RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

Lucien barked out a dry, mirthless laugh at the fairy's request and subsequent attempt at appealing to his better nature.

"If by that you mean a one-armed mope who clings to delusions of grandeur and chivalry, then yes I believe the master gunner may be the only one of his kind." Lucien watched passively as Leo's corpse was unceremoniously hauled from the cage. Mal was keen on removing more of his flesh, either to give themselves five arms or to have a backup. Either way, Lucien could not care less about what happened to the mangled corpse, so long as it was not resurrected.

A small voice drew his attention, and Lucien stared at the child, puzzled. It took him a few moments to recall the girl he had carried across the boarding chains to dump onto the deck of the Nox, but she was still apparently here. Lucien thought the she had been traded away, perhaps for some more coin. But apparently the child had been stowed away, hiding for all this time. Lucien licked his fangs idly before a faint voice echoed in his head.

Leverage, Lucien. Not food.

Damn her.

Leaving Mal to their macabre work and Alys to her babysitting, Lucien strode purposefully out of the room, intent on reclaiming the cleanliness of his quarters.
 
A random mage wishing to meet with a dead woman was very low on Caleb’s list of concerns, so he chose to end the subject there. He picked the ladle after Juniper and served himself a generous portion of the stew, joining them at the table to eat quietly. As uncomfortable as the silence was, it was better than souring the mood even more with pointless small talk.
 
The wisewoman entered the mess hall like a squall through a marketplace. A stark contrast from the calm quiet of the night before - she didn't even notice the tension in the pair as the pushed her way in, blanket draped around her shoulders in place of a shawl, hair a frazzled mess of bedhead. She hadn't even changed from her sleepwear.

"Caleb O'Cain." all her energy was on him in an instant. "I have had near enough of this. Near enough."

She moved to the table beside him, placing her hands down - not quite a slam, but enough to make noise.

"Tell me, why do I wake this morning to learn one of our folk has been slaughtered by another? Why do I learn this before I even have a chance or choice to speak to the boy?"

Her eyes flickered between Juniper and Caleb. Noticing the emotions in the room only now, she receded, slightly, shrugging back, though her eyes were still sharp.

"Juniper, dear. I am sorry. I just -" She let her breath out between her teeth. "This ship is going mad, without Sinead. I want to speak with Lucien, Caleb. I insist on it. And we will be needing to speak as well."
 
Emer’s reprimand didn’t frighten Caleb the same way his mother’s used to when he was young, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t fear it at all. The proud captain didn’t look up to meet her gaze until her slam shook the table, spilling stew out of his spoon. He listened to all she had to say before responding, as calmly as he could.

“This ship has always been mad, don't fool yourself.” The mention of her name had a way of scrambling his emotions, so he took a breath before continuing. “He got bitten and let Naveen escape, or the other way around, I don't even know. We’ve never tested Mal’s bars against a vampire to make sure it was safe, and someone didn’t take him to the crow cages like I ordered them to.” He didn’t need to look at Juniper to know they would have felt that. Suddenly losing his apetite, he dropped his spoon and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I tried with him, but he didn’t earn my trust. I had to choose between giving him a quick death or risking putting someone else in danger. You know he lasted longer than he would've had if she was still in charge." Quite abruptly he pushed his chair back, standing up and grabbing Emer's wrist on his way out of the Mess.

"You want to talk to Lucien." He whispered. "Give me a chance to get close to him without dying and I promise to put that fucking dog on a collar."
 
"She would have given me a chance to speak with him. To see if I could -"

Could do what? The disease wasn't anything she could cure. It wasn't even truly something she understood. It was easy to claim a solution to any ailment, a mend to any wrong, but she was no miracle worker. Emer's eyes fell. At Caleb's touch, however, she stiffened, glancing up.

A chance to get close.

Was that really her choice, here? To become embroiled in the burgeoning storm amidst her home?

