RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

Flame enveloped the bottom of one of his pantlegs, quickly eating away at the fabric and licking at the skin beneath. The guard yelped, his sword clattering to the floor as he stripped off his coat to smother the fire. For a moment, he thought about how fortunate he'd been that it'd only been a small burst of flame - but giving thanks to a pirate, for her small fucking mercy was about as pathetic as her existence.

His quick thinking and the frantic beating of his lower leg extinguished the flame, leaving a charred mess of material and angry, blistering flesh. Fear, anger, and disgust clouded his gaze; he was helpless against her, as was everyone else who remained close. He could only hope she'd leave without killing anyone else. "Get out," he said, the words and tone coated in feeble rage.

---

The cool night air was welcomed, a stark comparison to the smoke, and the expensive perfumes, oils, and sweat that intermingled within the moving crowd. People broke off from the hoard, small groups and pairs moving towards the front of the house and dispersing into the night. Alys lingered, still holding the gun in one hand, while using the other to warm the skin of her upper arm. She didn't know why it was cooler now, standing and waiting impatiently, alone.
 
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Good, the Al-Ashtavahk was a sensible sort. You never knew, with people. Sometimes you told someone not to shout about something and the first thing they did was yell it from the rooftops. Aamir preferred to avoid working with people like that when possible. Cool heads in a crisis. Winter was good with that, already "allowing" the Aos Gaotha to "assist" her outside. Aamir wasn't worried about her - Winter could hold her own. She was a responsible sort.

Sky, on the other hand... well, Sky could also hold his own, but usually did it by handing off the trouble to everyone else in his vicinity, like a sack of angry kittens. He'd be the only one who didn't end up getting clawed.

"The fire's that way, by the drapes. Or on the drapes, more like. We'll probably need water, but I'm hoping if we can pull down the rest of the drapes, we might be able to smother it and keep it from spreading. I don't think I can get the other drapes down, but I imagine you've got the strength. This way."

He wove his way through the crowds, the same way he wove through the deck of the ship when it was filled with people. If you had a task to do and a determined look, most people got out of your way. It was a little harder to manage the determined look with the bloody mask, but knowing his luck, the Lady would toss him out for not wearing it without so much as a thank you about putting out her housefire. The nobility was like that - or anyone rich enough to think they were a noble, anyway. His mother had been a whore when he was a boy, and she was the same way lately. He respected that she'd made her way and didn't have to work any more, he supposed, but he could do without the lamentations about how her children never visited, which he heard every single time he visited.

Which was, admittedly, infrequently.

"Sorry to pull you into service like this and break up your dance, by the way. She's lovely - friend of yours?"
 
Ah, things never worked out as easily as you wanted them to, did they? Winter tapped the head of her cane with her finger for a moment, contemplating options. Could always draw her cane, but it would be a long walk back to the docks and plenty of time for the woman to call for help — and she didn’t want to deal with that sort of trouble for one of Aamir’s whims. That aside, the woman seemed a kindly sort, not deserving of such discomfort. Then instead…

“You must think highly of him.” Winter said, a touch of wistfulness in her voice and a touch of smile on her lips, “you must excuse me, there’s a warmth to those words that’s hard to miss.” Winter added, tapping a finger to her ear.

“I’ve always had good hearing, even before— well,” she waved that unpleasant thought away. “All I mean to say is I always hear more than what is good for me, and though it is presumptuous you, ah, sounded shaken when we first approached you. It’s nasty stuff, fire, no shame it in stealing a nerve, and if it’s your will I won’t stop you, but it might be for the best if you remained outside until they have things sorted.”

Winter turned her head, though it was hard to place where the woman’s eyes were. “And if you’ll excuse me for being direct, you’ll do your people more harm than good if you find yourself unsteady when you go to them.”
 
Emer's feathers ruffled a bit.

"It's no matter," she muttered in reply, pushing off the concern. "A fire, in a crowded place as such - why, anyone with common sense would be concerned."

They had reached the gate, by now, and the wisewoman paused.

