genessia | Even Bad Blood runs thicker than Water

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Even Bad Blood runs thicker than Water

Who: Marco, Grell, Namur
What: A... chat? ~~It's definitely gonna be a fight~~
Where: Dock 5, Fayren
When: 10/6

[At least she knows when I'm not making a request his ass. Did he tell Marco to shove off? Did he say go to hell or bite me?

No.

He asked a damn good question.

Of course he was going to be here. Hell, he got here before the damned birdbrains. But probably only Marco would know- assuming Marco's paying enough attention to sense his presence. Namur wants to think he's still paying attention to something other than Grell. He wants to believe he's full of shit and Marco's not diminished into a shitty little plaything for his sex kitten. Like, he gets it, to a point. He expects a guy's gonna shower some special attention on his partner. That was never the issue.

It's how she doesn't do it back, except when she's trying to rub it in someone's face. She gets pissed at Marco for getting jerked around by Time Compression, like he's got any say in it. She gets pissy and whips out her damn magical chainsaw when someone says a thing she doesn't like. Chances are, they'll get there, and she'll be extra bitchy because she's being forced to talk face to face. She probably Had Plans, like sitting in a bathtub full of enough soap to suffocate a whole school of fish, or sitting around in their apartment petting cats. Because she's the only one who'll be inconvenienced, for sure. It's not like he's got a bounty to hunt down, or people to make friends with so they'll be more inclined to rat out their friends when he needs them to, or a pile of shitty paperwork a mile high that he has to fill out in order to get started getting his business started. She gonna talk it up for him when he does get it going? Ha! As if.

She'll probably do her best to sabotage him and burn it to the ground.

Nah, not her best. That'd take effort.

He shouldn't expect it anyway. Sure, he talked up her place in Cerealia. Hell, even drummed her up some business that she for whatever reason decided to hate him for. But he did those things of his own volition to try and back her up and show his support, so whatever. Wasted effort. Can't take it back, and she doesn't even remember it anyway so who cares, right?

Who cares?

Namur's underwater, leaning against one of the dock's support beams, still trying to convince himself he doesn't care, when the other two show up.]

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[PC had been busy rubbing every possible wound a little sorer. He did that a lot, of course, but especially now. He'd also taken care to doctor everyone's memories as best he could. Father Below forbid they forget any ammunition to bring to this pow-wow. He values frankness, and by that PC means dredging up every single piece of dirty laundry. He wants them to say it all.

At first, he thought about restraining. Not getting them too angry. Because then they'd lose the bond and the mutual destruction they all meant for each other. On further reflection, PC thought he was being silly. Ultimately, what else did they have? Who else would they turn to? As if the fun would ever end!

So he's going full speed ahead, ramping up every pain, every injury, every selfishness, and leaving out any thought suggesting charity or morality. If he allowed them to have any dogma, it would be this: "one for all." They would think only of noble sacrifice, yet harbor deep resentment. So nobly they'd sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of the greater good.

Gah, that almost sounds like virtue. Oh well; he'll make sure it's anything but.]

[Should Grell have dressed up for just meeting at a dock? No, of course not. But there wasn't any other way for her to feel in a better mood than by looking better than she feels. Topped off with her usual red and black boots, Grell walks with Marco to their meeting place.

Arms crossed.

Neutral expression on. Or as neutral as it will get.

And most importantly: quiet. Not a word has been said since she got dressed.

To say Grell is in a sour mood would be an understatement. What is with This Family™ in wanting to share their pasts? Grell is quite content to not bring it up, because making herself feel vulnerable to anyone is just not on her list of things to do. Opening up to Marco had its benefits, but at times like this, she wishes she hadn't. Then they wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe.

As for Namur, well, he may think he's helping, but to Grell, all he's doing is just jostling the already boiling pot. If he wants to know about her past, casually bringing up the fact that he knows things she didn't tell him really isn't the way. Now, she just doesn't want to talk to anyone. Ever. And yes, she had better things to do than drag out this fight ready to happen. Like collect money for this ship they're building. Or, yes, taking a hot bubble bath!

But they're on hold for the moment. Mostly because their captain said so.

Besides feeling vulnerable, Grell just doesn't anyone's pity. She knows it's a sob story, and for once, the attention she'd get from it is something she'd like to avoid. Avoiding attention? Grell?? Perhaps they'll serve nice ice cream in hell soon.

So they're at the docks, but no one but them seems to be around. It isn't as if they're in a rush (to get there, not to leave), so she could wait for Namur to show his face.]

Marco has his arm around Grell, but it's less affectionate than usual, particularly coming from Marco, and a lot more to pull her into a chokehold for restraint as necessary.

"Thank you Namur," his expression softens at his little brother already waiting. He's still pissed to hell, but any of his little brothers, no matter how obnoxious they're being, tends to put him in a better mood. And the years without them, with only trying to keep tabs on Ace flitting in and out, with a marine Ace of all things, who hated Marco's guts even worse than when Ace was still trying to kill Whitebeard, had taken its toll.

Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh on either of them, perhaps he should have been harsher. But he was still new to being a Captain, and like he'd told Namur all those years ago when they'd first had to have the meeting to change over their tattoos; it was a learning process for all of them. When he'd joined Whitebeard, he didn't know what the old man would be like as a Captain or father either. It was a leap of faith.

"I'm sorry, yoi." He looked off distantly, towards the sky and horizon, before back to Namur, dropping his arm from Grell's neck, and sitting down on the edge of the dock, feet halfway to the water. "I always knew how much you'd helped Thatch, but I think I underestimated how much he helped you too, eh?" Serious face, no change in expression, as was Marco's general way. Pure composure despite saying something as blunt as that. "I've been taking it for granted that you're the one most held together of all of us," except maybe Marco himself, or maybe even more than Marco since the phoenix wanted to flit off and ignore the world ninety five percent of the days, but Namur kept meeting new people and never giving up. "That I forgot you still deserve special attention of your own, eh?"

Ace was easy to look after, because Ace looked after them back, even as he was a headache and a half. And Grell made it almost too easy for Marco to slip away, much like Thatch, she indulged him, and unlike Thatch she didn't have the divisions to pull them both back to the rest of humanity. And Espio... was still a mess that Marco had no idea how to resolve or even begin to untangle, but he wouldn't give up.

"I've asked a lot of you lately, and --" he uses his head to point towards Grell, "I can see it piled up." He reached out to lightly scrunch his fingers through Fishman black hair. "I'm sorry."

He turns his head to Grell and gestures with the firmest-don't-even-dare-argue of tones and gestures to his back. "Grell, sit." But he'll take one of her arms to link with his own when she does, and lean his head back some, relying on her strength.

"Nam-chan," Marco pulls out the bottle of sake. Healing water to smooth things over. He hoped. "Kitten, you both have things of your past you're not keen on sharing without trust, aye? But that trust has to be built. And slowly. And it won't be if you keep accidentally punching at old wounds."

Marco sighed, held up a finger for Namur to wait, while he poured the sake into sakazuki cups. "Grell, I need you to trust him like you would me. Marry me, marry my family. Namur can't spar with you and avoid your wounds when you cover them up so tightly he doesn't know what's going on. And Namur..." Marco just face palmed. "I told you to stick with good things. Things she likes. How happy do you think Thatch would be if someone just started harping on about his death and Blackbeard's betrayal? You both went through some terrible backgrounds," a small growling tone, "All of Pops' children did!" A sigh and he handed a cup of sake to Namur and Grell each. "But save those discussions for when you aren't acting like lionfish circling each other and shooting barbs, aye?"