Lucien was a danger. This proved it. And without Sinead to reign him in -

Emer nodded.

"Let try and reason with him first, before you try anything rash. I will not suffer another death. We must take care of ourselves."
 
Juniper had little, if any, more to say to Caleb, or even to Emer for that matter. Frankly, what she was saying was right. Ever since the Ice Lands (though for the changeling, things had personally been going wrong for much longer), things had been straining. The crew seemed more at odds than ever, which certainly wasn't healthy given the sheer number of losses they'd been facing. With their eyes turned down towards their stew, they mumbled some general platitude to let Emer know they were fine with the small rant. It was something they were all feeling, after all, and maybe it needed to be said.

Then, Caleb godsdammned O'Cain decided that they were the problem. The jab was quick, and paired with a glance from the captain. Emer had just enough time to respond to whatever he'd said next, but Juniper heard none of it. Just as the wisewoman finished speaking, they slammed their spoon into the table, shaking and spilling some of the contents of their bowl, as they shot to their feet. Everything was boiling over, and it was starkly apparent in their face as they jabbed a finger into Caleb's chest, a bit of heat paired to get their point across.

"You're not going to blame this on me, you fucking told me they would be gone, that they wouldn't be used again. You were too fucking scared to handle him yourself, so you pawned it on me after already ruining my godsdammned night."
 
Caleb held back a scoff at Emer’s plan to reason with Lucien, but agreed with her sentiment. If Hester’s bracelet worked how it was supposed to, no one would have to die. Not before paying for what he’d done for all those years.

They had barely walked a couple steps away from the table when Juniper jumped to their feet, catching up to them with a finger to Caleb's chest that was clearly meant as a threat. He let go of Emer’s arm, turning to the pyromancer.

“Quit acting like a fucking child. I didn’t mean to use the cages as sick sadistic entertainment, but as protection for my crew.” He stepped closer, Juniper’s finger crafting a hole through his robe and touching his chest. It burned, but he refused to look bothered by it. Instead he smirked, defiantly. “I ruined your night, did I? Is that why you’re being a brat?”
 
Their eyes narrowed, and Juniper stepped closer. Caleb could almost certainly feel the heat coming off of them now, a heat that they weren't even aware of theirself. They scoffed as he continued, and dropped their hand from his chest, letting their finger take more of the fabric with it. "I'm the child here? I had to save you from yourself last night. I had to give up a dance and a decent night because you shot at someone in the middle of a party! Why the hell did you even do that!"

Juniper was getting more agitated now, working theirself up as they recounted everything that had happened recently. "All you did was put us all in danger! We should've fucking left you to whatever happened, but Alys and I helped instead, and all I'm getting for it is you calling me a brat!" It was warmer still now, paired with a small push to one of his shoulders that left his robe somewhat blackened. "I'm starting to think Emer is right! Maybe it is your fault everything is breaking so bad here! This kind of shit didn't happen with Sinead."
 
"I haven't seen Miss Emer this morning, but I saw her last night," Pris answered the woman's question. Alys. It was a pretty name. Pris hadn't really thought about names much before, but they were important to some people. They'd been important to Leo. Her hand closed around the handle of the bucket, resolute. She wasn't usually one to be defiant, but...

Well, she didn't know what the but was, only that it felt important.

"Leo's usually the one who comes and cleans it up, Miss Alys," she pointed out, quietly. "So, I'll do it." She shrugged a too-small shoulder. "It's okay. I don't really mind the cleaning up parts. It's the before parts I don't like. With all the screaming. There's less screaming here. But I suppose you don't really do a lot of magic. Can I have one of the finger bones?"
 


His search for Alys came empty-handed.

