Ignorance

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 529   |  NOTES: ...

She was ordered to remain within the carriage driven by Dubhlainn, something that she wasn't all too fond of. However, she remembered riding in carriages such as ones like this, though far more elegant, in order to get to places. If memory served her right, there had always been a chauffeur that would open the doors and help them down. They weren't really that fond of memories, but they were ones she cherished because they had her elder brother in them. One of her most favorite memories had been of a time when they were heading to a gala as young children together. The two of them were in the back seat, chattering away with each other, smiling and, overall, being happy with each other. It brought a smile to her face when she recalled Isaac and how he had loved her so much as she had loved him.

Marceline moved a hand upward and pushed the window shade out of her way, staring out at the massive city of Rose Garden. Lacrima street lamps lined the sidewalks, though because it was midday, parting into the evening, they hadn't lit up yet. People wandered down the cement walkways, walking to their work, home, or a simple destination of entertainment. One particular being caught her attention though, and that was of a raggedy, old man, who was hunting down and hitting on quite a few younger women. Marcy wrinkled her nose up in disgusted and let the shade drop away from where it was held, obscuring her vision of the man. He disgusted her to an extend, feeding off his desire to touch women without their permission, such a pervert. She was no better though, not when she had previously raped women and men, respectively before her gender change.

"You turn away in abhorrence at a natural scene of man vs woman, yet you, yourself, have done such a thing before," Death uttered in her head.

"Yes, but there were reasons behind why I had done such obscene things. . ." Marceline answered the voice in her mind.

"Is that so, my little pet?" Death inquired, His voice having risen an octave to show the curiosity in it.

"Of course, Master; I raped those women because of the requirements of the jobs; it was to get my name out there as well."

"I see. . . Well, in that case, perhaps you should return to watching that old, 'perverse' man; maybe you'll get ideas. . ."

A frown appeared on the woman's frail-looking, ashen face as Death went silent on her, and she turned back to the window. As she did so, the carriage came to a halt, but while Dubhlainn waved the Magus down, Marceline did not move from her place.

Per instructed, the woman remained silent and resting in the carriage, awaiting the moment Dubhlainn motioned for her to come out. "Dubhlainn?" she called after a few moments of silence had passed by with no clue or hint to whether she could come out. "Ist this vere your freund is supposed to be and if so, what gut vill it do for me to meet such a person?"

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 445   |  NOTES: ...

A man's unfamiliar voice emitted into the air, greeting the dullahan and his charge when they pitted in the cargo bay. Marceline let the curtain fall back from where she was holding it again, letting her face disappear from sight. She sat stark still in her place inside of the cart, listening as Dubhlainn responded to the magus and his greeting. He dismounted from the carriage and walked around the other side to the owner of Garou no dou, speaking softly now. The moment he had gotten off the carriage, and his magic had lost its effect on the ride, hers took his place. It burst out into a dark, ashen spark, eating away at the bottom of the cart, until holes began to appear in the woodwork. This left the coach with rotting bits of wood, that crumbled to the ground at the slightest touch, and weakened framing.

When Dubhlainn opened the door to the carriage, the aura of death had swooped out in a billowing cloud of ash. Marcy stood up and ducked her head down as she took the first step onto the stairway of the coach and descended them. Each step that she took, the wood on which she stood had rotted and crumbled away, soon nothing was left of the steps. Her red and tattered cloak settled around her, hiding the near revealing outfit that she wore beneath it. She now stood before Merlin, hands clasped together and pressed close to her bodice as she glanced up and looked at him. What little words had been spoken to Dubhlainn, Marceline had kept her mouth shut as she watched the young lad. Before long, her eyes darted toward the knight that stood behind Merlin, who stared back at her with a fearful look.

"Schön klein junge," she uttered in her native tongue to the knight, who was told to back down from his stance. "Bist du von Tod erschrecken? Terrified dat Er'll come zu get you, creep along your spine und take a bite at your neck?" A sly grin appeared on her lips and she looked away from the knight, back to the young magus standing before her. This was where she curtsied lowly to the man, then straightened back up and gave him a condescending smile. "Are you the man that Dubhlainn speaks so highly of?" The smile never left her face as she asked him the question. "He has taken it upon himself to bring me to you, for what reason, I don't entirely understand, but I am here now. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance young boy; I am Marceline Anicetus, servant to Death, himself."

Translations:

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 516   |  NOTES: ...

Marceline watched as Mejai walked around her, even dared to poke a finger in her death aura, despite already being inside of it. Instinctively, she let the aura flare outward, allowing for it to take control of all the things in the surrounding eighty feet. What boxes, cartons, et cetera were held within the cargo bay were now being eaten alive by the aura around her. She reached forward when Mejai had brought his finger closer to her, grabbing hold of his hand with her own. In the case that this had happened, his arm would have rotted partially, the skin turning into ash, revealing muscle, the muscle turning into ash, revealing bone. Despite all that it rotted, the bone would never decay, as if it could only eat at the living flesh of those she touched. Her hand had it been touching the magus, would release its grasp on him and fall back to her side, hiding underneath her cloak.

