RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

“Mm, tempting,” Alys mused, refusing to back away even as he drew closer. The cool metal against her hand began to prickle, yet her arm remained loose. It took everything to remain that way; collected, unbothered, fucking interested, especially after such a compelling pitch.

Juniper’s - well, the strangers - face certainly didn’t make this any easier. They lingered in the distance, staring, and when she met their livid gaze, they finally walked off. As unpleasant as their next interaction would be, she wouldn’t dream of taking up Sky’s offer. Not to run off with him again and revert back to the fool he’d once left broken.

His familiar scent enveloped her, snapping her attention back to him. Wide, blue eyes looked up, and she smiled. “How about a counter offer?” The fae stepped closer and lifted her spare hand, sliding it up his chest and neck to rest against his cheek, gently stroking the familiar skin. “Tell Aamir that the Nox’s quartermaster won’t tolerate his crew fucking with hers. You fuck with him again and I’ll finally do what I should’ve done the first night we met. Do you remember?”

And then, because actions spoke much louder than words, after shifting the gun into position and aiming for his outer thigh, Alys pulled the trigger.
 
The walk back to the ship was a long and shameful one, and it was one that Juniper- something in their brain clicked, made them start thinking like theirself again, rather than someone else- hated. They hadn't changed back quite yet, with some amount of disconnect between mind and body, but they were certainly fuming and sulking and brooding like theirself.

The ship was quiet, which was good. It meant the guards hadn't figured out they were there yet. It also meant no one was on guard on the top deck, other than Mal, who was as likely to care as they were to not give a single shit. They seemed to be fishing for something, off the edge, but they couldn't care less to wonder what, and instead walked directly for the lower deck, the mess hall, as if they always belonged here.

Of course, they did, but no one else could tell that from looking at them right now. They collapsed onto a bench, face pressed against the wood of the table, and while no one else was around, finally realized they should be Juniper instead of... whoever it was who had gone to the ball. Their clothes fit worse, baggy around their everywhere, but it was safer that way.
 
Emer glanced at Winter, her smile fading slightly.

The sky was overcast, the wind was cold and sharp. The perfect weather for a storm. Not, perhaps, the kind that quelled towns and flooded streets, but certainly a squall in its own right.

"Yes - a shame."

The stars always put me at ease.

"I should be going back to the ballroom. It has been a fair moment. They may need me." Her lip curled up. "I will be back, hm? I will tell your friend you are waiting for them by the gate."
 
Perhaps if she had been Aamir, or even Sky, things could have been different. Gentler. She’d feel bad about this, but what purpose did guilt serve when it couldn’t change the outcome? A cold wind accompanied that thought, wet with a threat of rain. Winter tapped her cane to the ground three times, her head dipping forward as she listened.

“Very well, I will remain here.” Winter said, softly. How much easier it could have been if the woman wasn’t so stubborn about it all, but there was nothing to be done about that. The woman was smaller, her steps sounded with lack of weight rather than any attempt to hide a presence, and they were more frail weren’t they? She might’ve read that in a book once.

Winter waited for Emer to turn away, listening for what the woman offered. The swish of cloth, the rustle of feathers, things she could visualize before she took a step after Emer. It was soft and swift and Winter lifted her cane. The strike was quick, aimed for the back of the wisewoman’s head, with enough force to hopefully knock her unconscious.
 
She'd turned her back.

Foolish of her, but she was uneasy, not distrustful - she had no reason to expect anything terrible to come of it. Not more than two steps later came the pain. A sharp jolt to the back of her head. A crack that echoed, felt more than heard, and the entire world shifted under the weight of it. For a terribly long moment, a terribly short one, she was flying.

"Ah," she muttered, and then her knees folded, and then she spiraled, and then she was in the dirt and grass, and then she was nothing.

--

She came to in sheets and linens. Her head was thunderous. The pain before had been momentary, but now there was a slow, throbbing ache that jolted every time she shifted her neck. Keeping it as still as possible, she slid a hand up through the sheets, touching gingerly to the back of her skull. Raw, but no dampness.

Slowly, she coaxed her eyes open.

This was not her bed. This was not her clinic.

"Unh." Her throat was thick and rough, and words took effort. She found one, at least, in time. "Where?"
 
