King of them All (job w/ Xiao Jing)

For the longest time, Xiao Jing largely preferred to keep the majority of his days to himself and no one else, and it was all within reason, he thinks, for him to avoid the company of other people in favor of several days of solitude. It wasn't as much as he resented others, but more so that he'd been around very little people for a good portion of his time and that he was the sort to deviate from things unknown to him. Human connections proved their worth on the trial run, but there was no telling how much of a burden it may or may not behold later down the line. Of course, his cynical approach to this would more than likely appall most of the far-farren wizards out there, but his viewpoint would have only been fleshed out through experience.

It's a little cliche, he mused, almost as if he harbored a philosophy typical of a self-loathing, world-hating antagonist. The thought made him laugh. However, fickle, fleeting things like friendship and camaraderie have all failed him in the past, and while he yearns to truly separate himself from the bitterness of reality, Xiao Jing knew that time was unmerciful in relation to his scars - that they were never to heal, and it was fated to be as such.

And so was the redhead's plight upon discovering the newer contents of their shared journal, the stylish shorthand of the note likely to be Marco's. There, on aged paper, the words seemed to haunt him, talks of guilds and responsibilities and commitment thrusting into his gut like a hot knife.

What did that bastard hoped to achieve with this? Registering his name for a guild roster was extremely uncalled for, perhaps even a trespass of their agreement to respect each other's preferences regardless. Marco should have been aware that he lacked the backbone to work in a large group, much less the ability to commit to regulations. Turning a blind eye to his status of being guildless worked extremely fine in the past, yet for some reason, the 'adult' in their system of three found it bothersome to continue his wizarding efforts in such a state.

'Cooperate.' the note said, this particular word underlined by three strokes, 'This is for you.'

Initially, the slayer felt as if he could no longer truly trust Marco without doubting his choices once or twice, and that's certainly saying something due to the system and their lifespan in general being less at a loss when the alters spearhead the flow of his everyday. Surely, he'd been disappointed, yet the feeling was baseless, childish even. When compared to how convincing Marco's rationale was, his frustrations were unrealistic. There wasn't any evident harm in being in a guild by all means, for Xiao Jing need only adapt to the influx of people around him from there on out.

It was an overwhelming change, but not an unwelcomed one.

"I don't think it's that bad." spoke his exceed, "Free lodging, free food...isn't that your thing?"

The redhead fashions himself a grin in response, one that Meilin recognized far too well, "It is. But that's not the only thing that's keeping me here~" he said, the smile only slightly faltering.

Truthfully, the total amount of days he'd spent as a member of the curious trading guild largely escaped him for obvious reasons, but Xiao Jing was at least aware that it'd been at a decent duration for him to realize some benefits of losing the vagabond status. The commodities were appreciated, but what really grabbed at his interest was the amount of seasoned jobs that these guilds were receiving on an exclusive note. Seems that the popular opinion these days revolved around mages in guilds being more competent and trustworthy over those who simply run amuck. Having been employed here brought in some of the more grueling, hardcore requests to become readily available for him should he ever seek for some - long gone were the days of menial tasks, where not even the bare minimum of a fight existed.

Here, he felt at use, always busy, always moving.

On his shoulder, his black-pelted companion makes do with a shrug, realizing that her master wasn't in the mood to divulge on the topic any further. Instead, as they made a beeline for the conveniently erected job board about a few steps away from where they were, Meilin found her attention drawn unto a figure who stood parallel to their current position, close to the bulletin board that held what Xiao Jing probably considered his daily entertainment.

Oddly enough, the stranger gave off a feeling of familiarity to the exceed, more so as she and her slayer closed the distance between them in brisk steps.

"That girl...where have I seen her before...?" she whispered.

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As far as he could remember, out of all them, Marco looked to be more socially-inclined from his habits alone. Jing's handful of friends already paled in comparison to his alter's lengthy list of 'connections', as he called it, and it was a relatively dismal piece of paper bound to the last page of their shared journal. Whatever importance these people presented largely escaped the slayer, but if it kept Marco's psyche afloat, then there'd be no harm -  the benefits however, were questionable, the term an essential description to how the host perceived this alter and everything else he did. But Jing knew much better than to doubt the stable one, purely out of safety considering that not even he could trust his decisions, much less the state of his mental health.

Of course, there was the other alter, Rory, to take into account...if he could, anyway. The childish bundle of sunshine and all things happy would rarely crawl out of their system to take dominion, so his notes on their journal were sparse and less informative. Rory would likely be a lot more popular in the friend department had he been equipped with a trigger that'd occur frequently, however. Nevertheless it was more than obvious that Jing was the lesser extrovert of the three, though it didn't necessarily mean that he received no experience in that area. Rather, having been swayed by his alters' whims on a set interval, the slayer had met far more people than normal, exchanging words with 'familiar' strangers was now more than just a passive skill set.

