RP Between Sand and Stars

"Hi, Twig." Liatra was pleasant. She didn't see any reason not to be. If things went one way, she'd be back to working with him soon enough, and it wasn't worth nettling him over a little thing like this. If things went a different way, well... then she could just take her solace from the fact that being nice to him would probably really piss him off.

"We were just getting to know each other. Truth be told, he's not much of a conversationalist. Almost like someone hit him over the head or something." It was funny how that worked out, wasn't it? Liatra gave him an upside-down smile, swinging a little again by her knees.

"Wanna come in here and hang out with me?"
 
"I just want - ..."

Descending footsteps pulled his attention away, and as the door opened, illuminating the dark hold, a familiar face entered. As Twig and Liatra exchanged words - words he didn't necessarily care for - Ishaan scrambled to his feet. His movements were hardly graceful; pain and the lack of nutrition had made him sluggish, uncoordinated.

"Survives? You said you'd give her the antidote." His hands wrapped around the bars of the door as he watched Twig fiddle with his keys.

---

"A galleon," he replied, leaning back into the crook of the chair. Then, after another pause, he asked once more, "Where were you and Ishaan headed?"
 
“I’m good out here, thanks!” Twig said with a sarcastic smile, holding one of the keys apart from the others.

“I said I’d take care of her. She’s with the captain now, and he’s an unpredictable man. If the venom doesn’t kill her…” He chuckled, twisting the key on the padlock keeping Ishaan’s cage locked and removing it, holding it like a makeshift knuckle duster. He kept the door open, fully confident he could take care of the malnourished man by himself. His free hand reached for his shoulder while his other one, the one holding the lock punched him hard on the stomach.

“We don't like military fairies around here.” He whispered, getting to his knees to be on his level. “The two of you might have been better off dying in the desert.”

***

That ship had been a galleon. Klaire tried not to let her face show that she was putting the pieces together, and thinking of ways to buy her some time to dodge questions until Twig brought Ishaan to her.

“We got lost.” She said, followed by a cough. “I’m… Thirsty. Can I have some water?”
 
Liatra winced, sympathetically, as Twig drove his fist into the stranger's gut. There was no way that felt good, especially coming not too long after getting knocked out. The whisper was harsh, pitched loud enough that she could hear it - undoubtedly on purpose. Twig did like to twist that knife when he could.

Liatra shrugged off the barb, as usual. Truthfully, she didn't like military fairies much either, at least not any more. Not since six years ago when she and her brother had been all starry eyed kids and gone to enlist together. He'd gotten in.

She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Maybe that knife had hit more than she was pretending it had. Or maybe it was just the smell down here.

"Twig doesn't like anyone. I wouldn't take it personally."
 
Pain erupted across his abdomen and then his knees, as his legs gave way. Shoulders hunched forward, curling forward to protect the spot from being hit again. Ishaan gasped to refill his lungs.

Tilting his face up, in line with Twig's, he rasped, "You think I'm military?"

He wasn't trained like Klaire. Didn't know what she might say. So he chose to stick with the most logical, almost factual option.

"I-I'm not military - I didn't even want to be out here." He looked to Liatra. "Please, you have to believe me."

---

His hand paused and when he reached for that second glove again, slowly slipping it back over said exposed hand, the cat might've appeared to flinch. Before Arobynn rose, she had bound off his lap and found herself in the same corner of the bed she'd claimed upon her entrance.

"That's not what I asked," he replied, turning to a wooden cabinet that stood against the wall. His movements remained graceful as he pulled a jug and small glass from within.
 
“You, shut the fuck up!” He said, turning around to point a finger at Liatra before returning his attention to the newest prisoner.

Twig didn’t believe him. He’d seen the pin found in his pocket, and even though there was the small possibility it had been stolen, it most likely belonged to one of them. There had been no other ship in sight other than the one they sank, and no reason for a young couple to venture off to the middle of nowhere.

“Why were you out here, then?” He asked.

***

The sound of the water dripping into the cup was like music to Klaire’s ears. Her mouth felt drier than ever, desperately longing for it.

“I’ll answer when I know my friend is alive.” She repeated, her eyes following the glass.
 
"Aww, it's okay, Twig," Liatra reassured him, which was probably the last thing he actually wanted. "You know how it is. When you don't like someone, it might be because they're a problem. And when you don't like anyone, it's probably because-"

She didn't finish the sentence, but the unspoken because you're the problem hung somewhere in her amused giggle. How she could find all this funny when she was in a cage was anyone's guess - though maybe it was just all the blood rushing to her head since she seemed to be spending about half her time upside-down.

