Closed Between sand and stars

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"I did, yes." Klaire answered, halfway through her soup. "Trained in Duranador for a while, got a post in Brimstone but transferred back three years ago. It's hard being away from family." She smiled, taking another sip of wine. "My mom died when I was nine. Father had to travel for work a lot so it was just me, my two brothers and baby sister, I'm the oldest. They're all grown up now, so they don't need me as much anymore." She put down her spoon, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rested her chin on her palm, fidgeting with the glass with her left hand.

"That's my story, what's yours?" She knew he'd been born in Syathnaes and went to school, but that was about it. Klaire didn't find as hard to look into his eyes now, with the wine melting away her nerves.
 
Her story.

She spoke as if that were it. Born into a military family, the eldest of four, motherless, someone who'd been both a caregiver and a solider. Still, Ishaan couldn't complain; yesterday, he'd barely been able to extract her first name. Today, he got a tiny part of her story, whether she realized it or not. He wanted more though.

Once she asked her question, directing the conversation to him, he met her gaze and held it for a couple seconds. Well his story was certainly different than hers, wasn't it?

"I don't remember much about Syathnaes. We left when I was... three? Settled in Goswick for ten years," he said, swallowing another spoonful of soup. "They passed away there, and I somehow managed to find myself in Costa Duba. Met Cilma... and well, the rest is history. I haven't left since."

Another pause, another sip. "It sounds like you and your siblings are close."
 
It was a vague story, but so was hers. Klaire wanted to know more, but she was happy to accept anything he was willing to give, which wasn't much as he turned the conversation back to her.

"We're not as close anymore, but we used to be. Kris is stationed in Allegria, Kyle is still in training and Kate is engaged to be married. The only Byrn who escaped the military." She finished off her soup, as well as her glass of wine. "Thank you for dinner."
 
They continued to share details about their lives; innocent, harmless, and occasionally vague details, but details nonetheless. Ishaan spoke briefly about being an only child, about some of the friends he left behind in Costa Duba, people he considered brothers in their own right. He spoke about some of his time in school, and Klaire, very vaguely, shared a thing or two about her training. Eventually, when their glasses and bowls were empty, Klaire thanked him for dinner.

He smiled lazily and piled their bowls together in one hand, taking hold of the glasses in the other. "We should do it again sometime," he replied, dark eyes twinkling with... something. Soon enough, the dinnerware was cleaned, the kitchen left spotless, as if no one had stepped foot inside after the cook had left for the night. They left the mess hall together, walking side by side, towards their respective rooms.

Once he reached the threshold between her room and his, he paused, turning towards her. "Goodnight Klaire," he said gently, tentatively, as if he were afraid of being heard.
 
The conversation was effortless and fun, and Klaire wouldn’t have noticed she’d been smiling through most of it if her cheeks didn’t hurt from it. She helped him with the dishes despite his insistence in doing so by himself, with the last words he’d said playing on repeat in her mind.

“We should do it again sometime.”

Do what, exactly? Talk? Have dinner, just the two of them? What bothered her about it was that Klaire wasn’t as oblivious as she’d like to think she was, and with the denial stage over, she could finally admit to herself that she was undeniably attracted to Ishaan, and not the kind of attraction she felt when she was younger, when watching from afar felt like enough.

With her heart pounding and a hand that, maybe if she’d had another glass of wine would have reached for his, she walked back to the officers' quarters by Ishaan’s side. She had no idea of how long they’d been talking, but her eyelids were starting to feel heavy and the ship was quiet, informing her everyone else had already gone to bed at that point. If the ship hadn’t been so quiet, perhaps she wouldn’t have heard him whisper her name.

“Goodnight.” She answered, standing like a fool with her wings brushing against the entrance to her room and a hand on the doorknob.
 
It was dead silent. The ship had gone to sleep, yet somehow, the atmosphere seemed almost electric. With her back towards the door, hand on the door knob, Klaire looked up at him, almost expectantly. The amber glow from the nearby lantern illuminated her face, allowing him to notice how her eyelids hung heavily, how her violet eyes had darkened, and how her lips parted ever so slightly.

Her lips.

He couldn't look away for a second or two, his heart picking up the pace, but only slightly. It didn't race, but rather, seemed to beat harder, as if it were trying to escape from his chest cavity. Ishaan felt as though he was hovering closer, closing the gap, when in reality, he might've taken half a step forward.

