the man was still attractive enough despite it, heavy brow and a straight roman nose. Square jaw. He could work with this face. Wasn't like his own face was much better, thanks to years skulking about in dank cells and dark alleys.
Marc then focused on his clothes. Clothes said a lot about a man. Personally, he wore black a lot. It was stylish, comfortable, hard to see at night... oh, and it hid blood stains beautifully. Jason seemed to be more of a 'muted classic with rustic feel' sort of bloke. His rather nice grey peacoat belied the worn blue shirt and jeans underneath, so Marc pegged him as a professional bloke who enjoyed a bit of rustic living on his own time. The calluses on his hands seemed to agree with this -- oh my. There was blood on those hands as well. Marc was no healer, by choice more than anything, but he could tell a splinched finger when he saw one. It was bleeding quite a bit and he was shocked that he hadn't noticed until now.
Fortunately for Jason, Marc did have some training with medical magic (Again, he chose not to be a healer. Killing was just too fun.) and he needed the man alive and conscious to torture information out of. So instead of leaving it to rot or bleed out, like he might have done otherwise, Marc pulled out his wand and went about cleaning and stitching the wound. It wasn't particularly pretty, since he kinda wanted to leave a bit of a 'lasting impression' if you will, but it did the job. The blood stopped dripping and the wound would heal in a week or so. Sure, magic could heal it now, without a scar even, but where was the fun in that?
A few minutes later, Marc left the man chained to a chair next to a dimly lit fireplace and a glass of water, short a few curly blond hairs and a wallet. Now he was off to see the delightful Dazmond Weidman about a potion.
When this moment of self-satisfaction came to an end, Marc finally turned to his victim. Hoisting his dead weight up by his armpits was not an easy job, but Marc made short work of it. Dropping him carelessly onto a filthy "what must have once been olive colored velvet" chair, he took his time studying his soon to be face. Not too bad, really. Dirty blond hair with a somewhat receeding hair line, not great but the man was still attractive enough despite it, heavy brow and a straight roman nose. Square jaw. He could work with this face. Wasn't like his own face was much better, thanks to years skulking about in dank cells and dark alleys.
Marc then focused on his clothes. Clothes said a lot about a man. Personally, he wore black a lot. It was stylish, comfortable, hard to see at night... oh, and it hid blood stains beautifully. Jason seemed to be more of a 'muted classic with rustic feel' sort of bloke. His rather nice grey peacoat belied the worn blue shirt and jeans underneath, so Marc pegged him as a professional bloke who enjoyed a bit of rustic living on his own time. The calluses on his hands seemed to agree with this -- oh my. There was blood on those hands as well. Marc was no healer, by choice more than anything, but he could tell a splinched finger when he saw one. It was bleeding quite a bit and he was shocked that he hadn't noticed until now.
Fortunately for Jason, Marc did have some training with medical magic (Again, he chose not to be a healer. Killing was just too fun.) and he needed the man alive and conscious to torture information out of. So instead of leaving it to rot or bleed out, like he might have done otherwise, Marc pulled out his wand and went about cleaning and stitching the wound. It wasn't particularly pretty, since he kinda wanted to leave a bit of a 'lasting impression' if you will, but it did the job. The blood stopped dripping and the wound would heal in a week or so. Sure, magic could heal it now, without a scar even, but where was the fun in that?
A few minutes later, Marc left the man chained to a chair next to a dimly lit fireplace and a glass of water, short a few curly blond hairs and a wallet. Now he was off to see the delightful Dazmond Weidman about a potion.
14
First Floor: Creature-Induced Injuries / Re: [Dec 3] Explanations [Donnelly]
November 23, 2012, 03:17:34 AM
"Honestly, it wasn't just a professional decision, I've been gone from St. Mungo's for almost a year...and I think really I just needed the change. The last year has been tough...I'm just trying to get a fresh start for my mental well being."
Nodding as she spoke, Marc had to cover his mouth before she saw the smirk playing at the corner of his lips. A year ago... the timing should be about right. It was around that time when they met.
"I truly do appreciate the offer to stay on though, It's just simply also a decision based on my personal life."
He didn't have the foggiest idea of what had happened to her, aside from their little run in, but he did an excellent job of pretending he gave even half a shit. When she finished her little pity party, Marc leaned forward across the desk and placed what was supposed to be a warm, comforting hand on top of hers. "I completely understand, Moira... and I can't say how glad I am that you still want to return after all that has happened to you..." He stared up into her eyes with a deceptively kind smile as he ran his thumb lightly over her knuckles, throughly enjoying the feel of her skin. Then, when his gesture was at the edge of becoming improper, he released her and sat back.
