RP Between Sand and Stars

"Me? Oh. No. I'm from Whitcairn." It had been an outpost by the sea, once upon a time. Of course, with repeated raids and bombardments, the ramparts had eventually crumbled entirely, and the whole fortress was now a pile of rocks in the ocean at the foot of the cliff it had once been built into. It had only been about ten years since the whole thing fell off, but it hadn't been particularly important before then and it was even less so now.

"My brother and I grew up shooting people off airships, when they'd attack. Or shooting birds, when there was a siege up. People were easier to hit... but birds taste better." She paused briefly, then felt it necessary to add: "Ah - I expect, anyway. I haven't actually. You know. Eaten people." She made a face, disgusted at the idea. No, they'd never been quite that desperate, although there'd been a time or two when it had come close.

The sieges rarely lasted too long, though. Just enough for whoever was holding them to make a point, and then they'd go off to pursue more lucrative targets than Whitcairn, which was then able to reclaim its sovereign position as a pile of rocks on top of other rocks, at a moderately convenient passage between one place and another.
 
Twig nodded and opened the drawer with the keys to the handcuffs. He wondered if that would be a good time to bring up his living situation, but with the 50% bonus Twig decided it was better not to push his luck. He’d discuss it later.

Carrying her over his shoulder had been as easy as the last time. He pushed open the door to the brig and carefully (not too carefully) put Klaire down so he could once again get the keys from his pocket.

“Told ‘ya she was taken care of.” He said, smiling at Ishaan while searching for a specific set of keys. He’d taken the last empty cage, that meant someone would have to share.
 
Whitcairn. He hadn't heard of it.

As Liatra went on about her upbringing, Ishaan found himself only half-listening. The second half of his mind wandered; wondering about what was happening to Klaire, and whether he'd made the right choice. Would she be angry with him?

Twig's arrival might've been completely unwelcome had the fir bolg come empty handed. Ishaan found himself straightening, causing a strike of pain to ripple through his bruised stomach. "Klaire?" He called out, dark eyes peering down at her crumbled figure. "She doesn't look taken care of. What did you do? Is she still poisoned?"
 
Ishaan had a pretty naive idea of what taken care of meant, Liatra was realizing. He seemed like he actually had expected those words to mean a good thing. When Liatra took care of someone, it meant she shot them in the head. Klaire... at least looked to be in slightly better shape than that, in that she was still only in one shape and not a whole collection of shapes that it was best not to think too much about.

Liatra did not share this particular image reference, which Ishaan probably would have appreciated, had he known.

Klaire was probably Captain-Arobynn taken care of, which... eh. It wasn't pleasant, but it could have been worse. Depended how long it went on, really. Hopefully she hadn't been awake much longer than Ishaan had.

"She probably just needs a minute to breathe." Maybe the words were said in a reassuring tone, but Liatra was watching Twig when she said them, wondering if there'd be a little tic that suggested she'd gotten it right with that last word. Of course, Twig might just go on about it, he could be kind of an arse that way.

Maybe Klaire didn't? Liatra could hope she was faking it and might take the opportunity to give Twig a decent thrashing and steal the keys... but no, they were still on the ship, and that wouldn't even do them much good, and then they'd all have to go get taken care of.

It wasn't an experience Liatra was particularly enthusiastic about.
 
After finding the key, Twig pulled out his pistol and pointed it at Liatra.

“Go to the back.” He said, waiting for her to do so before opening the lock to the cage she was locked in. Without looking or aiming away from the unpredictable woman he crouched and grabbed Klaire’s wrist, dragging her through the gate. The pull was enough to wake her up, though by the time her eyes opened the cell was already locked once again, with her inside.

“The captain was generous and gave her the antidote.” The pirate said, the pistol dangling from his hand. “We’ll see how long his generosity is gonna last.”
 
Right, a moment to breathe.

Even in the dim light that was granted each time the door to the hold was opened, Ishaan couldn't tell if her chest was rising. She hadn't moved, on her own accord at least, having been dragged into Liatra's cell carelessly. He peered down at her, hands gripping the bars of his own cell, trying to catch a moment, an inclination that Twig was telling the truth. That the antidote had been granted.

