Deciding to sleep on it, even though it was about noon, Marron skulked
home. Actually, he was never sure where he lived nowadays, but for the last
few weeks he'd been sleeping in his parents' house but usually eating at
Éclair's (who was starting to refer to herself as Danub at odd intervals,
to her brother's distress, something he found ominously comforting) and
spending most auxiliary time at Carrot and Tira's place.
Having decided on his childhood home (ominously uncomforting of late), he returned to find the place in a general uproar. Two years before, this would have been perfectly normal, but he'd gotten out of the habit of being run over by Chocolate, without batting an eyelash. Snagging his mother (the one thing he had adjusted to was the fact that she was back and inhabiting the body of a teenage girl), he barely had to raise a quizzical eyebrow to get an answer.
"You know how everyone's been restless lately," she said briskly, hurling a nearby candlestick at Carrot, who seemed to have zoned out. He'd been doing that lately. "Sorcerer Hunters are almost a different species, you know. We've been so long accustomed to constant excitement, danger, righteous indignation. In short, we're all adrenaline addicts. It was undeniably for the good of the world that the sorcerers' powers were destroyed, but not so much for us."
Marron sighed heavily. Apparently his rapport with his mother wasn't so indestructible as he'd thought, though some part of him knew it was unreasonable to expect the poor woman to read his mind. "So what's going on?"
"Your father's decided we're all going to be vigilantes, essentially." Apricot looked slightly annoyed, but mostly excited. "After all, evil isn't linked specially to magic. And with our fighting skills, there are all sorts of opportunities."
"So Father's made a spontaneous decision to make us all mercenaries, without consulting anyone, with Tira pregnant, and." He realized there wasn't actually anything else, and found himself anticipating the sudden transformation with no small pleasure himself. After all, hadn't he just been wanting something to happen?
Well, no, I was lusting after a dead kid.He shook off the thought, jumped over Chocolate (who, he'd just remembered, was supposed to be in the west studying), and hauled himself up to the attic. It occurred to him, as every time he got up the ladder and adjusted to the dim light, that no one had noticed he was sleeping on Carrot's old cloak with his spare robe under his head for a pillow. Sad and abandoned as that generally made him feel, it made packing easy. There was also the little leather bag that contained the now useless spell cards he kept as mementos, his glasses, and the few odd treasures he'd been stockpiling all his life. Under the bedroll lay the sword of Afushonmarron. He'd almost forgotten he had it, but if law enforcement was in his future.
Tying the sheath into his belt and the sack he'd made out of the cloak over his shoulders, Marron clambered down. Chaos still reigned below, so he wandered outside. The day looked much brighter, even though it was overcast and chilly.
"Morning Marron."
"Morning, Danub."
"Don't let Gateau hear you say that."
"He's been making a point of not hearing me lately."
Éclair shrugged. "I don't think you hurt him much telling him to back off, but he's always sort of enjoyed being offended."
"I've noticed."
She changed the subject. "You look sort of different."
"Do I?"
"You've been kind of depressed lately. Quite honestly, you still are, but you look a little better."
"Thanks. I think."
She shrugged and kept walking. Marron wondered vaguely if she and her brother were involved in his father's scheme. He sort of hoped not. Gateau would be nice to get away from permanently.
~~~ "Ready, Marron?"
"I've been ready for three days."
Tira looked rather taken aback by the one pillar of constancy ever to grace her life decided to show annoyance, but kept her stride. "Isn't this exciting?"
"It was a lot more so three days ago." Without waiting for his sister-in- law's reaction, Marron stood and strode out to where the entire town seemed to have turned out to see the Glaces off to their new life. The slight thrill he'd felt at the prospect of action, however ill-advised, had all but vanished as the specified three days of preparations had left the prospect as droning as anything the past few years had been. He was starting to think he had something significantly wrong upstairs, and constant daydreams (and nightdreams, usually even more disturbing) about Croissant seemed to support the theory.
While his various relations bade farewells, he mulled. I've sensed ghosts before. Is he haunting me and I haven't realized? But I can't do magic anymore. At least I shouldn't be able to. Are ghosts magical? Would they be gone, then?
"Marron! Come on, we're leaving!"
He snapped out of his reverie, which wasn't making much sense anyway, and hurried after Chocolate. "Coming."
Rather ambiguous chapter ending, I know. The action comes soon. Anyway, as you may have noticed, Marron is acting very out of character. That's kinda the point for the moment, and just to attest that this kind of sudden turnaround is possible, I've got a similar depression streak going now. There's nothing like being the perfect, favorite, model one to drain every particle of hope, happiness, and coherence out of you. No one wants to hear about my emotional crisis, but just in Marron's defense and mine. Lastly, I beg you kind people for reviews. They reaffirm my bleak existence.
