I am not fond of anyone who professes a love for power that brazenly. [ It is dangerous, tempting, to be around such individuals. Martin is better off not associating with such types. ]
I can't hold it against you. I have no idea what it means. [ A nervous laugh. ] I'm a farmer's boy, D'Artagnan. I wasn't raised a prince.
[ Martin waves his fingers like a metronome, the flames following the rhythm. ] If you'd like. But it's for life. And the salary is greater than non-existent, which is all I can afford right now.
[ D'Artagnan looks up at him, a little surprised. He's still holding his arms out in front of him like he's trying to balance something on them - or as if he thinks he has to hold the fire up. ]
My father had a farm in Gascony. That's where I grew up. I joined the Musketeers, after...
After he died.
[ He glances down at the flames again, turning his hand over and watching them crawl over his skin. They have a kind of tickling warmth, which actually makes him want to shiver. Very strange. ]
The flames last for life? [ He looks up - or at least, one of his eyebrows arches up, and he peeks at Martin from beneath the fall of his hair. ] You're not serious. They don't fade?
I'm sorry to hear that. [ Farmers seem to die a lot around these parts. But to go, "Hey, my adoptive father was a farmer and he died too!" would be inappropriate. ]
No. I could enchant your clothes and weapon, but that doesn't last forever either and I lack the proper materials to do so. [ Martin flicks his hands, and the flames disappear. Another wave, and they re-appear. ] I'm feeding the flames with my magicka. Be near me, and I can keep them going. If I leave, they'll last a minute or so, then disappear.
If I knew I was to double as a human furnace today, I would've brought a wine. [ It is, of course, a light-hearted joke. He has no problems staying here for a couple of hours. ] You know, maybe I could get an enchanting table and some soul gems here.
No, you're still sick. We can spar some other day. You sure you don't want some wine? I got a red in my rover.
[ Martin takes the bottle, eyeing the label. ] So, we're just going to drink after each other? [ Eh, he doesn't really care. The cork comes off easily, even without a proper corkscrew. He takes a small drink, savoring it over downing it. ] Nice. Sweet, not too acidic. Is there berries in this? My tastebuds might be off, the cold of this planet kills them.
[ Said with a little roll of his eyes, but a smile to say Martin has amused him. And actually, by cups, he means glasses, but he calls them cups because that's just what he's used to. He sets them down on one of the benches, and indicates for Martin to sit with him. ]
I don't know. Maybe. I usually get Athos' advice on that sort of thing, I'm not much of a connoisseur. Is it different from what you're used to? It's Parisien, I think.
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I can't hold it against you. I have no idea what it means. [ A nervous laugh. ] I'm a farmer's boy, D'Artagnan. I wasn't raised a prince.
[ Martin waves his fingers like a metronome, the flames following the rhythm. ] If you'd like. But it's for life. And the salary is greater than non-existent, which is all I can afford right now.
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[ D'Artagnan looks up at him, a little surprised. He's still holding his arms out in front of him like he's trying to balance something on them - or as if he thinks he has to hold the fire up. ]
My father had a farm in Gascony. That's where I grew up. I joined the Musketeers, after...
After he died.
[ He glances down at the flames again, turning his hand over and watching them crawl over his skin. They have a kind of tickling warmth, which actually makes him want to shiver. Very strange. ]
The flames last for life? [ He looks up - or at least, one of his eyebrows arches up, and he peeks at Martin from beneath the fall of his hair. ] You're not serious. They don't fade?
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No. I could enchant your clothes and weapon, but that doesn't last forever either and I lack the proper materials to do so. [ Martin flicks his hands, and the flames disappear. Another wave, and they re-appear. ] I'm feeding the flames with my magicka. Be near me, and I can keep them going. If I leave, they'll last a minute or so, then disappear.
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He likes them. ]
Then, please. Stay a while. Or I'll come with you and we can spar now, if you like. The thought of outside isn't so bad with this around me.
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No, you're still sick. We can spar some other day. You sure you don't want some wine? I got a red in my rover.
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[ That's basically the only alcohol he'd bought - red wine, the decent kind, from his own era. It reminds him of home.
He retrieves a bottle that's been stopped; it's about three quarters full. He holds it out to Martin. ]
I'll share if you will. Honestly, it'll probably make me warmer.
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[ Said with a little roll of his eyes, but a smile to say Martin has amused him. And actually, by cups, he means glasses, but he calls them cups because that's just what he's used to. He sets them down on one of the benches, and indicates for Martin to sit with him. ]
I don't know. Maybe. I usually get Athos' advice on that sort of thing, I'm not much of a connoisseur. Is it different from what you're used to? It's Parisien, I think.