Marius & Namor | The Trident of Neptune
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xp_logsMarius encounters Namor practicing his spear forms while out on a jog. They talk of weapons, ritual trials, and Alani Ryan.
"Your Highness! Well met, eh?"
Even as the words left his mouth the X-Man was already slowing his jog. It was a rather pleasant day for early spring, perfect for training, which perhaps made it all the more tragic Marius was inflicting himself upon the Ruler of Atlantis. It could not be helped. There was something all-too-tempting about the sight of a man wielding a trident of liquid gold on a bright March morn, at least to one as perpetually in search of stimulation as Marius.
The liquid of gold of the Trident of Neptune sliced through the air in spinning arcs as Namor continued through his forms. Parry, parry, spin, counter, thrust. The scantily-clad Atlantean moved with a practiced grace uninterrupted by the arrival of an audience.
In fact, he didn't pause at all.
The flow continued until, finally, Namor landed from a jumping lunge into a final position with the trident pointed downward. Then, he allowed himself to break focus. "This man," Namor said to no one in a low mumble that was masked by his own heavy breathing. Sighing, he pulled himself up to his full height, shoulders back and chest proud, to more clearly deliver, "It is Your Majesty, Marius of the Lavernes. I also doubt your presence is particularly well met anywhere."
The other man's reply radiated the bulletproof good cheer of one who assumed he needn't read the room if there were decent odds he could simply change the entire vibe. "To the contrary. Occasionally the subject is seeking my largesse, in which case my presence is quite welcome indeed." Marius gestured to the trident with a gloved hand. "Pardon my curiosity, Your Majesty. My attention was merely drawn to your choice of arms. A spear?"
One of Namor's eyes twitched in irritation. "Wealth is a vulgar tool. Theatrical and tasteless." Still, he held out his weapon in front of him, and admiration crept into his voice. "This is the true mark of power for Atlantis' Royal Family, the Trident of Neptune. Perfectly crafted and enchanted to channel the might of the ocean's divine power."
"Once again, I must beg your pardon. Vulgar and theatrical I may be, but I do take exception with the characterization of tasteless. I've only just managed to rebuild a suitable wardrobe." The Australian swept an illustrative hand down the front of his Brioni track jacket with a smile. He cocked his head at the trident with a tilt as quick as that of a bird of prey. "However, I shall allow this is not as impressive as possessing the means of maritime mastery. An heirloom, I take it?"
"Much more," Namor said as his eyes traced the rune work on the weapon's surface, mind a thousand years away. "A key, a rite earned through sacrifice. We had no true need for crowns in Atlantis, as the Trident was symbol enough." He rotated the spear slowly, inspecting it from all sides. "It is all I had with me when I was freed from my cage. A last gift."
For the first time in their acquaintance Marius' expression showed something other than stubborn good nature. The word 'rite' traced his spine like a finger of ice. The slender cord of the charm Stephen had given him suddenly felt tight around his ankle.
"Not too dastardly a sacrifice, one hopes," said the X-Man, his amber eyes fixed on the runes etched across the unearthly metal. He barely noticed the habitual warmth had leached from his words.
The king was suddenly eyeing Marius with much keener interest. "Hope is the crutch of fools." Namor leaned forward, and suddenly his grip on the trident was much more adversarial. "The trials of the sea," he said in a low growl, "are true tests of courage, honesty, strength, and, above all, the willingness to sacrifice one's self for the people. There you stand correct — the sea is cruel and, as you say, dastardly."
"I hold no grudge against the sea. What morality can be expected of a force of nature? Such things are the responsibility of those who would wield it." Marius' mouth moved in a smile without feeling. "I have never been a ruler, only the tool — and the hand which gripped me had no care to sacrifice himself when so many others were at his disposal."
Namor's eyes narrowed, but the ice behind his judgment softened — like a glacier pulling back just a breath. "Foolish airbreather," he said with mild amusement, "A true king does not toss his own people on the pyre. Unfortunately for you, the Atlantean belief system is too arcane and complicated to explain in the time I have the patience to allow." He held the trident up again, letting the light glint off its enchanted metal. "The trident obeys anyone of royal blood, but the trials ensured whoever wielded it was fit to rule. A test."
The older man gave him a hard look, then, slowly, allowed the tension to leave his shoulders.