He held up the third cup, clinked it to the two and drank it. He was going to need it.

Let the fighting begin.

[And how! He barely has to do anything to stir this pot. This kind of annoyance is as old as time itself: the tactful intervention of a well-meaning friend.]

[He'd hit the same beats with Namur.] Ultimately, Marco doesn't have to deal with her the way you do, so what would he know? Espio's gone; apparently even he got tired of this. Marco's trying, but he's no Whitebeard. The crew dwindled down to, what, four? And even then it's splintering. Just nod and smile; he wants your outward compliance. No reason to give more than that. Just get it over with.

[For Marco, he'd go the other way.]
Do or die time; if you can't keep your crew together, you're not much of a captain, are you? Preserve the Union, whatever it takes. You must make them get along, even if you have to break out the duct tape.

Edited 2016-10-29 04:36 (UTC)

[Namur feels them arrive above, and flares his gills, taking a deep breath. It ain't gonna do any good if he rolls in acting like a damn pup about things. He just can't stand the woman. He's got his reasons, and she never seems inclined to give him reasons to doubt them. He spits the water out in front of him just for the feel of it, then kicks off. Big as he is, water is his element, and he moves gracefully through it, not even making a splash as he breaks the surface. He rests his arms on the edge of the dock to keep him anchored, but otherwise, it's calming to feel the water around him.]

[He listens, rolling his eyes a time or two but keeping his trap shut. When Marco busts out saucers and sake, he about scoffs. Drink together, pledge loyalty, become family. They're already supposed to be a family. But maybe one of them forgot that part. Well, whatever. Namur takes the cup in his fingers and steadies it while Marco taps theirs together. Then he looks over at Grell, as neutrally as he can. Will she tap his cup and drink? Or will she leave him hanging, yet again?]

[Does it even matter?]

[It's not like a half swallow of sake's going to change anything.]

[Marco had her until the clinking cups part, but lets back up a little.

So Namur was there all along? At least there wasn't a need to wait, but she didn't think they were late. Whatever. The arm around her sure doesn't bode well. This isn't an invitation event, anyway, so at least Marco seems to understand that she could bolt at anytime otherwise.

And then Marco starts talking, and orders her to sit. In this dress? No one said anything about sitting on a dock! So she manages by sitting on the top of a beam for the dock. No way she's dipping her feet in literal unknown waters. First, Grell is proud and offended that she's what Namur had to deal with. Yes, she's a handful, but making it seem like she's the burden? Strike One.

And here we are at the sake cups. Honestly, she doesn't even want to drink, but there's a sense of obligation to join in. Her face is becoming more and more unreadable, and although she does do it, it's a Strike Two on her scoreboard. Marco wants her to trust someone who's been nothing but inconsiderate so far, which she can't understand why since they seemed to get along in Balamb Garden well enough. They even went on a mission together! So, no, she doesn't understand his behavior.]

So just what sort of discussions were you thinking of us having, then? [Her green eyes move to Marco, holding the cup in one hand, not yet taking a sip. Marco is the one leading and deciding things, he might as well just dictate everything else while he's at it.]

[Oh yeah. This is going even worse than he expected.]

[Awesome.]

[He actually wishes Ace was there to burn shit or shove them at each other or just... be Ace.]

[He leans on the way back on the dock, looking up at the sky where he belongs. Where Thatch is somewhere.]

Get it all out, yoi.

For the third time, you're like lionfish circling each other, puffed up and threatening to shoot barbs. So let's have it, eh? Give me your god damn barbs. We all know I can't be poisoned. So lay it on me. Better than the radio silence, yoi. You're both acting like the other should know the unspoken rules you've created for interacting with other people, and guess what? It doesn't work that way. You're stepping on each other's toes and oblivious that you're doing it, only seeing that the other is getting in your turf.

Namur, you keep expecting her to know things that apply as rules of the ocean, where she's never been. Would you feel better if I'd never bothered meeting anyone else? Holed away worse than Thatch? No, of course not. So start treating her like she she's separate from everything you thought you knew before. And maybe try giving her a little credit for not letting me slip into total nothingness. Because that was to her credit. Aye, you would have had my back, but I'm glad you helped Thatch. Try being a little glad for her too.

And Kitten, you keep getting upset that he's just being himself and you're being downright cowardly and trying to run away. Every time he tries to befriend you, you fight him off harder, close away, and I have always thought you were braver than that. You think I don't know what it's like to open up to someone only to lose them in seconds? Or to have them abuse that and use it to cause pain? You can't defend against it by keeping everyone away from you. And you can't make an exception for me and think I don't come with 1600 others.

And both of you, and me, we're all dealing with missing everyone we've lost by the wayside. That should bring us together, not drive us apart into little circles ignoring or silently hating each other, eh?

So let's have it, eh?

[He almost couldn't have done it better himself. As if mediation weren't bad enough, now he's lecturing them on the in's and out's of interpersonal relationship. The patient. Bravo.

All that remains now is what path the other patient will take. Should he "let it all out"? Give full vent to wrath? No devil completes tempter school without learning that delightful piece of nonsense: that wrath is something you "let out", as if it were so much hot air. Then they say a bunch of things they can't take back, and lo and behold, the wrath is still there, louder and more violent than ever!

That's option 1: the explosion. The patient wants that for frankness; he wants it for volatility.

Then there's option 2: the slow burn. The patient withdraws, becoming flippant and numb. A supine, begrudging willingness to bear and endure, resentment going deeper and deeper.

PC is giddy as a schoolgirl. He knows he's being overconfident, but there are no wrong answers! Oh, but he has to pick one...

The latter. He'll go for the placid approach. If it doesn't work, Namur will just explode anyway. And if it does, well...he's always had a good handle on his temper.]

Edited 2016-10-30 03:07 (UTC)

[Well, once Grell at least makes the motion, Namur goes for it, downing the whole thing in half a swig. He even remembers to hang onto the cup and not swallow it as well, ain't that grand?]

Ain't never been mad y' found someone, Marco. Shit, y' oughta know I'm all for it. Jus' been wishin' y' hadn't picked the one person could probly out-bitch Big Mam. 'S all.

[Namur shrugs, spinning the little saucer on the wood of the dock with his finger.]

An' y' never answered my question.

Cowardly?!

[The cup gets crushed in her leather-clad grip, and the liquid runs through her fingers and palm. Strike Three. ]

You honestly think it's cowardly to not wish to talk to someone who, for some odd reason, is acting rather ill mannered towards me? We have never been this bad off in Balamb! For bloody sakes, we even survived a mission together! So why should I put up with the sudden change in attitude?! Because we're family?

[The pieces of the cup crunch further in her grip, likely becoming more like dust.]

I may have gained a family, but my story is still mine to tell! [She emphasizes the "mine" part with a finger point at herself before pointing it at Marco.] Not YOU! [Her voice drops an octave as she glares at Marco with as much contempt as she could muster. She loved Marco with every fiber of her being, but this was a line that he crossed with her this time.] If you want everyone to trust one another, then don't go off telling bits and pieces of everyone's past.Trust us to get to that point, and not push. [Oh, she didn't forget about Namur.] And don't bring up things that I've never told you personally! What were you expecting? That I would just willingly...elaborate?

