The Name of The Wind is Siegfried

Marceline crossed her arms, squinting at the shard. She was clearly the slightest bit jealous that this thing she fought for was in the hands of someone who had no part in obtaining it. So, she felt it necessary for Thera to know that.

"Well. I think that you should remember that you didn't earn it. And maybe, it would be fair to, I don't know. Use it on one of the people who almost got their souls ripped out just for Ethan to keep it all to himself." she went on, before Siegfried showed up. This just so happened to be one of those people. Speak of the devil.

"What happened to you?" she asked.
(Marceline)

The lad whos arm is in a cast at the moment kind of looks between the two in the midst of their discussion, not having actually intended to draw too much attention to himself - but then, his constant theatrics had the side-effect of bringing attention to him. Siegfried's arm is still in a sling - it's immediately apparent he never went and got the injuries on the volcano treated.

He kinda just smiles cheesily at Marceline.

"Whoa - did I just hear you sayin' to give something to somebody else?" He queried. And then.. "And asking me how I've been?"

The boy tuts, then shakes his head.

"Really are goin' soft, aren't you?"
(Siegfried)

Thera Elisheva applies first aid treatment to Siegfried.

Your 'Sword Injury' injury has been healed, its duration has decreased by 75%!

(Note, this may take up to 10 seconds to take effect)

** Your "Sword Injury" injury has fully healed! +41 VIT

Marceline says, "What? It's only fair. It pisses me off that someone can just hang onto something that I bled for and use it for themselves."

Marceline says, ".. I mean- ahem. That we bled for."

Vetani has exited Ollie's.

"Any reason why you let Ethan keep it, where it was almost wasted on something foolish, like a weapon?" Spectral orbs fall upon Siegfried, raising a hand in his direction. "Isaac gave it to me, after confiscating his items. ...and are you even aware what spire shards can do when used on a person? In those regards, they're pretty limited."

Speaking while observing Siegfried, rolling her eyes as a few spirits approach the injured man.

"…and I've never used a shard for myself." Thera's brow slants, a sign that the passive aggression is making her blood boil.

"Hold still." Hand raised, an azure light flashes, embracing the mans arm. Golden sparks evoke a luminescent shine around his frame. The spirits rush in, shifting the bone in place while using Eden's blessing as a naturel anesthetic.

It'd only take a few moments to fix something so simple.

(Thera Elisheva)

Marceline says, "'Let him'? I had DEATH MAGIC in my brain after that whole ordeal. I couldn't dedicate my brain power to anything but being paranoid of everything around me."

Marceline says, "And by the time I was finally treated, the next time I saw him was when he was being arrested."

Marceline says, "I don't know if you heard me right earlier, but I was almost dead."

Marceline says, "So, SORRY. Sorry I 'LET HIM' keep a spire shard. You inconsiderate- ugh."
And so he is fixed.

Thera's magic works wonders, stitching together any and everything wrong with his arm. A miracle-worker, she was - all of them were, from the heavens above. Such is his confidence in her work that he rips the sling clean off, and then discards it, and he's right to do so, for when he flexes his arm, it functions as if it was never injured at all.

Basking in the radiance of such an event, his eyes listlessly shift over to Marceline as she speaks her piece, and then, again, back to Thera, as he clenches and unclenches the fist, to make sure it works as it did before.

"...thank you, ma'am. I'm Siegfried, by the way. Don't think we ever met."

But of course he knows her. Everyone knows Thera Elisheva. And he knows everyone around her, and very well.

The lad takes in a deep breath, in the face of Marceline's arguing, both eyes closed.

"I trusted Ethan," he says simply, for now. "I'll probably never trust a man so blindly ever again."

yeah.
(Siegfried)

Marceline asks, "Just why do you think I told you that he had one?"
"Thera Elisheva, and I-" Thera quickly floods the man with an absurd amount of mana, aiming to accelerate his natural healing processes. If only so that he wouldn't go through a great deal of pain while ripping away the sling.

"Marceline. If you want the shard, just say it. Come at me with needless passive aggression, and call me inconsiderate while your consideration is lacking again, and I'll fucking strangle you.