"So long as that test did not involve plunging it into the abdomens of the innocent," Marius said, "although I would expect such measures to be beneath you. Once again I must offer my apologies. These days I have a rather strong reaction to talk of rites and sacrifice, particularly in the company of eldritch runes."
This got Marius a look of mild, if amused, disgust. "How adorably delusional. What am I, human?"
Marius' eyebrows swept upwards. "Do you mean to say Atlantis was free of cruelty and ambition? If this is the case it's little wonder your contemporaries proclaimed it a land of myth."
"No," Namor said flatly, "We were a people. My people were good, evil, and any number of other quaint descriptors, but we never grew the cruelty cultivated by those on the mainland."
"Is this a veiled reference to colonisation and slavery? Good on you lot, then. Mankind has many great achievements. The list includes neither." Something about Namor's naked disdain for the folly of mankind brought a faint smile back to Marius' lips. At least one always knew where one stood with Namor, even if that position was "on the sole of his shoe".
Something about the reference to mainlanders tugged at Marius' memory. What was it . . ? Ah, the Pasifika girl.
"Apropos of nothing," Marius said, "have you seen Alani? I've not seen her around since our aborted meeting." He paused. "I wasn't meant to wait, was I? Apologies if I misunderstood some manner of Atlantean etiquette. I took summary expulsion to the hallway as a dismissal."
It was Namor's time to raise his eyebrows. "Do tell me how long you sat in that hallway, waiting. I want to picture it."
The other man folded his arms and turned his eyes skyward in recollection. "Perhaps a bit more than five minutes? Certainly no more than ten. My attention span rarely lasts any longer."
"Hmp," the taller man noted, leaning onto the trident in rest as he savored that image. "Your largesse, as it were, was unneeded and undesired in the moment. I exercised my own prerogative as Alani Ryan would have never."
"Did I do something to cause offence?" Once again Marius cast his mind back into the recent past. This was not an exercise in which he regularly indulged; over the years Marius had found it inadvisable to look back too often lest he actually see something he might be forced to acknowledge. However, this current retrospective turned up no obvious flags.
"I thought she was rather interested in the prospect," Marius concluded. Namor had seemed somewhat less so on her behalf, but Marius rather suspected "obstructive" was a core personality trait.
Namor's blue on black eyes sharpened as he mentally weighed a response. "You do not know her," it was important to note, "but she is very interested, if not as discerning as I would prefer. I will not stand in the way of her goals." The look on his face tipped toward annoyance with what he likely viewed as a concession. "She had a loss in the family."
"Ah? I'm sorry to —" Marius paused. The freshly turned soil of his recollection had unearthed the worm of memory. A text message, and then a stammer . . .
"Here, were we in active conversation when she received the news?"
Namor stared. He had successfully resumed his go-to impression of a brick wall during Marius's own mental math. So he sat, unblinking, as the man took whatever time he might need to jump to conclusions that should have been obvious.
Marius' train of thought had never been characterized as an express, but it reached the station eventually. "Ah, bugger." His expression fell for an instant, then flashed back to a smile almost as quickly. "Then I must find some suitable manner of apology before next meet. Cheers for the head's up."
"Stop," Namor practically commanded. "I would ask that you treat Alani Ryan with care. She is . . . dear to me." He had already raised a hand to halt any assurances or questions before they could be voiced. "She may appear friendly and open, but her family is a guarded liability. Do not pry." 'Or you will deal with me' was unspoken, but implied with force.
Marius grinned. "Speaking as a family liability myself, rest assured I shall treat her with the utmost delicacy. She is fortunate to have you as a friend." Or, at the very least, not to have Namor as an enemy. Marius was unclear on the exact nature of their relationship and had no desire for clarification. It was certainly none of his business. Also, it seemed complicated.
His stony expression remained. "She is, and my favor is not a trivial matter. No one need know of her pain."
"And none shall," Marius promised. "Except for myself, of course. And, possibly, a florist."
"We are still not friends, you and I," Namor added helpfully. A pause. He broke eye contact, and gave the trident a few practice spins to punctuate the point that he was finished here. Marius was dismissed.
"Your Highness! Well met, eh?"