"Look... I know it is a perhaps a bit... imprudent to ask so soon..." He said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence between them with a smile that was bordering on flirtatious, but not quite "...but since I am not longer your boss... Why don't I take you for a drink?" Then, to smooth any fears[1], he sat back with a hearty laugh and held his palms up to show no ill intentions, adding, "To welcome you back to the hospital of course..."
Nodding as she spoke, Marc had to cover his mouth before she saw the smirk playing at the corner of his lips. A year ago... the timing should be about right. It was around that time when they met.
"I truly do appreciate the offer to stay on though, It's just simply also a decision based on my personal life."
He didn't have the foggiest idea of what had happened to her, aside from their little run in, but he did an excellent job of pretending he gave even half a shit. When she finished her little pity party, Marc leaned forward across the desk and placed what was supposed to be a warm, comforting hand on top of hers. "I completely understand, Moira... and I can't say how glad I am that you still want to return after all that has happened to you..." He stared up into her eyes with a deceptively kind smile as he ran his thumb lightly over her knuckles, throughly enjoying the feel of her skin. Then, when his gesture was at the edge of becoming improper, he released her and sat back.
"Look... I know it is a perhaps a bit... imprudent to ask so soon..." He said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence between them with a smile that was bordering on flirtatious, but not quite "...but since I am not longer your boss... Why don't I take you for a drink?" Then, to smooth any fears[1], he sat back with a hearty laugh and held his palms up to show no ill intentions, adding, "To welcome you back to the hospital of course..."
| 1. | Although fears were most certainly warranted |
15
Hogwarts School / Re: [Nov 20] Reckoning (Closed)
November 19, 2012, 01:14:14 PM
"Yeah, I guess. Let's just get this over with."
What a little shit. Marc knew a good box about the head or even a quick unforgivable would put her in her place, but managed to hold himself back when he remembered that he was Jason Marren and Jason probably didn't smack little kids. Instead, a sharp look crossed his face for a mere second, promising pain and misery if she didn't shut her mouth. Replacing it quickly with a cool, unfazed smile, Jason turned back to Sissel, who was chattering about the illness with a surprisingly chipper tone. Perhaps he was being strong for Lucy.... or perhaps he was eager to see her leave. With that attitude, he wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter.
"Our copy to keep, right?"
"Of course... I trust that you will make sure they get to the right filing cabinet then?" Marc replied without missing a beat. He was more than willing to leave that bit up to Sissel since he really didn't want to deal with more witnesses or the perpetual state of chaos that filing cabinets always tended to live in. Besides, when things were finally revealed, Jowd would probably get a good deal of the blame. School officials were always the ones the parents came after first.
Reaching down, Marc hoisted Lucy's bag over his shoulder "I had better get the lass to Mungos right away. I appreciate your assistance, Sissel. If you would like to send her bookwork and letters to my office, I will make sure she receives them and promptly responds." He gave her an evil smile that promised that she would indeed be doing her homework despite being bedridden "... Can't have her getting behind on her studies, can we?" Then with a jerk of his head towards the general direction of Hogsmeade, Marc added "Trains waiting, lass... We'd best head off."
What a little shit. Marc knew a good box about the head or even a quick unforgivable would put her in her place, but managed to hold himself back when he remembered that he was Jason Marren and Jason probably didn't smack little kids. Instead, a sharp look crossed his face for a mere second, promising pain and misery if she didn't shut her mouth. Replacing it quickly with a cool, unfazed smile, Jason turned back to Sissel, who was chattering about the illness with a surprisingly chipper tone. Perhaps he was being strong for Lucy.... or perhaps he was eager to see her leave. With that attitude, he wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter.
"Our copy to keep, right?"
"Of course... I trust that you will make sure they get to the right filing cabinet then?" Marc replied without missing a beat. He was more than willing to leave that bit up to Sissel since he really didn't want to deal with more witnesses or the perpetual state of chaos that filing cabinets always tended to live in. Besides, when things were finally revealed, Jowd would probably get a good deal of the blame. School officials were always the ones the parents came after first.
Reaching down, Marc hoisted Lucy's bag over his shoulder "I had better get the lass to Mungos right away. I appreciate your assistance, Sissel. If you would like to send her bookwork and letters to my office, I will make sure she receives them and promptly responds." He gave her an evil smile that promised that she would indeed be doing her homework despite being bedridden "... Can't have her getting behind on her studies, can we?" Then with a jerk of his head towards the general direction of Hogsmeade, Marc added "Trains waiting, lass... We'd best head off."