Halted by the smallest voice in the back of his head, reminding him that she was his superior. Someone he was supposed to respect and remain professional with. The small voice grew, until reason returned, banishing the feeling that had temporarily clouded his judgement.

Ishaan looked back up to her eyes and felt the corners of his lips raise ever so slightly. "Sleep well." And then he found his hand grasping cool metal, twisting to open the door to his own cabin. He didn't stop until it closed behind him, separating the two, increasing the amount of space between them. A shaky exhale left his lips and he closed his eyes, suddenly wondering what the hell he was doing on this damn ship.
 
Still in her uniform, Klaire jumped on her bed and covered her face with a pillow, ashamed of her own thoughts and feelings. It was completely inappropriate and unprofessional of her to consider, if only for half a second, to close the distance between them, get on the tip of her toes and kiss Ishaan’s lips. For someone who’d never kissed anyone before she was surprised about how creative her imagination could be. Creative and inappropriate, completely inappropriate.

None of this would be happening if Cilma hadn’t died on her.

She stood up, the tiredness slipping away from her as she paced around the room. With all the chatter she’d forgotten to tell Ishaan that he’d have his first sword fight lesson early in the morning, and now she wondered if it was too late to knock on his door and let him know, or if she’d even be able to deliver the message without doing or saying something she’d later regret. By the time she fell asleep, Klaire had come up with a small set of rules to follow within the next few weeks:

1. Do not be alone with Ishaan until feelings are under control.
2. Do not hold eye contact for longer than five seconds.
3. Do not drink wine.

She woke up the following morning determined to be a better captain. His training had already started at that point, and checking out on how he was doing was a part of her job. After getting ready for the day, Klaire sighed and walked out the door. She just had to stick to the rules and things would work out fine.
 
A series of loud booms awoke the man, who had finally managed to fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning. The wooden door nearly caved against the force, the hinges whining angrily, keeping the master gunner from entering the cabin.

"Riasos, you have five minutes to report to the deck for training," the voice said steadily. Heavy footsteps followed, gradually growing quieter until the door to the deck slammed shut.

Ishaan stared up at the wooden ceiling, eyes struggling to stay open, unwilling to leave the comfort of his bed just yet. He'd only had a couple hours of sleep within the last two days; that, paired with the excitement of his first day, meant that he was quite fatigued. He'd call it exhaustion if he didn't have to attend training at four in the morning - that would surely come later.

After washing his face and changing his clothes, the man dragged himself to the deck, surprised to find only Rowan. For the first hour and a half, they warmed up and trained together - just the two of them. They used the wooden swords; Rowan beginning with the defensive basics. Offence would come later.

The rest of the crew joined afterward, launching the man into another hour of strength and endurance training. At that point, Ishaan could barely keep up, feet dragging, arms and back throbbing from exhaustion.

---

"Good morning, Captain," Rowan said, gaze temporarily leaving his men to meet Klaire's watchful gaze. "Sleep well?" The master gunner glanced back as the crew completed their push-ups in unison, hands clasped together behind his back.
 
Klaire was familiar with how demanding Rowan’s training tended to be. She recognized Ishaan amongst the row of sweaty men, but quickly glanced up at the gun master with a light smile on her face and a similar posture to his.

“Well enough. How’s it going so far?”

***

The moment the captain stepped on deck Rob finished his final push up and pulled himself up, arms outstretched on the side of his body like the rest of the crew. The boy by his side had been struggling all morning, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

“Riasos, right? I’m Rob Willow. My brother was assigned to watch your shop.” He was about the same height as Ishaan, but his shoulders were wider and his arms bigger. His strong jaw contrasted with the remaining of his features, delicate and rounded, like the ends of his yellow wings.
 
Well enough," Rowan responded, a slight smile appearing across his hard features. Slate grey eyes travelled to land on the man in the last row, light brown back glistening with sweat, arms trembling beneath his weight. He had no doubt in his mind that the Captain was strictly interested in his performance this morning. "He's green, lacking strength and endurance. But he is motivated, disciplined. With time he could make a fine soldier." Time they didn't have. What he could accomplish in two months, between the navigation and anticipated road blocks, would remain a mystery.

---

As the crew finished their final exercises, practically in unison, Ishaan was left to his own accord, extending and lowering his arms for another moment longer - a prolonged torture. As he finished his last push-up, a shadow loomed over him, signalling another presence. The man stood, the muscles in his back and arms practically spasming, gasping for water and relief.

