RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

“Can’t say I’m much for these types of galas, too much noise.” Winter said, turning an ear back to the dance floor where the mass of moving bodies once more tangled as sounds bled together. The swish of a skirt materialized in a moment and soon replaced by the swoop of a torso. Feet approached, tapping a tempo she could pick out above the din, so Winter turned in Aamir’s direction as he approached. He seemed to have lost the girl he had been dancing with, but it was hard to say if that was a good sign or not with him.

“How was the dance?” Winter asked, though she didn’t expect much of an answer. Or maybe she also didn’t care much for what the answer was, as she moved on soon enough. “Our friend’s a new ship hand, hoping to see more of the world.” Winter said. It wasn’t much of interest, but perhaps it would make the man feel like adding something in to fill the statement out.

“I can’t say that I have an ear on Sky, I can try to search him out if you’d like.” She didn’t bother waiting for a response before she tapped her cane against the ground. Her shoulders relaxed some as the movement of the room cleared, but the frown lingering on her lips told perhaps that she couldn’t find him in the ballroom.
 
They returned the smile. "I suppose so. Better than staring at whatever that was, for certain," Eliza said, half nodding their head towards the painting they'd been looking at a few moments prior. It was true, the drink had them feeling strange, but so did everything that came before. The wine, honestly, helped them to disconnect a bit- certainly without it, they wouldn't be doing this.

"Is there anything I could do to put you at ease, then? I don't want this to be some stressful experience for you."
 
“How kind of you to care for the comfort of a stranger,” Alys responded, tone indifferent, masked eyes flitting back to meet the woman’s gaze. “I assure you, I am perfectly content. Just keep twirling me around.” A pause. “Perhaps I can offer the same kindness.” This time, her smile was hardly timid, but rather, mischievous. Her grip on the women’s shoulder loosened, and she slid her fingers against the deep blue fabric, brushing a loose strand away. “Anything I can do?” The hand returned, at it’s own pace, once again attaching to the woman’s shoulder.
 
Pris was too good for a pirate ship; it was painfully obvious as she took Leo’s prompting and followed it to the kitchens. His breath rushed out as he became aware that he had been avoiding the temptation and another stab from the hungry blade in his gut. Alone as he was with giant boy’s corpse he realized that he had indeed made a mess, of rum and of blood.



There was another room of rum and blood that called his attention, but Leo focused instead upon the siren song of cleanliness he had always been attentive to. There was a bucket of water near the door, a secondary safeguard to the fireproofing the bilge goblin had set up around the furnace. Without soap he could only dilute the stains created by the errant splash of blood he had released from Ronan’s wrist, but he found moving the large body was remarkably easy as he set to work, the heat of the furnace drying the water quickly behind Leo’s scrubbing.



A short time later Leo closed the door of the furnace room behind him, Ronan’s corpse gripped by its massive leg and drug behind the newly made vampire as he made his way to the main deck. He was fully dressed again, with his wild hair tied back by the caravat again and the shield on his back. The act of cleaning and wearing his clothes again had helped, brought Leo back to himself a touch more. His stomach roiled as he threw Ronan’s corpse over the Nox’s rail and he turned to the officer’s cabins with a grin.
 
Yes, they were certain now. If they had been sober, this wouldn't be happening. As if on cue, Eliza twirled Alys, in time with the music, allowing theirself some amount of a genuine smile. "No, I think a dance with someone such as yourself is enough," they responded, taking a moment to inspect what they could see past the mask.

Obviously, there was no sense of familiarity. Why would there be? They were both strangers to one another in this moment. They hadn't told Alys what they'd be wearing back in the bathhouse, and certainly hadn't told her who they'd be. To the quartermaster of the Nox, this was a dance with a stranger. "I do wonder what brings you to an event like this. You seem a bit higher class than something so paltry as a masquerade held by a lonely old woman."
 
Alys had asked, and shortly after received, allowing herself to be spun around by her dance partner. And then she was back, facing the stranger, who appeared to be intent on focusing on her, and only her.

“Oh, but isn’t that exactly why we’re all here? I can be nobody - nobody with no responsibility.” A response from a spoiled duchess or whatever higher class citizen the stranger believed her to be.

In reality though, she could be everybody. A duchess, princess, thief, pirate, a spouse… And no one but a handful of people would ever know.

“Isn’t that why you’re here? Or do you chase something else?”
 
They shrugged. "I suppose. I prefer anonymity, to be sure, but there's something to be said about knowing, isn't there?" Eliza said, taking a step back to twirl Alys once more. During that brief moment of separation, several thoughts ran through their mind. The days leading up to now, the conversation earlier today. It was still fresh, and even though they could mostly ignore it, it was still there.