Even as the words left his mouth the X-Man was already slowing his jog. It was a rather pleasant day for early spring, perfect for training, which perhaps made it all the more tragic Marius was inflicting himself upon the Ruler of Atlantis. It could not be helped. There was something all-too-tempting about the sight of a man wielding a trident of liquid gold on a bright March morn, at least to one as perpetually in search of stimulation as Marius.
The liquid of gold of the Trident of Neptune sliced through the air in spinning arcs as Namor continued through his forms. Parry, parry, spin, counter, thrust. The scantily-clad Atlantean moved with a practiced grace uninterrupted by the arrival of an audience.
In fact, he didn't pause at all.
The flow continued until, finally, Namor landed from a jumping lunge into a final position with the trident pointed downward. Then, he allowed himself to break focus. "This man," Namor said to no one in a low mumble that was masked by his own heavy breathing. Sighing, he pulled himself up to his full height, shoulders back and chest proud, to more clearly deliver, "It is Your Majesty, Marius of the Lavernes. I also doubt your presence is particularly well met anywhere."
The other man's reply radiated the bulletproof good cheer of one who assumed he needn't read the room if there were decent odds he could simply change the entire vibe. "To the contrary. Occasionally the subject is seeking my largesse, in which case my presence is quite welcome indeed." Marius gestured to the trident with a gloved hand. "Pardon my curiosity, Your Majesty. My attention was merely drawn to your choice of arms. A spear?"
One of Namor's eyes twitched in irritation. "Wealth is a vulgar tool. Theatrical and tasteless." Still, he held out his weapon in front of him, and admiration crept into his voice. "This is the true mark of power for Atlantis' Royal Family, the Trident of Neptune. Perfectly crafted and enchanted to channel the might of the ocean's divine power."
"Once again, I must beg your pardon. Vulgar and theatrical I may be, but I do take exception with the characterization of tasteless. I've only just managed to rebuild a suitable wardrobe." The Australian swept an illustrative hand down the front of his Brioni track jacket with a smile. He cocked his head at the trident with a tilt as quick as that of a bird of prey. "However, I shall allow this is not as impressive as possessing the means of maritime mastery. An heirloom, I take it?"
"Much more," Namor said as his eyes traced the rune work on the weapon's surface, mind a thousand years away. "A key, a rite earned through sacrifice. We had no true need for crowns in Atlantis, as the Trident was symbol enough." He rotated the spear slowly, inspecting it from all sides. "It is all I had with me when I was freed from my cage. A last gift."
For the first time in their acquaintance Marius' expression showed something other than stubborn good nature. The word 'rite' traced his spine like a finger of ice. The slender cord of the charm Stephen had given him suddenly felt tight around his ankle.
"Not too dastardly a sacrifice, one hopes," said the X-Man, his amber eyes fixed on the runes etched across the unearthly metal. He barely noticed the habitual warmth had leached from his words.
The king was suddenly eyeing Marius with much keener interest. "Hope is the crutch of fools." Namor leaned forward, and suddenly his grip on the trident was much more adversarial. "The trials of the sea," he said in a low growl, "are true tests of courage, honesty, strength, and, above all, the willingness to sacrifice one's self for the people. There you stand correct — the sea is cruel and, as you say, dastardly."
"I hold no grudge against the sea. What morality can be expected of a force of nature? Such things are the responsibility of those who would wield it." Marius' mouth moved in a smile without feeling. "I have never been a ruler, only the tool — and the hand which gripped me had no care to sacrifice himself when so many others were at his disposal."
Namor's eyes narrowed, but the ice behind his judgment softened — like a glacier pulling back just a breath. "Foolish airbreather," he said with mild amusement, "A true king does not toss his own people on the pyre. Unfortunately for you, the Atlantean belief system is too arcane and complicated to explain in the time I have the patience to allow." He held the trident up again, letting the light glint off its enchanted metal. "The trident obeys anyone of royal blood, but the trials ensured whoever wielded it was fit to rule. A test."
The older man gave him a hard look, then, slowly, allowed the tension to leave his shoulders.
"So long as that test did not involve plunging it into the abdomens of the innocent," Marius said, "although I would expect such measures to be beneath you. Once again I must offer my apologies. These days I have a rather strong reaction to talk of rites and sacrifice, particularly in the company of eldritch runes."
This got Marius a look of mild, if amused, disgust. "How adorably delusional. What am I, human?"
