concoursec | Family Meeting for the gang / Semi-Closed

Entry tags:

Family Meeting for the gang / Semi-Closed

Characters: Marco, Grell Sutcliff, Thatch, Namur, Espio, and Tobias Hayes
Location: ~Around the Garden~
Rating: Hopefully PG-13. Let's keep violence/sex to a minimum okay?
Open/Closed/Finished: Semi-Closed (if another character wants to grab Marco for something it's available!)
Summary: Tattoo adjustments, family meeting, Marco stepping up as Captain

Sometime after the whole mission with Grell & Thatch, but before Namur also leaves on missions, Marco finally addresses the family cohesion "situation." Okay, so it's not exactly a situation anymore, but he's still concerned and there are things he needs to address with each and every member of the family, and with all of them together. And if there are going to be anymore miniature explosions, he'd rather they were now when he can handle them, then later at a very very bad time.

He hunts down everyone individually to make it clear that this meeting is not optional and if he has to pick them up and carry them there, he will. He also has needles and ink with him... so that might be a bit creepy. He gave himself plenty of time before all this though, since the meeting will be at dinnertime (which he has prepared) and throughout the whole day he goes around hunting everyone down.

Luckily, Namur is probably the easiest -- ironically? -- since Namur already was on the same page as Marco about it, and why Toby would normally be the easiest, Marco had a tendency to fall into a giddy Papabird mode that just wanted to play around with his favorite son whenever he was with the kid. As such, Toby is saved for last, since Marco can just ask him to come.

[ooc: there will be a big family thread everyone can go in any order on, because there are too many to go organized, and then separate threads for everyone.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And just like that, Marco grinned and cheered up. "Okay," he grinned cheerfully, and didn't bother fighting back the fishman brother at all. Just leaned against the wall like he meant to be there all along and quietly messed with Namur's hair. He didn't feel the need to defend Toby's words. They spoke for themselves, frustrating and all. And Namur already knew the intentions behind them, so Marco hardly needed to explain that.

"You're cute when you're angry," he beamed merrily and messed with the hair even more.

Worst captain brother ever.

It was all Thatch could do not to roll his eyes at Grell. Double standards his ass. It wasn't the same. Namur and Espio weren't the same. And anyway there went Marco fluttering after him which--was not what a captain should do. He wasn't a first mate anymore he couldn't just drag people back to where he wanted them to be. He should trust them to come back. If he wanted to do it this way--he should do it this way, but leaving like that undermined his own strength.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his fingers to his lips. But it had happened so Thatch had to figure out a way to fix it. Time first to let it sink in but maybe...

Ah hell-- wait a second. Thatch stood, taking off his shirt completely and throwing it on the chair.

"Be right back," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Unless you want to come for the show."

Because there would be one if what was happening what he thought was happening. He walked out, slower than he wanted so they could keep up if they felt so inclined,and out to where Marco was merrily petting the frustrated Namur. Geeze--

"Fight him, you idiot!" he snapped, bodily hauling Namur back by the back of the shirt and ramming his fist up into the Fishman's gut.

He felt it coming a scant moment before it happened, but Thatch was sneaky and fast and Namur didn't have time to react before he had the wind knocked out of him. He doubled over, but didn't go down. The force of the blow threw him back against the wall, which hurt like hell because his dorsal fin bent to the side.

"Ow, shit," Namur panted once he got his breath back. He ducked his head and slammed into Thatch's ribs, using a kick against the wall to propel him forward.

Thatch grunted as the full weight of Namur hit him, slamming against the ground and ripping up a dark earthen rocky furrow with his back as they skidded along the ground. He was going to have to wash his hair after this.

"Gonna make you pay for that, fish fry."

He grabbed Namur's pointy little ears to force his head up and kneed him in the gut, then wrenched them over so he was half kneeling on Namur's stomach and headbutted him hard enough to set his own ears ringing.

Namur grunted from the blows, but his head was made for taking impact. After getting headbutted, he kicked his legs up to get momentum, grabbed Thatch behind the shoulders, and flung the man over his head. Namur rolled to his feet and turned, teeth clamped shut. He's started paying more attention to haki now, feeling out Thatch and Marco's intentions, feeling their voices alive and vibrant there next to him. Other voices, more faint, move around the Garden, but they didn't matter as much. They weren't a part of this- whatever it was that Thatch was doing. Namur didn't care what Thatch was plotting, though. It looked like he was bringing the fight, and Namur wasn't inclined to disappoint.