[She opened her hand that had crushed the cup and saw the remnants of her anger. Completely shattered and irreparable. There is a rough sigh as her ire eases off, but not disappear entirely. ]

Sometimes the bravest thing one can do is not play the saddest fiddle to willing ears. [She dusted her gloved hands together to get the pieces off.] Thatch had gracefully declined my offer to tell him about my past, and he never pressured me to do so afterwards.

[Crosses her arms to look at them both.]

So why are you doing it?!

[The anger boils up again, because how she wished Thatch were here to help her, or at least make her delicious cake. Also because the pressure is mounting on her and it's really giving her a headache.]

Know what Grell? Grow the hell up. Y' ain't the saddest thing I ever saw an' this's bigger'n that anyway. Don't wanna talk 'bout yer past 's fine. Jus' change the damn subject, 'stead a bitchin'. But that's the thing. A person can't even have a rotted conversation with y' without y' bitchin' 'em out for some random shit. Which, a'ight, some people's jus' like that. Maybe y' show y' give a shit 'bout people other'n yerself a differnt way. But what way's that, huh? Been 'round y' near five years an' I still can't say. An' what the hell y' ever done t' try an' reach back t' me? Been tryna help y' out, been tryna back y' up. An' y' hate me for it. So what the hell's yer problem with me?

[See this is why Marco loves Grell so much. And in that moment he just wants to marry her all over again, steal her away from himself and dazzle her until there's as much stars in her eyes as his.]

[Where was he?]

[He lets Namur respond, but holds up a hand.]

The problem isn't that I think you're mad I have someone, [He had to keep his composure not to just facepalm.] It's that you're still treating it like that's what it is. That it's just another girlfriend. That you can demand the same level of respect and automatic inference you would back on our seas. But this isn't our seas. And Grell isn't just another girl or someone keeping me company. She's my partner, Namur. My better half. Someone I added to my family. Someone who can pull me back from the brink and keep up. Instead of giving her the respect of that -- and aye, respect is earned, not presented -- you're still treating it like it's something else entirely, eh? Try seeing it as something different. Something new. What it is, rather than what you think it should be, yoi.

And you... [A grin to Grell. He can't even hide the admiration, although the grin is clearly a little wicked and easily sly.]

Aye. Cowardly. [Taunting as if to say "Whatcha gonna do about it?"]

Like I said, I told him to bring up happy things and he went and accidentally did the opposite, but you ran away rather than tell him to back off. You were so worried I'd get upset if you told him off, you didn't give either of us the respect for being stronger than that, eh? [Stands up. Kisses her with all the passion and intensity echoed back, but then he flicks her forehead. Because that isn't going to get him flung into the ocean.] Namur is a rough guy. He's not Thatch. He does things completely differently. And that's okay. But don't walk on eggshells with him. He won't appreciate that, and neither will I. [Back to a half-nelson chokehold just in case she does try to chuck him into the sea or teleport off somewhere.]

[But he adds in a whisper to her ears to confuse her emotions and let them flare better.] I love you.

[Because he does, he really does.]

[And a bit louder:]

So I know you can do better than that.

Namur... [Turns just his head to face baby bro.] She doesn't have your culture. She doesn't have the oceans we did. She was being kind. She was trying to keep from bickering. Tell her you'd rather have that or she won't get it.

Grell... [Pets her head softly with the other hand, nope still not letting go of her neck yet.] You bickered all the time with Espio. Don't treat Namur like he's spun glass just because his senses are more intense. I told him he could bite me and trust me to stop him from hurting the others, you can give me the same respect and consideration, eh? [Gently nuzzles an ear.] I didn't tell him anything beyond the basics. I know what's too personal or not, believe it or not. And I'm not saying tell him everything. It is absolutely your choice what to share or not, but don't avoid sharing everything, because it'll drive him mad.

Edited 2016-10-30 15:38 (UTC)

[At this point, PC is pretty sure he's got them all in the bag, destination wise. He just wants to make them miserable in the meantime. Or at the very least entertain himself.

PC styles himself a clever devil, who enjoys the finer sins in life. Shouting matches are, in a way, almost vulgar. He likes the simmering resentment; the quiet hatred that never shows itself. The tantalizing wrath with the fig leaf of courtesy to hide it. That's style. And that's what he wants out of Namur.]

Look, you tried. Marco's here talking your ear off with empty platitudes about respect and understanding. Yet Grell shows none of those things, and he's smitten. See? This isn't an intervention. It's a performance. All you can do is play your part.

But the play's gone on too long; time for the curtain call to wrap things up. You know that with some people, you just can't win. The best you can do is tight-lipped courtesy. Say what you have to; lie, if you must. Throw in the towel and admit that some differences can't be breached. You probably know a good cliche or two to get things across. You have too much dignity to entertain the notion that this shipwreck can be salvaged. Why pretend otherwise?

[PC just wants to see the different flavors of wrath; maybe get some despair in there too. He wants to play on Namur's fatigue, apathy, and indifference. Not defeat, per se. An all-encompassing shrug of the shoulders; a silencing 'whatever'. A soothing 'you did your best, but...'. Whatever he has to do to get the patient to tune out and withdraw. Hey, sometimes the healthiest thing is to just let it go.]

Help me out?! What are you on about?! When have I needed your help?! And how could I possibly help you? You've been here all of three months! What sort of distress would you have needed me for here? [Places her hands on her hips.] It's also convenient that you forgot about saving you and Thatch from when Balamb found itself on a cliff! What's the need to tally up who's done what? Are you secretly keeping score?

[Did he try to help her with something but she didn't remember? She doesn't think she needed help in Genessia lately. She also didn't think he needed her help while here. Maybe she missed something important?

The kiss...and the head flick. Perfect flavors of hot and lukewarm. His actions, and especially his words, help douse the fire within her while leaving embers burning. There is a weak smile, yet it lasts only a moment longer before she crosses her arms and frowns. The hand on her neck won't stop her from leaving. She'll just take Marco with her. Espio. Despite their arguing, she enjoyed his company.]

Those arguments made sense. This one doesn't.

[And maybe she wants to drive him mad! It's such a tempting option.]

It seems no matter which stance I take, I'm going to be at fault. Change the subject and be blamed for being closed off. Put up with rudeness and then I'll start...being myself. Which is where we're at now.

[Grell looks directly to Namur.]

So what is it that you want, exactly? For me to treat you nicer? Only if you could afford the same in kind.

[...puns.]

Weren't keepin' score, but I guess 'ventually yeah, started addin' shit t'gether. Thank you for finally answerin' my question though. Too bad y' had t' go all the way back t' Balamb for it, but hell, I'll take it.

[Namur shrugs. A lot of him wants to just leave it at that. See? Positive end. He's once again the village idiot, Grell's once again the saint. That ought to make Marco happy, and he can just... keep it all in. Hell, he won't even breathe a word of it to Ace.

But isn't that what got him here in the first place?

Shit. Every direction he swims is bright red whaleshit, and he can't ever get clear of it.

Namur takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and lets it out slowly.]