The mess was empty; he'd taken a bowl for himself and eaten it quickly, then stirred and seasoned it a bit more before departing for the lower decks. There was a need to inspect the furnace room, after all, for the struggle that'd ensued there; additionally, he'd need to talk to Leo, finally. It'd been put off for too long, and no matter what he preoccupied himself with, the shame remained in the back of his mind. He'd been stressed-- dismissive-- ignorant. Or so he wanted to believe. Surely, there was a reason last night had ended in disaster. A rational explanation that hadn't been reached in the fervor-- but if Emryk could just-- talk to him, maybe it would make sense. Leo hadn't been entirely truthful, he knew that much.

Though it seemed the Baron would never get the chance.

It was the scent, at first, that made his stomach turn with a sinking feeling; the stench of death was stronger, the air heady with the gamey smell of a half-fresh corpse. Iron, too, lay thick in the depths of the Nox. His footsteps quickened as he neared the brig, the growing unease held at bay by confident reassurance-- surely, nothing happened. Surely not. The soft thunder of the Baron's pace grew as he leaned to duck beneath a particularly low-hanging rafter, hand gripping the edge of the doorway as he entered the brig proper.

His eyes fell to the girl, first-- then Alys. Then, finally, they settled upon the body in the cage.

There was a moment of confusion in his eyes, as if he could hardly tell the corpse was the boy's; how could anyone, with how it had been brutalized? By the first step, he was still in denial; by the second, his pace quickened into a small sprint as he crossed the span of the brig and knelt before the body, one hand gripping the side of the cage as his legs dipped into dried blood and puddled viscera.

A sound came from the Baron's maw-- a mixture between hissed breath and a soft, barely audible whimper of sound. His eyes were wide; his posture was hunched as he leaned over the boy's form, clawed fingers touching along blood-crusted, matted locks of hair that clung to a concave skull. He thought to try and lift the head, but feared it would fall apart in his palm; he thought to cradle the chest, but feared it would pull away from the legs at the slightest movement. Like a fallen, brutalized doll, his vessel was simply-- there, like a puppet, unmoving and unfeeling and--

"Wh-- what?"

Finally, he spoke-- voice a dull rasp, a whisper to the room. His mouth was dry. His eyes burned, and his hand hovered above the body as if a touch would harm him further. He was-- fine. Last night, he was fine. Alive. Drunk, but alive, and now there was nothing-- there was nothing but gore, and an absence of him, just a doll like unfired clay that'd caved in upon itself and he didn't know why. He couldn't fathom why. The question repeated in his mind the more he stared, and eventually-- after what felt like minutes, hours-- he spoke once more. Not looking to the girl, or to Alys, but remaining rapt upon the corpse-- eyes wide, then narrowed, then wide again, his snout twitching into a grimace as he gave a breath to steady himself.

A deep, shaken pass of air roused itself from his lungs, and he closed his eyes.

"... what... did this?"

 
"Will you both please just - stop this?"

There was an edge of desperation in the wisewoman's voice, a plea that came out sharp and strained against the tension in the air. She moved between the pair, one hand resting on each of their shoulders, pushing them apart, not ungently, but with enough force to get their attention. Eyes dancing between them, her lip curled into a flat line.

"Caleb O'Cain, you are acting like a child. If you are to be captain, you cannot - shall not - behave like this." she turned on Juniper. "This is not the time for accusations. This is not the time for anger. There has been too much anger, too much spite, too much death amongst ourselves. I -"

She closed her eyes.


"Last week, I lost my closest friend. Last night, I was made to fear for my life. I am full up with worry. Please. Can we not just - care for one another? And barring such, at least respect one another, and hold ourselves in such a way that such respect is warranted?"

Her voice trembled slightly, hands tightening on their shoulders.

"I just wish for quiet. Some normalcy. A moment where I need not have to worry if the people I love will - will -" she looked at Caleb for a moment. Quick. Fleeting. There was a flash of a deeper hurt there, of something that hadn't yet had a chance to be spoken. "- if the people I love will continue to tear each other apart."
 
