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[impure_tale]

I suppose if my wrists ache too much to write at the pace to which I am accustomed, I should perhaps look for other diversions to fill my time. As it is, I might benefit from a few books from the library, if anyone would be so kind as to fetch them for me.

[Spam for Riddick]

[Most of the Marquis' time has been spent in his own bed resting. He has been seen, usually around lunch time and dinner time, fetching a meal for himself and Renate in the dining hall. At these times his cane has returned to regular use, and he has not stayed long, not even to chat. Now he is once again resting, with a small pile of books at his bedside that have been read and reread many a time and now therefore lack their old luster. Renate has gone to the main deck on walks with Riddick but beyond that has, with much concern, remained faithfully at her Master's side, often sleeping with him on the bed to share her warmth with him. She is settled with him, facing the foot and the rest of his apartments beyond, including the door leading out, her ears flicking back and forth while he turns the final pages of yet another book he has read at least three times in the years he has been here. His journal sits beside him, open and awaiting further comments. He looks tired, as though he may only need a few more pages before he is able to drift off into a short nap.]

Comments

[with_my_teacup]

[Riddick had stayed close, the past while, a silent looming figure in the halls or in the Marquis' room. Today, less quiet. More agitated.]

You ever talk to Arthas?

[impure_tale]

[The Marquis blinks as though awakened from a half-sleep.] Quoi? [As though the language were said in a language he does not know.] What are you talking about?

[with_my_teacup]

[A frustrated grunt. Riddick pads across the room to claim the edge of the bed.]

This got old before it started.

I need to fight with Arthas.

[impure_tale]

Why do you need to fight with Arthas? Has he been bothering you?

[with_my_teacup]

No. I haven't talked to him since you cut me off. But I need to fight and he's the one who doesn't pull punches.

[impure_tale]

[He sighs, clearly beleaguered. Why you do this to him, Riddick?]

You are speaking to me about this when I am infirm on purpose, aren't you?

[with_my_teacup]

Maybe I just need to kick some ass. Men have needs.

[His coyness is fraying at the seams. He hasn't had his cool, audibly or visibly, since the shocked, dismayed, furious moment when he was dragged away from the Marquis during the aborted breakout.]

[impure_tale]

I'll speak with him when I'm feeling better. [A glance] I'm in no state to make any further promises.

But you might inform me: from where did these needs arise?

[sharpsuitfluffytail]

[Guess who's got some sweet painkillers and feeling charitable?]

Take it from 'few' to 'one' and I could help you out.

[impure_tale]

You, monsieur, are a saint.

[sharpsuitfluffytail]

I do try. Anything in particular you want?

[impure_tale]

Something dark.

[sharpsuitfluffytail]

[...]

Might need to narrow that down a bit. It's not a... type I'm too familiar with.

[The Marquis copes strangely]

[impure_tale]

Suspense, horror. Whatever you can dredge up.

[This is the Barge. 'Strange' hardly exists.]

[sharpsuitfluffytail]

[He's already on his way to the library.] Sounds good. What's your cabin number, Marquis?

[impure_tale]

Level three. Room four. You will have to let yourself in.

[strangehistorian]

No problem! What would you like?

[impure_tale]

Some John Wilmot, perhaps.

And some horror. I find myself in the mood.

[strangehistorian]

Alright! I'll see what I can find and bring it over!

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[When Ben sees the Marquis, he's able to put the face with the broadcasts that confuse him almost as much as the rows of books in the library; he hesitates wherever he's going, eyes narrowing intently. The cane confuses him - transgenics are never allowed to get into such a condition that they'd need one, and if they are, they don't make it back to active duty; furthermore, Ben hadn't gotten close to many of the civilian population to disprove his perception - and he watches quietly from where he is.]

[ Spam ]

[impure_tale]

[Today the Marquis has taken the time to sit and enjoy his meal in the hall. Normally he's fine to return to his room with a bowl, but sleep has been escaping him, and a little time to sit and recollect himself seems to be the best choice for him. Renate eats from her bowl, dropped on the floor next to his feet. He catches Ben's eye briefly as his gaze scans the room. Swallowing what he has been chewing, he manages a tired wink.]

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[Ben can smell the frailty on the man, and that's what's distracting him when he finds himself on the receiving end of something he never has been before - oh, he knows what winks mean but no one has ever bothered with him before, not that he remembers or has noticed, anyway. He blinks, spine straightening immediately, and then his eyes narrow.

There are only a few empty seats between the transgenic and the Marquis. He hesitates, but then simply raises his voice from where he is.]

Sir - are you alright?

[sharpememory]

Yeah, I'm sure your wrists ache that much from "writing".

[impure_tale]

Dearheart, if I had the strength or the desire to masturbate in my present condition, I assure you I would have no qualms with saying so.

[sharpememory]

[A pause. Barron had not been expecting that through his trolling.] Wait, what?