They cast a glance towards Caleb, noting he was still busy with someone else, and through the haze of muddled thought, had an idea. It felt like a good one, and it was hard to talk oneself out of a bad idea when you had no inhibitions.

As the pair returned to one another, Eliza put on their most charming smile. "I'm sure you've been told this a hundred times over since you've arrived, but you're quite the beauty, if you don't mind my saying."
 
There was a splash.

A heavy splash.

Mal's rage switched gears, but not intensity; that stupid dog was the culprit, they just knew it. Probably got in a brawl with the snivelling giant and ended up throwing him overboard- if he could just wait, if he could just rein himself in, if he could just stop what he was doing and think for a single moment in his miserable life, then Mal wouldn't have to clean up his mess so often. Some fucking caretaker. They scowled, picking up the spider and walking towards the source of the noise, expecting to find a man thrashing about beneath the waves, except...

Oh.

He... wasn't.

Ronan was a corpse, now; pale and floating. Well, this just made them more enraged- senseless violence was supposed to be the only thing that animal was good for, and he somehow didn't know that dead bodies float in the water? Fuck's sake, they thought.

"Fuck's sake.", they muttered.

The Nox was docked, as if things couldn't get an worse, and it would be for a while. Plenty of time for port authorities to find the corpse and link it to the ship, dooming them all to a life in prison. Well, they typically didn't ration spare limbs in prison, so Mal didn't fancy going. They'd have to find a way to get that body out of the ocean, and fast. Unfortunately, brute strength was never their forté, despite the modifications. Their usual method of fishing, lowering down their arm on a thread to grab the fish in their hand, wouldn't work for the corpse of a giant. They'd need to use something a little sturdier.

With a heavy sigh, they took one of their climbing ropes. They removed a forearm and punctured a hole in its base; allowing them to stitch the rope through, but preventing the arm from being remotely reusable in the future. Now, with a sturdier line attached, they hooked the rope around the spider, intending to use its relative weight and mechanical stability to aid in hauling the corpse up onto the deck. Finally, with all that in place, they lowered the severed arm into the ocean, and attempted to grab the corpse.
 
Leimor was hardly a quiet city on its best days, metaphysically speaking. Someone somewhere was always dying. It got especially bad on Saturdays, of course--that was the court-appointed day of execution, most weeks--but the slow drip-drip-drip of spiritual dissipation would leave any necromancer not deeply accustomed to it in a foul mood.

Still, any necromancer could tell you that there was a clear difference between someone dying Somewhere Out There, and someone dying Right Bloody Here.

The construct--a tiny insect of bone and glass, which had until a moment before been nesting above-deck amidst the netting--skittered through the brig, examining the scene. It couldn't, strictly speaking, smell, see, or feel the scene. It could taste it, after a fashion, but not in a way that most people would recognize. It could certainly tell that the two prisoners were gone. If its creator had wanted to know, the construct would have been able to tell her that patches of the floor were much, much cleaner than they should have been as well.

She didn't want to know, because the thing she'd been looking for was very obvious. A fresh, ripe, confused and angry spirit, only a few minutes dead. Not Naveen's. Not Leo's, either. Ronan's, then. Which meant that either Leo had been taken hostage, or Leo would soon wish he had been.

The construct began to weave the air, channeling its mistress's magic, and the spirit folded and spiraled, until it was locked around the creature's forelimbs like a roll of invisible silk. Then it scuttled away. Whatever came next, its creator would likely need it.
 
With every passing second, Alys grew more and more confidant that this person was, in fact, a complete stranger. Granted, she was used to receiving compliments - but this didn’t feel like Sky. Confidant - yes - but gentle. There was something about the way they spoke. Almost refreshing.

“Certainly much lower than a hundred, I assure you. I’m not sure my ego could possibly handle that. But if you give me ninety-eight more compliments we can test that theory,” Alys joked with a breathy laugh. “But really, thank you for the one.”
 
Ciaran crossed the ballroom floor, a keen eye peering from beneath his mask for the peacock man. With all the oddities that seemed to have emerged at the docking of the Hard Nox, Ciaran couldn't let his mind rest without meeting this strange man Alys had spoken of.

At last he spotted the man in the peacock mask - half luck and half thanks to his height. Keeping him in the corner of his eye, he procured a pair of wine glasses and approached the extravagant man, offering a polite nod as he closed the gap. "Good evening," his voice was warm and smooth. "Might I share a toast with you, sir? I'd be honored to share a glass with the finest company in the establishment."
 
UmbraSight said:
“Can’t say I’m much for these types of galas, too much noise.” Winter said, turning an ear back to the dance floor where the mass of moving bodies once more tangled as sounds bled together. The swish of a skirt materialized in a moment and soon replaced by the swoop of a torso. Feet approached, tapping a tempo she could pick out above the din, so Winter turned in Aamir’s direction as he approached. He seemed to have lost the girl he had been dancing with, but it was hard to say if that was a good sign or not with him.