When he had spoken to Sanson, her fiery eyes would look back at the man and watch him catch the lacrima orb. He'd give her a look of utter hatred, one of wanting to lop her head off, then would be off on his way to Lily. She'd look back to Mejai and tilt her head when he asked her to remove a piece of her clothing, almost disgusted by his request. However, she grimaced and undid the buIttons on her cloak, peeling it off carefully before handing it to him. The moment it was no longer on her, the cloak would crumble into ash, as if it was entirely made out of it. It was true, all of her clothes was that of ash, bent and used to make the illusion of clothing on her body. This, she had allowed for it to be turned to ash, into nothingness, simply to show that she had control over her belongings.

"He spoke highly of a friend, yes, but never specified exactly that it was you who he was friends with," she answered him. "Oh, and my clothing is made entirely from the crushed bones of my victims; I hope that you don't mind. . ." She'd look at him with a solemn, cold look in her eyes and then to Dubhlainn, who had answered Mejai's question. "Mejai. . . please, do not go around leching other women, I would hate to see you fell at the bullet of Death." The expression on her face never changed as she easily threatened the man, though did not know he, too, could not die. A frown coursed over her lips, as if she did not like the answer that Dubh had given the magus once spoken. At first, she did not say anything, simply kept her mouth shut, but later on, she had thought of something to say.

"I am perfectly fine not being able to touch others without decaying them," she retorted to Dubhlainn, despite not being spoken to. "I don't know what makes you think I'm 'inverting' on myself or what the hell 'inversion' even means."

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 987   |  NOTES: ...

Mejai was entirely incorrect about her magic, for it could cause pain, but she had the ability to control that aspect of it. One thing about the decaying process that no one knew, was that it was, in fact, a painful process to go through. However, because the beast that was decaying was already dead, it would not be able to feel the excruciating sensation. She supposed, in that sense, that it was a blessing no one was able to feel the extensive pain of her magic. The only true time she had ever made it, so that someone was in agonizing want of true death, was during battles. Their faces as they distorted and contorted into looks of immeasurable pain was something that Marceline enjoyed. To see that helpless look on their face as they cried out from the agony at which her magic caused sent shivers down her spine.

Her eyes studied the other magus as he talked about her being in reports, which came to her as a surprise. What person had written reports on her? Or perhaps her destructiveness had reached that of news reports and the like? She didn't like the idea of being in the news, she didn't like the idea of being the center of attention when she just wanted to hide. After all, she was nothing, but a monster, and monsters were things that needed to die in order to not cause issues. Before long, a bounty would be over her head and Rune Knights, guildless mages, and the like would all be after her. Marcy found herself swallowing a lump down her throat and biting her lip in thought about the situation that would put her in. "Since when am I in reports, Mejai?" the woman inquired, tilting her head a little out of the curiosity that took hold of her.

Her eyebrows scrunched together when he answered her about his leching earlier on, frowning at his answer. "I saw you earlier, you were that old man, no? Why do you do that to all of the young women?" she questioned him now. "Why not just walk about in our natural state? What harm would come to you if they saw what you truly looked like?" He was a man she didn't full understand, especially with the nature of his magic and his attitude toward people as a whole. Since she had come here, she had been nothing, but a sort of experiment toward the man and it frustrated her. Mejai saw her as a thing rather than a human being, something he could test and learn more about her magic. Marceline didn't like that idea of being tested on and questioned things that she likely would not be able to answer.

Following after the young mage, the woman glanced away from his backside to look around at the open space that led from the door. Wind brushed up against her, but because of her body's lack of feeling, she did not feel the touch of the breeze. It did, however, play with her hair, twisting and turning it around in the air, then released it to flop back against her backside and over her shoulders. Marceline reached upward and brushed the hair out of her face, taking another look at her new surroundings before glancing back at Mejai. The look of the grassy area intrigued her, a testing area that didn't exactly look like a testing area in her mind. Of course, Marcy had never been in such confines before and could only make estranged guesses at what a laboratory looked like. Because of her magic, she couldn't really read up on what those kind of things were; in fact, she never touched a book in her life.

Despite her magic wanting to overwhelm the place, Marcy found that not even a single blade of grass had been killed. She didn't know the answer behind this situation, but she had a feeling it had something to do with Mejai's workings. Again, Marceline found herself looking around at the environment, and how beautiful it actually looked to her. Reaching down, the woman touched the blades of grass and found that not even her Midas' Touch killed them off. This excited her. She could touch things without accidentally killing them off and she smiled at the thought of it. Instead of following the magus any farther into the laboratory, the woman sat down in the fluffy grass and played with it. Having not been able to play outdoors in centuries, the woman found herself engulfed in childhood memories before she died.

An overwhelming sensation of happiness enveloped her and she found herself fighting back tears she hadn't shed in centuries. The last time she had ever truly cried? The day that her life had been taken from her and her inability to ever see her family again. Mejai spoke though and she looked up from where she sat, staring at the magus with curious, fiery dots in her eyes. Slowly, the woman dusted herself off and stood back to her feet, looking to Dubhlainn for a second as the mage spoke. Her eyes darted toward Sanson and she wondered what it was that he was planning on using against her. For a moment, fear sparked through her body, but it was a feeling she didn't understand enough to recognize. Marceline looked to Dubhlainn again, waiting to see what he would do with how Mejai was acting toward her.

"H-huh? Why does he have to stand next to me? What are you going to do to me?" Marceline ordered from the magus She did not want anything to be doe to her that would result in injuries and the way he said it, made her fear. "You keep your dirty paws away from me! Or so God help me, I'll make sure your bones are the last thing you see."