Edited (I accidentally a word. Is that bad?) 2013-08-11 22:20 (UTC)

He knew what was coming a second before it came, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He prepared for it instead, twisting to hit the ground with his shoulder and rolling to his feet. He could sense the shift in Namur's stance. A more serious fight then. Thatch pulled his hair back, keeping his gaze locked on Namur's to catch any sudden movement and then put his fists up, watching, waiting for an opening.

"You want to be a brat and walk out on my captain?" He glanced at Marco briefly before looking back at Namur. "Don't wanna taste my blood, matey?" He bit the inside of his cheek hard and spat out a watery mess of blood and saliva. "Deal with it. Or did you lose your backbone, tuna roll?"

Marco might have had enough hormonal sensitivity to recognize the chemical growl for what it was the first time. Namur did it again, a primal warning ignored by humans on a cognitive level, and charged. He moved to punch, anticipated a block, and instead grabbed Thatch's raised fist and pulled, slamming his own, other fist into Thatch's side.

"Not the first time I've been proven wrong." She did wonder how Marco would handle his brother. Sharks were never the easiest creatures to understand, nor deal with.

Grell raised an eyebrow when Thatch took off his shirt, doing a terrible job at not looking well. She could appreciate a well defined body, couldn't she? "No helmet, darling?" He seemed dressed for a brawl, and she knew how much Thatch cherished his locks. Indeed, she follows, wanting to see how Whitebeards handle their own.

She really shouldn't have been surprised at what occured. Marco acting very cool about it all. Namur reacting as volitile as one would expect from a shark. And Thatch joining in, perhaps not to be left out. No one could argue that this wasn't a good way to relieve some stress, but maybe she could turn up the heat on them.

"Is this by invitation only, boys?" Grell readied a Fire spell and hurled it at their feet, grinning. She could care less if they liked it or not. Invitations were boring, anyway.

Thatch saw Namur coming, getting out of the way just enough so the blow to the ribs was a glancing one, going to leave him with a bruise and nothing more. He grabbed Namur's wrist with his free hand, going to wrap it around Fishman's back when Grell spoke up and the bolt of fire came right the hell out of nowhere.

"Shit!" He wrenched Namur away from it, sticking a leg out to trip him and send him sprawling to the dirt and then pressed a knee to his back, grabbing his dorsal to keep him still.

"Damnit, woman! Butt out! Are you trying to kill us?!"

If Namur were in a more cerebral state of mind, he'd be glad his fin is cartilaginous rather than lined with bone, because even though it hurt it could still be wrenched free when some jackass was trying to use it against him. The knee in his back was a different problem, but Thatch wasn't nearly heavy enough to keep him pinned for long. Namur got his arms underneath, lifted himself and Thatch off the ground and twisted away, gritting his teeth. Once free, he charged toward Grell.

"Damn bastard! Keep that fire shit t' yerself!"

"It's only fair to keep you all warm, since you're all so FIRED UP!" Grell grinned, thinking her pun was so clever. At seeing Namur charge at her, her wide, sharp grin never faltered. It may have gotten wider.

"How'd you know~?" She could blame the mother she never wanted for that fact. Once Namur got close enough, Grell dodged to the side quickly, just far enough to block whatever Namur intended to do. She dug her heels into the ground, balled her hands into a fist and aimed a punch to his side, intending to prove that she wasn't one to be intimidated. Grell wasn't really holding back her strength, but hopefully, if it landed, it wouldn't rupture any organs...

An eardrum piercing whistle cut through the air like a flood of lightning and thunder all at once as blue flames dashed between the three of them.

"Enough!" Marco let loose enough haki to pull everyone apart, though he hardly seemed angry about any of it so much as annoyed. If his deadpan, bored expression could even qualify as annoyed. His yell wasn't even loud compared to the initial phoenix roar of stop.

He lightly kneed Thatch in the chin, pressed Grell back against the wall with a taloned foot, and Namur was ironically the only one left free and untouched.

"You," Marco gave a small glare to Thatch, "Are an idiot, yoi. I already did fight him, you just saw the aftermath." WELL okay, so he didn't fight him for very long. Just enough to get his point across, but Marco was leaving Namur to fight him and that was the entire point.

"But I appreciate your dumbass first mate attempt at protecting my honor."

