There is a small emerald sitting on Marcel's desk. It shimmers and seems to dance with an internal flame when picked up and looked at. Makes Marcel have a sense of 'home'.
It's dark when he enters his room, as it always is. The dim light and gentle humming from his tank does little to ease his sence of loneliness lately - what with Destan visiting him less and less.
But he supposes it's ot the other's fault. After all, he had found a lover who catered quite well to that human p[art of him. It was no secret that both men spent less and less time in shell lately, so it's only natural their origional urges would fade after a time.
Still, returning to an empty place was a little sad. Not that Marcel dwelled on such feelings for very long. After all, there'd be no point in that, would there?
The emerald catches his interest, belatedly, and he is fondly reminded of the man who is so readily occupying Destan lately. It was green, after all, and green seemed to be the ex-medic's colour. And, well the man did have a fondness for gems, right?
Marcel liked them too however, the shiny trinkets and stones he had come upon in his lifetime (and now, afterlifetime) all tucked away in a hollowed out journal; bound in leather with etchings and memories and formulas that have long since been destroyed.
He picks it up, and his melancholy hits hard. This place, what is it? Most of his life came out in this place, and memories were strong here. but what was it? Really?
In the end, what was 'home'?
A place with memories? A place you spent time in? A place that held the things you liked? Loved?
He wondered.
He's overwhelmed with the sudden urge to visit Diethelm and Destan and the kid (his son...? He still isn't sure what he is to the boy, really). The teleport rooms are not far.
Maybe he should. He's got some built up leave after all.
