@aitheriohs
The hours before a battle were dreadful to Marc, on all fronts. He itched to be on the field and away from the contentedness and ease that the rest of the Shepherds radiated. Perhaps he was considerably more like a disease or a pestilence, than that of a person. Surely someone who’d done as horribly sickening acts of treason such as himself wasn’t all that deserving of living in this camp, surrounded by people whose bloody faces were scornfully burned in to his memory. Not once did he bat an eye then, nor does he do so now--- at least not unless directly approached.
Every one of the shepherds were merely strangers to him, hardly friends at all. There was one person though, outside of his sister that Marc felt some strange affiliation towards. It wasn’t a parental bond the way Morgan saw it. He was too distanced from such a feeling of endearment by this point... by what he’d been through. And although his sister was blessed with the loss of her memories, he on the other hand was very aware of where they came from and what they had been through. Morgan’s smile though--- gods had he missed such a sight on her face. He would do anything to keep it there, to keep the dark clouds of their past from rearing it’s ugly head and undoing all of this progress she had made.
So, of course Marc was absolutely livid when talk of their ‘father’, (if Marc could even call the figure who resembled his Master such a thing) having drugged Morgan in order to convince her to sleep. It sickened him and more than anything made his blood boil. To the entire camp since their arrival Marc has kept himself at as much of a distance as possible from anyone. He just seemed to be the studious type, always reading his books and studying strategics... Like father, like son is what they would say. Today that was different as he marched through the camp with a leather-coated tome (no one needed to know what foul magic lay inside of that book) and his Levin Sword strapped to his waist. Would this be a betrayal? It had to be... For what he was about to do to his ‘father’ for what happened to Morgan.
Ether’s tent was one of the few distinguishable ones in the camp. Of course it was, he was their lead strategist. One long, deep breath was taken to compose himself--- to feign that innocent look that he’d done so well at keeping across his features unless he was on the battlefield. He entered the tent, just enough to glance inside and make sure Ether was there and to catch his attention. “ Father--- Not to be a bother, but I had an idea for a new strategy... I was wondering if you would come with me so I can show you it? “