If by nicer y' mean fake then don't bother. Jus'... stop assumin' I'm bein' an ass on purpose. Stop assumin' that cuz I'm a dumbass I ain't got nothin' worth listenin' to. Wanna punch me, then jus' punch me, but tell me why 'til I get it. Don't jus' bitch an' stalk off or hang up, cuz then all I got t' go on's whatever the hell I make up in my brain an' right now, I ain't feelin' too charitable toward y' there. Makes y' look like a damn shitty baby that can't handle someone disagreein' with y' anyway, an' that's annoyin' as hell when I got someone else tellin' me how strong yer 'posed t' be. Got a problem? Hit me with it! If I done y' wrong I'll 'pologize! But y' never let me, cuz I never know what I done! Y' jus' bitch me out, hate on me, refuse t' talk t' me, an' try t' turn my girlfriend 'gainst me! Get needin' some space sometimes- mean, shit, that's right where I was when I first got here. But then when y' had a chance t' breathe an' get yer head on straighter y' come back an' try 'gain. 'S called workin' shit out. If that's some kinda unspoken rule then there, I spoke it out for y'. Get it?

[If Marco knew what Namur was thinking, he'd smack him upside the head.]

[As it is though, he's just glad they're basically saying what he said.]

[Only better because it's coming from them and not filtered through himself.]

[Good good, keep at it.]

Where else would I look? This is only the second world I've been in with you. And what girlfriend are you talking about?1 I've never met anyone you've consorted with! How can I "get" [air quoting] anything if you're blaming me for things that I've never done?!

[She's still baffled that someone would want to date him, honestly. But the true heart of the matter: being blamed for trying to turn someone against him. What?? She definitely hasn't done that! ~~Yet.~~]

[Namur groans.]

Course y' don't. Might a made half a lick a sense what I's gettin' on 'bout if y' did, so naturally y' wouldn't. Lord a the Sea.

[He rolls his eyes and presses his head against the dock. Even when he tries to get it off his chest it winds up all back on him.]

Fine, whatever. Don't 'member, it don't matter. 'S my own shit t' deal with an' I didn't know it. Yer right, I'm wrong. Happy now?

[Guess he'll end up "taking one for the team" anyway.]

Namur. Stop holding it in, yoi.

If it upsets you, it's a problem for the rest of us too, eh? Little bit of trust goes a very long way.

That's an understatement.

[If it were a problem, then they could solve it. Yet as it stands, to Grell, Namur is just blaming her for things she didn't do and thus has an attitude with her. The rest is history. First, she takes Marco's arm off her neck because it's giving her a stiff neck. What's with that money grip?

Second, she fixes her hair, because she has arm hair. She pulls out a comb from an inner pocket of her jacket and proceeds to use it.]

Well, you're definitely wrong for giving me attitude for how things I've not done! If you had a vivid nightmare, or it's Time Compression, then maybe it isn't me that needs to get it. So if you're not going to bother explaining, then I don't feel an obligation to stay.

[Not even Marco will be able to keep her there at this rate.]

[He's seen and enjoyed everyone's wrath except Marco's, so far, so now PC has to think how to get that. Failing the meeting is as good a start as any. And he seems to enjoy outbursts, so the opposite of that would be a good tactic. All right, Namur, he's counting on you!

To throw in the towel, of course. PC would take the trouble to clutter his head with noise. Every issue, every thorny time-space problem, would jumble and knot itself together until teasing it out would feel like an insurmountable task.

Then he'd work on depressing his spirit. The usual thoughts, repeated ad nauseam: she's not going to come around, relationships aren't solved this way, Marco's playing favorites, nothing's getting accomplished, you don't have to like someone to work with them, and to top it all off:

Don't you have better things to do?]

[Oh, Puscrunch. The one thing you can't bring down easily is his spirit. He feels that weight, that darkness encroaching. It almost wins. But as soon as he notices, he fights it back with a Will bright and stubborn enough to bend his own reality in small ways.

He will not give up.]

Thing is, y' did do 'em. Weren't some shitty nightmare or Time Compression whaleshit, it was real. Even if y' don't 'member, I do. An' the truth is...

[Namur hesitates. He doesn't want to tell her, doesn't want to give her any shred of power over him.

He'll do it anyway.]

It hurt.

I don't wanna hate y'. Don't wanna see y' an' feel inside like I'm lookin' at a damn Celestial Dragon rather'n a sister. But yer so damn impossible t' even like, an' this's comin' from the asshole that manages t' make friends with people no one else can stomach. So it kinda says somethin' when I can't handle yer shit no more. It ain't some damn crime for someone t' know what y' are. Guess what? Everbody knows what the hell I am an' I ain't ever gotta tell 'em. If I's you I'd be bitchin' everbody out like how dare y' talk 'bout me bein' a fishman, who said y' could do it, that's my business an' no one else's. 'S ridiculous! That really what yer pissed 'bout? Cuz I smell an' taste shit humans don't? Or's there somethin' else beneath that an' yer jus' tryna ink me with it like a damn squid?

Edited 2016-11-06 04:16 (UTC)

[So, he thinks she's totally unlikeable? She'd believe that if certain people in her life were a testament against that. Once he's done, Grell just looks at him impassively. Is that all he got out of their argument? That she's angry that he brought up her being death incarnate? He's not getting the point, and she's too tired to even explain. Not unless she had a powerpoint presentation to give him.]

It's far more than that, and you'll never understand when you equate this other version of me in another timeline to the current version running on this one. All you'll see is someone who hurt you, and it's unfair.

[Grell stands up.]

When you can make that differentiation, then we can talk.

[She's had enough. Grell walks away, not even bothering to just disappear as she usual did until she's far away enough from them both, after internally deciding to just forego walking to clear her head. Marco shouldn't expect her to be home whenever he returns. She wants to be alone for a while.]

[Right, despair's not a winner with the patient. Oh well! Things are going downhill, so he'll rub it in his fat fish face anyway.]

[That's what you get. You expose yourself, try and reach a hand...NOTHING. Some people just can't be reached, no matter what you do. Not now, not ever.]

[Moving on to Marco; how ya feeling, big guy? Angry yet? What can PC do to help?]

[He asked Namur to let it out, so he did, and he's glad.]

[He lets Grell go for now, understanding she needs the space.]

[In fact he waits until she's fully gone, to ask Namur:]

You think she's like a Celestial Dragon?

What did she do aside from forgetting, that hurt?

[Normally he's let it go at that, but holds up a hand and waves it briefly.]

It's not just that she's female or a reaper, Namur. She has to keep those secret. More than me being a phoenix. Imagine it like she was working in the government -- and I'm not saying you did anything wrong, eh? I'm just trying to help you see where the miscommunications are. Both of us, aye?

[Oh Puscrunch, Marco's always angry. He's like Ace and the Hulk. But like both of them, he manages it with carefully controlled outlets. In face there's a certain sort of sadistic high he gets out of being able to control his rage. Like now.]

Marco, I know a thing or two 'bout people that's gotta keep shit secret an' the reasons why they gotta. Thing is, I really ain't seein' the whole damned world tryna hunt her down. Hell, I see a world that accepts whatever the hell she is better'n it accepts me, an' I ain't gonna lie, these worlds've been pretty damn good t' me, so blow it out yer airhole. There ain't nobody comin' at her, so what's she bitchin' 'bout? Better not tell me though, cuz y' know. Gotta learn t' be psychic or some shit.

