Who The Hell Is Main Character?

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The silence was so eerie, that even the sound of seconds hand ticking in the wall clock was clearly heard in the living room.

Maeve was seriously stressed. Her feet continuously tapped restlessly on the floor, while her elbows rested on her knees, sitting on a sofa.

Opposite to her was Marcellus.

Opposite her, Marcellus sat with one arm resting along the back of the couch.

He was no longer naked. He wore a loose black T-shirt, paired with dark, well-worn cargo pants. His hair was slightly damp, he had washed the night off his skin and then decided it no longer mattered.

His expression was calm, almost bored.

It was five in the morning.

The floor to ceiling window was beginning to shine the light of rising sun, and both of them have not slept at all.

Marcellus heaved a sigh, breaking silence and tilted his head looking at her.

"What’s the big deal?" he asked.

"..." Maeve raised her eyes to met his, and stayed silent.

’What’s the big deal? WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?’ She repeated his words in her thoughts.

"How...?" She asked.

"How what?" He asked back.

"How did you do it?" she asked.

"How did I do what?" he asked again.

"You FU---Young Master!" Maeve took in a deep breath.

"How were you able to do what Kell Brandt was able to?" She asked. "Is your ability...copy?"

"Copy? Oh please, that’s so insulting. I thought I explained myself, I made his sloppy work of force control even better," Marcellus said.

"..." Maeve opened her mouth and closed it.

She pinched her temples, trying to relax herself.

"You don’t mean you can see how force moves right? Surely not...goodness, what am I even thinkin-"

"Yes I can," Marcellus cut her monologue off.

"..." Maeve stared at him.

For several seconds, she seemed to have forgotten what she was about to say.

Marcellus just waited.

"You can see force?" She asked.

"I...just said that," Marcellus replied.

"No," Maeve shook her head. "That’s not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Everyone can see force control. By saying that they mean they can feel the force, sense it, perceive it how much their cores allow them, how much their senses understand. Some are highly sensitive individuals, some are dull in perception...but that’s not...what you mean by saying you can see force right?" She asked.

"For me...it’s like watching a multidimensional holographic model of a body with a single centre-point of conjecture that regulates this energy, which I believe is force. So yes, I meant that. I can ’see’ how force moves," Marcellus said.

"Is that...not normal?" He asked.

"..."

’Not NORMAL?’ She were holding herself back from screaming.

’It’s just been a few days that I’ve been living as Marcellus. Maybe I have yet to learn epistemological boundaries of this world,’ Marcellus noted to himself.

When he was first informed of axiom by his system, his understanding was that he could decipher structures, and the movement of something like force which is naturally intangible, is something he can see without using axiom.

He thought it was normal for everyone, and the world had another element in its air.

’It seems that’s not the case,’ he thought.

"Do you understand what you just told me?" she said, finally.

"You can see the structure of force. Not sense it, or feel it the way rest of us fumble around trying to. You can ’see it’. The exact movement to its minute detail, the regulation, all of it. Like it’s laid on a screen with explanations for you."

"Young Master, do you understand what every seated family at Austerity, or throughout the whole world would do to acquire that?"

Marcellus thought for a moment.

"Given the general thought, I assume a lot of things," he said. "but what’s austerity--"

"Unpleasant! No...even that word is lenient," Maeve’s jaw tightened.

"Force control is inherited, guarded, and hoarded. Families spend generations refining one technique and call it their legacy. You just watched Brandt’s ability for less than a minute, and improved on centuries of refinement badly enough that he tried to run to inform others,"

"That’s not a skill, Young Master. That is the single most valuable and most dangerous thing to be in this entire world," she said, and leaned further.

"People...awakeners will take you apart to find out how it actually works," she whispered in desperate understanding.

Marcellus listened her quietly. He did not have the same bored and deflecting expressions from earlier.

"Copying implies I’m reproducing something, taking a finished object and duplicating it," he leaned forward slightly.

"If you think about it....the actual danger is not that I can steal things..." his lips widened in a smirk.

"It’s that Force control, in this world, has never really been understood. It’s been inherited, passed down, refined by trial and protected scriptures. Nobody’s asking why a technique works, only that it does, and that’s an incredibly fragile kind of mastery, because it collapses the instant someone actually studies the principles underneath it instead of just the finished shape."

"Every technique in existence right now was built by people who never had to defend it against someone who actually understands what they’re doing!"

’...fuck...what is he thinking...’ she thought with her eyes wide open. ’This is worse...this is so much worse, I thought I could help him by hiding his powers but this ...this is the worst possible case...’

"So I don’t think you have to worry about anyone finding out I can ’copy’ powers. No, I can just create something...something of my own!" Marcellus gestured a nice solution, with his index finger and thumb joined, as he had solved the whole problem.

"..."

"But...what’s this austerity that you mentioned?" he then asked.

’I’m not getting paid enough for this!’ She gripped her hair and looked down on the floor.

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