Bleach [Marian Merchant]

[Jesse Fforde]

Although he had the ability to end the negative effects of his wounds, Jesse chose to cradle the broken ribs given to him by Clover; to keep them, as if a broken bone could be one of the most romantic gifts he had ever been given. It certainly provided a different kind of ache, as compared to the slit throat she seemed to favour. At least, this time around, he could keep his voice. Not that it bothered him, the lack of speech. It was a nostalgic indulgence, to revert, once more, to pen and paper.

Theirs could be considered an abusive relationship, but they weren’t human. They weren’t as fragile. They weren’t as vulnerable. It was better that Jesse came into his own as a vampire rather than a human; a human who sought to give and receive pain as a kind of foreplay wasn’t the best kind of human. Those kinds of humans generally were put to death, depending on where they lived. At least a lifetime of jail, anyway. In Clover he had found a kindred spirit. But he had left her side for a while – she was not the only one in this family of his, and he wanted to check in on the others.

In death, he had craved Clover’s company, and her touch, but while she was not there it was not the only thing that he thought about. He stayed with Renee, Eirik and Bastion as much as he could – they lingered close to him, and they all remained basically stationary so that Clover and Ursula could find them, when they came to visit. Rhett continued to wander off and Jesse had stopped trying to follow; that would be abandoning the others in favour of the one. At the end of their sentence, Jesse had pushed the others through the portal first before he’d wandered off again to find Rhett. To drag his *** back to a door.

Now that he was home and the others were mostly settled (he hoped), Jesse first sent a text to Kaelyn to organise some driving lessons, before wandering off to one of the apartments in Limbo. The one that wasn’t Clover’s. The only other one that wasn’t occupied. When he reached the door he did not knock. He didn’t even know if Marian would be there, but he couldn’t help himself. She had asked that people knock. Jesse had asked what she would do if they didn’t. He wanted to test her answers.

Using the skills that he had learned from the Shadow path, he slipped through the door unhindered.

If the Shadow Realm was dark, this had to be the complete opposite.

Jesse’s senses were barraged with a wall of white, and his eyes were left squinting against the unexpected assault. If Marian was home – if she didn’t know he was there, she would as soon as she hurt the none-too-subtle ”******* hell” rumble from Jesse’s husky throat.

[Marian Merchant]

Standing in the living room of her apartment, Marian wore her towel around her, attempting to situate the clothing she would wear, as she had recently showered after galavanting around the warehouses, since she had become a bit more gifted with entering the buildings and finding things of value, of which some she would hold for Clover and the rest, the other junk she would sell. It wasn't breaking the bank, but it helped when she needed to buy a bit of ammo here and there. White towel, white hair, white skin, in a white apartment. It was a Shadow's nightmare. And now she heard the sire enter, and speak, behind her. Pinching the bridge of her nose, the Necromancer turned, her level gaze staring right into him. "I warned you. I also said to knock. You are lucky I even had a towel. Unless you are perverse and are into that sort of thing." Wagging a finger, the female soon picked up a change of clothing that contrasted the blinding white. "Excuse me for a moment, while I change. Sit, be comfortable."

With a sidetrip to another room, to change, Marian re-entered the living room, to properly greet the sire, and to check and see if the man was well. "I see your vacation has ended. You appear to still be suffering. Perhaps I should turn the lights off?" Offering to turn the overhead lights off, the woman stepped over to the wall, to hover a hand over the switch, waiting on the command, the suggestion.

"Also, in lighter news, I had an altercation with a security guard in recent days. Fortunately he was persuaded to leave me be, and he even offered to escort me home. He did not seem to notice when the weeds grew along the grass, as I walked. Is it that rare to find an albino within Harper Rock, Jesse?" Pausing, she then focused on him. "Back to the previous subject, of your vacation. I believe you should have stayed a little longer, perhaps to help heal, though that is just my opinion. I have a medical kit in the kitchen, if you need further mending." A second shrug, and the Necromancer waited for the man to speak.

[Jesse Fforde]

The expression on Jesse’s face was comedic. It was twisted in a slightly judgmental way. Who the **** would decorate their apartment like this? What possible pleasure could there be in such constant brightness? What kind of pleasure could be got from no colour, no contrast… nothing?