[Namur snorts.]

She got the same shitty attitude as a Drag. Always lookin' down her nose at everbody else, actin' like they're inferior somehow. An' gods help y' if y' disagree, cuz she might jus' rip yer face off with a magical chainsaw an' then 'spect y' t' thank her for the privilege, like a baby with too much power an' not 'nuff balls t' rise 'bove the dumb shit that don't matter. An' for whatever reason, everbody grovels at her feet. Even the damn universe, 'parently! What people's that sound like?

An' hey, who gives a shit what hurt? She don't 'member doin' none a that so why should anyone else bother 'bout it? Mean, it ain't like she's ultimately the same damn person inside an' now I know for a fact that she'll purposely use people I get close to t' try an' bring me down. Jus' gotta get over it, cuz that never happened anyway cuz she says so an' what I say or gone through don't matter. What's t' be hurt by? 'M jus' makin' it up or somethin'.

[Namur laughs.]

Seriously bro. Ain't lookin' t' be best friends or nothin'. Jus'. I'unno. Wanna not hate her. Want her t' not hate me. Don't know how t' even do that anymore.

[Marco just rubs between his eyes.]

[It's a good amount of insight, but he has to think to process it, much less process how to fix it, if it should be fixed, perhaps it should be let be -- but then, wasn't he doing that before?]

[He tsks mildly.]

You've spent a lot of time with us, Namur. You've forgotten what it's like for those without a home or any love for decades.

[He cocks his head to the side like a bird, listening to the wind, letting the thoughts blow over him.]

She doesn't think she's superior. Not at all. She's trying so damned hard to put up an act to cover her -- [There's a pause. Of all the things Marco HAS told Namur, and he doesn't regret any of them, just rolls his eyes, this is likely to be the one she least wants shared. And he doesn't like removing her freedom about it, but it's really no longer her choice to make.] insecurities -- that she doesn't know how to be nice in a way you're used to.

I let Ace fake all his smiles, because someday I hope they can be real. Until it endangers the young bratlings, I let them keep their bravado, because they don't know how to get by any other way.

[Another tsk, and a distant look out over the ocean. He misses his Pops again. Pops always understood people so well. He wishes he had 1/100th that wisdom and insight. What would he say?]

Grell doesn't hate you. She just doesn't know how to act with you yet. She's put up all these walls to keep her safe. Why do you think I suggested talking family with her? It gets in beyond her defenses, because like all of us, that's what she wanted most. And losing Toby really crushed her.

She doesn't want to hurt you, but I don't think she's even aware that she has the emotional capacity for that yet. She's spent centuries not being allowed to interact with living people, because she's dead, and you tend to just --

[Snaps his fingers and shakes his head.] I wouldn't change you for anything, Namur. [Fixes blue eyes seriously on baby shark-bro.] Just understand, her attitude is like Ace's smiles. If we react to Ace like they're real, give him that courtesy, then maybe with time he'll find the strength to make them real. It's okay to hate the fake her. Really, it is. Just, you deserve to know that's not the real her. It lies underneath all that.

Don't take my word for it, but you're smart enough to know I wouldn't date someone with a tenryuubito superiority complex. Much less marry one.

If it wasn't for Pops, and you, and Thatch, and Ace, and all the rest, what kind of a man do you think I'd be, Nam-chan?

[Namur rolls his eyes. He's made it very clear that he doesn't agree with Marco's point of view when it comes to letting people fake themselves out.]

Fakin' only ever makes shit worse. An' hell if I know what kinda man y'd be. 'S the weird kinda whaleshit I ain't got time t' bother with, cuz y' can't ever say for sure. Can only know what y' used t' be, an' see what y' become. If y' didn't have us, y'd a had other people, an' who y'd be would depend on them an' whatever shit they do. Maybe y'd be a Marine, maybe y'd be an Emperor. Why?

~~Aww man you beat him to it.~~

What a great family you have, eh? Marco pretends not to be pissed, Ace pretends to be happy, and Grell pretends to be a bitch. Gotta hand it to her, she's really good at it. Could've fooled anyone. Now all you have to do is pretend to like it. Go along to get along, right?

Hope you like the smell of whaleshit, because it's looks like you'll be getting it for a while. Oh well, you're a patient guy, right? They'll turn it around any day now. Hang in there!

Edited 2016-12-07 22:44 (UTC)

[Marco's patience is wearing a bit thin. He half wonders if Namur is even trying, at this point.]

[No, he's still there, so he's trying. And feels like he's the only one trying.]

[Ugh.]

[Marco just drags a hand over his face.]

You would say that. [He can't help his irritation. Faking things makes them worse? Then why does Namur even follow him? What doesn't Marco fake?]

[What didn't Pops even fake, if they're going to come down to that? How often did Pops fake everything? Being okay, that the others were okay, lied for Ace, for Marco, for all of them. They faked being a family until it was real.]

[Marco gets up and neatly cuts the peg he was perched on of the dock with a single wood-splitting kick, making sure through sheer force of will and haki that it wouldn't splinter the rest, that the tremors wouldn't uproll the entire dock, fracture all of it, and send him out to sea on a raft.]

[He's getting off on his own self-control again.]

You never stop to think before you speak, do you, Namur? Do you even have a concept of broader implications, or do you only hold everyone else to a standard you don't obey? [Blue eyes raging with fires.]

I fake everything, you got that? I fake being a captain, because I don't know how any other way! I fake I'm okay so Pops doesn't fall and Jozu worry and lose his god damned arm worrying about me instead of himself in the middle of battle. I fake that I don't want to run away from all of this! [At least he didn't say "From all of you" because it wasn't true. Only partially.]

Do you know what I'd be without Pops and the others? You might say you have no clue, but I bet you do. I'd be worse than Grell. Do you know why Shanks asks me to join his crew, other to annoy the piss out of me, of course. Because he thinks someday I'll break and I won't be able to stand dealing with people anymore.

You say faking things just makes it worse?

Stop faking being an idiot.

Because you're not. You're a brat, we're Pops sons, so we all are. But you are never half as stupid as you pretend.

You don't fake being okay? All the times you try to half-heartedly befriend Grell, while overthinking what to hold back, or just deciding to let it all go at once? Yeah, fucking right. You only say you don't fake things because you know you're bad at it. Fine, be bad at it, no shame in that, but don't ever tell me I'm making things worse, that the others are making it worse faking they're doing better until they can actually make that real. That's not your place, and I'll kick your ass if you ever try again.

[Oh, now this is the Marco he wants to see; passionately berating his "brothers". moar plz. At this point he's not even trying to think long-term, strategic thoughts. Just trolling.]

Wow, Grell leaves in a huff and Marco has nothing to say. You stick it out and he bites your head off. Nope, no flagrant bias here. Having fun yet? And did you catch that? He said you're inauthentic! A fake! A sham! You gonna take that lying down?

Sure you will. Cause deep down you know Marco's right; 'fake it till you make it' is the end-all be-all of success. Even though he basically confessed to being a sissy just now. Show him you're on the same wavelength by 'faking' your agreement. If Macro's right--and why wouldn't he be?--you'll be on your way to actually believing his bullcrap in no time.

