Markus snaked their way back home before nightfall. They had promised to meet up at the abandoned amusement park when the moon was high, during the Witching Hour. Josie and Markus needed to prep supplies for urban exploration, not to mention their own priorities. Each had baggage to sort out before leaving their house that night; this might be a one-way trip.
Markus flicked on the light to their room, the mess illuminated by the bare bulb above. The walls were painted pastel purple and covered in posters of cartoon girls. Tracing their finger against a Nebula Sailors poster, Markus realized they'd need to pack entertainment.
Markus knelt to reach the bottom shelf of their cabinets. Markus snagged dozens of VHS tapes and shoved them into a duffel bag, humming all the way.
(I'll bring the portable VHS player,) Markus thought to themselves. Not a single thought processed that a portable television wouldn't work without a power cord. Markus never was one for making concrete plans. What Markus lacked in brainpower they made up with enthusiasm for obscure media.
Nebula Sailors was impossible to find in the West. Markus wanted to make sure Josie saw the show for herself.
(It's a total classic. I can't believe they haven't re-released this stuff,) Markus thought. (I bet it's floating around on some pirate site under its original Japanese name. I'll ask Regine sometime.)
The series had been formative for Markus as a child. The magical girls called Nebula Blossoms fighting against the terrible and cruel Oath-killers. Every episode, they'd find some way to outwit these impossible foes and send them back into the Never-realm…
Markus paused as they made little connections in their tiny, adorable brain. (Wow, that sounds a lot like the Neverlands!) Markus thought. (I bet Malty and the Drama Club would like this show. It'd be nice to have others to share this show with, besides Josie and… Regine.)
Markus had watched the show with Regine when they were kids; these tapes were hers to begin with. Regine made copies using one of her fancy devices, and Markus had brought the vintage tapes back to their house. Their dad had a portable TV with a slot for a VHS tape; that was joining the pile of tapes in the duffel-bag, soon as Markus could find it.
Markus missed their dad. They missed long rides in the car with him, spending time with their mom and watching these tapes in the back seat. Since their dad left, well… their mom hadn't been the wonderful parent their dad was, and Markus was without either adult in their life.
Markus stared at their wall, eventually snapping themselves out of it.
(Oh, we'll need food. Better not forget snacks,) Markus realized. Discarded wrappers and wads of paper overflowed from a waste bin next to their desk. Markus reached inside the desk drawers, digging out handfuls of granola bars and gummy snacks. Tossing in a few cans of soda for good measure, Markus racked their brain for more necessities to pack.
(Stuffed animals and… I'll just wear my pajamas,) Markus reasoned. They'd probably be out a while, so Markus needed to plan for an overnight trip. That meant plushies, a sleeping bag, pajamas, the works; they might not have sleepy-time supplies where the Witches lived, or there might be a critical lack of plushies to play with. (Can't take any chances.)
Plushies lined Markus' unkempt bed. For the most part, they were creatures from the hit video game series: Virtual Monster. Markus grabbed a Tyranchu plush, one of their favorite from the roster. Tyranchu was an underdog, a tough little mouse with a passionate heart.
(Just like me!) Markus thought. Markus was the nicest… guy-shaped person that they themselves knew. Everyone expected someone with a build like Markus to be a real unfriendly sort. Even so, their Dad had always raised Markus to be something of a gentle giant.
(I just don't like fighting,) Markus thought, slipping their laptop into the already cramped duffel bag. There were so many other things that Markus wanted to bring; a change of clothes, shampoo, a toothbrush. No room for it in this bag, so Markus would just have to leave it all behind.
(I'm sorry, everyone,) Markus thought with a salute towards their inanimate and messy room. (I'm going to be braving it on the streets of Chicago. I don't have room in my bag for luxuries,) Markus insisted. Insisting, even as they slipped the handheld video game console into their duffel-bag.
Not a thought in that juvenile brain of theirs to be found.
Markus hesitated when it came time to go. Markus wanted to leave their mother a letter; something to reassure her that Markus was okay. Even so, Markus couldn't tell their mother the truth, couldn't risk dragging her into the conspiracy. Despite her neglectful behaviors as a parent, they'd provided shelter, food, internet to Markus. The big fellow couldn't just forget that.
'Dear Mom,'
Markus wrote on a sticky note normally reserved for groceries.
'I've gone off the deep end, and I'm leaving home to go live with fairies and witches. I can't tell you any more. It's too dangerous to involve you.'
Markus tapped the underside of their chin, looking for the words to say. This was tough; it was like writing an essay for school, only the school wasn't forcing Markus to write. Only Markus was forcing themself to write.
'If the police ask, tell them it is out of their jurisdiction. P.S. I may come back for extra laundry. Signed, A'
Markus stopped. Markus carefully flipped their pen only to find there was no eraser. Sighing, they finished out the letter, carefully turning the A into an M with a line through the first half.
'Signed, Markus.'
(That should do it,) Markus thought. (I have to make it to the amusement park now. I hope Josie hasn't been waiting too long.)
Adjusting their duffel-bag and sleeping bag so they rested properly over their broad shoulders, Markus set off for Riverview amusement park. It was time to meet a real Witch.
>Must I hold it to count in Pocket Space? Do I need to have a right to an object? Can someone steal from the Pocket Space? Is banana a snack?
So many questions.
"Each of your hands is considered a Pocket. The Prop which is picked up may not currently be held by another, nor can it have Tropes which prevent its abduction. There are means by which to duplicate something held within another's Pocket, but you cannot Transfer the original Prop from another's Pocket without metanarrativistic permission. Bananas are acceptable snacks," Fern breathed out a sigh of relief. "So many answers, I would hope?"
@FernGilly
> How easily can one determine another's Pocket contents? And might a Prop occasionally occupy more than the typical Prop's-worth of Pocket space?
@gigamicro
"Wouldn't you know it, you can't determine what a Pocket is from the outside. Of course, if you were to be in contact with someone who was already on the inside..." Fern mused. "As for your other question, it's a common Blot magic technique to store bigger Props in a smaller Pocket. There's rules for it, at least."