She pulled herself semi-upright again, turning her gaze to the newcomer with Twig's last question, because she rather wanted to know the answer, too. What had they been doing out there?
 
It'd been foolish of him to think that Liatra would vouch for him - fae or not, interest in the fae military or not - she was still a stranger.

He looked back to Twig, whose face continued to leer before him. "It's like I said. We came from Costa Duba. It's her dream to explore the continent. And like you said..." Ishaan looked away, his cheeks burning. "Only fairies are stupid enough to fly the desert by ourselves. We lost control and crashed. It's been nearly a week and our supplies were running out. And then Klaire got bit..."

---

The nearly full glass of water was placed on the small wooden table beside the bed, just to the side of Klaire's head. Perfectly within reach - if her arms weren't tied down. Arobynn stood beside her, peering down at the small, defenceless fairy and her reddened wrists. "Do you want to know what I think?"

He continued without waiting for her response, uninterested in whatever stubborn, quick-tongued remark she'd make. "If you want to hide the truth, you need to make sure your lies are unbreakable. It's slightly more challenging when there is two of you, I'll grant you that, but you couldn't even manage to keep your own story straight." Amusement flickered in his bright eyes. Without looking away, a gloved hand reached inside his handsome, dark coat, carefully extracting the pin that'd been taken from her friend. "The fae military must really be desperate if they're sending the runts of the cohort into the wasteland."
 
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…” Twig mouthed, moving his hand while Ishaan explained himself. When the final word left his mouth he lunged forward in a quick motion, just to watch the boy flinch for a hit that never came. A chuckle later, he stepped outside the cage and put the padlock back on, making sure it was firmly locked.

“I’ll tell the captain you’re awake.” On his way out he stood by Liatra’s cage, spitting in her direction. “When we get to Armadilla we’ll drop you at Bernie’s. He cuts his bitches’ tongues off before putting them to work.” He smiled proudly of his cleverness and lifted both his middle fingers at the sniper.

***

That was a cruel form of torture, though Klaire was certain he could make it worse if he wanted to. She licked her lips, rough as a sanding paper at that point, picturing the water touching it in her mind’s eye. It was only when the word military left his lips that she looked away from it, and at the pin in Arobynn’s hand.

“That’s mine.” She said with a hint of desperation, thinking of what might have happened the moment they found that in Ishaan’s hand. She had completely forgotten about giving it to him, in fact everything that happened after they got to the cave felt like a blur in her memory.

“My father’s in the military, that's his. I gave that to Ishaan so that… If someone came to our rescue they’d know we’re not pirates.” Her purple eyes stared at him with quiet anger, her face still pale for multiple reasons. “We’re two people, unarmed, starved and thirsty. We’re no threat to you we just…” She pursed her lips, betraying how she really felt. “We just want to go home.”
 
"You know, he's a lot more tolerable when he thinks he needs to be on your good side," Liatra said, of the departing Twig. She put her tongue out, eyes crossing for a moment as if to check that it was still there. It seemed to be, so she sighed and returned her attention to Ishaan.

"Arobynn... has a thing about lies. I don't know if someone lied to him bad once and he's still sore about it or if he just enjoys the game of finding them out. He will find you out, though, or at least he'll find out what he wants to find out and then convince you to tell him what it is he wants to hear."

Whether or not this made sense, who knew. It made sense to Liatra, but she hadn't gotten hit in the head recently.

"If you are with the military and you end up back with them..." There was something hesitant in that statement, maybe not as flippant as she had been earlier. "Levaiin Alsace. If you meet him, tell him... Ah, hell, I don't know." What would she have even said? "Tell him hi, I guess. Suppose he's probably doing better than we are."
 
Despite her description about the Captain being completely unhelpful - making him wonder if Klaire had survived long enough to be introduced - Ishaan couldn't help but feel like Liatra was trying to help. It was foolish of him, he knew that, and yet he grasped onto that perception.

As she continued to speak, the fae began to shake his head - a pointless action within the darkness. "I promise you, I'm not military." He remained silent for a moment before continuing. "I was born with a defect in my wings. I have very little control over them and have never been able to fly. I'd show you but..." Even Twig hadn't laid eyes on them yet, with them being hidden by his outermost protective layer of fabric. "Do you think they'd let someone like me spend one day in the academy?"

He'd learned to live with his defect, learned to ignore the occasional stare or comment, learned to be content with himself. But perhaps there was finally an advantage to the dull, grey appendages attached to his back.

Not wanting to dwell, he continued. "Back home, I'm an astral cartographer. I'm sure I know someone who knows someone. Help us escape and I'll help you find your brother."