Man, with captains like this, how did you guys ever lose so badly? It's a real mystery...

Edited 2016-12-09 23:53 (UTC)

[Namur keeps getting these intrusive thoughts- most of them are dumb as hell but some of them are right and all of them are pissing him off...

But not half as much as hearing his brother admit to being just as shallow and full of shit as Teach had been, all those years. A serpentine, coiled darkness shifts somewhere inside of him, venom from a black snake that bit him years ago. It hisses in the corners of his mind. Betrayer.

Namur clenches his jaw, clenches his fists. His gut feels full of twisting eels, so cold they send fire through his veins. With great effort, he relaxes his hands and picks up the sake cup, setting it on top of its mate, then pushing both of them out in front of him. It's something to do while he finds a way to make his jaw work.]

How many years? How many men put their arms 'round y' an' called y' brother, an' died for that fake family, 'fore it started bein' real?

[Eheehee! To think that Grell leaving would make things more intense! Loving it! Now it's time for the coup de grace. Just...cool off for a minute Namur, he'll get back to you in a minute.]

Marco, he's just not getting it. You'll have to use your trump card: invoke Whitebeard. Tell him that he, too, pretended and tried to be genuine for all of them. Maybe then he'll understand you; you both love and cherish the memory of Pops, don't you? Remind him of why you were ever together in the first place.

[Father Below PC hopes Marco takes the bait. He knows they both practically worship the man. And yet, it's become clear they both have very different ideas about who he was and what he did. What would infuriate them more than the contrast coming to light? Namur would be incensed to think of Pops as anything but genuine, still more that Marco, is his pathetic state, was in some way comparable. PC hates religious feeling or awe or reverence of any kind, but this is the best way to subvert it; point out the differences, then watch both of them destroy the heretic. Perfect, just perfect!]

[Fortunately, Marco's too irritated to listen to the voice in his head suggesting manipulation.]

[Instead he tackles Namur, jumping into the water after him, knowing at least his brother will save him.]

Are you deliberately this obtuse sometimes?!

I never faked that! [Punches Namur's jaw as hard as he can, despite being at least partially in the ocean.] I fake familiarity and pretend I know what the hell I'm doing. I faked that I was never nervous around Ace until it became real, because I knew it would be if he had that chance! DAMN IT NAMUR!

WORK WITH ME PLEASE!

[Marco you dumbass, don't jump in the water!]

[Namur makes sure to put himself beneath Marco and pop them right back up on the surface, holding Marco up by the front of his shirt. The punch is weakened, but Namur snaps his teeth against Marco's arm anyway. Usually he deserves to be slugged, but this time he doesn't feel like he's being the unreasonable one. Luckily he remembers that Marco won't regenerate in the sea, and doesn't shear through muscle and bone this time- though Marco will have some nasty, deep cuts for a bit.]

Why would I be doin' it on purpose? Shit, Marco! Jus' told me y's fakin' it all! Now yer sayin' y' didn't! The hell's the damn truth with y'?

[You know what? Have a punch to the face yourself, bastard, for being confusing.]

[Tugs on Namur's cheeks.]

There's a difference between faking being okay, because I love you morons, and betraying everything you ever loved and claiming it's all part of some greater scheme. Teach didn't fake being family. He just never was, and let us all assume it was what what he wanted. There's a difference in how I use you guys to make me happy, how Pops did, and Teach hurting us because he's a piece of shit.

He didn't fake loving us. He just didn't respect what that actually means. He didn't fake being one of us, he just didn't care what it actually means. If he had faked it better, maybe he wouldn't be such a fucking mess. Because if he'd had to fake it, he would have tried to understand what it meant.

Even Chameleone faked it better than him, because he had to pretend to be us.

Do you really think I have anything in common with Teach? That I'd hide my ambitions and --

[Facepalms and headbutts Namur.] My motivations and actions are what's important, Namur. Same as him. I want to protect you guys. You're my fucking treasure. I'd destroy the universe for you, and by now you should know the only reason I don't, is because that's just less place for us to live. Teach didn't fake that. He just never gave a damn, never trusted us enough to even let us understand what he wanted was power. Ace fakes almost all of his fucking smiles, but you know what? We know why he does that, and we know when they become real, because what makes him happy is us. And he stresses out about it and tries harder than he needs to, but eventually with time he can start to let go and enjoy himself.

[Another headbutt.] Grell fakes being a temperamental bitch, but scratch the surface, and she's a squishy fluffy kitten who's been kicked around by the world so she doesn't know how to protect herself other than claws out, shields up.

[NOOGIES.] Faking things isn't the problem. You need to see to people's motivations. Why do they do what they do. What do they do? Stop looking at attitudes, that stuff is fake. Motivations might be confusing, but look, you've got me. And yeah she is still pissy about me telling you her motivations, because she hides that stuff like a child, but I'm not a child. I can handle it.

You don't have to guess what the truth is with me, my actions should show you. All right? [Headbutts a third time.]

The hell y' think I been tryin' t' do, Marco?

Ain't askin' her why she hates me jus' cuz I like t' hear the words come outta my mouth! But does she ever actually answer? She's fakin' it ain't good 'nuff, cuz maybe she ain't! But hell, least then I'd know for sure an' it'd be out in the open! Can deal with that better'n havin' y' sayin' she don't but her actions screamin' she do. An' it ain't jus' somethin' that happened in Cerealia, cuz she acts the same damn way still, even if she don't 'member.

[Namur picks up Marco and puts him back on the dock.]

Can't fake this'n 'way. 'S 'twixt me an' her an' y' can't fix it for us. Maybe she don't want it fixed. So whatever. She gets her way 'gain. Tell her congrats.

Jus' need t' know how serious y' was when y' said y's fakin' wantin' t' be captain. Words is cheap, but talkin' 'em's an action in itself. 'S one thing t' want somethin' an' be worried 'bout muckin' it up. 'S 'nother t' not wanna do it at all but do it anyway cuz people 'spect y' to. So which is it?

[It's good that Namur puts Marco back on the dock, because if he hadn't, Marco would have ordered it, to keep himself from purposely causing one or both of them more pain. He needed the distance, however minimal, to breathe, to dry, to stop drowning metaphorically, and one-half physically as well.]

None of the above.

[Marco just covers himself from the neck down in blue flames, and casts a deathly cold glare at Namur, the tone... like nothing he'd usually turn on any of them. Ever. At best, maybe Thatch. Maybe. When they were both at their worst and something was breaking.]

How dare you?

[It's ice cold, and not words he would have ever expect to come out of his own mouth to anyone, not even Rayleigh, who being Roger's first mate had seen more sides of Marco than his brothers almost ever did, and certainly not to one of his absolute favorite brothers. But there it was, and it wasn't coming back.]

How dare you.

[His eyes flatten, the expression from rage twisting distant and timeless, just like his voice.]

You, of all people...

[His eyes narrow, there's no emotion to his voice, just distant again, but almost spiteful, and the flames don't stop flickering over his body.]

[He needs to think. He wants to duck his head in a bucket of ice. Or claw Namur's gills.]

Sometimes, Namur, people avoid saying things so these situations never happen to begin with. [Ice cold and white hot rage at the same time. They're just warring in him, no one in more control than the other.]

