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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]it was a stupid plan but, at this point, anything was worth a try. marcel flexes his fingers as he readies himself.
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using DAZZLING GLEAM on the sword, he immediately grabs the hilt and pulls. with any luck, the honedge would be shocked enough to not put up too much of a fight, or at the very least enough so that marcel had time to run should this go wrong.
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]a drilbur wanders up to him. it was almost endearing, if you ignored its lifeless eyes. there was something off about its cry, now he listened closely, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why.
[break][break]marcel peers closer to try and catch the pixels in its edges. once he finally grows bored, he attacks with DAZZLING GLEAM.
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","rocket"]he lets emma have her say--she probably wouldn't have listened to him otherwise. despite her demeanour, he was glad the ex-rocket member still had her morals. she had managed to step away, though not entirely, from her past, while marcel only found himself retracing his steps.
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gavin's question gives him time to think. he buys himself some time as he turns to him, thinking before answering, "yeah, it should be." truthfully, he couldn't remember.
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he switches back to emma. "you can do whatever you want after we've made our delivery." marcel couldn't care less about what happened once his job was complete, so long as he covered his bases he'd done what was asked of him. he was a deliveryman: nothing more and nothing less in this moment.
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quieter, he adds, "come on, you know my ass is on the line here." emma understood what failure meant to them, and while cadis stubborn stuck to more benevolent airs, he didn't fancy pushing his luck.
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","rocket"]
marcel and vega watch the pokemon with equal caution as they stand in some back alley in mauville. the gardevoir floats around before them, seemingly oblivious to it all.
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"it'll be fine," he finally says, though he's unsure of who he's addressing, "i just want to see what it can do." his noivern says nothing, but she stands slightly straighter, her right wing not-quite curled around him but still protective enough.
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]marcel was not one to hang around the pvp area--as a healer, his talents lay solely in support. he couldn't well heal a player to death, could he? still, he's seen emma was in the area and decided to drop by, maybe ask if she wanted to complete some quests if whatever fight she'd gotten caught in had reached its conclusions.
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he's surprised to to see her alone, but it seems as if she's expected someone. it wouldn't do any harm to talk to her in the meantime "who you waiting for?" he says as he walks over.
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]"thanks," he echoes. "you look exactly the same, makes me feel like we're on a damn mission." were it not for the sweltering heat, marcel would have long reached for his pokeballs and asked where the target was. "i mean, come on gavin. i thought even you'd know how to have a bit of fun." this time he's probing, digging for a reaction: idle banter, it's been a long time since they've done this.
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he uses DECORATE again as they wait for the next spawns. when they finally come to, he takes a step forward.
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it would be pointless to stand back this time, with a type advantage on his side marcel could certainly hold his own against the pair of flygon. he stops one mid-attack with SPIKY SHIELD before following up with DAZZLING GLEAM. the cycle repeats, until only loot is left behind.
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]this was dangerous territory to be walking alone, marcel is all too aware of the disadvantage his typing places him at. still, this was the quickest route to get to his next destination by a fair margin--the risk seemed to be worth it in his eyes.
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he walks with caution, ready to draw up his shields at any sign of a threat.
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]water in one hand, staff in the other, marcel watches heat raise from the ground before him. the chatter of the townspeople and adventurers behind him seems quieter, smothered by the heat.
[break][break]perhaps he just had a headache.
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taking a long sip, he pulls the container away from his lips with a sigh.
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[attr="class","kheader"]

[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]it's a wonder he still keeps coming back. apparently marcel was not ready to put an end to this losing streak of his--or was, but in an entirely different sense. he rolls up the sleeves of his robe, only because there is no one else around to judge him for his efforts, before he grabs the swords and heaves upward.
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]word had gone round that someone had managed to free the sword, though the name was currently escaping his memory. it had been something obscure.
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now he knew it wasn't an impossible feat, he couldn't help but feel slightly offended by his failure. someone else had managed it, so why couldn't he?
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","healer"]his smile brightens a touch. "yeah, i'd like that." he sends the healer a friend request. "i'll message you next time i'm out training, how's that sound?" farming for loot was always easier in a team, especially given the fact that his offensive skills weren't the strongest.
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he has to think before he answers her next question. thankfully it hadn't been too long since he'd set out from the town, he was confident enough to not check his map. "walk back to the bottom of the cliff then keep heading--" he mutters to himself before reaching his answer, "north-west. just walk straight, you can't miss it."
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[attr="class","mthread"][attr="class","rocket"]marcel read people for a job, but even he found it notoriously difficult to glimpse to emma's mind, outside of her blatant vendetta. in this moment, her regret is impossibly clear. he takes another drink.
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"fuck." he says again. a breath, then: "forget it, i'm not mad."
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it didn't hurt to think of lia anymore--there were times he missed her like crazy, yeah, but four years had passed and as stubborn as he was, those wounds had long scabbed over. nothing worth arguing with emma over, anyway. in an attempt to change the subject, he passes emma a fork. "have some, it's kalosian."
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emma was never one to talk about her past, but the heavy accent at least told him something. well, unless it was fake, but he doubted that would have been wasted effort for the woman. he wondered if she was as fond of the desserts of her home region as his mother was. as he continued to eat, he finally regains his train of thought.
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"my birthday passed," he finally says, "didn't even notice, it's long gone now, but it got me thinking--" he puts down his fork, decides his sentence isn't worth the sacrifice, and picks it up again. another bite of cake fills his pause. "--ten years. it's been ten years since i joined, well, you know."
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it feels as if he's been part of rocket forever yet the number still surprised him. it felt stranger putting a quantity to what he'd used to not-so-fondly call his 'sentence'. the nickname had only taken in later years, of course. when marcel joined rocket he'd been bright-eyed, arrogant, and incredibly naive.
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"so yeah, guess this is me celebrating. probably a shit reason to celebrate, now i think about it. i think i just wanted the cake. did i tell you it's kalosian?"
[break][break]realising he's beginning to ramble, he takes another drink to silence himself.
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