---

"Oh? You really should be more careful with precious family heirlooms." Arobynn placed the pin gently down onto the outer edge of the side table, beside the glass of water. Accessible and available for the taking - to anyone but her.

He looked down to the edge of the bed, to where the cat sat, vigilant. "This is Iskra. Iskra - come." The small shadow might've hesitated but slowly crept up the side of the bed, past the limbs that had been safely secured, paws following the slight gesture Arobynn had made. Settling on top of Klaire's torso. "They're beautiful creatures. Clean, independent... obedient." Finally, a hint of emotion crossed his face; a slight upward quirk of his lip. "My little spark." His gloved hand rose, fingers just slightly moving, as though he were opening an invisible doorknob.

It took a couple seconds for Iskra to stiffen, her tiny weight distributing itself beneath her four paws. Her chest began to expand then collapse, expand then collapse, each movement becoming more frantic with every passing second. Then her mouth opened, jaw slowly unhinging as she silently gasped to replace the air that had been stolen from her lungs. Beautiful amber eyes widened, panicked. Seconds passed and the muscles in her neck contracted, causing a sudden twist to her body. Claws began to dig into the surface beneath, into the thin fabric that had protected their guest from the elements. Perhaps beyond. Desperation grew, but respite wasn't granted, not yet.
 
Klaire hadn’t paid much attention to Aberynn’s pet until it climbed on top of her. She wasn’t familiar with cats or domestic animals in general, but when it’s mouth opened she could tell something wasn’t right. The glass of water forgotten, she looked from the innocent creature to the movement of the captain’s hands, undoubtedly causing it’s discomfort.

“Stop it!” She breathed out, growing more desperate at each sound the breathless creature let out. “You’re hurting it, stop!”

Of course he knew what he was doing, meanwhile Klaire tried to move her arms despite being deprived of that ability.
 
"No." Liatra's voice was quiet, missing something of it's usual whimsy, and her constant motion had, for a moment, stilled. "No. They wouldn't."

She knew something about that, after all, didn't she?

Fortunately, it seemed like he wanted to talk about it even less than she did, which was somewhat of a feat, all things considered. Liatra shook her head, the braid swinging like a pendulum as she cleared her thoughts. Ishaan's offer was... kind. Maybe. She wasn't exactly sure how much use she would be, though, given the whole cage situation.

"Maybe. We'll see. I suppose I've probably just about overstayed my welcome here, anyway. Might be good to look for something else, before..."

There were a lot of ways to end that sentence, and none of them were good. "Don't know how much help I can be from in here, though, but if you can get me out and get me a rifle, then I think we might have something going for us."
 
"The longest she's gone is one-forty-eight," Arobynn commented, his bright eyes trained on the cat. "Have you been counting, Klaire?" Time continued to pass, and with it, the cat continued to struggle. Mouth open, eyes wide, chest frantically moving in and out - like a fish out of water.

"Where was it that you and Ishaan were travelling to again?"

---

Upon reaching an agreement - or as close to an agreement as they could get - Ishaan suddenly felt himself remembering that they weren't alone. The rest of the inhabitants remained deadly silent, supposedly disinterested in the idea of escape. He found himself wondering if they were willing to help - or, the opposite. Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury to plan in secret. "Well, how does this work? Are we going to..." His voice trailed off. Perhaps it was obvious, but he didn't really know where they were going. Whether it was Armadilla, or some other place he'd like to avoid.
 
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"No idea," Liatra answered, promptly. "Depends on where the Captain thinks he can make a sale. If he's not sure, he might head for Armadilla to try to pick up a lead, but that's always risky. You don't want to hold on to live cargo too long. It gets expensive, what with having to feed them and everything, and if you don't feed them they tend to die and there's not a lot of places you can sell a dead person. Not zero, mind you. But not a lot."

Maybe she was talking a lot, but it was better than not talking. It was sort of a nervous habit, a way to distract herself from thinking about things. If she was talking, it was easier to pretend that it was all just no big thing. Just a story, that was happening to someone else.

"Are you trying to get to anywhere in particular, or were you just looking for the 'anywhere but here' option?"
 
Of course she hadn’t been fucking counting. Klaire wanted to look away but was unable to, even when there was a knock in the door. She didn’t say anything, because after all, what was the point? If he could do that to his cat, it only meant she was next in line.

“He’s awak- sorry.” Twig stopped himself, regretting entering the infirmary when he did. It was clear they were in the middle of something.
 