You, of all people, [His voice doesn't tremble or shake, and it's almost deathly quiet, but without the usual whisper or gentleness. Instead it's almost eerily quiet for the sheer intensity of it. Like a hundred thousand needles instead of a sledgehammer.] should understand. [Whose bright idea was it to signify that they were a new family? To modify the tattoos? To really and truly put the lid on the end of Pops' era with a ceremony that scared the living daylights out of Marco & Grell's son? To remind Marco and Thatch, over and over, PAINFULLY OVER AND OVER CONTINUALLY OVER AND OVER AGAIN, to keep moving forward into the future, to keep making more friends, to NOT HOLE HIMSELF UP IN A CAVE LIKE BOTH MARCO AND TOBIAS WERE NATURALLY INCLINED TO DO?!]

I don't want to be captain, you gigantic fucking idiot, [His hands and flames shake now, quivering in rage, and that icy control is shaking, his voice going up in decibel again.] Because I can't be Pops. Because it means saying goodbye to the time I was happiest, because it means trying to protect you guys like I promised him rather than get myself half-killed trying to avenge him! BECAUSE IT MEANS -- [He takes a sharp breath and holds it, letting it out slowly, though his fists don't unclench.] LETTING YOU ALL -- [GRITS HIS TEETH HARD AND GROWLS.] Try to protect me when I've spent your whole lives protecting you. [GLARES AT NAMUR. It's a different context. They always did protect him, but it was different when they were guarding him like... one of them. Like Marco. First division commander. When they could trust Pops to decide where and when to let Marco go free, and when to get him to stay back, like against Teach. Knowing that his every decision would affect the others; had always been true, but when he wasn't Captain, he had far far more freedom. It was FAR FAR FAR less of a risk. He didn't have to be the one who couldn't fly up to the wall and try to take a shortcut ahead of everyone else. Staying back, trying to be a captain and still Marco is terrifying. Of course it is. And worse, if he shows the fear, it'll hurt them. He's livid, because it seems like Namur is trying to force him show him his fear. To force Marco to hurt him, no matter what. It's beyond frustrating. Maybe it's just fire & air vs. water. ]

Is that what this is about? You think you have to protect me from Grell? [His expression flickers, almost hoping that's what it is, but not truly daring to believe it.]

[Finally it just flattens to his usual "emotionless" deadpan, acting like it's a joke, because whether Namur gets it yet or not, that's how Marco protects himself.] I assure you, [What is he supposed to say? How should he say it? A joke about how Grell's the masochist, not Marco? A phoenix point? No. No. Fuck it. Marco's emotions completely war with himself. His desire not to let Namur get hurt by anything, not to be the one to cause that pain, the rational, sane, logical side of him screaming at the need to protect Namur, pointing out that Namur just doesn't get it, can't get it maybe, that it's been so many jumps in space, part of which is Marco's own damn fault -- wars and rages with the sadistic side of Marco that is beyond fed up, that wants to make this lesson stick, once and for all time. The petty dark side of him that he would never ever EVER allow to take the forefront if Thatch was there. If he could just let the logical side win.]

[In the end... it's his love for Namur that wins. That prevents him from saying, "No one could hurt me as much as you are right now." Because Namur just didn't fucking understand. Couldn't begin to. And maybe... maybe the answer lied in that after all.]

[Another sigh, and Marco's voice drops back to quiet, but this time a normal quiet. A weary quiet. A painfully honest quiet.] I have put her through hells the likes of which you can never begin to fathom, Namur.

She doesn't hate you. [Flicks Namur hard, WITH HAKI right in the face. He has it coming.] No more'n I do.

Don't -- Just shut up for a little bit and actually use your fucking fish ears to listen all right?

[Deep breath.] She doesn't hate you.

She is god damn fucking terrified of loving you.

Fucking golden Buddha sodomizing Magellan with his paperwork goat in a pile of red forest spikes and congealed blood made homies by Big Mam's psychotic stolen souls singing songs of Pirate Island while vomiting more blood.

[Deep breath again.] You really don't get it.

[Flops back on his back on the dock, with his wrist resting on his forehead.] Look, I'm sorry I don't have the brains to figure out how to impart this wisdom to you or something. I wish Pops could explain it to you, but just...

Listen hard all right. And try to think it through before you say something that is going to hurt me. Or her.

[Rubs his forehead, trying to figure all the shit out and how to put it into words.]

You remember how much of a fucking disaster Thatch was? After Teach I mean. For the five years you took care of him before you two found me, aye?

And Ace. Ace was tryin' to kill Pops. Did you always just think... it was to be the strongest?

It wasn't, all right? And for fuck's sake, Namur! [Marco sits up sharply, leans over and grabs two fistfuls of Namur's hair.] Don't let on I'm telling either Grell or Ace this, all right? Because this isn't the kind of shit people share or want a giant shark mouth who says STUPID THINGS to know! I'm telling you, because apparently, you think if you don't know this shit, you'll be worse than if you do. [GLARES LIKE HELL, AN EAGLE KIND OF GLARE THAT SAYS I WILL EAT YOUR YOUNG IN FRONT OF YOU AND MAKE YOU WATCH, THEN I WILL BEGIN ON YOU FROM THE TOES FIRST.] You get one chance. Don't. Fuck. It. Up.

[Lets go and roughly shoves Namur back, leaning back on the dock again.]

Loving people is painful.

Yes, it's a better way of life. Yes, I'm glad Pops showed me it. No, I don't regret that, and I never will. Yes, this is killing me to have to spell out to you, yoi. [Sticks his tongue out at Namur, to half show he's kidding again. After all, if he really meant that, he probably wouldn't do it. Or he was just trying to make it clear he was joking to protect Namur. Whichever. Either way, he was trusting Namur to be adult with it, and if he wasn't, Marco would flay him.]

But it's worse when you're like me, and have lost people, and knowing that you will only ever continue to lose them. The odds of me outliving everyone in the crew are very high. Even if-- [He wants to die. Part of him. He wants to die with his brothers, because what's the point of living past them? But so long as there is one, any, he promised.]

[His throat is closed and he can't speak for a bit.]

[Finally he just opens his mouth, able to get his words out, though his voice is dry.] Pops ordered me to watch over you. All of you. Don't you get it? That's the only thing keeping me going. You think you're tired from all these dimensions hops?

[Throws his head back and laughs bitterly.] Vander Decken, [~~Christ~~] Namur, it's only been a few years. Imagine how exhausted you'd be after centuries! Oh, and not just centuries of dealing with little shits like in Ceres who said the whole of reality was destroyed and they had to experiment on you to put it back, or worlds like the Garden with their xenophobia and anti-sorceress and Time Compression complexes, oh no. Worlds of nothing but war. Wars killing children, torturing them in ways even Teach wouldn't do. Centuries of watching plagues, famines, and nightmares come real take everything, and not being allowed to touch it. Where the only kindness was death, death that was never truly afforded to you. [He sits up again, side-eying Namur with another phoenix eagle glare, and and leans forward threateningly, to growl darkly almost in a whisper.] Again, you ever breathe a word of this to her and I will hurt you in ways you can't imagine.

[Leans back again, with a weary face palm.] Grell doesn't hate you. I don't hate you. Sometimes, I hate myself. [His expression flickers. That's more honest than he is.... even with himself. But fine, if this was the only way to get through to Namur, he would try it.]