Though, Jesse already knew that Marian was… special. In her own way, she challenged the norm. Which was not a bad thing. Jesse wasn’t in the habit of siring people who were normal, or ordinary. Maybe a couple had slipped through the cracks, but they were the ones who were no longer around. Maybe they felt like they didn’t fit in. Whatever the case, Jesse was proud of his eclectic group of misfits. Marian being one of them.

As she slid off to the bedroom to get dressed, Jesse occupied his time trying to keep his eyes as wide as possible; to get accustomed to the colour. Or, well, the lack thereof. When Marian came back out of her bedroom, he was sprawled on one of the couches, looking as comfortable as if he lived there. As if this were his own place. In a way, it was Marian’s space nestled within a larger structure which Jesse could claim as his own.

Though this was not something that he would mention to Marian. No one liked to hear words that amounted, almost, to I own you.

No, he didn’t own any of them. Marian hadn’t been around much until recently. Jesse was relieved, within himself, that it wasn’t the first thing he pointed out. That it didn’t even occur to him to ask her the why and wherefore. It didn’t matter. He was here because it amused him to enter without knocking. And because he didn’t know his childe as well as he should.

He shook his head.

”The light is fine,” he said, and he even laughed. She had called it a ‘vacation’. It was a pretty ******* boring vacation, but he’d called it that before, hadn’t he? Death wasn’t something that phased him.

”I’m not suffering. These broken bones aren’t from before. They’re fresh,” he said, a gleaming smirk upon his face. He was almost proud of the broken ribs; even glad that Marian had noticed the hidden hurt. The reminder of the cause had his grin broadening.

”Honestly, you’re the only albino I’ve ever met, Marian. So I’d say it’s quite rare to find one in Harper Rock. You seem to be alluring where I am repulsive. It probably works in your favour,” he said, canting his head to the side. She had said it all as if she were recounting a news reel, without any emotion. None, whatsoever.

”Did I… interrupt? Were you heading out, somewhere?” he asked, his foot up on the coffee table and his arm thrown over the back of the couch. He looked as if he’d settled for good.

[Marian Merchant]

"The only thing you interrupted was me about to begin folding laundry. As for me heading out, no, I am not. I had already done my ventures for the evening, within the warehouses and the ganglands." Looking to the man sprawled out on the couch, he seemed so out of place, such a creature not meant for a room so 'pure'. Returning to sit beside him, Marian folded hands to her lap, unblinking eyes settling on the man's face.

"And to be fair, I do not find you repulsive, so it must be how you talk with others or treat them, I suppose. I cannot give you a definite answer as to the exact reason why." Her gaze did not break, as her mind wandered a moment, before returning. "As for me being alluring, as well as an albino, I would assume it is the unique quality that makes me appear.. so.. mm.. appealing?" Shrugging, she tilted her head a bit, eyes still to the man.

"Tell me of the Shadow Realm, Jesse, as I have never been there. I hear stories from the spirits I see wandering, though they never give very detailed descriptions. Perhaps at one point I would make a point to visit, though perhaps without the violence. With that, I assume I will need to grow and learn of the wiser wraiths, yes?"

The woman seemed intrigued with the prospect of furthering her knowledge, especially from a figure once dead. The key was with the wraith, and she would need to grow and learn more, she figured, then she would study with this wraith. Now all she needed to do was remember the name of the wraith she would one day need to visit. "Unfortunately, the name of the wraith I will need to visit eludes me. Perhaps you know of them? It is the one that fadewalks, yes? That is the correct term?"

Standing up abruptly, Marian went over to one of her closets, opening it. It was full of her instruments, all of them in their own cases, the closet seeming like an archive of instruments. "I have wondered if some prefer the Shadow Realm over where we are now."

Inquisitive thoughts passing through her mind, she pulled out a small viola case, blowing the dust off, before carrying it out. Returning to the seat beside her sire, Marian opened the case, to reveal the wooden instrument that laid within. "It was a question passing through my mind, earlier, as I attempted to remember which apartment was mine."

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse shrugged his shoulders, lazy gaze taking in Marian’s every movement, her every shift. Even vampires did something as mundane as fold laundry; clean their houses, dust the shelves. Jesse often found himself laughing at the stereotypes that twisted society’s expectations. But what did it matter to him? He supposed it wa those stereotypes that protected them.

