fierybluebird | Action / Voice

[A: Action has a ridiculously cheerful Marco wandering Luceti, actually walking, not flying. This is because he's walking his Pops' dog. A big white dog with a mustache on its face. The same crescent moon mustache that can be seen on Marco's tattoo. Well they say pets take after their owners...]

[Though I'm pretty sure that's not how it's meant.]

Fetch, Stefan!

[The dog barks and goes bounding after the white frisbee, only to stop as it hits the ground. What you expected him to catch it? Or actually fetch it? No. He gives Marco a quizzical stare instead, like what the hell is he supposed to do with it? Marco deadpans him right back.]

What, you were expecting this? [He holds up a white boomerang instead. And Stefan barks. With a small sigh Marco tosses it, fetches the fallen frisbee himself, and the dog goes racing after the boomerang. Including when it comes back to Marco, who just holds up a hand and catches it.] I don't know if you're just that lazy or he gave you bad habits, eh? [But Marco gives the dog a treat and an affectionate face rub anyway. Seems his Pops wasn't the only one giving him bad habits. In any case, feel free to spot him anywhere outside and stop and say hello or join him, both Marco and Stefan are quite friendly.]

[B. Voice: After fetching food for dinner (fish and mostly vegetarian things, sorry Robin, he's been cooking with Leanne in mind) and stopping to actually return books to the library instead of just stealing them indefinitely like the pirate he is, Marco lazily grabs a spot in the garden near the Straw Hat house.]

Hello Luceti.

I'm Captain Marco, of the Whitebeards, though there's really only me left of us here. I suppose that goes for a lot of the pirates left here, eh? In any case, if you're a lost new feather, give me a call, and I can come flying out there. And for everyone, I pose to you a question.

All worlds seem to have their own ways of preserving history, and some of burying it. In my own world, I think we go for the latter more often than not. Perhaps ironically, one of the strangest things about being a pirate is that we also uncover and preserve a lot of history. Accidentally, or because of treasure and legends. What one pirate might find to be treasure, the rest of the world might see as useless junk. My father was big on preserving history through stories. When you pass on legends, you keep them real in a way nothing solid can. So my question quite simply, is what do you or your worlds do to preserve history and stories? And what do you do if it's destroyed, eh?

Thanks.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The seemingly careless words struck Barnaby with the sharp accuracy of Blue Rose's ice darts. His eyes darkened underneath his glasses with his own disgust of the thought that it was a truth similar to his own.

Maverick had played them. He played the heroes, the network, and the entirety of Sternbild for decades without their knowledge...the revelation of his actions and schemes made the entire justice system in the city appear to be a hollow facade. The hope and sense of safety that the heroes had given the citizens was what built Sternbild into the thriving city that it was. It was an impressive development after the flooded wreck that the city was just a generation ago--

It chilled Barnaby to realize that the hope was founded on a rock that was as hollow as Maverick's heart.

How many lives had that man ruined on his path? How many lives had he taken...?

Barnaby didn't want to know.]

I suppose you're right. It really doesn't.

And on that cheerful note... [Marco help up a tea cup.] Cheers, eh?

I guess justice isn't so great even for heroes, eh? [He wasn't sure what Barnaby was thinking about the whole thing, but he could tell it had struck a chord of truth at least.]

[Barnaby nodded, but didn't touch his own drink.]

That depends on the definition of justice...and the man in charge.

It would seem some things are universal then, eh?

Unfortunately so. It's a shame, really.

[There's an evil deadpan grin like from a joke that only Marco gets.]

Absolutely. [And he drinks his tea.]

[Hope you're good with uncomfortable silences because this is a long one.]

[Barnaby took a sip of his own tea, ignoring the smile.]

...Perhaps it isn't so bad sharing a voice with a man like you. There are many, many more possibilities that would be much worse than this.

[Grins.] Likewise, actually.

I was expecting something far worse so I take it as a compliment.

Oh? What were you expecting then, Captain Marco?

I assure you, I'm not the type to murder someone because of an absurd belief that there can only be one voice like my own in existance.

[Completely deadpan.]

No. [Waves a hand.] I was expecting Chameleone. But he's allergic to dogs. So you'd have died from this much proximity by now, eh.

[Stare.]

My. That must be one terrible allergy.

[PURELY EVIL GRIN.] Isn't it though?

[There is no sympathy for people who try to infiltrate his family.]

I wonder, how did he ever manage to survive in any world?

[With the dogs and the cats and the other animals that were everywhere...

Barnaby held no symathy for idiots.]

Most pirates don't keep enough pets that they can't be avoided. It meant he had to skulk around avoiding seagulls though, and that's how mail gets delivered in my world.

Then he must have been extremely behind on the news, and out of touch with everything else.

[The hypocrit. Barnaby just described himself without realizing it.]

It's a shame. If he's as bad as you say, then that only makes it worse.

Pretty much. He just snuck between ships and islands. I let him live because he was kind of too pathetic to fight when he couldn't breathe, but every so often I wonder...

I take it that he became a threat?

Not yet, but my world is in a tricky situation right now. A lot of old enemies are taking advantage of the chaos. It wouldn't surprise me if Chameleone was one of them.

I see. That looks like it's the case in a lot of worlds here. It's hard to tell the difference between friends and enemies.

Che. Perhaps some are too willing to stab each other in the back so they expect everyone else to be the same.

[VERY touchy subject there.]