the marquis de Carabas
21 January 2014 @ 10:18 pm
text, day one of port

[Text, because sound can be a quick recipe for disaster in a place like this; sent out as soon as the thrumming in his bones tells him where they've come. This is profitable, he thinks, but does not advertise this line of thought as blatantly as he once might have.]

This has been my home for hundreds of years, and I know how to survive.

[That's all. He'll let people come to him, or he'll go to them - or let it stand as a boast.]

spam, throughout port & wibbly time

[There isn't time to touch every part of London Below as he wants to. He must skim everything, getting a blurry view of what he's known for so long without the ability to zoom in.]

[He stays at Market from start to finish, trying to ascertain whether or not he is a stranger in this Below (and he is, which stings in a way that a lost connection to a person never has), and then blending in terrifically well. He trades for Knacks and nightmares, notable as the man walking around Regents Park with a sack of sweaters slung over his shoulder. If there are alliances to make, he makes them, because time is obviously of the essence.]

[Then he hops trains, one after another after another for a full day. The sound of their movement makes him smile in a way that almost isn't mean, but not quite,]

[Other than that, he can be found in the light places and the dark, from the perpetual twilight under Mornington Crescent to the bright animal dim of Oxford Circus to the dimmest and most familiar sewer; he acquaints himself with everyone he can from the Barge who now think they belong here. He learns who they would have been if circumstances had been different, and likes them better as a result of this possibility.]
 
 
the marquis de Carabas
22 September 2013 @ 02:02 pm
[As a child, Marcus called himself a marquis. He did this as a way of laying claim to his territory, which, in his opinion, was the entirety not just of Oxford but of England as a whole. It's his, always has been.]

[As an adult, with a cleaner face and more deliberately false manners, he has learned to claim it in different ways.]

[Marcus Cardona is a smuggler, and this is a poorly-kept secret. He has allies and enemies in strange places. He has currently made an enemy of the Church (to which he has never been particularly attached; religion disconcerts him, as does the concept of faith in general) for refusing to commit certain unsavory acts of smuggling. The General Oblation Board seems like thinly-disguised sadism. And really - why hide oneself under the guise of religiosity, when in truth all you want to do is prod things to see what they do?]

[There is also the unfortunate fact that he now has several children in his custody - slightly stolen, or taken under false pretenses at least - none of which he considers to be even halfway decent company.]


spam | dean winchester & snow white )

[Later in the day, he can be found at the docks, unloading his slightly less illegal cargo; later still, he is at the market, delivering said cargo to vendors. None of them look at him with particular enthusiasm, and many don't even meet his eye. That might, of course, have something to do with Catalina, whose piercing eye belies Marcus's casual, flamboyant demeanor. She looks ruthless, as though she would gladly break the taboo against touch to sink her beak into a danger to herself or to Marcus. This is part - though only part - of why he is feared.]