The Far Shore

"And while I can't stay I got the tallest cross on the island, preeetty sure I got the thickest." Okay, he can't help the snort that erupts after that.

"Ah. Genital humor." He states, taking a sip of his coffee.

❛ Yes, it is private here. ❜

❛ You can open a window if you need more air. ❜

A moment later, he emerges with a brown glass bottle and presents it with a flourish.

"I'll acknowledge that mortals aren't without desires, but a particularly shameless human sees fit to send me unsolicited filth once a month."

He crosses his arms, fingers tapping against one arm.

"Obscenity and pleasure, unrestrained. You are speaking of...porn, yes? That is its name? Am I to surmise that you find that joining of the flesh should only be done under an attempt to procreate?"

They reappear seconds later in Cecil's bedroom—because while his sewing hobby is all tucked away in Faucher Lace, his chemistry exploits are still strictly homebound.

❛ Sit, ❜ the marquis says next, trying to push his companion firmly towards the bed while he himself starts for the shelves.

"Purification," Aurelius says succinctly, sparing a glance for the pyre of paper before letting nature run its course. If the fox could afford to see them burnt to ashes, so could he.

"A most offensive pamphlet found its way to me this morning, so it was only prudent to dispose of it quickly."

"Unfortunately, your books were caught up in the process. You may want to reconsider your reading material."

"'B-bark'?" He sputters, offended. Subconsciously, his cheeks puff out a little as he watches the alien go, thinking that'll be the end of it at least, but they're soon returning with a fresh cup that they place in front of him. And Till blinks at it, dumbfounded because well… He doesn't think an alien has ever been so nice to him, and now he feels he maybe -- might have -- overreacted.

With a skeptical glance at the alien, he reaches for the cup. Quickly, he draws a little creature with pointed ears, a snout, and a bushy tail in the foam before sliding it back to the other. He sits back and drinks his own, now ruined, coffee.

He hums in acknowledgement to Till's words, looming over his new latte art like a discerning art collector.

"Yes. It is strong in concept. I understand what you wished to convey."

He pauses, tilting his head.

"It shares qualities with me. Despite the insistence this class and its form of...art is purely for entertainment, I perhaps wonder if the truth behind it is a psychological game."

fiyero sniffs the air. it's not a magical disease, she would've picked up on that much faster. but there is something familiar about this, something she experiences every now and then herself. she can't quite put her finger on it, though she has her suspicions.

either way, she's not inclined to help. in fact, she's inclined to take her pets and leave. especially when he calls bark— ' my thing? what is wrong with you? he's my companion. '

a title stolen from halsin, something she's always quite liked. though she does act a lot more motherly around the two.

"Tool 'uh the trade an' all that."

"Hard t' do prayers without somethin' to pray to. 'Specially in this place." Okay, was he laying it on rather thick? Perhaps. (He hadn't actually prayed to anything or anyone in a long time). But he was due for some amusement.

He states flatly.

"And I have seen such items in far smaller, convenient forms. No, your item has vaster uses....or, you are under the impression that the bigger the item, the greater your voice to your god, hm?"

❛ We can't do anything in the streets. ❜

❛ I have my tools elsewhere. Come with me, and I'll start by taking a sample of your blood. ❜

"I suppose I have no choice but to accept the label if you're so insistent."

"An adult might've offered to compensate you for the loss. A child like me is quite helpless to do anything but be scolded at by a stranger."

He crosses his arms and stares at the books, particularly the two burnt ones on top.

"...my mistake. I suppose I could also finish what I inadvertently started."

"....You've wit."

Though his ears were still pinned back, he did not rush in to further insult or throw punches. Instead he dumped his two burnt books into the dumpster along with the others Aurelius was already burning.

He waved his hand at the scene.

Mira echoes out the question, unsure why he was asking such a thing before she stops to think about it. It wasn't uncommon for other souls to seek out others for companionship, so it makes sense he'd think to ask it for her own situation.

Viktor had never thought of the hexcore as such.

Opportunistic, maybe. Even when he'd started having strange visions due to it, he just found himself fascinated, curious. He needed to know more. Things had changed when it had killed Sky, and he wanted it gone. Even then, it felt like something out of their control, chaotic, dangerous - not parasitic. Now that it was a part of him, that it was the reason he was alive...he supposed it could be described as such. Still. He wanted it here now. It helped him help others.

"Opportunistic," He corrects. "But helpful."

"Purpose....mm...yes, I suppose such a loss is...jarring."

It was his attempt to be...sympathetic. Empathetic?

"You implying somethin' 'bout me?" He snarls.

At least the guy doesn't seem like he's about to take Till's treat away from him, so he leans back from over his coffee cup. As he looks down, Till takes in his ruined art and his expression flips from ireful and suspicious to surprised and utterly crestfallen.

He wandered off, but only briefly, returning with a fresh, hot cup of coffee which he placed in front of Till.

His explanation made sense to her. He would have to meet a Pokémon trainer or another Pokémon itself to learn that word.

❛ Recognition and gratitude, perhaps? ❜ he lifts his head a little, the better to see the other. ❛ You must know that I am a very vain man. ❜

❛ Medicine is as much of an art to me as clothing. If I cannot dress you in one, I might as well douse you in the other. ❜

He wiggles his fingers playfully, a harmless motion.

❛ Besides that, it's rather inconvenient for us both to meet while you're like this. To ask me to wait a month before seeking you out means I would've made half a dozen new acquaintances by then. Do you want to be forgotten so quickly? ❜

He huffs next, a little peevish noise.

"But when you play you play well and this fact cannot be denied." He snorted and slowly got off of Cecil, grabbing his arm to hoist him up without any ceremony or gentleness.

"Such a troublesome man. You admit to vanity yet assume I would bite your hand out of jealousy."

His attempt to turn this around and seem his usual stern self was all but lost. His fur was all bristled and poofed, his eyes dark and he still panted as though out of breath. Even without the effects of his heat heightening his senses, his interest in Cecil was obvious and it seemed Cecil knew this.

If the scenario came up where Cecil were to look at him without recognition, the fox might snap his jaws at him for the insolence.