She's terrified of letting anyone close enough to love them.

And you know who made her do it anyway?

[A cruel sadistic smile, folding his hands under his chin, and leaning his elbows on his knees.] Me. I did. I made her remember. I made her adopt a child and let her love him to pieces, and I always knew it would hurt her beyond anything she could ever put back. And you know what else, Namur? [Cold eyes again, letting Namur see the sides that no one else had. That Thatch knew existed but always tried to keep back like venom that could infect others if they let it. That Pops had tried to tame because he knew Marco wasn't happy with it, but it could never be truly removed, and Marco wasn't strong enough even now, maybe ever, to want it removed. It was too much his core, too deeply ingrained. Wash away the fluff, and even the spikes, and he was still steel, cold, dark, evil steel that couldn't be cleansed.] I took her son away too. Because I needed him safe. And because if she watched him die, she'd break, and then I wouldn't be strong enough to protect you all.

I made her come with me, I made her promise me a life, when she had none left. I filled her with flames, and I made her sing again, I made her remember how much it hurts to be part of the living, and I made her love it and hate it all the same.

I gave her my best friend in Thatch, and I told her it was safe to love him too, and then when it counted most, when she needed him most, I couldn't bring him back, and you know I'll never stop working on that, but don't for a second think that it doesn't kill her inside every time she sees anything that reminds her of him. Don't for a second think she doesn't wish she could blame me, just to get rid of some of the rage at the unfairness and how cruel the universe is. [His face hardens, and there's another deep breath, as he slowly lets himself go back to weary.]

She could never hate you Namur. You will never see it the same way, but you are siblings, yoi. Like it or not. She's just too scared that the minute she loves you, [Marco snaps his fingers.] You'll be gone, like that. For someone like us, who has seen that happen more times than you've hit on a maid, that's a lot to take in.

I didn't tell you to talk to her about your kids out of kindness, Namur. I did it because it'll hurt her. But without pain, sometimes it's hard to know just how much you're really alive.

[He wants to walk away, but this time, this one time he promises himself, he'll wait for Namur's judgement. For Namur to continue the fight, to insist Marco's wrong if he wants, to punch him or bite him, or anything else.]

[ONE TIME.]

[And then he was going to say "Fuck that" to this honesty thing forever, because it hurt like a bitch and in ways Marco wasn't comfortable with taking upon himself, and god damn that was saying something.]

[But then, honesty wasn't really something he'd force on anyone else either. Not even Ace. Not even Grell, and he just admitted that he regularly, daily, hourly tortured her. For fun! In the deepest darkest, soul-wrenching manner he knew how. And he was never ever going to stop either! So long as he existed and could find her. So you get that honesty this one time Namur. That's it. And mostly, Marco hopes that it'll scare Namur off from wanting there to be any future times. Sometimes it's just better not to have to say some things. And to assume the best and pretend the best. The truth is kind of fucking horrific.]

[He steeples his fingers and realizes he needs to clarify one more point, glue, to hold the rest together, because apparently Namur was incapable of getting it otherwise:]

She doesn't hate you. That's not her motivation for her actions. She wants you to hate her. Because then she can dismiss you and you'll want to keep your distance. Ace, was like this too. He did not hate us. Not ever. He wanted us to hate him. Always. Not entirely, just like Pops, he wanted to be loved. And so does Grell. But it is easier for them to deal with you hating them. It's very very difficult for them to deal with you loving them.

I will not ask you to hurt yourself. I trusted you to be able to deal with her childish side, but if you need to gain that distance, then you shall have it. But I said motivations are important, and they are. Her actions are not of someone who hates you. If she did, she'd kill you or try to make it look like an accident, or she'd just tell me and I wouldn't force her to make nice. As I said, she wants you to hate her. Then she has excuse to hide away like Toby. Remember when Ace would curl up in a miserable lonely ball on the deck of the ship? His crew had already basically joined us, so he was the only one left fighting it, and he didn't want to let anyone get to know him, even Thatch. Grell is much like that right now, except obviously, we are not on Pops' ship, and she still thinks you could disappear any second. And if you do, why should she bother to get to know you? See, she already knows from me and every other time I've nudged her to love someone; to know you is to love you. And that's a pain she needs more motivation to endure. If you're durable enough, you can show her. If you're not? I'll not force you.

Edited 2017-01-22 22:05 (UTC)

[Wow, where to begin? Despite however it helps his plans, PC hates everything about his patients, word salad included. It was tempting to tune it all out and work with the simpler, sinful stylings of Namur, who at least had the decency to shut the hell up every now and again.

Oh well, he'll give it his best shot.]

All that time, all that mouth diarrhea, all that abuse and petulance, and for what?

"Grell's had a rough life so she's got attachment issues. Also if you ever bring this up to her or in any way try to make things transparent and straightforward--i.e., what this whole god-forsaken time-waster was supposed to be about--it won't work and I'll get upset too."

Marco, for someone who claims to want you guys alive so badly, doesn't seem to have any qualms about wasting your time.

Oh, and in case you forgot, he basically admitted to not wanting to be captain at all, but pretending to just to cover for emotional weakness. Just so we're clear.

Why bring Grell along at all if Marco has to just speak for her behind her back? Isn't that exactly the kind of relationship confusion and turmoil this talk was supposed to resolve?

And, of course, you have to play mum and pretend you don't know what you know and navigate from a place of deceit. Don't you hate pretending?

Face it. This is all smoke and mirrors. You will never, ever achieve anything like mutual comprehension. Probably for the best; if you did, you wouldn't be able to stand each other anymore. Best to keep things professional.

[It all comes back to his goal. PC knows they're co-dependent. They won't allow themselves to leave a bad situation out of some perverted sense of loyalty, no matter how miserable it gets.

In that case, why not ratchet up the misery as high as he can?]

[Oh shut up, stupid angry voice. Marco's leveling with him for once, and it feels like a hard fought victory. His face still hurts where Marco hit him with haki- ass- but the rest was exactly what Namur was pushing for.

He's quiet for a long time. Maybe too long, as he lets all of Marco's words sink in. He wants to remember them, to mull them over at length when he's got space to think. Eventually, he snorts.]

Know y' coulda lead with that, dumbass, an' saved us all spoutin' a buncha shit like geysers.

[JUST SAYING.]

[You don't have to be immortal to know how painful it is to lose someone. While Namur had risen up and learned to love Marco as a fellow Commander, Teach had been a bigger part of Namur's integration into the crew. When faced with the decision to accept Whitebeard's flag or to try escaping and finding his way on his own again, it was Teach who listened and laughed with him with that easygoing manner of his. Teach, who shared drinks at a hostile bar so that he'd know he wasn't alone, who could somehow make the sun come out on a stormy day with that uglyass grin. No newfound hate or need for vengeance could change what had been. Namur's more than familiar with the hollow feeling you get when you go to that place in your heart where your love for a person used to be, only to find it full of poison.

So maybe it's possible that a part of your heart which started full of poison could eventually be filled with love.

It's worth a shot, isn't it?

But damn, Grell is good at bringing out the poison.

Namur sighs.]

Might take awhile, but I ain't gonna give up.

[He stares at Marco.]

So what're y' gonna do? Try an' learn t' wanna be captain, or try an' find 'nother way t' do what Pops told y', but that don't go 'gainst yer will?

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