”I’ve never had a problem with vampires. Humans, though? They part as if I’m Moses and they’re the sea,” he said, chuckling. It amused him. Some might see it as a curse but it was actually quite helpful, sometimes. Especially if you’re in a club and you want to make a getaway.

The smile remained steadfast upon Jesse’s features as he considered Marian’s questions; they came thick and fast, and he wondered whether the girl actually had it in her to speak this much. But, they hadn’t had the opportunity to really get to know each other. She might have always been this way, but he’d been none the wiser. He laughed, again.

”In trying to remember which apartment was yours, you started to think about the Shadow Realm? You’d find it to be… well, the complete opposite to your home,” he said, spreading his hands to gesture to the space around them. ”It’s… dark. Everything seems to be made of shadows. Even the grass which sways in a phantom wind is like tendrils of ink. It’s a mirror of this city - the same buildings, the same streets, but it changes. Randomly. Like a…. twisted funhouse. To me? It’s relaxing. Quiet. It can get boring. To others? It’s hell. It really depends,” he said with another shrug. He wouldn’t have been able to tell her why he differed from others; why he liked it, where others hated it. Maybe it was his own fascination with death.

”Also - I believe it’s Hantu you’d have to learn from. Though he may make you see other wraiths beforehand. What path did we decide you were?” he asked, ready to slip into ‘sire mode’, as Clover liked to put it. If that was the direction Marian wanted to take, Jesse could help her to get there.

[Marian Merchant]

The twisted mirror to the realm they lived in, it seemed a sort of taboo haven to Marian, it seeming to draw her sire in. This intrigued the woman. A place that was the opposite of hers, which for the most part was void of darkness. With the plethora of choices that she could have had, designing, painting, and furnishing her apartment, Marian had gone with a single color.

White. It was blinding, if one normally ventured in the shadows, or if one was more accustomed to the night. White. Nothing but white. It was simple. It was pure. It was a blank slate that Marian felt accustomed to, due to her pigment, or lack thereof. The thought of the complete opposite, it would make her wonder, how this relaxation or hell felt. Did the wind sound the same, as it whispered through the air? Perhaps Hantu's teachings would help her learn.

"The path we have agreed that I am walking along, to my knowledge, is that of a necromancer." Marian stated plainly. Putting her actions and current plans aside, she ventured to the center of the living room, taking a look at her sire, before losing herself in a moment of thought. "It would explain a few things, as to why and how I think, and perhaps the abilities I have found to possess. I do not use these abilities unless there is reason, as I do not believe in wasting these for idle causes."

Brushing fingertips through her hair, she focused on her sire once more. "I have also kept these powers to be only used within the compound. I do not believe my boss would find these abilities to be very normal, though the man is not normal either, for what seems to be a human."

Her thoughts drifted back to Hantu, and the teachings that he could give her. "As far as Hantu, what is this wraith like? I have met few spirits, that are willing to share their experience. If he seeks to divert my course to other wraiths, do you know of which are most likely to be? It would be most beneficial to learn names, to shorten my search of the knowledge they possess." Jesse seemed an untapped source of information for her, and Marian was about to take full advantage of this time with her sire, and learn, since there was little time in the past for them to share this time, to do so.

[Jesse Fforde]

Marian moved to the centre of the room and Jesse wandered whether she was going to put on a show. Whether she was going to show him some of these powers she had learned, even though he knew well enough what they were - given that he himself was quite capable to perform them on his own. Marian was on the same path as Jesse, which meant her search for Fadewalker abilities wouldn’t be a long one. He remained sprawled, relaxed upon the white couch. Unmoving, as he watched Marian and her movements.

”Well, no. Fadewalking is easy for Necromancers. I suppose, it’s something that appeals to our natures,” he said. It made sense to him that a path known for their fascination and manipulation of death should be more inclined to walk through death - to have access to the fadewalking abilities.

”Hantu won’t make you detour, though if you wanted to go beyond Hantu, you could see Hykajae - if you’re interested in the Shadow’s abilities. If you go the other way, you could find Gwylia, for the Immortal abilities. But - one step at a time,” he said. Those were the names he could pull from the top of his head. They were the wraiths that he had already seen himself, plus a couple more. These questions were made so much easier to answer due to Marian’s familiar path. And Jesse was comfortable here, with Marian. Maybe it had something to do with her detachment. Her lack of expectation, maybe. There was less pressure to try to meet some bar constructed by an opinion garnered from … well, who the **** knew? Jesse had no idea why his small family had such high expectations. It was something he was choosing to ignore, these days.

