“Daddy,” the girl’s eyes were wide with alarm.  She clutched the pillow tighter.

“Brigade, meet Amelia.  Amelia, these are the people who are going to take care of you now.”

Aw, he knows he’s defeated, he knows what’s going to happen now, and he pretty much entrusts Amy to them (whether they want her or not), all while keeping calm and reassuring Amy…

I like Marquis. I really do.

Brandish was among the many faces to turned to stare at him.

“to turn to” or “that turned to”. Pick one. :p

He chuckled lightly, “I expect I won’t last long without medical care, so I’ll hardly be turning the tables on you and making a break for it.  You’ve won, I suppose.”

The irony of this statement being said right in front of someone on his side who’ll grow up to become a healer is rich.

…maybe there’s a causation, even. Hell, we don’t know how Amy triggered. We do know that Marquis didn’t know what her power was, though, or whether she had one, until Lung told him.

“What do you mean by taking care of her?”  Lady Photon asked.

“I have enemies.  Would you like to see her fall into their hands?  It wouldn’t be pretty.”

Like Allfather, for instance.

“They don’t have to know,” Manpower spoke.

“Manpower… do try to keep up.  The dumb brute stereotype persists only because people like you insist on keeping it alive.  They’ll always know, they’ll always find out.  You put that girl in foster care and interested parties are going to find out.”

Rude, but the rest is true enough. Especially with people like Tattletale running around.

“So you want us to take her?” Brandish asked.  She couldn’t keep the incredulity off her face.

“No,” the girl said, plaintive.  “I want you!”

“Marowak, I choose you!”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s