He turned to Grell, "You, Kitten, are loved already. You don't have to keep acting like you have something to prove and take advantage of the situations to make sure you have a place here." Okay, truthfully... Marco wasn't sure of that. Had he been in Grell's place, joining the fray would have been exactly the right decision, but he was mildly annoyed given the added red chaos and bloodlust making it harder to get everyone under control. Although it was fun. And if she wasn't the kind to insert herself by joining the fray, he wouldn't have married her. Still, those were the words he needed to say as captain, and say them he did.

Marco did not look back to check on Namur, but that was how much he trusted the shark fishman to handle himself himself, or to bite Marco instead of the others. "And Namur already knows the right decision here, he doesn't need anyone else reminding him again, when I've already handled it." Blue eyes softened. He didn't look back to check on Namur, even now, but he trusted him that much. "Right, 8?"

The phoenix snorted quietly and let down his leg to free Grell. This time, he turned to face Namur.

"If I am to be your captain, you know what you must do." Marco didn't move much. Neither to protect or stop Thatch and Grell again, nor to hold Namur down or make any visible gesture. He didn't give any outward indication of the so-called right choice of what Namur would do. Whatever Namur chose though would decide it.

If the haki wasn't bad enough, the knee to the chin sent him falling right on his ass, breaking the fall with his elbows on the cool earth. Damnit. Idiot phoenix. Yelling at him like that. Like a Captain should. It was all he could do not to rest against his leg and thank him for taking it out of his hands.

Instead he sat up, pulling a knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it, breathing a little ragged. His cheek hurt and his ribs did, too, a bit, but Marco had it all taken care of--so he would just sit here and wait to see what had transpired. Though he did manage a faint:

"Aye." To say that he'd heard and agreed to all of it.

The wave of...what even was it... sent her flying back into a wall. She wasn't aware he could do that, but it got the job done. The feeling of being pressed down enough to make her ears pop...she didn't like it much.

Even though Marco looked pretty hot when angry, she really disliked being pinned down by some bird claw! Grell struggled as best she could but...damnit! It wouldn't budge! When he addressed her, talking about some nonsense about acceptance or something, Grell stopped and rose an eyebrow to him.

"Don't be daft! I know my place, and none shall usurp it!" She told Thatch something similar not that long ago, so it was annoying having to repeat herself. Once he let go of her, she straightened out her clothing. Afraid of losing her spot within this family? Sure, it crossed her mind, but not by much. "And stop wiping your dirty feet on me!" She shook her fist at him.

Edited 2013-08-12 02:06 (UTC)

Marco's haki threw Namur forward like a swift kick in the ass, and he fell on his face in the dirt. He stood up slowly as Marco cussed out his first mate and wife, and was halfway through wiping dirt off his face with the sleeve of his shirt when Marco addressed him. Thatch knew his place, the quiet word of submission hadn't escaped Namur's keen ears. Grell was just annoying as hell. You weren't supposed to fuss like some damn baby when your captain called you to order. But that was on her, and Namur need only account for himself. He fixed Marco with a determined stare, still angry but significantly cooled.

"Aye," he said. "I'll go next after Thatch."

Edited 2013-08-12 02:36 (UTC)

Marco grinned amicably, belying his real thoughts about the whole situation, and he merely grabbed the fishman under the gills by the cheeks again. "I'm not giving you a tattoo until you've had far more time to think about it. Especially since that wasn't what I was asking for. I'm not your captain because of a symbol. I'm your captain because you trust me and I'm your brother. The add-in to the symbol isn't for me. It's for them."

He tugged on the cheeks even more and then messed with Namur's ears too to make a point of it all. "I don't know if you're really up to it anyway." It was taunting, of course. To make Namur want to prove he was absolutely up to it, and just to mess with his bro. "Oi, Grell, what kind of captain am I?"

He asked the question without looking back to his hot-tempered redheaded wife. Yet another question with the answer he was trusting laid in her hands. He didn't say it, but the "correct" answer was basically that he expected Grell had no idea yet. And that was Marco's point. He hadn't been a captain long, not really, not in actual practice of it, he'd just been himself for the last three and a half years he'd been in the garden, and that was okay. He still had a long way to go, and Marco didn't want to wake up and suddenly be the captain immediately. He'd do things his own way, just like his father meant had always meant him to, and whatever that would come to mean, Namur would find out along with the rest of them.