She hadn’t had been much of a burden to carry back to the Cloud Cutter, light as she was. Winter had kept an ear to listen for her breathing, a feel for her pulse, but what she would have done if either stopped, she didn’t know. She had gotten Emer situated in her own bunk on the Cutter, best to know the space, and she had changed out of her dress into a loose tunic and a pair of trousers while the woman slept.

She busied herself while she waited, changed out the thin cane she had used for the party for a sturdier one, filled a kettle and readied some warming stones, and to her basin she added a measure of rose water to wash her bandages. She had just set them to soak when she heard a change in Emer’s breathing. From a shallow sleep to the regretful sounds of painful wakefulness, for this Winter placed the kettle upon the stones. Winter turned as Emer stirred in earnest, her confused words thick and heavy off her tongue.

“Slowly, slowly, dear.” Winter said gently, returning to the bedside. She hadn’t heard Emer attempt to sit up, so Winter knelt in hopes that would keep her from trying. “You took a tumble when you were walking back to the party, hit your head too, I think.” Winter kept her voice low as she explained the situation, loud noises were nasty on an already aching head. The kettle behind made some burbling noises, seemingly less concerned about the state of Emer’s head.
 
She'd had a tumble. Hit her head.

Yes, that - that made sense. Everything was a tad bit foggy, difficult to think through. It made her less ill to her stomach to simply stop thinking, for now, and latch onto that explanation as the truth. Blinking, she settled back down into the bed, looking around. It was the blind woman from the manor. The one she had helped out, when -

The fire happened? Yes, the fire, and the gunshots.

"Where am I?" she asked, throat still hoarse, words a tight whisper, but a bit more coherent. "The Baron will worry. Does he - know where I am?"

The wisewoman shifted, sliding back along the pillow.

"And Caleb. Caleb was fighting. I hope they are both safe."

Her ear twitched as the kettle began to bubble.

"Ah. Tea. Tea would be nice."
 
Tiny red droplets began to mix with the deep blue of her dress. An annoyance, for certain, one she’d likely embrace later. For now, she allowed the anger, and then the satisfaction to bloom behind her eyes, watching as Sky stumbled, desperate to remain upright, hands slick with his blood. She watched as he eventually dropped to a knee and bit back the pain he felt. Looming over him, the fae barely contained the urge to knock him down further.

“That’s my promise to you.” And the Cloud Cutter, she added silently, Aamir’s name and the face of Sky’s saviour drifting in her mind.

Taking a couple steps back, Alys lifted the side of her dress up to her knee, unbothered by the partial nakedness, nor the cool air that nipped at her calf. With the gun in one hand, and a knife in the other, she turned and left, flying over the garden wall. Keeping to rooftops or tiny avenues, she began to make her way back to the ship. An uneasy pit in her stomach lingered the further she got, but she trusted what the Captain had told her. That he’d be right behind her.

It was a damn good thing she left too. Because she hadn’t even reached the plank to get aboard when she noticed the flicker of a lantern and a figure leaning over the side. Mal - fishing in the dead of night. Alys moved closer, the soles of her feet eventually gliding over the deck, when she finally saw. “What happened?” She hissed, watching as Mal fished Ronan’s dead body out of the water.
 
“I am sorry, but I don’t know how things turned out.” Winter said, gently, rising from the side of her bed as she did. Winter returned to her kettle, and with a bump of her hip to open a door, she produced a fine white tea pot, She reached up, running her fingers across several tins that sat on a shelf above the basin, feeling for small divots she had made in the metal. She chose two different tins, and the smell of herbs and something grassy but floral filled the space as she cracked the lids open with the side of her thumbnail.

“I can send a runner to your ship, you said you were staying on the docks yes, to inform the Baron, but you should rest for now.” From one Tim a pair of dried leaves were added to a sash, and from the other the tight buds of some plant. She added the sash to the pot before she picked up the kettle. She traced a finger around the open head of the pot before she poured the water in, one head tilted to listen to the sound of the water. It was always such a pleasant sound when the pot was properly filled.

“These should help with the pain, or, I’ve always found them soothing at the least.” Winter said, producing a cup from the same place she had the pot. The Baron would be trouble, he had sounded like a mountain of a man, but that only ever seemed to make Aamir more enamored with the chase. After a moment, she filled the cup and returned to Emer’s side. There was a certain fluidity to her movements as she went and held the cup out, steaming with a certain herbal scent.