"That's right, Ishaan Riasos," he responded, forcing a polite smile onto his tired face. "Willow, huh? What kind of beer does he like? I told the Captain I'd buy him a case if he didn't touch anything in the shop."
 
Klaire didn’t expect him to become a soldier in two months, but the stronger he'd get the better. He was by far the least muscular of the group, which didn’t mean he didn’t have a nice body. She watched him talk to Willow until someone stepped forward, blocking her view.

“What is it, Coffelt?” She asked, giving the cook permission to speak.

“I’m afraid to say this, captain, but there’s a thief among us. Spices and vegetables went missing in the kitchen.” There was repressed anger in his voice, Klaire noticed. It was a matter better discussed in private, but because he'd decided to bring it up in front of the entire crew, Klaire had no choice but to answer.

“The food we have is to be used, Coffelt. I’m surprised you noticed spices were missing, considering the soup you served us last night.” She heard laughter, but didn’t look away from the cook to search for the source. “If you need help, I’m sure Mr. Riasos can give you some tips. He’s an excellent cook.” She said quietly and without malice. Coffelt certainly didn't take it very well, staring down with his fist closed and jaw tensed, but it wasn't Klaire's job to care for his ego. She stepped back, putting a hand on Rowan's shoulder. “I’ll be in my office if you need me."

***

“He drinks anything, and so do I. I’ll gladly accept it on his behalf.” Rob smiled, then turned to watch Coffelt’s conversation with the captain. He’d laughed, and he hadn’t been the only one. “She’s right, that soup was disgusting. I bet prison has better food than that shit.”
 
After a gruelling first training, Ishaan found himself enjoying a mediocre breakfast. Only this time, it wasn't Klaire sitting in front of him, but a new companion - a friend. Rob. They'd hit it off almost instantly; the man was easy-going and had a great sense of humour, unlike the rest of the proud, disciplined crew. He could laugh at himself and shoot the shit, spending both breakfast and lunch with Ishaan, engaged in conversation that had nothing to do with training or navigation or their assignment. Just normal, regular conversation. It was refreshing.

Lunch passed. Ishaan returned to his cabin and began to flip through some of the texts that Klaire had delivered and neatly arranged on the small bookshelf. It might've seemed boring or tiresome to others - flipping through the pages, absorbing the information like it was air and he was gasping for it. But to him, it satiated his natural curiosity to learn, it indulged his interests, it made him appreciate what extended beyond - a fist knocked on the door.

Head lifting from the book, Ishaan slowly rose and walked over, opening the door tentatively. "Can I help you?" He asked. A crew member stood on the other side. What was his name again? Jay?

---

Meanwhile, before Jay had appeared in the corridor, Ellington had been invited into the Captain's quarters. Arms crossed over his chest, he looked at the Captain, anger clearly evident in his eyes. "I don' know who fucked up, but I think it was Grigory. Fuckin' idiot. I've got three less bottles of opiate, enough wormwood and dragon's blood for one gunshot wound..." he muttered, shaking his head side to side, causing his dark, straggly hair to sway with the movement. "We'll be pissed on in Brimstone for what we should've already fuckin' had."

A seasoned medic, Ellington had always been very particular about his stores. In this case, signs pointed to incompetence - either his assistant had loaded up slightly less than what had been requested, or there was a thief among them. Apart from Klaire, the green Captain, and her damaged hire, Ellington had full trust in the crew. Which meant it was likely Grigory's fault, as he was, in fact, an idiot.
 
Jay had seen Ellington enter the captain’s cabin, just as planned. He’d keep her busy long enough for Coffelt to have a word or two with the outcast about respect.

“The captain is asking to see you. Follow me.” He said, holding back a smile and turning his back on Riasos, leading the way downstairs where they wouldn’t be bothered.

***
Klaire didn’t have much work to do that morning, but she’d decided to eat breakfast in her cabin just to avoid a pair of dark eyes. The afternoon promised to be more eventful, especially after the crew doctor walked in with his complaints.