"Is she breathing? Awake?" He asked Liatra, choosing to trust that she'd be more helpful than Twig. Wishing that Klaire had been placed in his cell, so that he could be the one to determine her state.
 
"Hey, your grip's all wrong for this distance, your shot's going to go left a bit. Do you want me to show you how to hold it better?" Despite how nice Liatra was being to offer to help, Twig didn't seem inclined to let her do it. Really, it was as if he didn't trust her with a weapon or something. She was indignant, but she backed up anyway - not that she had particularly much space to back up in, but it was about as good as it was getting.

Twig dumped the stranger into the cell without ceremony, locking it again and dangling his gun downward. "Twig! Come on, you're going to shoot your toes off. You can't hold it like that!" No one appreciated proper weapons discipline these days.

Her helpful advice didn't seem to make him want to shove off, either. Apparently he was going to stick around and annoy her by badly handling a pistol. Ishaan seemed much less concerned about that and much more concerned about the woman, which was probably fair if your best friends weren't guns.

"She's breathing fine. Can't tell if she's awake." She was definitely awake, but just because Liatra knew that didn't mean Klaire wanted people to know that - assuming people meant Twig, in this case, so she'd just let the girl make the call on that one.
 
Suddenly her wrists were no longer cuffed and she could breathe. Not only that, but she could hear Ishaan’s voice - either that or she was delusional.

It took Klaire a few seconds to see anything other than a blur. She flinched at the presence of a woman she didn’t know and moved to the direction she’d heard Ishaan’s voice coming from.

“You’re alive.” She cried, in a half euphoric, half desperate tone. There were metal bars keeping them apart, and a hallway in the middle where Twig stood, repositioning his pistol inside its holster.

“I know very well how to hold a gun!” He snapped back at Liatra. “Don’t test my patience, I can very well tell the captain my finger slipped and accidentally blew your brains out.”
 
Despite the threat and secondary conversation occurring before him, Ishaan didn't appear to be overly interested. He was wary, yes, gaze flickering between the figures and the visible gun, until finally landing and remaining on Klaire. She didn't look great, but not nearly as sickly as she had in the cave. "They gave you the antidote?" He asked. "Are you hurt?"
 
"At this rate you're going to do it accidentally on accident and not even accidentally on purpose," Liatra returned, in a tone that implied that she thought this was a perfectly good rejoinder - or at least she had, until she thought about it a little more.

She looked over at Klaire who had apparently decided she was awake, and had apparently decided that she only cared about Ishaan, which was... honestly absolutely fair. Everyone else down here was a bit of a disaster. Privately, Liatra suspected Ishaan might be a bit of a disaster as well, but she didn't think pointing this out was going to get her anywhere right now.

"So how come you're hanging out down here, anyway?" Liatra inquired of Twig, mostly talking to him to have someone to talk to. "Did you really miss me that much? Or are you just hiding from the Captain?"
 
“They did… I’m fine.” Well, she wasn’t totally fine but she’d live if they'd let her. Like Ishaan, she ignored the other conversation after realizing the girl was in the same boat as they were, and didn’t pose an immediate threat. Her hands wrapped around the metal bars. “And you? Did they hurt you?”

Twig told himself not to fall for Liatra’s provocations, as hard as that was.

“I’m making sure you’re in your best behavior.” He said, looking down at the fairy curled up by the cage’s bars. Their conversation seemed innocent enough, so he didn’t disrupt it, keeping an attentive ear in case either of them decided to reveal important information. “I don’t have to hide. I got a bonus, actually.”

There was pride in his voice. Pride on being where he was opposed to where she was. Perhaps the captain would even let him have Liatra’s old hammock, away from the snoring and close to the window.
 
"My best behavior? I am always on my best behavior," Liatra claimed, indignantly. She usually was, too - and, for that matter, she was of the opinion that her best behavior was a whole lot better than certain other people's best behavior. People like Twig, for example...

"What was the bonus? Did the Captain pat your head and tell you that you're a good boy? He does that with the cat, you know. Before he-" She truncated the sentence, with what was either remarkable self-discipline or just an indication of the sudden silence one might have from not being able to breathe any more.
 