“How was the dance?” Winter asked, though she didn’t expect much of an answer. Or maybe she also didn’t care much for what the answer was, as she moved on soon enough. “Our friend’s a new ship hand, hoping to see more of the world.” Winter said. It wasn’t much of interest, but perhaps it would make the man feel like adding something in to fill the statement out.

“I can’t say that I have an ear on Sky, I can try to search him out if you’d like.” She didn’t bother waiting for a response before she tapped her cane against the ground. Her shoulders relaxed some as the movement of the room cleared, but the frown lingering on her lips told perhaps that she couldn’t find him in the ballroom.
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Alexander fell quiet when the man returned and let the two speak to one another. It would be rude to interrupt. He let his eyes travel over the party again and smiled a little. It was good to see people enjoying their day, such moments were all too few. Eventually he returned his attention to the two people in front of them. The man seemed nice enough, and the woman was unusual, but that wasn't news.

"Is there something I can do to help find your friend?" That seemed like the appropriate thing to do. They were looking for someone and hadn't been able to find him yet. It was a big house, maybe if they went in different directions.
 
"Breaded desert shrimp?" Asked the man with a tray that approached the two, unaware of the tension between them or perhaps because of it. Caleb tensed his jaw as well as his fist before letting out his breath.

"How about a stroll in the garden?" He asked with a smirk. For Sky that wouldn't do, not with a bet on his hands. He shifted again, this time mirroring the image in front of him with the exception that this one had two eyes.

"How about a stroll in the garden?" Even the voice was the same. Caleb's chest tightened of anger due to the shapeshifter's childish mockery, and something else while staring directly at his right eye. Sky looked away from him, turning to the servant that gasped by his side. "What, have you never seen a changeling before?"

Sky knew very well what he was doing, but it still came as a surprise when the Hard Nox's captain swung the metal tray at his face. It was hard to say who tackled first, leading the two semi-identical men towards the glass door that shattered with the impact.
 
"Now that I can-"

Their dance, and the wonderful moment they'd created, was interrupted, and frankly ruined, as a small section of the party gasped. The music stopped, and so Eliza, feeling irked and slightly annoyed, turned their head towards the commotion, only to find the captain of the Hard Nox rolling around on the floor, wrestling with someone who almost perfectly mirrored him, the only difference being he had both his eyes.

An uncomfortable feeling rose in their gut at the sight. Either it was someone like them, who just happened to be there, who just happened to imitate Caleb, and just so happened to get into a fight with said man, or...

It was Sky. Of course it would be, right? "Oh, dear, that looks- hm. Isn't he the one you came in with, ma'am?"
 
“Oh, thank you for your offer, but I’ve found him.” Winter said, with a tilt of her head. It was an assumption, but it was an assumption made at the sound of shattering glass, so Winter felt confident. There was a scuffle? That was harder to make out, but Winter was willing to go out on a limb. Had to think of another reason why Sky was breaking through doors beyond there being a fight.

“Sounds like he found the fight he was looking for,” Winter said, first with a tap of her cane against the ground, before lifting it and pointing it in Sky’s direction. “Shall we get involved?” She asked, a turn of her head in Aamir’s direction.
 
Isn't he the one you came in with, ma'am?

It had better not be, she thought, head craning in the direction of the scuffle. Between the closest bystanders and the frantic movements, it took Alys a couple moments to figure out what was going on. Who it was on the floor. Because, unfortunately, the stranger was right.

Her gaze hardened and she took a step forward, temporarily giving into the invisible pull caused by the overwhelming feeling of anger. And worry, and dread.

She couldn’t leave him alone for five minutes. Five fucking minutes. Like a fucking child.

Exhaling deeply, she paused. Guards would begin to swarm, and heaven forbid she’d come across one who knew or saw something earlier. Her momentum forward ceased, and instead, she turned back to the woman. “You should leave now.”

Without another word, Alys stalked forward, in the opposite direction of the fight, weaving between gawking people. Too distracted with the action to bother with the fae, who occasionally had to push or curse her way through, right shoulder forward - of course. She took three glasses of pale sparkling liquid from the tray of a preoccupied waiter, and despite the urge to down them all, she pressed forward.

Until reaching the beautifully embroidered curtains, tapestries, and paintings. Glancing over her shoulder, she dumped the alcohol onto the fabric and reached for the candelabra that sat on one of the side tables.

She’d seen Emer with Emryk at one point - the sole crew members of the Nox she knew were present. Emryk would get her out. And she’d trust that with this distraction, Caleb could be enough of an adult and get himself out.