Don't waste my time with that bullshit."

Today, Siegfried learns that Thera is lacking in a trait known as patience.

(Thera Elisheva)

Godfrey Vishkar says, ". . ."
Godfrey opens his mouth to comment, or was that just his jaw dropping?

He's staring dumbfoundedly - And promptly pockets his hands and starts to walk off at a brisk pace. Yeah, no.

Fuck that.
(Godfrey Vishkar)

Vetani whispers: I know this is a bad timing but do you know a man named Calael?

Siegfried whispers: Yes. He lingers at the lighthouse on the beach, usually, but the door is almost always locked.

Vetani whispers: Exactly! That's why I can't get my... message... to him.

Siegfried whispers: And what is that message?

Vetani drops Joining The Keepers?.

Vetani whispers: This one! I wanna join the lighthouse club.

You pick up Joining The Keepers?.

Vetani picks up Joining The Keepers?.

"You're deflecting so hard right now! You were so ready to paint me as some kind of supporter of Ethan Hawke- like I wanted him to do some dumb shit like stick a spire shard in his weapon." she went on following Thera's response. It seemed like this was going to escalate into a full blown argument.

"Well, guess what?! That wasn't the plan, Thera! That was never the plan!" she shouted back, clenching her fist. Her true colors became more evident, for better or for worse. "I would have stabbed him in the back and taken that thing for myself at the soonest opportunity, because I knew he would have done something utterly idiotic!"

She breathed in deeply through her nose. "But, that's not how it went. You know, it turns out that you can't think straight when you've had your soul ejected from your body like five hundred times. Or, function at all." she shook her head, looking down at the shard.

"I despised that guy. I would have jumped at the opportunity to end him myself. But, CONGRATULATIONS, Thera. You made the call."
(Marceline)

The small child that'd approached him is turned to, pat on the head, and the young man says only one thing.

"Now's not the time, okay?" He says, sweet as apple pie. He tries his damndest to be nice to the little girl. "But I promise I'll get to him, and I'll let him know. I'm no liar. Alright?"

And then, squaring his shoulders like he was priming to enter a battlefield or something, the swordsman exasperatedly shoots Marceline a look. She likely knew the gist of what he was about to say, but...

"There's no reason to talk like that. He was an idiot, and now he's dead. He's not here making you mad right now."

Soft. Mediating. That was the vibe he always gave, like an old tree in a grove, despite his youth, and his young soul. This is what he was becoming, what he'd started to shift into. A preachy young optimist, that hoped against all hope that everything could be settled with words, that there needn't be any more escalation over such vain things as pride, or coin...

"Is this helping you right now? This won't get you what you want. I know doing the right thing doesn't really matter to you - so I'm gonna say something you do get."

His arms cross, and the boy's delicate features smooth into a nonchalant countenance.

"You need people dumb or nice enough to help you to get anywhere in this world. And talking like this from the get-go...ain't gonna get you what you need to be where you wanna be."

Better than the others.
(Siegfried)


Vetani is very understanding. When Marceline's voice raises, it's more like a physical force has been applied to Vetani, blowing her back! But the words themselves? Were really beyond any comprehension or scope that the child had within her. She scrambles away.
(Vetani)

"No. I asked a question. I didn't paint you as anything." Right hand curling, it balls into a fist, white-knuckled. "You asked what I planned on doing with it, stated that it better be fucking good, and listed the name of another person involved.

You didn't ask for. You didn't demand it back. I'd have handled either better than a bunch of useless passive aggressive comments. No, I didn't earn it. If someone who did wants to claim it, they're free to make the claim.

It pisses you off that I'm hanging onto it? It pisses me off that you can't say what you want, without being an absolute cunt. Thera, I want the fucking shard. That's all you had to say."

Siegfried certainly has a point, but it's already escalated.

"...and I'm well aware as to what you would have done, if you truly wanted it. Which is why. I asked. Which is why. I made the comment. If you want something, you generally go out and try to get it.

...instead of pulling this shit."
(Thera Elisheva)

This was Marceline's weakness, which was clear to those who had known her for long enough. Her outbursts which lead her to behave irrationally, quickly escalating emotions that caused the fairy to fly off the handle. Her passive aggressive attitude very quickly became full aggression when she felt provoked.