"I think I can judge the limits of my own steadiness."

Firm. Unyielding.

"I will be back, if you need me, but I will not shy from my folk when they are in danger."
 
Eliza stood back to full height, approaching where the guard knelt. Still the fighting raged in the background, something that concerned them greatly. They had to do whatever they could to give everyone time to get out- which didn't help since half of them were still fighting, or trying to put the fire out they started.

They knelt near the guard, looking directly towards his eyes. "Actually, I suggest you go. While you can. If you do, I can guarantee I won't hurt anyone, and we can all move on from this."
 
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Gods, when he got out of there, Alys decided that she’d kick his ass. Handing off a weapon - his weapon of choice - and trading it for something that evened the odds for the guards. Putting himself against two of them, like some fucking hero.

Holding the gun for the second time that night, she moved forward, deciding - against her better judgement - to trust what he said and move towards the door. Towards Juniper. The number of frantic people persisted, sweeping her up among their movements, thankfully towards the shattered remains. But it was uncontrolled, and the smoke was getting thicker.

That fire should’ve been enough to get them all out.

—

“Get out of the way, old man,” one of the guards replied instantly, brushing off the threat as if it were nothing. Because it was.

“Tell me, how much will the Lady pay us on top of the bounty for O’Cain’s head?” The other sneered, directing the question towards his colleague.

“Not much of a Deadly Shot tonight, is he? All he’s got is an old man and the whore he’s paraded around tonight. If he were in his prime we’d be getting more…”

“But it’ll be enough to buy you thousands of those fucking canes..."

One outstretched his wings, springing up to join O’Cain in the air, slashing his sword at the pirate. Slashing - but feigning. Because the other guard, the one who’d taken far too long to remove the cloth from his head, the unarmed one, had flown towards the fairy from behind, hoping to topple him back down onto the ground.

The third remained below, lifting his sword and advancing on the older pirate. Perhaps they’d get a couple coppers for him.

—

The fourth guard, the one in charge of carefully herding the drunk woman away, stopped in his tracks. He took in her cries of defence; took them in and bristled. “You’re one of them,” he stated quietly yet evenly, hand reaching for the handle of his weapon without breaking eye contact.
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Alexander smiled. He flourished his cane, a move he'd practiced before with a sword before, well, before it turned out he shouldn't used swords. The move wasn't a good one, spinning might be a neat trick, but that was all it was, a trick. The whole point was to keep the guard's attention squarely on him and away from his Captain.


The problem was the guard wanted to fight. He really hoped the guard wasn't as good with a sword as Alexander was bad with one. Ever aware of his most immediate surroundings the old man stepped back, yielding ground each time the guard advanced, but keeping his cane at a ready position as if it were a long sword. He didn't have to win, well, he had to live and get away, but mostly he had to distract and draw the guard away from the aerial display.

Refusing to make the first move, Alexander waited with a grin on his face.
 
As soon as he stepped outside and saw her, a smile crept into his face. Sky slowly walked forward, removing his mask and changing from the fae to the human-like form Alys would be most familiar with. His hands went up in the air, showing he came in peace despite knowing she would likely not have the same sentiment towards him.

“A little hotheaded, your captain.” He said once he reached her. "You're not gonna shoot me, are you?"
 
Bitter laughter filled the space between them. His arms stretched outward, bare hands gesturing to the chaos; to the fire and smoke, the blood stained floor and dead guard behind - another leaning over him, mourning - at the smell of burnt flesh that lingered. "Your word means fuck-all. Look at what you and your crew have done." He took it in, gaze shifting between the woman's face and the scene around him. Then he continued, unknowingly using words the pirate had heard once before.

"Why do you do it?" He asked bluntly. "Is it fun? To ruin people's lives?"

He scoffed immediately after, realizing he was wasting his breath. "I won't repeat myself. Get the fuck out so I can get the rest of these innocent people out. Or, go ahead. Burn me some more."