“I’ll talk to Grigory myself and figure out what happened. Do you have a list of what’s missing?” She asked, gesturing at the seat in front of her desk. “It might’ve been misplaced, but if we can’t find it I’ll write a letter to Brimstone right away to prepare a shipment.”
If the medicine had stayed on port, Klaire would likely have to pay for it with her own salary, since they were close to the budget’s limit. She was hopeful they’d find it, but it was better not to insinuate Ellington perhaps hadn’t looked through the supplies properly. He was a prideful man, she could tell, the kind that didn't like receiving orders from someone younger than him. She'd try to have a good relationship with him for as long as possible.
 
A frown appeared on Ishaan's face. Gears began to turn, questions started to formulate, yet he didn't even get the chance to open his mouth. Jay was already halfway down the hall, seemingly in a rush. Tentatively, the man closed the door to his cabin and began to follow Jay, down the hallway and away from the Captain's cabin. She must've been busy, but busy doing what, especially in the depths of the ship that Jay was leading him in. "Do you know what it's about?" He asked, extending his long legs to catch up with the crew mate.

---

"Misplaced? Misplaced in my fuckin' clinic? I don't think so, if you'd been down there yet, you'd know I keep it spotless. Everything is accounted for." It wasn't a lie - Ellington was obsessive over the clinic; he kept it impossibly clean and organized, each supply or herb or medicine belonging to a precise location. His records were neat, definite. There was no mistake about it - either these supplies didn't get on the ship or someone stole them.

And from the way she'd responded - misplaced, his ass - Ellington almost began to consider whether her wonder boy had anything to do with it. He had already stolen food - that was a fact confirmed by the Captain herself.

"How much do you trust that fuckin' navigator of yours, huh?"
 
"Do you know what it's about?"

"She'll tell you when we get there."

Rob recognized these voices. He'd been lounging in a dead end hallway and overheard Ishaan and Jay, an unlikely duo to be walking down to the brig together. Something about it wasn't right.

He followed after them quietly, hoping to be wrong about his assumption. Jay was one of the few that frowned after Coffelt's food had been criticized, and Rob recognized a bully when he saw one.

***

Klaire frowned, standing up from behind her desk. The question of how much she trusted Ishaan wasn't as much about his character as it was a question about her judgment and authority as captain.

"I trust him as much as I trust everyone on this ship." She walked up to the door and opened it for Ellington. "Get me that list and tell Grigory I'd like a word with him."
 
When we get there.

Another turn and the two men stood before yet another staircase, descending further into the depths of the ship. Ishaan hadn't gone this far yesterday; he had no idea what lay below, whether or not it was a place the Captain would frequent, much less require his assistance. "Are you sur-" he began to say, only for Jay to nudge him forward, forcing him down the narrow staircase. Jay took the rear, blocking the way back, their footsteps heavy against the creaking wood beneath. It was fairly dark below, thanks to the lack of windows, though a faint flicker of light allowed some visibility. Ishaan had barely placed his second foot down when a fist connected with his jaw.

---

A safe, diplomatic answer. It was robotic, rehearsed, and incredibly insincere - the medic wondered if it originated from the Captain's handbook. Surely she needed step by step instructions on how to manage a crew, as young and green and female as she was.

"Here, I'll tell you exactly what," Ellington muttered, ignoring her pathetic attempt of dismissing him. He trudged towards her desk and grabbed a sliver of paper along with a pen, dipping it into the ink container. Silently, he scratched out the missing ingredients and their quantities, his handwriting messy and frantic. Once he was done, the man shot out his arm and held out the list to her. "Like I said, Captain Byrn, I'm missing opiate, wormwood, and dragon's blood."
 
"You can give me some tips, can't you?" A familiar voice said, stepping out of the darkness. Jay smiled upon recognizing Coffelt and Billy, who'd just punched the navigator's jaw. "No one steps into my kitchen uninvited, do you hear me?!"

"Answer him!" Jay screamed, kicking Ishaan in the gap between his deformed wings.

***

Klaire grabbed the list from his hand, holding back the urge to punch him in the face. That was not the way she handled conflict, but he sure as well deserved it. Instead, she forced out a polite smile.

"I'll handle it from here, Ellington. You'll have your opiate, wormwood and dragon's blood before we leave Brimstone." She stood by the door, holding it open for the medic who didn't seem to want to leave. She'd already given the order, and wouldn't want to say it again.
 
A sudden pop, followed by a burst of pain radiated from his jaw, snapping his head to the side, away from the impact. Despite being caught off guard, Ishaan's gaze naturally searched for his attacker, head instantly turning back towards Billy. Coffelt stood beside him, triumphant and seething, his figure radiating nothing but tension towards the navigator. He was fucked, outnumbered three to one - three well-trained soldiers to his measly one.