A defense mechanism that reflected that nothing that Marceline earned in her life was obtained through just being nice. That this unwarranted aggression had given her exactly what she wanted, and more than a few times. But, the people of Levengard weren't as easily swayed. Siegfried suggested change.

To redefine her approach.

And for what must have been the first time, it was Marceline who stopped the heat. The rollercoaster that were her own unstable emotions. A needed step back was given, a pause that suggested that she was actually thinking about her own actions.

".. Yeah, I want it." she finally said, apprehensively. As if beingupfront was a genuine struggle to her. "My plan was to take it from him, after all that I had suffered. Because I wanted to use it to help make that fallen angel go away." she finally said, not in a roundabout way this time.

It was a motivation that seemed like it wasn't entirely for herself. At least, on the surface. But, fighting against the fallen angel was something she did because she knew that if Dusk won, her freedom would be taken away.
(Marceline)

"Very well." With little effort on her part, Thera reaches into her pocket and grabs hold of the small gem of divinity. There were many possibilities that could be evoked by using these things proper, but...

She'd already accomplished on miracle, and Calael was more than capable of getting his own shards.

"Here. That's a much better use than it's intended purpose."

Thera almost didn't care about which method she may use to rid Agartha of that beast. For if it made another mess? She'd simply clean it up.

"Make Akasha regret spreading his ugly wings." Stated, as the shard is held up, and offered to the fae.
(Thera Elisheva)

And then, there's that smile.

Perhaps he knew, but maybe he didn't, that he hadn't changed Marceline in any way for the better. That it was folly to think that such an interaction could possibly have long-lasting implications for a being who would so out-live him, who had such longevity that his own lifespan, even if not cut brutally short on the field of war, would be merely a footnote to her own.

Men lived and died and to beings like Marceline, it was the duration of time one may pay off a debt. When Siegfried returned to the earth, and his mottled brown hair was one with the soil, and his jacket forgotten on some bloody battlefield, Marceline would still be around.

And yet...

"On top of that mountain, fighting alongside you guys, for Ethan's dream - it made me remember that the only thing that ever mattered to me when I ran away, almost seven years ago now, all I ever wanted was to see new places. To meet new people. And that dream took me further than I ever could have imagined. I never knew a world like this existed, locked up in my family manor, staring out the window and wondering."

He looks to Marceline, and Thera, in turn.

"People change. Places change. And...what I've learned is that it's important to know what it is you stand for, even if that something's really nothing at all. I guess what I mean is...if you want somethin', you should always just say it. Life is too short for anything else. I think...you're really cool, Marceline. And I'm glad I met you."

His attention is focused solely on the foe, and his head tilts to the side, and when he smiles, it's like he's glowing, with the boyish radiance of a child -

Have you ever seen a baby cry, and seconds later, it laughs?

That innocence, that joy, that is what he expresses to the world.

"I'm sure your goals will become possible,if you let yourself learn from others."

And as Marceline takes that spire shard from Thera, the lad just nods.

"...The best thing about getting to know everyone in Agartha is watching how they change. Never stop changing!"

Someday, maybe, he'd regret these words...
(Siegfried)

For the first time, Marceline held divinity within her hands. The object was nearly as big as her, but the scope of what it could accomplish was hundreds of folds larger than just herself. An intense amount of mana radiated from the crystal as it was handed over to the corrupt fae, nearly too much for her to bare.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt an intense obligation for someone other than herself. Her intended use for the spire shard was to further her own selfish desire for complete freedom, yet she felt like she had someone that she couldn't let down now.

Why was that? She had let down many people before. She had lied, backstabbed, killed. Her actions had indirectly lead to destruction on many occasions, and she would likely be the only one to shoulder her own burden. Crimes that were given no sentence.

So, why did she feel this obligation now?

"Yeah, I will. That was always the plan." she responded to Thera. And, why did she feel the need to make this promise? She turned to Siegfried now, feeling the need to clarify something. ".. I've never changed, and I never will change." Perhaps a lie, but she went on.