"How the Fates should I know?!" Grell huffed out, crossing her arms before speaking again. "Last I checked, you didn't even WANT to be captain!" She guessed Marco realized he couldn't escape what he was meant for. "I'm not sure what a captain should possess in terms of a skill set, but..." She looked to them, wondering how much of this would even get through. "I don't think I would follow anyone else. Perhaps I'm slightly biased."

After all, she was his wife.

"We all do idiotic things at any given time. Why not under a common banner?"

Marco burst out laughing, a sound of pure joy and delight, and amusement with it all.

"Exactly."

He let go of Namur's cheeks, but grinned up at him. "I didn't have any idea what kind of captain Pops would be when I agreed to follow him either. He was new to it, kind of beyond weird, and it was taking a big risk. I didn't know what he was going to do most of the time, and a lot of the time, the things he did do scared the hell out of me. The best I could promise was to trust him and me to find a way to survive, and barring that, just enjoy it."

Marco stepped back and helped Thatch to his feet. "We're family because we want to be. We'll fight. I'm going to do some pretty crazy things and sometimes I'm going to scare the hell out of all of you. Are you strong enough to tell me off for it?" That was the part that had frustrated Marco the most with Namur. Rather than take it to Marco's face, he'd run off. Well, no. Namur was just trying to find the right way to process it all at once and avoid the added rage from blood. Justifiable, but it still assumed that Marco was ignorant, oblivious, or unable to handle that side of Namur. And Marco could handle anything Namur threw at him because he was Marco. As Namur's captain it was just that much more of an aggravation.

"Can you trust me to protect the others while still trusting me to keep you all safe? I already told you to trust me with your all, eh." Everything. Bites, temper, honesty, craziness, everything. Wasn't that what they were trying to tell Ace they would accept of him? Everything. Crazy murderous assassin attempts, emo moods and wild rages, and all. And it was easier for Marco to accept all of that from Namur than most others. He already knew the shark fishman inside out. He'd see him through wars, he'd taken care of him more deeply than many married couples had been through. Because they were nakama, because they were brothers. "I don't know what you think I'm doing here Namur, but I'm still Marco. I always will be."

The first son of Whitebeard, a blue phoenix, ridiculous sometimes, violent other times, strong, capable, reliable, but also with faults. As a person, and even more as a commander. Somewhere beneath all the blue feathers and immortality, he was still human. He was still messed up, and he still depended on his brothers to keep him in check, and that included Namur. He needed them to trust him with their all, true, but he would never order them. Not as a commander, and not as a captain. If he was wrong, they needed to stand up and punch him, to do their best to kick his ass. If they didn't, Marco would never know he'd messed up. If they couldn't trust him to handle them doing that, the way they always had, the way Whitebeard had handled Ace, then what kind of captain could Marco be?

Marco whistled quietly to himself, pleased that Grell at least had responded to the cue the way he expected. Thatch too for that matter. Thatch he could trust to explain shit to Namur if Marco's words didn't sink in at least. Well, he probably could. Thatch was being...

Aw shit. Thatch was acting like him back when Marco was young and insanely over-defensive and overprotective of Whitebeard with the others. Well, perhaps that was only fair. To be expected even.

Marco rested both hands on the back of his neck and started his stroll back to the room to find his son and fix whatever damage had been dealt there. "Try not to let dinner get cold, yoi," he reminded the three adults.

Edited 2013-08-12 04:23 (UTC)

He shouldn't trust Thatch with that. Thatch wasn't even sure if he could do this right. Being first mate meant he needed to take care of others. Make sure they all knew what was going on. It was something he'd agreed to, even sort of decided it but-- it seemed like a lot all of a sudden. Old people and new people, trust and distrust. They'd eventually spin together but right now everything felt just a touch chaotic.

He wanted to move closer to Marco. But he shoved his hands in his pockets instead, ignoring the bruise on his side and absently tonguing the cut on his cheek. He was tired, but there was still more of this night left to go and he still hadn't gotten the tattoo yet. Man it was going to be a long night.

Namur had the distinct impression that apparently, he picked wrong. But Marco is confusing, too. He made it sound like he wanted everyone to step up and be part of this new family/crew hybrid thing- and that meant altering the tattoo on his flank- but then he said it was only for the others anyway? Namur had a hard time straightening out all of Marco's dizzy circles on a good day.

This was not shaping up to be a good day.