”As for Hantu himself? He’s very comfortable with his state. I think he likes death a bit too much. But he seems confident. African, I think. At least he sounds it,” he said. The wraiths never did have distinct features. They were silhouettes, mere shadows of themselves, clinging to an old perception of themselves that they either didn’t want to let go of, or couldn’t. Perhaps that’s how everyone was destined to go through life - they’d always have something, whether physical or metaphysical, that would remain as a signature of their true selves.

[Marian Merchant]

Shadows. Now that was a thought. As she had racked her brain, she remembered that the Shadows were more gifted in being the cloak and dagger types. The thought of being as gifted as these shinobis of sorts, it nearly made her laugh, though she supposed her own pigment would prove to cause these actions tricky and near impossible. This was far off, though, she figured, as she'd need to do quite a lot of training to get to this point. One step at a time. With her sire's explanation of Hantu, she scratched her chin, then nodded.

"Perhaps once I find myself in need of his training, I will seek him out. Though that time is not now. Now, I am here, as are you, and you are leisurely sitting. I have played my harp for Clover in the past, and it appeared as if she enjoyed it, though I suspect that her being here caused more annoyance than the music gave comfort. Her missing appendage did not help." Perhaps the brightness of her own apartment, and everything in it, was a double edged sword of sorts, though she did not register this. It was not important.

Thoughts returned to the talk of fadewalking, which did interest her. "As far as fadewalking goes, it would be interesting to try, once able. By then, I would be able to walk in the realm dedicated to the deceased souls. I would be able to put my own observations, and compare them to how others describe it. Is it hard to do, walk into the Fade?" Taking a moment to fix her collar, then her sleeves, she returned to watching Jesse, eyes never blinking, a dull stare almost.

The female's stare could be considered unnerving, if one were not used to it, though it was more than likely just another quirk, as far as Jesse'd be concerned. "I wonder if I would be able to bring something along with me, such as a musical instrument. If so, then I suspect I would spend a fair amount of time there, practicing with only the dead to listen, unless visited by others walking the fade as well."

There was much to do, to get as far as she would need, to fadewalk, but Marian expected nothing less. It had been a trial to get as far as she was, on her own path in necromancy. The journey from turning to now had been long, full of work as well as far too much sleep, but she could not change anything, nor would she. The turning had stripped her emotions, and she had learned to deal with this. In one hand, it was a curse, feeling nothing, though there was always what laid in the other hand. In the other hand, being emotionless allowed Marian to be level headed, and not guide her actions by her moods. It allowed her to commit the atrocities that she did, in the city, without a cringe, without a bat of the lashes, and she would continue to do so.

"Mm. I wish to update you further, if you allow, of my current state, as well, to break away from the talk of fadewalking and such. Having fed as of recent days, it would seem that those I took to draining had started to show signs of change. With this being the case, I took it upon myself to dispose of the bodies thoroughly." Marian did not wish to share the gift that Jesse had given her, as she was far too young, far too inexperienced, to take care of another, to teach them the ways of being what they were.

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse, indeed, was not unnerved by Marian’s stare. His stare was equally as prevalent, equally as heavy, and equally as unmoving. Marian, it would seem, was as flat as the white apartment around her. Monochromatic. It was intriguing. He had not known Marian before the turn. He wondered whether the turn had done something to her, or whether she’d always been this way. It didn’t matter, either way.

He listened to her as she continued to speak; they hadn’t had this kind of conversation in a very long time, and he wondered whether she felt the need to fill him in on everything in a short amount of time. Whether it all came out of her in a rush. He was happy to be of service to her however, if this was to be perceived as service. Jesse had a lot of information regarding the things that Marian wanted to know.

Jesse laughed to himself as Marian mentioned Clover’s missing appendage. That had been an interesting week. He hadn’t meant to take her leg; it was a hasty reaction, the consequence of which meant that he didn’t carry weapons around the lair anymore. He took them off as soon as he got in. At least if he reacted by instinct again, it wouldn’t be quite so severe. He couldn’t imagine Clover in this apartment; he’d have to ask her about it next time he saw her. What she thought of it - and whether she really did enjoy the harp. He thought that those who played music had to do so with a certain amount of passion for it to be any good. He was curious. Maybe later. There were other questions he sould answer, first.