“There’s still a saucer on the nightstand, I think.” Winter said. “If not, I’ll find you one.”
 
"You do not need to tell me to rest, dear, I am a wisewoman," Emer replied kindly - if a little firmly. She shifted back, forcing herself to sit up fully, steadying her body against the headboard. Her hand rubbed at the back of her head absently. "Have you checked my eyes, yet? They should react to light."

Foolish of her, to slip. The Baron and the rest of her folk were doubtless fretting.

"Send a message. Tell them I am well. The name of the ship is the Hard Nox."

She paused, glancing at Winter to see if there was a reaction, taking the cup of tea in the meantime and moving it onto the nightstand saucer.

"Thank you, dear. I would have recommended lemongrass, for my head, but this will do for the sake of comfort."
 
“The Nox?” Winter looked thoughtful for a moment before she allowed her expression to brighten a touch. “Oh, I had helped a giant back to that ship earlier today. Seemed a sensitive soul that lad, though the crew seemed quite agitated while I was there.” Winter shrugged, breezily as if that agitation hadn’t been a rather rash attempt at beheading for trying to hit a thief with her cane. The Nox was the Nox, and Winter was happy to act as if she had never heard of such an infamous ship. Likewise if Winter had any reaction to Emer’s slip of the tongue, then it existed only as a slightly amused quirk of the lip.

“Lemongrass is it? I do have some I think, I can add it to the pot for your next cup.” Winter said, turning back to her tins. “Fool me thinking all pains got the same cure, those herbs are ones that’ve always help with my scars when they got to aching at night.” She laughed as she pulled down a third tin after running her finger along it. She hadn’t known that about lemongrass, but it was good to know.
 
"They do not trust readily," Emer replied, "but they are kind folk. They treat me well."

She sipped at the tea slowly, nursing the cup.

"And this is... your ship? A family's? An employer's?"

It was beginning to settle just how little she knew about her current situation. She didn't know this woman, did she? They'd barely spoken a handful of words. And she'd been - insistent on having her go to her ship.

And now she was at her ship. After - slipping? Her head ached, and her thoughts were foggy, but there was still a storm here. The skies were still restless.

"How did you bring me here?"
 
“It’s simply a shame to have to get off on the wrong foot.” Winter said with a shrug of her shoulders. This tin she again opened with the edge of her thumbnail, her movements smooth as if she weren’t aware of that edge of suspicion lingering now in Emer’s words. She extracted a blade of lemongrass and placed it between her lips, rolling the cut edge of the stem between her teeth.

“Employer’s ship, though I’ve mistaken them for family a time or two.” Winter said. It had a good citrus taste, even dried as it was. Another pair of blades were added to the pot, though it was hard to tell if Emer would ask for another cup. “Treated me better than my own blood anyway. They never cared to have a daughter.”

Winter turned to face Emer, her smile unmoving from her lips. “I carried you, love, dare say the dresses made for more of a hassle than it needed to be. But you needed a nice bed to rest in so I don’t resent the effort.”
 
Golden said:
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?"
Click to expand...
Alexander could try to use his limited skills with a blade, or a cane for that matter, but that wasn't his intention. If he went toe to toe with a trained guard he'd eventually lose. The entire purpose of the exercise had been achieved, his Captain had escaped. The older man dove to the side, completely abandoning all pretense at fighting.

Even his dive wasn't great, the sword nearly clipped him anyway, coming within inches of his face as he leapt away. He tried to roll and amazed himself by actually doing so, finding his way to his feet with great success. With.little choice, he ran for the nearest path out of the estate.
 
From up the roof Caleb might have seen Emer get struck in the head, had the gunshot of his pistol not caught his attention first. He saw Alys, and the man in front of her fall to his knees with a proud smile creeping into his lips. He flew over her, quietly following the fae back to the ship while his eye remained vigilant, making sure she was not being followed, unaware of his wisewoman being dragged away, unconscious.

His boots landed on the wooden deck and he looked back from where he came from, expecting the rest of his crew to appear. It would be annoying if one of them had been captured but it didn't seem likely, with the guards more focused on controlling the fire and calming down the nerves of the elite present at the party than capturing a handful of pirates hiding under masks.