Feeling grateful however will almost always be a murky grey area, especially considering how spontaneous the encounters are.

"...Am I hearing things?" he asked, a single brow arched in curiosity as she studied the immediate environment around him.

Meilin appears to never hesitate as she unravels her wings, leaping off of her safe spot across her slayer's shoulder and out into the open, darting slightly forward. "Eh, eh! You aren't Jing. That woman is calling out for Marco, no doubt."

'What?'

His previous inquisitive face extends into one of shock, albeit slowly, where a pair of wide blue eyes took in the sight of an approaching figure - a woman, and the scent about her was of a most curious mix that confused him momentarily. Oh boy, who did Marco drag into his looney business again? Is she an accomplice? If she'd been here all this time, then was she another name in the guild's roster?

Another jarring thing about the situation was how fast she was that it appeared inhumane for her to catch up to him...or had Jing been too slow this entire time? The casual gesture that she prompted appeared to unfaze him, thankfully, for he'd been through far worse under the pretense that they mistook him as his alter - whether or not this was a thing he'd be indebted to Marco was a question he didn't have an answer to. Regardless, the circumstances moved relatively quickly for him to cope at an instant, and the next thing he sees after the woman's figure is paper and scribbles, his brief scan of the contents vaguely giving him an idea of a linear monster-related job.

Once she broke the shoulder-lock to coddle her exceed a little, Jing takes the limited chance to speak up, attempting to voice the gravity of his, and essentially Marco's, position here.

"I don't mind going, but uh..." he paused, processing the words as this part of the introduction was never the easiest, "Um, lady, did Marco never mention...another name? Something that sounded like Xiao Jing, does that ring a bell?"

Meanwhile, his black-pelted companion found herself greeting the woman's exceed in unbidden excitement, her tail swishing in a delighted motion upon registering the shy one that laid at her master's feet. She'd smooth herself a descent to properly speak to her, golden eyes clearly beaming, matching the highs and lows of her next words.

"Me neither! Wow, this is so cool!" the witch exceed proceeds to send her master a passing glance, her happiness briefly clouding her judgment. "Did you hear that Jing-yi? Another slayer!" she says.

Unbeknownst to what that would most likely imply for the redhead, Meilin moves to further speak to this fresh new face, one that was probably comforted her. "We were going to pick up a job to waste time on, but you guys beat us to it, hee~"

On the other side of things, the taller man beside the exceed has a tight expression, recollections of his time with his dragon-mother resurfacing with an ache between his ribs. Sharp, like the dragon's tongue, he muses, inhaling sharply as he desperately tries to grapple for some composure.

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"Multiple names?" he pondered for a bit, "I guess you could call it that."

In a practical sense, for whomever Marco decided to concern himself, there'd be a third of that group of people (or half, actually) that is always less likely to remember the other name in whatever way it was revealed. Considering the way Marco functioned along with his dealings, it was only a practice of good nature to remind them that he wouldn't always be present to a suggested meeting. Someone else were to fill in the role as a middle man, he'd probably say, and be it his cousin or his brother or his conveniently manufactured clone, Marco never failed to fabricate an identity for Jing to mold into, as if to avoid further confrontation on their 'condition'. Not as if it were a secret they wouldn't dare to behold to the world, rather, there would probably be several leagues of questions that'd follow him ceaselessly and neither of them were gifted with a patience to answer. It was an awkward situation, and discussing it might only frustrate whoever was in dominion because truly...no one knew how or why it works - it just does.

The truth, at all costs, is a topic made for lengthy periods of time, ruling it out to be virtually impractical to sneak into a conversation made to end quickly.

Yet there, under the pretense of a chaste encounter was the stunning lack of any lie that Marco planted prior. Did he...really took the risk of Jing, of all people, to make the decision? When was it his turn to conjure up his identity? Of all the times that the alter chooses to make a leap for it, Xiao Jing is but left behind to man the wreckage himself, discern a role to play, and evidently decide between the harmless lie or the unsaid elephant in the room.

Then the other exceed spoke of Marco rearing the slayer title, which he did not mind on surface value until the situation further dawned upon him. He was here to assist in the woman's choice of job, and he was no fool to reject the opportunity. But that was essentially putting Jing in a position where, should he render his magic before them sooner than not, then there was little doubt that both the other slayer and her purple-pelted companion would regard the similarity between their magics with more than just confusion.

He gulped, a bolt of uncertainty glossing over him, if only for a moment until he'd have weakly grappled unto his self-control. Careful all the while, the slayer watched in eagerness as his exceed exchanged her name with a smile he could be envious off had he not noticed the minuscule twitch in her movement. She must've noticed the tension that wrung about between them concerning Marco, of all people, and him knowing her habits very well made it impossibly effortless to read Meilin's silent cues.  