His shoulders sagged downward, tension and self-doubt slowly dissipating. Paired with a heavy sigh of relief, Ishaan might've felt the corners of his lips pull upward into the slightest smile.

She'd been cured. He'd made a decision, taken a risk, and it hadn't been in vain. They were alive; imprisoned and at risk of sudden death, but the desert had little else to offer. All they had to do was stay alive until they ported.

So Ishaan nodded, acknowledging her confirmation, or perhaps silently and truthfully answering her own question. "I'm fine," he repeated, dark eyes flicking over to the pirate who'd socked him once or twice.

He observed the fir bolg; the way he stood with his shoulders squared and chin tilted. A silence fell over him as he watched, listening as Twig spoke and as Liatra spoke back. A key would be invaluable, but information was also appreciated.
 
He does that with the cat, you know.

Klaire stiffened, recalling the expression on that poor animal. She didn’t know if they’d be able to escape those cages somehow, but if they did, she’d be taking the cat with her.

“Have fun sharing a bucket!” Twig said, reminding the fairy of who had the upper hand and noticing a pair of eyes on him. “That goes for you too, my friend. If you collaborate with our captain, he may get you somewhere nice, or you may end up as a corpse for Solomon King.”
 
"Twig, who do you think is going to empty the bucket?" Liatra pointed out, with a roll of her eyes. It wasn't like the Captain was going to let them out to take care of it and it wasn't like it could just be left unless he wanted to risk the cargo ending up with diseases, which meant sending a crew member to deal with it.

Since Klaire seemed to be not imminently at risk of dying, Liatra shifted away from the back of the cage a little bit, contemplating the bars across the top once more and jumping up to grab them with her hands. "And the Captain will sell you to whoever pays the most. You too, Twig. Don't forget it. If someone offered him the right price for you, he'd offload you just as fast as anyone else."
 
Ishaan had nothing to say to Twig and his threats, nor Liatra's apparent wisdom. If it had been Klaire speaking, he might've suggested that she keep quiet; winding up the fir bolg wouldn't end well. Although Liatra was a supposed ally, he had no loyalties to her. So he remained silent, watching and listening.
 
Twig didn’t say anything to Liatra’s last statement, something he’d never paid too much thought to. Was she wrong? He’d like to think so, but the words got lost somewhere before it reached his mouth.

“Whatever.” He slurred out at the end, stomping away and closing the door behind him.

There was silence for a moment, until Klaire decided to break it.

“How do you know the captain so well?” She asked.
 
Ooh. Apparently that one had hit a nerve. That, or Twig had just gotten tired of being down here and decided to go up and get some fresh air. Liatra couldn't really blame him for that. She wasn't really sure if the place was better or worse with him gone. It wasn't like she really liked his company all that much, but he was familiar. Sometimes, familiar was more important than other things.

The room was briefly quiet, as if everyone there were trying to decide what to do next and realizing that their options were very limited. Klaire decided to ask a question, which was... probably fair.

"Me?" Liatra pulled herself up on the bars again and went back to hanging upside down. "I was part of the crew for eight months. Now I'm down here for mutiny. I still don't think it qualifies, but the Captain's a bit pissy about it, so we'll see what happens."
 
Without Twig present, there was more freedom to speak freely. Even though an occasional movement or sniffle reminded Ishaan that there were others - others who continued to remain silent.

He was at a disadvantage, having not met the Captain. Though judging from the comments made and their current situation, he wasn't particularly eager to meet the man who ran this ship.

"That's Liatra - she said she'd help us escape," he found himself saying quietly, attempting to justify the alliance to Klaire, who likely wouldn't be all too thrilled about aligning with a pirate. At first, at least. "Liatra, this is Klaire. The adventurous friend."

He looked at Klaire, the gears in his head turning, wondering what she'd told the Captain and anyone else she'd encountered. Wondering if their stories matched.
 
Klaire stood tall, dusting off the dirt from her knees. A part of the crew for eight months. A part of that crew, working under that captain. The light was dim, but Klaire could still see the rows cages beyond them, filled with people of all sizes and smells. Ishaan didn’t show any emotional response to that statement, perhaps because he’d already heard it before.

“How long have you been here? How long has he?” She asked, her voice firm as if it didn't hurt to breathe.
 
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