@ynysafallach
Marble can repair itself, given enough time. Hairline cracks and crumbling fissures seal over with mineral discoloration, woven calcite lattices stitching over like a second skin. Tabard Alon is foliated down to his core, layer after layer of injury and repair, white to grey to pink to green and back again, all laid out under brown skin.
Enough time is not something Tabard has right now, however. He has a hole in his heart showing white-grey-pink-green and even though it has not killed him, somehow, it is making him shiver and slip. And maybe he is desperate. Maybe he is confused and incensed all at once and grasping at anything but he has decided that if he can fit marble to marble the wound will repair itself.
That is what has brought him to the rabbit-warren Mare Crisium, picking through rubble where some long-ago disaster has brought a cathedral to scenic ruin for any stone that might match. Silent, silver-gleam armor muted with dust, a statue in motion. (At least he is managing to maintain the appearance of composure.)
