Closed for @crocssant-is-useless
Marcus - or Lighter, as the gang humans had dubbed him - was in a slight predicament at the moment. He was behind bars, having been caught while snooping around for things.
He cursed himself for his natural curiosity, eyes narrowing as he paced his prison. Sure he might have been able to get himself out of this situation, he was a god after all, but there was a rather strong want to remain here and gather as much as he could.
Sure it wasn’t his original plan but it would work nevertheless.
The sound of humming drifted along the halls of the compound, the source moving as silently as as a shadow. Slightly ironic, considering her abilities and affinity for light, but she loved the shadows. They were easy to move around in, if you knew how.
Adjusting the blue and gold masquerade mask she'd picked up, Saros continued along, moving further down into the compound. She hated being underground, but if that's what it took to get the job done, she would do it.
Following the map she had memorized in her mind, she set down a darker hallway, pausing at a door. Locked. Lucky for Saros, she was a genius with locks. Continuing to hum, she set to work, getting the door open in less than thirty seconds, only to pause. That wasn't what she had been expecting to find. That's a man, not a scroll.
Marcus had perched himself atop his bed, grinning rather wickedly at her. “Mm you’re not from around here are you?” He asked gently, running a hand through his hair. “Ah, I look like a wreck. The least I could have done was look decent for a visitor.” Marcus laughed softly, a sad look in his emerald eyes that didn’t seem to disappear.
The god stood, sauntering over to her to study the mask. “Mm elaborate.” He hummed.
"Stolen." Was Saros's reply as the man approached, tapping her mask as the lockpick disappeared with a sleight of hand. "Don't worry about lookin' good, I'm no visitor. Least not the kind you want." She looked around, then back up at him, tilting her head. "'Around here' is relative. So, you aren't 'from around here' either, I don't think. Kinda curious. Whatcha doin' holed up down here?"
His eyes traveled over her, catching a rather odd aura around her. The gang member shoved his hands into the oversized jacket he had been wearing, biting his lip. There was a sizable bruise upon his left cheek, and if one looked closely they would see the burst lip that was trying to properly heal. In order to completely blend in, the god had chosen a mortal body, risking his entire life for a thrill.
“No, I’m not from around here at all.” He mumbled, eyes narrowing. “Came for information, got caught. Not the best for someone of my type.”
"That'll do it." She said, nodding as she ignored his eyes looking over her. The aura would have likely come from her particular…relationship with the god that had claimed her under their protection. The word relationship was a loose term though, considering she had no clue she was being protected. Injuries. They've been trying to get their own information then. We all know how that goes. "So, you got caught. What kind of information were you looking for?" She asked it with a certain casual curiosity as she placed her hands on the hips of her shorts, an air that didn't belong in someone this far into territory they weren't welcome in, at risk of being caught at any moment.
Marcus rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, pulling his silver lighter out of his pocket. It was lit half-heartedly, a cigarette pulled from the depths of his jacket. He lit it casually, not really needing the lighter but finding it flashy. “I’ve heard rumors that the gang I associate with is going to attack this place with the help of a rather deadly cult. I’m not too terribly thrilled by that.” He huffed. “I wanted to find out why.”
Saros stilled briefly, her eyes sparking at the information he'd just given her. "Ah hah. So that's what all that is about." The mask covered the top half of her face, leaving her lips in full view. Meaning, Marcus had the ability to see the wicked way her lips curled into a smile. A too-sharp expression, like the mere thought of that made her excited. They want the scroll then. Because it's important. Cults like ancient things.
He tilted his head, taking a drag off his cigarette and watching as the smoke drifted from his lips and up to the ceiling. “What do you mean?” He asked gently, huffing. “Are you talking about why you’re here?” He asked, frowning deeply as he scowled at the bitterness of the brand of cigarette. “Ugh. This is too bitter.l
"If it's too bitter, give it here. Long as it's got nicotine, I couldn't care less." She said, shifting to cross her arms under her chest. Her hair was pulled into a braid, out of the way, but it still caught the light in a way that gave off the appearance of woven strands of fire. "And yeah, I'm talkin' why I'm here. What, you think I hang out in gang compounds for fun?" I mean….
(Sorry has laundry.)
He offered the cigarette, reaching into his pockets to find the rest of the box, pulling out one rolled in a red paper. “I only like the sweeter smokes.” He complained, frowning deeply. “I have my own supplier. He’s just an ass.”
His eyebrow raised at the woman, looking over her again. “I don’t know. Maybe you just like sneaking into compounds to talk to mysterious strangers.” He shrugged
She plucked the cigarette from his hands, taking a long drag from it and exhaling smoke rings towards the ceiling for no reason. "I, in fact, do not. I actually prefer to avoid mysterious strangers most of the time. They don't usually bring about the trouble I'm lookin' for."