"I-I'm Meilin!" she stuttered, tossing up her high octaves to give the impression of an elated tone, "Nice to meet you Tamaria, hope we get along well~"

Ah, that was a remarkable display at the very least. She held up her end of the bargain and it was enough, perhaps, to disregard the influx of awkwardness that was thrust upon them. Jing felt the necessity to comply in kind.

"I'll clear that up a little later." he told her, a curt reply in accordance to how she darted slightly forward to get the whole thing started, "Maybe later when we're-...oh, we're taking a boat?"

The word 'boat' posed a challenge to digest, primarily because as his experiences have implied, he did not fair well with human transport for an odd reason that he couldn't quite place. The sour feeling overtook his bodily functions in a way that made Xiao Jing shudder into his seat. Pain was an acquired taste for the redhead but that sort was something even he couldn't truly exceed without emptying the contents of his stomach.

If this was what he was going to ride today, then so be it.

With a sharp, noisy inhale of air he all but continues to steel himself, using his far more damning moments as a padding to absorb the hell that the redhead would be subjected to later on. In that time, the woman's exceed slightly regarded them with her words and it later planted some form of question in his mind as he mulled over it. What did she imply from working with lighting? Had it been unorthodox for her fighting style or was there something impeding it? Perhaps he'd consult Marco's friend list for any footnotes on the matter.

Arrival at the docks appeared to last a duration far shorter than he expected, and while he hesitated with as much as his pride allowed him, Jing boards the vessel with Meilin snuggling on into a curl over his shoulders, as if to pat him lightly on the back for having to endure his motion sickness for another time around. The moment it sailed immediately took a toll on him with a weight defined, pushing him down to a squat close to the edge of the boat. The sailors close by regarded his swaying figure with a pity, but more so for the blood that drained his face into a sickly complexion.

Bitterly, the slayer anchors his resolve to the sky and thinks of happy thoughts, suppressing the urge to just vomit into the sea with no qualms.

Funnily enough, the lady adjacent to him wasn't in a better position than he. He'd have found it oddly endearing to see someone else with the same problem hadn't the affliction of the motion-sickness acted so strongly upon him. Succumbing to the ruthlessness of the ocean against the boat, the redhead tactfully retreats into his own thoughts, humoring the cynical part of his brain with a mental note that tallied the after-effects as they played around with his bodily functions in perfect chronological order. The shortness of his breath, the ill-mannered pumping at the buck of his skull, the accented sloshing of the waves as he too, took to the rhythm with an inclination towards the closest barrel...and the most grieving, if not unmerciful, was the blurring of his vision that turned everything around him into trivial blobs of color.

His listening skills were a little less than credible considering he shook his head to every voice that came in close to his peripherals. Not a word slipped into that wall without seeming unimportant, though he could at least harbor some respect to whoever attempted to fan his person in wistful flaps as if to provide him a refreshing alternative. It didn't do much...but it was something worth some commend at least.

Later, having endured five trials of near-vomiting, Xiao Jing fled to the exit closest to him at a pace unnerving to some. He'd push his way through the sailors that unload cargo like a ghost, dizzy and dazed and weak-kneed from the experience until some semblance of his vitality returned. That wasn't for a long time, however, even as he could feel his exceed drag him inside another mode of transport. Inside the carriage, his figure sat paled from the hours prior, and it was nearly amusing to watch the color in his skin return in things as vitally simple as breathing - the open window there contributed a nice wind to air out his head and that was an improvement to his conditions before.

Wheeled things like this were forgivable at least. They weren't so constant like a ship and roads were only slightly concerning if there were many a curving roads up ahead. Jing were to be relatively fine across the journey, though the entirety of his bearings wouldn't take a full swing back into action until the carriage yielded it's travel at the foot of a village nestled between dense forests.

"Ahhhh....it's finally over..." he mumbled, quickly relieving himself from the confines of the carriage, "...Is this the village? Oh...seems to be the right place..."

The senses of a man after an ordeal such as the passing one was never truly stable until a little later, but Jing recognized his current partner's voice and her cheerful disposition immediately in slight awe. She seemed adaptable to the side-effects somewhat, perhaps a bit more durable than he who avoided all manner of transport on a daily basis. Heh, so much for masculine vitality at this point. He grinned, taking a step to include himself into the conversation with a single hand closing in on the umbrella that sat in its the holster than spanned his unadorned back.

"Right, and if you'd tell us where the little bastards are running around-" the umbrella comes undone from its container with a click, "-we'll make sure they'll never cause you any more trouble."

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