That's not to say that Ishaan didn't know how to fight; he'd been in a couple fist fights as a young man, back when Cilma had seen him as troubled adolescent in need of guidance, and then later in his life, in his early twenties, when he'd joined a pub brawl or two to defend a friend. That's when he'd gained the two scars that decorated his face. So although he was severely outnumbered, he found that the scrappy side to him was eager to reappear.

Without warning, Ishaan lunged, arm swinging, fist managing to connect with Billy's nose. A crack beneath the contact, and blood began to pour, down his cupid's bow, over his lips and then his chin. Still, it didn't seem to phase the man, who did nothing but smile, his teeth staining a pinkish colour.

Coffelt began to speak, drawling on about his kitchen, on the words Klaire had embarrassed him with. Ishaan didn't have much of a chance to respond as the force of a boot sent him sprawling forward. The nerve endings connecting to his wings, sitting in the crux of his back tingled, causing a dull ache to spread. On his hands and knees, Ishaan spat out a mouthful of blood and spit, before answering the cook. "It won't happen again."

---

Billy crept forward, looming over the navigator, nose still bleeding freely. "What was that? Don't think he heard you." Then he swung his foot forward, connecting the boot with Ishaan's side. Frustratingly enough, that earned him nothing more than a pained hiss. "We can't fucking hear you," Billy spat out, this time sending his boot towards the side of the man's head. That got him a groan. Better.

---

"Thank you, Captain," Ellington muttered, joining his hands together behind his back. "I'll send Grigory your way once I manage to find him." With his point communicated, the medic gave her a slight nod before leaving her cabin.
 
This was clearly an ambush. Rob didn't have to go all the way down the stairs to hear the voices - Coffelt and Jay, and it wouldn't surprise him if Billy was in there too. For a second Rob considered surprising them and helping out his new friend, but the odds of it getting out of hand were too big so instead he did the sensible thing and rushed up and back to the officers' quarters.

***

"Captain!" Klaire followed Ellington out of the cabin to see who called for her. It was Rob Willow, panting at the end of the hallway.

"What happened?" She asked, assuming by the look in his eye it was an urgent matter. He looked from her to the doctor, and seemed to have made up his mind before answering.

"Follow me, the both of you. Now!" He ran back in the direction he'd come from and Klaire followed, hoping the grumpy medic would do the same.

***

"That's what I thought." Coffelt said, looking down at the fairy. "Hold him up."

Jay and Billy obeyed, each grabbing one of Ishaan's arms and pinning him against one of the columns of the brig. Coffelt knew better than to keep punching him in the face. The plan was for the boy to walk out of there alive and without having it traced back to them, so he pulled out a knife and held it up in front of the navigator's face.

"You'll tell the captain you fell down the stairs. And this-" he pulled down the side of his trousers, only enough to expose skin that was normally kept hidden. "This is going to be our little secret."
 
Suddenly he was up on his feet, back pressed into one of the wooden beams, arms and shoulders pinned back by Jay and Billy, while Coffelt stood in front. Despite the pain he felt, this new position allowed more of an opportunity to fight back. And so he did, thrashing around, trying to get an arm free to inflict some sort of damage. He was outnumbered though, and the strength of a single arm could hardly compare against the strength of an entire soldier. Still, he tried, until the glint of knife caught his eye. Ishaan froze, dark eyes trained on the blade, on the flickering light that danced across the sharpened edge.

"I'm won't say anything, I promise," the man said, the sudden dryness in his mouth emulated by the hoarseness of his voice. "I'll stay out of the kitchen. Please, you don't have to do this."

The light brown skin covering the upper portion of his hip was revealed, his hip bone and the planes of his lower abdomen stiffening against the cool air. Coffelt crept forward, the knife drawing closer until the cool blade touched his skin.

How the fuck did he get here?

Realizing that these men couldn't be reasoned with, Ishaan grit his teeth, chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, accepting and waiting for the first slice.

---

Ellington didn't plan on getting into the habit of taking orders from the crew, despite knowing and liking Rob for many years now. Still, the urgency in his face and voice conveyed a more serious issue. So he followed after Rob and the Captain without a word, their route and eventual nearing of the brig eventually making him wonder what the hell was happening down there.
 
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