---

One step forward, another step back. The guard continued to advance, even after the old man had skillfully flourished his cane. At first, the movement had elicited some concern, but the longer the pursuit went on, the more the guard began to think it was all for show. That, or his impatience grew unbearable. He took the offensive, swinging his sword at the man's weaker side - a guess, of course, but one he made based on the positioning of the pirate's hands.

---

Anger would've been a natural reaction, and although she felt it bubbling, exhaustion took root. It was exhausting; seeing his face once more, having to deal with whatever bullshit he planned to spew. It would be infinitely easier to shoot him, like he'd suggested. Aim for an eye. See how he liked it. But Alys knew that if she drew the weapon and aimed, she probably wouldn't be able to go through with it. And that was a weakness, one she didn't want him to see.

So she kept her arm lowered, hand clutching the weapon as he drew closer. Lifting her head to meet his gaze.

"What did you tell him?"
 
Caleb turned around to find a familiar face - or rather, mask - asking about his wife. He couldn’t tell if he was being recognized or not, but the visible blood on his sword was enough to assume this man wasn’t here to help.

“Your boss is tied up in that room. She's a bitch, but if you let her go, you may get a raise.” Caleb said calmly, his fluttery wings keeping him flying in place. “The fight is over, don’t get yourself killed over nothing. Here.” He reached for his pocket and removed one of the necklaces he had stolen, along with a bracelet that got entangled with it and tossed it over to the guard. “You have a family, don’t you?”

***

As much as Sky wanted to trust Alys, he made sure to keep the gun within sight. He stood close enough so that he could keep his voice low, but not enough to invade her space. Out of the corner of his eye he recognized Winter’s lavender dress, but couldn’t quite tell who she was escorting from that distance, just that whoever it was, it was too short to be Aamir. His focus shifted back to Alys, and he made sure to block her vision to avoid her flying for a rematch.

“I was just messing with him.” He answered, and hesitated before adding: “I don’t know how much you're getting paid, but the Cloud Cutter is good work. The captain has self control, which is a plus. We don’t get a lot of notoriety or casualties... Aamir would be happy to have you if he hears about your skill set.” Of course there was the matter of him being a pervert, but Alys could handle that. “I know Sinead Oiche passed not so long ago. Without her, it’s a sinking ship, Alys.”
 
The crowd was clearing out, the less stupid people in the way the better. Fire always seemed to get people riled up, especially higher class people. Nobles typically led dull lives, spending their time judging everyone below them or engaging in all manner of hedonistic vices - equally boring in its own way.

The peacock was approaching now, beside him was a wall of a man. Wait, no - Emryk. Ciaran had thought he'd be attached at the hip to Emer, but she was as free as the winds she was born from. Had he been enlisted to assist as well? Hardly a coincidence, but Ciaran would keep their familiarity a secret unless the Baron chose to reveal it.

With no water on hand, Ciaran cleared away any furniture or parlor comforts that might've been in the way before he chose to grab one end of the drapes and begin ripping downward. With any luck he'd tear it down and hopefully smother the flames under its own mass.
 
Something about those words were familiar. They gave Eliza pause. The tone was different, but the message- it cut through the haze of drink, the fog of emotion, and touched on something they tried hard not to think on. A face, hazy through their feelings running high, the last time they'd seen it. That thought, that memory, paired with what they'd been through just earlier that day damn near broke them.

They surged up to their feet, a seething rage apparent on their face, looking at the guardsman with total disdain. Something about the entire situation irked them. It was all fuel for a fire that had been building for far too long, and something that needed release. "Listen here, you piece of shit, I could ruin this entire city on a fucking whim if I wanted to, I could've turned this entire party to ash the second I walked in the door, I could leave nothing but a smoldering mess in my wake, but I fucking don't," they began, taking heavy steps towards him.

"Every goddamn day I hold the lives of everyone I meet in my hands, and every single fucking second I have to wrestle with the fact that it would be so easy. I could kill you in the worst way possible." The rant was entirely out of control by this point, their addled mind entirely incapable of holding back now. "Every single one of you should thank me, that I don't turn you to dust. I'm giving you one- one- chance, to leave. Before I decide to burn you to the fucking ground."
 