"Oi, shitty Featherhead!" Namur started after Marco. A few steps at first, but they quickly sped to a run. Marco did say earlier that he wanted Namur's bite, and that part at least was clear. "Y' ain't makin' any damn sense! Y' want me t' fight y', then y' got t' turn 'round an' fight me, not jus' laugh in my face! Y' want me t' bite y', jus' t' show y' I will?" He ducked his head and plowed into Marco's back, taking a chunk of flesh and muscle out of the side.

"There! Y' happy now?"

Ow.

That actually hurt you bastard!

Marco did his best to flip Namur and wrestle him into the floor even while rapidly regenerating everything he could. "Actually, aye! I am!" Marco grinned somewhat ferally and pinned his brother down, just to prove he was stronger than he looked. "Silly guppy, you think you can take me? You'll have to eat whole fleets of ships before you can dent this skin!" Wrestle wrestle!

"You're still a baby in my eyes and don't think you'll ever grow out of it!"

Simple words, but with the weight of decades behind them. Something Whitebeard had said once to Marco, something Marco had said to his other brothers.

"You think you're ready to move into the future? Ready to stop clinging to the past? Well I'm not! So you better make sure you give me that push when you know I need it!" A haphazard punch to the shark cheeks more for emphasis than to really land or do any damage. "Because I'm always going to keep counting on you, stupid!" Followed by a headbutt, that Marco almost instantly regretted. What the hell, was he Ace now? Ow. He stopped wrestling to rub his forehead a little. "I don't want to change your Whitebeard mark. Of all of us, you're the one with one gill anchoring us home. And I need that. I need you to be the one who represents all of that side." In between worlds. No one else could do it. Namur was a fishman surrounded by humans, and right in the middle of the pack. Age-wise he wasn't old compared to half of them, but he wasn't nearly as young as half of them either. The one who could bind everyone together by bridging all worlds. Old and new.

Marco ran a finger up the 8 on Namur's neck and mentally drew a pair of crossbones through it. "Here. Infinity, right? Infinity and family. We aren't 16 divisions anymore though. Even back home, I don't think we will be. But we're not broken either."

A head tilt and Marco tugged Namur into a tight hug. "Sound good?"

It took him by surprise, really. To not change the crew's mark, but the one for his Division? Namur hadn't seen that one coming.

"Uh."

But that time, Marco's explanation actually made sense. At least the last part of it did, because they had lost so many, sixteen Divisions wouldn't be necessary. It hit him harder than Thatch ever had, and he was glad Marco had already scooped him up into a hug because there were a lot of faces suddenly flashing through his mind. A lot of voices he remembered crying out then going still. It wasn't just Ace, and the Old Man, though they had stood for everyone else. Namur made a choked noise in the back of his throat, swallowed, then nodded.

"Yeah, sounds good, bro."

Shut up he wasn't crying.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Namur charged and it was all he could do not to belt the Fishman in the face again. But then Marco was wrestling him and it was all find apparently and damn this was a long night. He felt a cold chill from his core and tried to shake it off. But now at least they were better even if Namur was crying. Being reminded of all that was lost. Aye... change came hard.

He let them have their moment and started back toward he room, rubbing his own tattoo absently. When he arrived he saw the window open and Toby and Espio gone and sat with a heavy sigh.

Fucking hell. What now?

Marco held on very tightly. He wasn't kidding about not fully being ready either. There were a lot of things he wasn't ready to let go of, and Marco had never been good at letting go of anything to begin with. "We'll get through it together," he said it calmly enough, but the way he held onto the shark-man's head spoke volumes more than his tone ever could.

Seeing Namur charge at Marco rose an eyebrow at first, but seeing him take a chunk out of her husband was...not expected. Seeing muscle and flesh being ripped off her husband was enough to make her draw out her DEATHSCYTHE and--

She managed to stop herself after a few steps, seeing that Marco didn't do much in retaliation. Her green eyes watched them carefully, really hoping to not have to slice up Namur for doing that. The hugging and play fighting cause her to relax, but didn't give her enough reason to hide her weapon. Seeing that Marco truly couldn't be harmed like that is a relief, but what if Time Compression decided to take that away?

With a huff, she turned to go back to where they were, following Thatch. The room was empty, but it wasn't before. Did they seriously just leave? She closed her eyes, concentrating on them.

"They're not outside of Garden," she said aloud, leaning her weapon on her shoulder. "But they aren't together." She opened her eyes, but they're confused. "Odd."

Family Meeting for the gang / Semi-Closed

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)