—

Glass shattered and a pair stumbled onto the ballroom floor. A pair that looked nearly identical to each other. A family brawl? How positively uncivilized. The guard pressed forward through the crowd. "Stand back!" Sword at this side - for now - he planned to attempt to tear them apart with his partner, at least before employing additional force.
 
Eliza let Alys step away, their hand trailing away at her waist. They watched, in a dejected silence, as their dance, the dance they were owed, was cut short. As their arms fell to their sides, and as the brawl continued, the changeling felt an uncomfortable discontent rise in their stomach, up to their chest. They were mad, in part, and otherwise upset.

Of course Caleb had gotten in the way. It was always Caleb, it had been since the Ice Lands. Somehow, she preferred him. It was why she was quartermaster now, they felt, and certainly why they'd seen her leaving his cabin that morning. Gods, it was infuriating, especially since while they were going through this train of thought, their feet, of their own accord, started to follow her.

As they weaved through the crowd, slowly, they started to change. It wouldn't do any good to be Eliza anymore, not with what was about to happen. The rest of the crew needed to know they were here. They kept the height, at least for now, to ensure their outfit would still fit, but otherwise became, once again, Juniper, just as they stepped up beside Alys.

With a crack in their voice and a weak smile, they said, "If I left now, I'd miss all the fun." The sorceress did their best to bury their thoughts, instead focusing on Alys' plan. She'd dumped wine over the curtains. Juniper crouched next to the drapery, their back to the crowd to hide their work, and wrapped a section of it around their hand. They stopped, though, sitting in silence, listening to the commotion nearby.

"Thank you for the dance." So quiet it was nearly a whisper, they couldn't do enough to disguise their displeasure, their sadness, at how tonight had gone.
 
Despite the commotion, a soft, familiar voice spoke to her. Candelabra in hand, Alys turned, relief flooding in and -

She paused, realizing that Juniper was about a foot taller than usual, clad in the same clothing as… Her jaw went slack and she froze, watching as Juniper crouched down, hand slowly wrapping around the curtain. Listening as they thanked her for the dance. Half a dance, really, but one where they’d spoken to her confidently, in a manner that suggested interest in something beyond friendship. Realization hit, causing her brows to furrow and chest to tighten. She thought back to their time at the bathhouse, at the sudden shift in mood, and when specifically, it had occurred.

Placing the candelabra back down on the side table, she responded quietly. “Just enough to get the guards running.” Perhaps get the crowd panicked, but not enough to incinerate the whole building. Not like before.

She’d wait until the sorceress set the curtain aflame, arms hanging loosely at her sides. An apology began to form on the tip of her tongue, and she quite nearly mouthed the words but… this wasn’t the time. Instead, she swallowed hard and looked towards the commotion. “I think we’ve overstayed our visit tonight. Have you seen anyone else? Apart from Emer and Emryk?” And their fucking Captain, of course. Gods, she needed to get over there.
 
The silence was deafening, frustrating even, but what would Alys be able to say to make them feel any better about any of this? If anything, her not acknowledging any of it was better, given the fact they needed to start a fire, and an amount of frustration with Caleb still stirred in their chest and mind. That small bit of flame need not be quelled, not until later. Not until they'd sobered up enough to regret what they'd said and done tonight.

Juniper tried to speak, but their voice caught. With a quick clear of the throat, they spoke this time, the words coming easier with something else to focus on. "Saw Ciaran, briefly. And the new recruit- the one Caleb found, not me." Rielle had elected to stay on the Nox, which they were beginning to envy. Capable people, insofar as the ones they were familiar with were concerned. It would be a good first test for the newcomer.

The sorceress cast a glance towards the twin Calebs, grit their teeth that they had to do this at all for the person who had, twice now, in two different ways, been in the way at just the wrong time, and lit a spark. The alcohol-drenched curtains lit quickly, and they freed their hand, wrapping an arm around Alys to pull her away. "Fire! Everyone out!" they called, leveraging their larger frame for the moment to move them both towards the brawl.
 
A circle of people in masks, some concerned and some entertained, formed around the duo exchanging punches on the ballroom floor. Caleb hadn't had enough to drink to justify his recklessness but it was too late to turn back, so the best he could do was to go through with it to the end. Pinning the changeling to the ground he tried to reach for his pistol when his opponent stopped him by grabbing his wrist. The grip became stronger as the changeling grew, copper scales replacing the brown skin, similar to the Al'ashtavak he'd seen dancing earlier. His big foot teared through his boot and touched Caleb's stomach, kicking him back and sending him flying towards the guard that tried to control the crowd. The former quartermaster spread his wings before the impact, pulling his weapon mid air and aiming it at Sky.

Two shots. Two bullets hit the floor, as Sky shrank and rolled out of the way. The smell of smoke got to Caleb's nostrils and the people around them began to disband, due to the fire or the fires shots - possibly both.
 
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