Caleb had nothing to respond to that, because Juniper was right. It had been impulsive and reckless what he had done at the ball, but what they said next was salt to a wound. He would have added more fuel to the fire had Emer not stepped in between the two, showing the sort of vulnerability Caleb wouldn’t dare to, to most people at least.

As much as he didn’t like to hear it, Emer was also right. Unlike his feelings towards Juniper however, there was sadness and guilt for more than one reason, and his heart cracked along with her voice. He put his hand over hers, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” he said to her, before looking up at Juniper. “It was not your fault, and I don’t know what I did to ruin your night, but whatever it was, it wasn't intentional. Believe me, I wish last night-” He stopped. “Most of last night hadn’t happened.”
 
Hiding her eye roll from Lucien wasn't difficult, not with her back partially turned towards him. A risk, on her end, but simply existing around the vampire was always an uncertainty. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she caught the end of a contemplative look, one focused solely on the girl before her. And the gleam of pointed teeth. Thankfully, he slunk off, ridding them of his presence. Alys tracked his movements, gaze boring into the back of his head before settling back to Pris. If she had it her way, he'd be on his hands and knees, lapping up the mess he'd left behind.

Instead, it'd be the young necromancer, whose stubborn gaze and iron-tight grip of the bucket caused the fairy to sigh. Though Pris' motives seemed pure, Alys saw a younger version of herself, who wanted nothing more than to prove her worth. To integrate. "Fine. Do you have a preference? Or would you like Mal to pick one for you?" If his second arm was being taken, what was one finger?

That was it though, that's all she'd allow, and when Emryk entered the brig, she knew she'd have someone to rely on. Tense silence filled the air as he strode past her and Pris, stopping before the body. Inspecting. Processing. He, much like her, seemed to have a complex relationship with Leo, though she couldn't begin to imagine how he was feeling. She didn't even know how she felt about it.

"Lucien," she responded, glancing down at the remains. That's what she'd heard, and judging from what she'd seen, from the nature of what lay before her, Alys knew it to be true. There were very few on board who could drive a fist through a chest, past a cage of bone and flesh, to rip out the heart. "I haven't spoken to the Captain about it yet." Haven't gotten a clear picture of what truly happened. Even if it was only a matter of time.

"I was going to carry him to the furnace room." Burn him before anyone else could get their hands on him. "Will you help me?"
 


Lucien.

The name shouldn't have come as any surprise. Really, he should have known. He'd heard whispers of the man's brutality from the crew, time and time again, and thought nothing of it; his confrontation with the vampire was nothing short of terse, when they'd first had the displeasure of meeting. Backhanded the man for making a facetious comment about murdering Beck. From there, the rest were stories, and witnessed displays of violence that cemented the Baron's opinion of the man. The threats to Caleb when he ascended as Captain; the destroyed furniture, the lurking. All this time, he was concerned about the wolves at the door-- foolish of him, it was, not to see that there was already one in their midst.

"...Lucien... did this." He repeated, gaze wilting from the agony of Leo's demise and hardening at the revelation of what had caused it. No-- not what. Who. The terror had a face; it often did, with these sorts of things. His gaze defocused for a good long moment, the rest of Alys' words fading into a slow, dull whine of the ears; the roiling current of rushing blood and roiling, unadulterated ire. His hands returned to his knees. His gaze returned to the sunken, gored pit of Leo's skull, but it was not the boy's head he imagined. His hands curled into fists. Why. The whine grew. Why. The question hung in his mind, blocking out all else, unanswerable and unconscionable.

The features of the Baron were a hardened shell-- crafted to veil, but not entirely. The caldera of rage ran free beneath, but his gaze was level, hand tremoring only slightly before a clench of the fist stilled the weakness. Furnace room. To incinerate the body.