Having decided on his childhood home (ominously uncomforting of late), he returned to find the place in a general uproar. Two years before, this would have been perfectly normal, but he'd gotten out of the habit of being run over by Chocolate, without batting an eyelash. Snagging his mother (the one thing he had adjusted to was the fact that she was back and inhabiting the body of a teenage girl), he barely had to raise a quizzical eyebrow to get an answer.
"You know how everyone's been restless lately," she said briskly, hurling a nearby candlestick at Carrot, who seemed to have zoned out. He'd been doing that lately. "Sorcerer Hunters are almost a different species, you know. We've been so long accustomed to constant excitement, danger, righteous indignation. In short, we're all adrenaline addicts. It was undeniably for the good of the world that the sorcerers' powers were destroyed, but not so much for us."
Marron sighed heavily. Apparently his rapport with his mother wasn't so indestructible as he'd thought, though some part of him knew it was unreasonable to expect the poor woman to read his mind. "So what's going on?"
"Your father's decided we're all going to be vigilantes, essentially." Apricot looked slightly annoyed, but mostly excited. "After all, evil isn't linked specially to magic. And with our fighting skills, there are all sorts of opportunities."
"So Father's made a spontaneous decision to make us all mercenaries, without consulting anyone, with Tira pregnant, and." He realized there wasn't actually anything else, and found himself anticipating the sudden transformation with no small pleasure himself. After all, hadn't he just been wanting something to happen?
Well, no, I was lusting after a dead kid.He shook off the thought, jumped over Chocolate (who, he'd just remembered, was supposed to be in the west studying), and hauled himself up to the attic. It occurred to him, as every time he got up the ladder and adjusted to the dim light, that no one had noticed he was sleeping on Carrot's old cloak with his spare robe under his head for a pillow. Sad and abandoned as that generally made him feel, it made packing easy. There was also the little leather bag that contained the now useless spell cards he kept as mementos, his glasses, and the few odd treasures he'd been stockpiling all his life. Under the bedroll lay the sword of Afushonmarron. He'd almost forgotten he had it, but if law enforcement was in his future.
Tying the sheath into his belt and the sack he'd made out of the cloak over his shoulders, Marron clambered down. Chaos still reigned below, so he wandered outside. The day looked much brighter, even though it was overcast and chilly.
"Morning Marron."
"Morning, Danub."
"Don't let Gateau hear you say that."
"He's been making a point of not hearing me lately."
Éclair shrugged. "I don't think you hurt him much telling him to back off, but he's always sort of enjoyed being offended."
"I've noticed."
She changed the subject. "You look sort of different."
"Do I?"
"You've been kind of depressed lately. Quite honestly, you still are, but you look a little better."
"Thanks. I think."
She shrugged and kept walking. Marron wondered vaguely if she and her brother were involved in his father's scheme. He sort of hoped not. Gateau would be nice to get away from permanently.
~~~ "Ready, Marron?"
"I've been ready for three days."
Tira looked rather taken aback by the one pillar of constancy ever to grace her life decided to show annoyance, but kept her stride. "Isn't this exciting?"
"It was a lot more so three days ago." Without waiting for his sister-in- law's reaction, Marron stood and strode out to where the entire town seemed to have turned out to see the Glaces off to their new life. The slight thrill he'd felt at the prospect of action, however ill-advised, had all but vanished as the specified three days of preparations had left the prospect as droning as anything the past few years had been. He was starting to think he had something significantly wrong upstairs, and constant daydreams (and nightdreams, usually even more disturbing) about Croissant seemed to support the theory.
While his various relations bade farewells, he mulled. I've sensed ghosts before. Is he haunting me and I haven't realized? But I can't do magic anymore. At least I shouldn't be able to. Are ghosts magical? Would they be gone, then?
"Marron! Come on, we're leaving!"
He snapped out of his reverie, which wasn't making much sense anyway, and hurried after Chocolate. "Coming."
Rather ambiguous chapter ending, I know. The action comes soon. Anyway, as you may have noticed, Marron is acting very out of character. That's kinda the point for the moment, and just to attest that this kind of sudden turnaround is possible, I've got a similar depression streak going now. There's nothing like being the perfect, favorite, model one to drain every particle of hope, happiness, and coherence out of you. No one wants to hear about my emotional crisis, but just in Marron's defense and mine. Lastly, I beg you kind people for reviews. They reaffirm my bleak existence.