Marius' eyebrows swept upwards. "Do you mean to say Atlantis was free of cruelty and ambition? If this is the case it's little wonder your contemporaries proclaimed it a land of myth."
"No," Namor said flatly, "We were a people. My people were good, evil, and any number of other quaint descriptors, but we never grew the cruelty cultivated by those on the mainland."
"Is this a veiled reference to colonisation and slavery? Good on you lot, then. Mankind has many great achievements. The list includes neither." Something about Namor's naked disdain for the folly of mankind brought a faint smile back to Marius' lips. At least one always knew where one stood with Namor, even if that position was "on the sole of his shoe".
Something about the reference to mainlanders tugged at Marius' memory. What was it . . ? Ah, the Pasifika girl.
"Apropos of nothing," Marius said, "have you seen Alani? I've not seen her around since our aborted meeting." He paused. "I wasn't meant to wait, was I? Apologies if I misunderstood some manner of Atlantean etiquette. I took summary expulsion to the hallway as a dismissal."
It was Namor's time to raise his eyebrows. "Do tell me how long you sat in that hallway, waiting. I want to picture it."
The other man folded his arms and turned his eyes skyward in recollection. "Perhaps a bit more than five minutes? Certainly no more than ten. My attention span rarely lasts any longer."
"Hmp," the taller man noted, leaning onto the trident in rest as he savored that image. "Your largesse, as it were, was unneeded and undesired in the moment. I exercised my own prerogative as Alani Ryan would have never."
"Did I do something to cause offence?" Once again Marius cast his mind back into the recent past. This was not an exercise in which he regularly indulged; over the years Marius had found it inadvisable to look back too often lest he actually see something he might be forced to acknowledge. However, this current retrospective turned up no obvious flags.
"I thought she was rather interested in the prospect," Marius concluded. Namor had seemed somewhat less so on her behalf, but Marius rather suspected "obstructive" was a core personality trait.
Namor's blue on black eyes sharpened as he mentally weighed a response. "You do not know her," it was important to note, "but she is very interested, if not as discerning as I would prefer. I will not stand in the way of her goals." The look on his face tipped toward annoyance with what he likely viewed as a concession. "She had a loss in the family."
"Ah? I'm sorry to —" Marius paused. The freshly turned soil of his recollection had unearthed the worm of memory. A text message, and then a stammer . . .
"Here, were we in active conversation when she received the news?"
Namor stared. He had successfully resumed his go-to impression of a brick wall during Marius's own mental math. So he sat, unblinking, as the man took whatever time he might need to jump to conclusions that should have been obvious.
Marius' train of thought had never been characterized as an express, but it reached the station eventually. "Ah, bugger." His expression fell for an instant, then flashed back to a smile almost as quickly. "Then I must find some suitable manner of apology before next meet. Cheers for the head's up."
"Stop," Namor practically commanded. "I would ask that you treat Alani Ryan with care. She is . . . dear to me." He had already raised a hand to halt any assurances or questions before they could be voiced. "She may appear friendly and open, but her family is a guarded liability. Do not pry." 'Or you will deal with me' was unspoken, but implied with force.
Marius grinned. "Speaking as a family liability myself, rest assured I shall treat her with the utmost delicacy. She is fortunate to have you as a friend." Or, at the very least, not to have Namor as an enemy. Marius was unclear on the exact nature of their relationship and had no desire for clarification. It was certainly none of his business. Also, it seemed complicated.
His stony expression remained. "She is, and my favor is not a trivial matter. No one need know of her pain."
"And none shall," Marius promised. "Except for myself, of course. And, possibly, a florist."
"We are still not friends, you and I," Namor added helpfully. A pause. He broke eye contact, and gave the trident a few practice spins to punctuate the point that he was finished here. Marius was dismissed.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-16 12:56 am (UTC)At least one always knew where one stood with Namor, even if that position was "on the sole of his shoe".
And I love seeing the humanity underneath Namor's armour:
"Stop," Namor practically commanded. "I would ask that you treat Alani Ryan with care. She is . . . dear to me."
His stony expression remained. "She is, and my favor is not a trivial matter. No one need know of her pain."
Seeing Namor so protective of Alani is just... *chef's kiss*
no subject
Date: 2024-03-16 06:55 am (UTC)