"I've always hated people who think they're better than me. Even if they're an angel, or if everyone respects them. That's why I despised Ethan Hawke. And that's why I hate Akasha."
(Marceline)

He taps his chin with his finger, the expression he gives Marceline one of...doubt, almost? But it's only a sliver, and only for a second. Afterward, he's back to that same goofy, nonsensical grin, and he nods, too, as if just blindly agreeing with what she'd just said.

Because in his heart of hearts, the young lad still believed he could change anybody.

"Well for now, you hate the same person that everyone else here does...so we're all going to work together, an' make it happen. Everything else, we'll sort out later."

And with that, the boy slides a hand in his pocket, and the other? It raises in a two-fingered salute to the two women, one a few inches tall, one a few feet tall.

"Talk to you guys later," he promised.

And then he was gone, letting them finish up speaking of whatever else they intended to speak of.
(Siegfried)

You have 12 minutes left until your next check. You currently do not qualify for an RPP reward in the upcoming check.


Marceline says, "I'm going to go put this somewhere before someone kills me for it."

Marceline says, "Bye, Siegfried."
Siegfried unlocks the door.

---


What is your purpose?

If you sought to live you had naught but run and hide yourself away. But then... what does it mean to live in truth? To wage war against the passing days? To pray to the unseen for a few breaths more? To raise grand cities from stone, and spawn new life in turn? Mankind has done this, yes, and more. But is the tapestry you weave truly of your own design?

Siegfried's energy magic has proven difficult for him to control over the past several years - until recently. And it is only recently that he has come closer to being at peace with himself.

It isn't too difficult to stitch together that which he found likely - that the two went hand-and-hand. That the rationale for all that he'd struggled to do with magic came from the constant state of inner turmoil that he was in. That same desire to leave, to panic, to flee, to fright.

And so, in order to thrive in the war that was to come...

He must master that desire.
(Siegfried)

Some are easy to fathom, they go on living from simple fear of death. But not all. Some welcome the end with arms outstretched, while others come to face death incarnate, arms in hand.

I ask again, what is your purpose here?

Siegfried's combat speed is the only notable aspect of his fighting style. Nothing else was even remotely noteworthy. Examined from nearly every angle, he is simply someone who aims to strike very quickly, and respectably hard. At the young age of twenty, the strength that he is able to invoke is commendable. There were thousands upon thousands of Agarthans, and many of them never reached this level - if they were even of magical talent at all.

But those that hover above, those that reign above all, they are greater. And they are all that matters, when one sought to change the world. To challenge the masters of all that currently was, and cow them with superior strength - that was the failsafe, when words would fail.

The energy magic that he so struggled to properly utilize all of this time flares to life...slowly. Deliberately. Blue kindles of flame occupy his orbit, willed to life by his magic circuits, and are given cohesion, given form.

The chaotic sparks that had battered and singed at his skin are reigned in. That which had flared with his emotions, saved him and also condemned him in the heat of deadly combat, is suppressed. Brought down to reasonable levels...and then below.

Clara...

Siegfried forgets love.

Ethan...

Siegfried forgets the lost.

Taiga...

Siegfried forgets his life.

All that there is is the fight. He has to keep moving. To stop moving is to die. He is dancing - in the plains, in an empty field, he moves with a streak of afterimages behind him, but no visible aura.

Mastery over self...Absence of fear.

Calm, deliberate movement, fast as the winds.

---

He sees Taiga. And he is running, running, unable to catch up to the man, even as he merely walks. Every time Siegfried has this dream, it ends the same - Taiga slips into an infinite expanse of blackness, no matter his efforts...

But now, long after Taiga is gone, he does not stop. He is still running, running.

So you know that we're out there,
Swatting lies in the making,
Can't move fast without breaking,
Can't hold on or life won't change...

---

With speed that breaks the sound barrier, he leaps off of a cliff, like a bullet fired from a gun, against the infinite backdrop of the skies. Nothing is left in his wake - nothing but him. Phantasmal images, the sheer speed at which he moved conjuring the fable that he was everywhere at once.

The sun is rising. It is a new day.
(Siegfried)