“Shame,” It was a small word, soft, as she took her hand from Emer’s. She reached out, her fingers first lingered in dead air, lost until she found an iron rod of the gate. She brushed the tips of her fingers along the gate, as if trying to figure out its shape. “It’s fine, it’s fine, just a little time.” She muttered. If Emer sounded resolute, then Winter’s posture was her opposite. She pricked at the noises of the city, a twitch of her head to catch the sounds as they passed as her smile strained on its edges. Just on its edges of course, too much too soon, ah then it’s just an act isn’t it?

Winter turned to face Emer with an attempt to pull her posture back up to seem more steady — though she again tapped the head of her cane as she had when Emer first gave her intentions to leave. She cleared her throat, though she turned her head away before she spoke. A clammy city wind whipping itself through the bars of the gate with a whistle. “Won’t be too long then, yes?” The earlier push in her voice had fallen away, popped perhaps.

“Someone will be along soon.” Hard to say if she meant that for Emer’s ears, or her own.
 
"Yes, dear, none too long at all," the wisewoman replied warmly, taking a quick moment to glance out over the city proper. It was fully dark, now, stars struggling for air through the choking layer of cloud and smog, but they were there - faint dots of light amidst the sea of sky. She took a deep breath, then turned away, looking back to the manor.

"I - suppose I can stay here a moment longer. If I am needed, they will call for me." Her hand brushed the skirt of her dress. "Not that I'd be as useful as I should, without my supplies. Is it truly improper to carry a bag alongside? Sky bless, proper ladies must be terribly unprepared for all manners of things."

Emer laughed, as if trying to lighten the mood.
 
Suddenly, in his very hands, the guard held two pieces of jewellery that likely cost more than a year of his salary. They sparkled in the light, temporarily mesmerizing the young man. Until the pirate - the fake duke - spoke of family. He lifted his gaze and shook his head silently. A couple seconds passed, and then without fully thinking through his words, he spoke. “Are you hiring?”

—

The absurdity of his words caused the corners of her lips to lift into a smile. But he kept going, as serious as a dead man. Her smile faltered and she looked away, jaw tightening.

If only he knew…

“You don’t think I know that?” She finally muttered, glancing back up at him. The chill stung at her bare arms and she slid her palm over the goosebumps.

“I’m going to need more than that. You know me - I can find any other ship that offers the same. Shit pay, quiet, a decent Captain. So what? What can this Aamir offer me, that I can’t find anywhere else?” Her tone was firm, commanding almost.

—

So his initial instinct had been right - to thank the pirate for not doing more. For not causing more chaos.

Their rage came from nowhere, or so he thought, and he stood silently as they spoke. Feeling fear, anger, but above all, pity. To be so far gone, to practically proclaim themselves as a fucking god.

With a shake of his head, he watched as the hall began to empty out. “How fucking merciful of you.” Then he moved forward, shoulder bumping into hers as he reached to help an elderly man who had either drank too much or inhaled too much smoke. Helping the man rise to his feet without looking back.
 
It was tempting to follow one of the heartbeats below deck, to track the scent of the little girl who was so graciously preparing Leo food down below. It was an instinct, an integral knowledge that the blood he was going for would not be as sweet as it would be from a fresh, warm body. It was almost the warmth he craved more, though the gnawing at his gut was more familiar, more understandable. Leo had been hungry more often than not, but he had never felt so cold.



He pushed the temptation aside, reminding himself that there was a line he had never crossed. Each step was a reinforcement of that will, the short distance to Lucien’s door a marathon of will against primal urge. Even after Leo’s hand lingered upon the facing, his body hugged against the door as if it were a life raft. He had no way of knowing if the senior vampire was inside, but the concoction they had wasted in their confrontation still soaked the floorboards and caressed the air.