He grinned. “How about mischief?” He hummed, lighting his new cigarette. It smelled of cherry. He snickered softly at her. “I am highly trained in the art of mischief, dear.” His tired eyes moved to himself, staring at the state of his clothes. “Ack this will not do.” He huffed. He’d have to change later. He wanted to mess around with this woman for a bit longer before letting her know what he was.
“Hhmm…” Saros hummed thoughtfully, taking another drag. “Mischief is alright. More enjoyable for most people involved.” She decided, flicking up a dark eyebrow at him. “You want to help me cause a bit of mischief?” She asked suddenly, her eyes lighting up just a bit more wickedly than they had when she had learned how he’d been gotten there.
He liked this female already. “Oh hell yes. Mischief is my thing, love.” He purred in return, his eyes just as bright as her’s with a wicked playfulness. “What did you have in mind?” Asked the god innocently, a puff of smoke drifting into the air.
“We start with you.” She said, as though that was obvious. Stepping closer to him. She circled him somewhat, eyes scanning him up and down. Muttering to herself, she turned away, lifting a hand and focusing it on one spot.
He raised both brows this time, surprise flashing across his young features. "Me huh? What do you plan to do with me?" He hummed, more amused than scared. Marcus's eyes scanned over the woman's form once again, as if he were searching for something. And he was. He was certain there was something definitely different about her. She wasn't just a human. Something was off. And so he watched as she lifted the hand, humming gently as she did so. His cigarette was taken from his lips, a curious look upon his face.
Saros stood with her feet planted just a bit more than shoulder width apart, a habit she'd built back when using the abilities would make her woozy. Continuing to mutter, she repeated the aspects of his appearance that stood out, and the ones that were noticeable. At first, nothing happened. And then the air around her palm began to flicker and shift, as well as the space her palm was facing. A silhouette began to form, about Marcus's height, that slowly began to take on his features as well, until there was a perfect replica of him standing there.
The god hummed, walking around his replica and grinning. "I forgot how handsome I am~" He joked, not really meaning it. One unfortunate side-effect of taking on a mortal body was the depression one formed unwillingly. It was imperfect. Or so he thought, as he had been depressed far before taking on his mortal body.
He circled around his replica again and frowned at the bruises. "Oh god does it look that bad?" He soon huffed. (God Marcus is a lot more egotistical and vain than his normal self I've decided.) "Blech. My clothes are not very good either." He whined for the millionth time that day.
((That's gods for you lmao))
"It doesn't have to look good, just like you." Saros stated, the words sounding almost like a half-veiled quip aimed at him. Her fingertips were lined with glowing markings now, that trailed up her hand and halfway up her forearm before fading out. Letting the cigarette dangle from her lips, she snapped, the copy solidifying fully. "It'll hold for about twenty minutes, without too much exertion. The farther we get, the harder it'll be to hold."
(Ahaha you’re right.)
“Mm” was all he said, his eyes traveling over the fake him one last time before they shifted to her, a grin lighting up his features. There it was… The glow was easily distinguishable. The God of Thieves. So she had become favored in the eyes of another god. This would be more fun than he thought.
“Don’t expect too much of a thanks unless you’d like to really get mixed up with people like me.” His face split into a crooked grin. “But I can offer you a gift in return. Maybe another god’s favor?”
She tilted her head and quirked an eyebrow at the man, looking slightly amused. "Another? I don't have the favor of any gods, let alone do I need any favor. I make my own luck." She said, exhaling the smoke. A she shifted, her shirt rode up just a tiny bit, and there was the for sure sign of her Protection. The glow came from her abilities, but the golden markings on her ribs, invisible to her, were an obvious Claim of sorts. Though it wasn't quite as simple, the best way to put what the markings meant was 'this mortal has my protection', the Legion of Thieve's script mingling with the Old Script making it obvious who had decided she needed protection. "You say that like you know a few, too."
He rolled his eyes and blew out a large puff of smoke. “What about that little trick you did back there?” He asked with a grin. “Of course you’ve gained the protection and favor of some god. Maybe a certain, god of thieves?” He asked innocently. “I’d recognize that power anywhere.” He purred, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I’m somewhat of a magic scholar. I may or may not know a few other gods.” His eyes sparkled with a giddy light. Hell, I live with a few other gods…
"God of Thieves? That sounds like a joke, honestly." She said, looking at him like she was considering his mental stability. "Even of Thieves, what would a god see in a petty criminal off the streets?" She looked down at the glowing markings on her hands for a moment, shaking her head. She had no way of knowing that beyond just being a criminal, she came from a race of beings that served as the Warriors and Martyrs of gods. The exact kind of thing that would keep a god's attention.
Good he’ll she’s oblivious. “Ah, must have been mistaken then.” He walked in silence for a little bit, a little annoyed with his mortal body. It was exhausted. He couldn’t just snap himself into an immortal body either. He had to go to his ‘temple’ to do that. It was less of a temple and more of a shack. He was incredibly disappointed in it. A god like him didn’t get many people asking to protect them. He didn’t bother to keep his place fixed up. No one came. “I’m not sure. Maybe they’d think you’re pretty cool?”