"I think I'll settle for the latter," Ishaan replied, crestfallen. If and when it happened, the transfer was their best chance at escape. Navigating the pirate city, or whatever hellhole they were dragged to, would be a later concern. "That Twig fella, is he the only one with the keys? Apart from the Captain, of course. Or does anyone who comes down here have access to them?"
---
The heavy footsteps had announced Twig's arrival even before he entered the room. His presence didn't interrupt a thing, though one-forty-eight was nearing, and Iskra was starting to grow weak. Arobynn met the fir bolg's gaze, a mischievous sparkle hidden behind his feline eyes. His hand dropped, and so did the cat, collapsing onto Klaire's chest. Her pants were ragged, desperate, as air filled her empty lungs once more. She lingered for a moment, but once the oxygen had reached her heart and the rest of her body, she began to crawl back to the corner of the bed.

"Don't apologize, Twig," Arobynn said, truly brushing off the apology as though no harm had been committed. He looked towards Klaire, who peered back at them. "Tell me, how is Ishaan?"

This time, when he rose his hand, the twist - as though turning a doorknob - was fast, sharp. It'd feel like the air was being knocked out of Klaire's lungs instantly, quite unlike the gradual pull Iskra had felt.

One, two, three...
 
Klaire panted in relief along with the cat, that slowly recovered from it’s torture. Her hands closed in fists and she wished she was strong enough to break out of those chains and have her knuckles meet Arobynn’s face but unfortunately, strong enough she was not.

Her anger overwhelmed her, along with the mention of Ishaan’s name. Perhaps if it hadn’t been for that she would have prepared for what she knew was coming. Soon enough her throat closed off, she and the cat exchanged a knowing look. Klaire’s hands opened and her toes curled as she gasped for the air she felt being sucked out of her lungs. She didn’t look at Twig, but if she had she'd realize he wasn’t phased by it. It was just another tuesday.

“He became friends with Liatra and is still saying he isn’t in the military. I gotta give it to him,” Twig said. “He’s either a pretty good liar or he’s genuinely scared to death. Civilian scared, didn’t even try to dodge my punch.”
 
"I'm... not really sure. It depends on who they hand the keys off to. It could be anyone. The Captain's always got a set, Twig usually has one. I think there's an extra set in the Captain's quarters, but I don't know how much good that does us right now," Liatra admitted. "Sometimes the person who comes down will have them, but not always. If you're not planning on opening anything, no sense risking bringing them along."

She looked around at the surroundings, which hadn't improved in the time they'd been talking. Still, they'd at least improved a little bit now that she had someone to talk to, although Ishaan probably wouldn't see it that way. "The best time to do something is probably when we stop. They'll try to keep you alive until then." Herself she wasn't so sure about - it depended on how pissed off Arobynn happened to be this particular time. Maybe he'd just get over it and let her out. That had been her original plan.

It wouldn't help Ishaan, though. And, realistically, he wasn't going to do that now that Twig had caught her talking to him. Fraternizing with the cargo and all that.

"So, once we get out, where are you going to go?"
 
"You're right," Ishaan muttered, pairing the acknowledgement with a useless nod. But even then, how was he going to get out? Once upon a time, he'd been in a couple of harmless fist fights, and at best, received one week of sword training from Rowan, utilizing nothing but wooden swords. There was Liatra, of course, a probable ally, but she wasn't definitive. That was all he had against a crew of pirates.

Klaire had to be alright. He needed her. He should've demanded to see her.

"Back home. To Costa Duba... What about you? Do you have a place to go back to?"

---

"Curious. I didn't know Liatra could make friends." Of course, the traitorous pest was more insignificant than ever, at least compared to their new guests.

Arobynn stepped forward until he loomed over Klaire, watching her face as she gasped for air. "Two civilians, found less than a day from that military ship we buried, what, not two days ago? And one who claims to come from a military background? I'm sure the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, now does it, Klaire?" A couple of gloved fingertips brushed against the side of her neck, gently stroking, as they'd done with Iskra. "Careful with this one. I sense a bit of a bite. But any second now..."

The struggle stopped as the fae finally fell unconscious. Arobynn removed his hand and pocketed the pin once more. "Take her down to the cages. I'll speak to him later. If he is a civilian, I want to know what makes him so special. As for her - " He glanced towards Klaire. "I want to see how well they teach their runts to fight." Stepping back, the Captain strode towards Twig. "Perhaps a fight between two pests?"

"I'll speak to Jarrick about a 50% bonus in your next pay. For finding our new guests." He nodded towards Twig.

Lingering by the door, he turned to face the tiny shadow. She'd finished trembling by now. "Iskra. Come." There was a millisecond of hesitation but she swiftly followed as the Captain left the room.
 
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