Leo didn’t even bother to turn the handle as he used his newfound strength to burst through the cabin door, all else in the room ignored as he was practically pulled to the cabinet of ceramics for his speed. The first jar fell to his thirst, and it was only by the third that he realized the flavor was odd, off in a way that he couldn’t describe. It was unexperienced, almost burning in the way it warmed the back of his throat. The churning of his stomach finally gave way, but Leo’s head didn’t feel any clearer. Carefully he slid the ceramic back onto the shelf with an inexplicable, even to himself, little giggle.
 
"You're goddsdammed right," they said, nearly spitting the words at the man. Insufferable. The whole night had been, every moment leading up to it had been, every happy thought or nice memory was an unbearable weight sitting on their shoulders now. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was some twisted gods punishment for their sins. It was hard to say at this point, but through that red haze, they saw that, somehow, miraculously, Caleb had managed to stop trying to kill everyone in the room. Considering that was the whole reason they had gotten involved in the first place, and someone of their destructive and rather unhelpful nature wouldn't be needed here anymore, they left, heading outside.

Gods, even their clothes had become uncomfortable now. Their feet set on autopilot, heading for the Hard Nox. For a moment, they considered stopping, helping Alys. She was engaged in conversation with none other than Sky, and despite how they thought she felt about him, the talk seemed pleasant enough, and by this point they were damn near sick of her face. They took a half moment longer, just to catch her eye.

In their gaze, Alys would see nothing of Juniper. This was a drunken stranger, lost in an anger so hot, it could burn them all away. The stare was intense, and angry, and hurt above all else, and then they left, for the ship. Hopefully it was still there, instead of a smoking pile of timber.
 
“The proper ones have servants for that,” Winter said, with a light laugh. She bid her body to relax as she did, allowing it to ripple down from her shoulders into her posture with a release of a tight breath.

“I used to find nights like these calming, stars always put me at ease.” Winter said, filling a moment’s silence. She shifted, her head tilting up for a moment. “I— if you’ll excuse me this, is your bag kept somewhere close? I can offer you a hand at least.” She held an apologetic note to her voice, as she attempted to push forward a compromise.
 
"I suppose they do, don't they? Fool on me for being no proper lady," Emer replied, smirking. At the mention of stars, she glanced skyward again.

"I wish I were above the clouds," she admitted. "Too much grey in a place like this. It is... suffocating."

She was silent for a few long seconds, then turned back to the blind woman.

"My bag is back with my ship, I am afraid, or I would have gone to retrieve it already. Thank you for the offer, however, miss - ah, forgive me. I never asked your name."
 
“I’ve always found cities too loud myself,” Winter agreed with a small tilt of her head, a small frown on her lips as Eemr explained where her medical bag was.

“Your ship? Ah, it might be hard to get there and back unless we took it at a jog,” Winter lifted her cane and tapped the head against the palm of her hand, three times. She smiled, a touch apologetically, “shame too, it sounds we both need to head in the same direction, ah, assuming your ship is moored at the docks.” She returned the tip of her cane to the ground with a crisp Clik.

“Oh, of course. I’m Winter Fairwind. It's a pleasure.” She said, with a dip of her head.
 
He did know her, and he knew that much like him, she didn’t stay too long in the same place. She looked different, he’d never seen her polish up so nicely before, but underneath all the jewels and the lavish dress, he knew she was still the same.

“Good company.” He smiled, daring to take a step forward. “And a ride to the east, where we can find another ship, with better pay. Like the old times.”

***

Caleb wanted to laugh at the situation, but there was something about the guard's voice that's always been there, but he hadn’t noticed before. He sounded young, and the fact that he didn’t have a family… He’d met too many like that.

“Ask for the Hard Nox at the docks. We could use another pair of hands.” The words tasted bittersweet on his lips. He knew that by doing that he’d be dooming the boy, but perhaps what he had there wasn’t much better. It was the price many paid for piracy, the odds of a short lifespan. He waved the boy goodbye and flew up to the mansion’s rooftop, with a view to the front yard. He looked down, trying to spot his crew to make sure they'd made it out safe and sound.
 
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