***
Quartermaster - well, that was unexpected.

Sky had made the mistake of relaxing when her fingers brushed against his cheek for the first time in years. Before he could reply the bullet hit his leg, and a groan was all he was able to enunciate while swallowing in the pain. His hands reached for his thigh that began pouring out blood and he fell to his knees as Alys walked away, without another glance.

He looked around in search of Aamir or Winter, but neither was anywhere to be found. It took him a while to pull himself together, rip off another part of his skirt and tie it around his leg to try and stop the bleeding so he could walk, leaving bloody footsteps on his way as he limped back to the Cloud Cutter.

“MEDIC!” He shouted as he got to the stairs leading to the lower deck, standing upright thanks to his hand on the railing that was beginning to fail him. Sky’s face was whiter, and not out of his own will. He’d lost too much blood and was a few minutes away from passing out because of it.
 
Unsurprisingly, the water-logged corpse of a giant turned out to be quite heavy. Mal was able to get a good grip on him, wrapping their severed hand around his wrist, but hoisting him up was a different endeavour. Even with the help of the spider, it was an almost insurmountable task. Brute strength was never their forte, nor was it the purpose of that particular machine, but the pair managed to hoist him up eventually- just in time to be met by Alys.

"Fuck if I know."

Once his body was safely on deck, they let go of his wrist and reeled their hand back in, making sure to unhook it from the spider as they did so. Stitching it back on properly would take a little longer, but Mal was able to talk and sew at the same time. They sat down on the back of the spider, as if it were some weaponised, skittering footstool.

"I set him to work cleaning up the ship, since he seemed so desperate to make something of himself." They frowned, "I suppose he must've got distracted with our current janitor. That's the only way I can explain-"

They gestured to the corpse.

"This."

Although, now that they could look at it more closely, it didn't really explain anything. The corpse was pale, as corpses often were, but its pallor seemed almost unnatural, almost too much. There didn't seem to be that many open wounds on him either, not many hints towards a struggle- uncommon, with the dog, who always seemed determined to give himself a mess to clean up afterwards. The only thing sustaining any damage was his neck; torn open like paper. It would've immediately passed for the mark of a vampire, were it not so hastily done.

"At least, it's all I've got. He's the only other person on this ship who isn't in a cell- can't think of what else could've done it, unless the poor bastard died of fright."
 
Last edited:
There was little sympathy for the young, lifeless giant who slumped onto the deck. Rather, a serious inconvenience. This was exactly why she’d locked him up in the first place; so there wasn’t a body stinking up the ship, or worse, floating in the water - for all of Leimor to see. At least someone had an ounce of common sense, and a means to recover the body.

Whoever had done this though, intentional or not, had dumped the body in such a manner that suggested little regard for the rest of them.

Silently, Alys crouched down, bunching up her dress to make sure it didn’t soak up the mess Ronan’s body was oozing. Replacing Caleb’s gun with the lantern, she brought it closer to examine the wound, her bejewelled fingers casting tiny, colourful rays of light across the rest of her hand and the swollen flesh beneath. The wound had become bloated, making it difficult to spot what she was looking for. Mal was accusing Leo, yet the pallor of Ronan’s skin and the animalistic neck wound suggested something else. But then again, she knew better than anyone - Leo was certainly capable of brutality.

“We need to search the ship,” she said, rising to her feet once more. “Leo - or whoever did this - could’ve fucked us all over if the body was found by someone else.”

They could still be fucking them over - leaving more bodies to be found.

“I need to get out of this dress,” she muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

Turning, she moved towards the officer’s quarters - the former Captain’s quarters - her quarters. The glamor she’d stolen was weighing her down, and no better place to store it than with the rest of her riches, safely locked away in her new, otherwise empty room. A room right across from Lucien’s. She drew closer, fingers reaching down the front of her dress for the key she’d tucked away. It was a tight fit with the nature of the gown, as well as the riches she’d stuffed down there. Pulling them out, one by one, her fingertips finally grazed what she was looking for. And when she was almost there, walking towards the end of the hallway, that’s when she noticed. An ajar door, the tang of metallic alcohol, the shuffling inside Lucien’s room.

