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Date Posted: 13:02:48 02/07/02 Thu
Author: Tristan
Subject: Pulling Marz aside
In reply to: Marz and Ravin 's message, "Stress and more stress" on 10:13:21 02/07/02 Thu

Argus’ reaction to seeing him kiss Marz startled Tristan, almost making him regret the gesture. The angry look on Marz’s tired face showed that he wasn’t too pleased about it, either. The man’s comment reminded Tristan of someone else, but at first he couldn’t really put his finger on it. Then he had it: Dalo.

From the very beginning, Dalo had practically begged him to stay away from Marz, not only because he was a bad influence, but because he was somehow offended at the thought of the two of them becoming romantically involved. At the time, Tristan had only been moderately confused, and had just thought his onetime friend to have some very silly ideas about social interaction. But now in retrospect—coupled with Justin’s occasional scathing glares and Argus’ recent remarks—it was starting to make his stomach churn.

Still, he was unwilling to believe that his personal preferences were morally wrong, even if some did consider them socially wrong. It was right for him, and obviously for Marz, too. Most of their other friends didn’t see anything wrong with it either. (Lots of stuff wrong sometimes between the two of them, but naturally that was another story.)

Not that this didn’t make things more complicated. Tristan eyed Argus when the man returned to the fire, now clean-shaven. Suddenly, he was aware of his own close proximity to Marz, even closer than he usually sat. He guessed that nearly losing him made him appreciate his presence even more, or to at least be less ashamed of it.

He decided, however, that once again, he was over-thinking the whole matter, so he just shoved it aside to be pondered later. All in all, it wasn’t enough to make him put distance between himself and Marz, though his eyes did keep shifting suspiciously to Argus. Wonder if it would piss him off if I told him how handsome he looks without his beard, he thought ironically, automatically vowing never to find a jerk like him in any way attractive.

Jeremy’s arrival shook him from his thoughts, even though all he really had to do was shift his displeasure from Argus to the little punk kid. When Jeremy asked about the lightning bolt, Tristan almost jumped up and slapped him across his face. (Yes, a punch in the mouth would be more fulfilling, but the others would probably hold it against him somehow. Damned moral-driven humans.)

Marz took his hint though, and tried his best to play along. Jeremy was persistent in his stupidity, however, and the redheaded youth soon had his supposedly macho idol on the verge of freaking out, once he learned about all the mass destruction. Cleverly enough, he put two and two together, and turned to Tristan with a distraught look in his eye, asking a string of questions about what had happen, and how it was related to him.

Tristan bit his lip and glanced at Jeremy, who was staring at Marz like he was crazy. “Come on,” he muttered, grabbing Marz by the arm and standing. He pulled him off to the side, out of earshot from most of the others, and tried to fix him with his most stern look. It didn’t work, though; his love and compassion leaked through and he ended up looking almost sorry for him.

“Of course you didn’t kill those centaurs,” he said quietly. “Your magic did, but you didn’t. The one whose responsible for all this isn’t you; it’s that bastard thief of a mage who tried to…to rape what’s rightfully yours and use it for himself.” He stumbled over the word rape because it made him feel so uncomfortable, but he realized Marz had done right in using it to describe what had happened.

“Yeah,” he continued, his voice slightly more gentle, “You have the ability to do all that. So do I, I think. But you didn’t use it; he did. If you wanted to, you could be a damned holy nightmare, Marz, but you aren’t. You could just as easily have used your sword to kill those centaurs and hack everything apart, but you sure as hell didn’t do that, either.

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened.” He reached out and gripped his shoulder, pulling him closer. He wanted to pull him into a hug and kiss the frown off his face, but he held back at the moment. “It’s not your fault you were born with those abilities. Nobody asked me if I wanted to be born a halfblooded mutt trying to pass for a real dragon. And nobody asked you who you wanted to be, either. It’s just part of what we are. I guess it’s how we use it that really defines who we are, though.”

He paused momentarily, his grip on Marz’s shoulder tightening and his eyes shifting and narrowing somewhat. “I don’t like those chakra things. I don’t like what they did to you. But I guess it’s better than…” He glanced at the funeral pyres burning off in the distance for the remains of the two dead centaurs. “Well, better than all this,” he finished. He sighed and looked back at Marz, hoping he’d made him feel better about it.

“Oh,” he added as an afterthought, “And the lightning bolt story—must be what Erlic told the others. We’re the only ones who know about your real abilities. The others…well you know mortals. They’d probably freak out if they knew.” He swore under his breath, imagining what he would do to anyone who decided to ostracize Marz for fear of what he could do to them. “They can be so stupid sometimes.”

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