”Yes. You are here and I am here and it seems you have more questions, or at least more to tell me. The harp can wait,” he said. If he listened to her play at all. Maybe he would be pleasantly surprised. Maybe that was where her emotions were stored - in her music. Or maybe she’d be ******* horrible.

”It wasn’t hard for me to begin with, but to begin with I didn’t know I was doing it. I did it in my dreams. It doesn’t hurt, though. No. I don’t think it’s hard. And everything is shadow down there. It’s non-corporeal. You can’t take solid objects with you, it’s just not done,” he said with a slow smile. He wondered why Marian wouldn’t sit down. He patted the chair next to him, even gestured to it with his head. Indicating that she should sit down, too. Relax. Get comfortable.

”That’s how you were turned. The feeding was interrupted,” he said, keeping his eyes on her. He wandered if she remembered. But he’d known, due to Cosette’s turning, that it might be possible. Which was why he had tried to find Marian again. To be sure.

”It’s common in this family that those left alive remember that they were bitten, too. If you don’t want to kill people, it’s probably best that you feed only from blood packs. But I’m glad you … take care of the problem, if you don’t want some mini Marians,” he said with a smile. ”Does it bother you?” he asked, head canted to the side.

[Marian Merchant]

Sitting beside Jesse, Marian thought for a moment, before responding to it all. The harp would wait, yes. It was more productive to talk with her sire, and she could fill in detail where they may have missed due to her slumber so soon after he had turned her. The turning was rough and painful, stripping her of more than her mortal coil, yet it also provided her with something beneficial. She had lost her family, but gained one as well, and for that she was eternally grateful. The loss of her mother and father broke her, snapped something within, that would not heal.

The grieving was over, the learning just starting. Perhaps with this man she would go far, or with her he would do just that. Only time would tell. "There may be more to tell, though I would need to know what sort of information you would be seeking of me. I do know that we have not talked in a while, and it seems that we will need to rectify this. We know so little of one another, and perhaps your curiosity of me may be sated, yet again, that information would need to be specified, as there is quite a bit to state. As far as the blood packs, I do agree, that it would be most beneficial, though as a Necromancer, I do seem to be able to replenish what is needed through other ways, though I would need to feed from the spirits afterwards, yes?"

Adjusting her position, she faced the man nearly directly. "With progeny of my own, I do not believe I am ready for that responsibility. I am not financially secure, nor do I have the experience in what I do, and what I am, to help another adjust to this state of existence. I understand that I will have a long way to go, before I am a more useful member of the Ffordes, and I have made preparations and the proper checklists to go through, in order to meet these goals." Pausing, she smoothed a wrinkle from her sleeve.

"As far as the need to... dispose of those that I may have nearly cursed to immortality, or have remembered you after being given this new life, I do not see it as a bother. Having remembered you, it made things easier. If I had not, I would have run the risk of stumbling about aimlessly, without direction, without the proper guidance. With how I am, I do not need much, and you have provided for me more than I had thought was needed. You have provided me with a place to call my own, as well as the knowledge to grow. You have done so with the others you have given the gift to, those I know of and those I do not know. Of what I see, when I pass through the building, and pass the others, it appears that we have what we need, and you are the cause of that. If others require things that you cannot provide, then that is on them and them alone. You have given what you can, and beyond that in some cases. I may not be able to feel emotions in comparison to you and the others, but I can tell them."

A hand passed across her forehead, to move a few strands of hair away from her eyes, before she folded the hands back to her lap. "I do believe that was the only sort of thing on my mind at the time. As far as knowing more about me, that you may not know, perhaps you have questions I can ask? I will answer them to the best of my ability, and you do not need to worry if you think some are too embarrassing. I do not embarrass." she commented. "I will answer as best I can, with as much detail as you require, if that is satisfactory with you."

It seemed that Marian was not normally this talkative, perhaps only with Jesse, due to the bond they shared of sire and progeny. Normally, she was quiet, almost mute, when she lingered about the others, except maybe for Junebug, who she would talk to at times, and listen to the noises and the attempted words.