---

The old man evaded his attack, albeit clumsily. With a curse, the guard began to follow, only to halt at the increased smell of smoke. His Captain was gone - and this one would fetch for very little. He'd probably be rewarded more for saving the flaming curtain. So he let the man stumble out, turning his attention to the blooming fire.
 
Last edited:
The docks were nearly empty that late at night, except for a few figures that Caleb didn’t recognize as anyone from his crew. Well, they’d arrive eventually if they hadn’t returned to the ship already, which was a likely scenario considering the entanglement with Alys’ ex lover followed by the one with the guards kept him distracted for quite a long time.

A thump captured Caleb’s attention to the opposite end of the deck, where he saw Alys approach Mal and Ronan - or rather, his body. It stunned for a moment, realizing it was lifeless, and by the time he approached them, Alys had already rushed to the officers' quarters.

“What’s going on?” He asked Mal, while his eye remained on the johtunn. He was wet, his eyes were wide open and his neck completely dilacerated. Two names came to mind, and while Mal gave him an answer he turned and followed after Alys, in search of the first and easiest to find suspect. Lucien hadn’t been at the ball, and it was likely he’d be in his room doing whatever he liked to do in his spare time.

He stopped on his tracks, noticing Alys had apparently thought the same thing. His heart raced and before he could see what was beyond the half open door, he reached out to touch her shoulder and pull her back.

“... Unless you wish for another to join poor Sierra in her fate.”

“Stay back.” Caleb ordered, using a harsher tone than he’d ever used with Alys. He stepped ahead of her and slammed the door open, surprised to find not Lucien, but Leo. Empty bottles lied by his side. Red stains on his clothes.

"What the fuck did you do?!"
 
Last edited:
The world was more vivid than Leo had ever known, even before he had gorged himself on the Navigator’s burning blood mixture it was easy for Leo to become entranced as he had with the detail of Roran’s corse. The warm, foggy feeling those bottles had left behind made it easier to slip into his new senses; to become lost in the whorls of the wood grain above him, immerse in the scents of every step taken in the elder vampire’s room since Leo had last snuck in to clean. Occasionally he would giggle again, loud against his own ears when the noises outside of the cabin sounded so very close.



The soft sound of approaching wings caught his attention, the chime of Alys’ voice twisting his lips to fanged grin. Not far behind he could hear Caleb approaching; it wouldn’t be anyone else as stuck to each other as he and Alys had been since the Ice Lands. Before he might have thought it would give him an advantage, a chance to explain himself if his friends were the ones asking. It presented a problem here, though. Neither he nor his friends were who they used to be.



Caleb was suddenly at the door, or perhaps he had been there for a moment. Every thought was timeless fluff, drifting past at variable speed that seemed to pay little heed to how long it took to form. Caleb had asked him a question, and from the tone Leo could tell he was very serious. With a small groan of effort he flopped onto his side from his back, facing Caleb’s shins as he propped himself on his elbow. With a slight rocking motion his gaze tilted upward to look at Caleb’s face.



”Your smooshy face is sooooooo serious right now.” Serious Caleb was bad news, Leo knew. That was when he would yell and sometimes throw things. He hadn’t really done that for a while, but Leo knew the serious face. ”What?” Right, Caleb asked what he had done.



”Uhhh,” Leo had done a lot of things, and a lot of them were things he had either gotten in trouble for or probably would have. With another giggle Leo put his hand to the side of his mouth as if to shield it from sight as he whispered, perhaps louder than he had whispered before, ”I broke Lucien’s door!” The giggles overtook him and he rocked back too far, laughing to the ceiling.
 
Once the drapes came down and the fighting seemed to settle, Ciaran slipped out from the party without so much as a whisper. He didn't see another Noxite on the way out, hopefully they'd all managed to make it home safe. If not, Ciaran had experience storming the odd prison.

Soon enough, Ciaran found himself back onboard the Hard Nox just in time to see the corpse of the young giant occupying a significant piece of deck. The rest of the party-goers would be gathering soon, taking stock of the night's fuckery - from the way it looked, it wouldn't have been a quiet night on the waves like he'd expected.

In a rush, he made way for his quarters to strip his ridiculous clothes in favor of something more comfortable. Ciaran had a feeling the night's tomfoolery was hardly over.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top