"Mm." Emryk replied, flatly, his gaze forward, elsewhere. Thinking, evidently, before his gaze flitted to Alys. "I will handle it." His coat was doffed, movements deliberate and careful as he wreathed the fabric beneath and bundled the boy's form in it-- not entirely aware of the need to spare a finger bone, and not entirely caring even if he were to be informed. "I am sorry you had to see this." Was all he offered to Alys and Pris. The corpse was wrapped tight and lifted without effort on the Baron's part, expression unreadable-- though the rustle of gore within the jacket brought a twinge to his face, ever-momentary. Leo would be laid to rest, and then he would set his sights on other matters.

Like finding Lucien.

 
Emer's speech did little to cool their anger. Juniper, instead, huffed and turned, walking back to their seat which they sat heavily into, intent to continue their meal. Perhaps there had been too much anger, but it hardly seemed fair that they would be accosted after all they had done for Caleb- especially considering both how he had just treated them, and how he had lied. With no apologies, to give, they stewed on it instead, working silently to try to relax, as improbable as it was to happen.

"Yeah, well, most of it did happen, so I'd suggest a bit more awareness. Might not be around to save you next time," they grumbled, swirling their spoon in their stew. Maybe next time, someone else with very little interest in his wellbeing would be witness, rather than Juniper.
 
The nerve on that changeling to imply they had saved him from anything. Caleb didn’t retort for Emer’s sake, instead removing the aos Gaotha’s hand from his shoulder and guiding her to the door, stepping over the chains.

“Let’s find the bloodsucker.” He said.
 
Pris looked back and forth between the others for a moment. Mr. Emryk wasn’t usually scary, but he was scary right now. It wasn't really directed at her, but she didn't really want to say anything he might argue with, either, even if Miss Alys had said she could have a finger bone... but it really didn't seem like the time to say anything about that, so she just stood back and watched quietly while he wrapped what was left of Mr. Leo up to carry him off. It seemed a little wasteful, just burning people, but she had a feeling she wasn't supposed to say that, either.

Sometimes it was easier just to crouch down by a bucket and let other people talk over her and hope they didn't notice her, really. It had always worked well enough before, anyway. Miss Alys answered the question about who'd done this, and Pris nodded a little bit to herself. That made sense. Mr. Lucien was strong, like Mr. Emryk was.

And Mr. Emryk was... not happy about that, she supposed.

And that was... complicated.

"Mr. Lucien saved me," she said, not too quietly this time, because it was important. And Mr. Lucien ought to have someone speak up for him, even if it was just a little someone. "Um, on the Truth Teller, I mean. From Naveen." She shivered, even though the man of ice wasn't around. The reaction wasn't really anything to do with the cold. Naveen terrified her. Maybe he had "escaped" like they said, but she was just glad he was somewhere else.
 
It wasn't - perfect, but it was better than nipping at each other's throats. Sighing, Emer let Caleb lead her to the door, giving a final glance back at Juniper before stepping out into the hallway.

Let's find the bloodsucker.

She still wasn't certain if this was the right course of action. The whole situation was painfully tenuous, and the fact she'd lambasted them for bickering amongst themselves then turned around to confront Lucien here - with such animosity behind it - was certainly no small degree hypocritical. Yet, there was no question that he was a danger. There was no question that he had stepped out of line.

He's hurting too. She saw that on his face. He misses her as well.

But she was also the only one who could keep him in check, and now she was gone, which made him a danger. A loose cannon. He'd proven that to them. She'd - talk it over with him. Try to appeal to his sensibilities. He did not like her, but she thought he at least respected her, and would listen if she tried to breach that gap.

And Caleb -

He wasn't prepared to handle the fallout. He wasn't prepared to handle any of this. He'd been thrust into this place without a chance to breathe, without a chance to come to terms with what he'd done.

"Caleb. I -"

What he'd done unwillingly. What he was no doubt suffering silently over, on top of any insecurities that lay beneath as well.

"- I wanted to say I know you are doing the best you can. About all of this. Not only Lucien." He'd had his fair degree of slip ups already, and they'd only earned him tongue and scorn. "I am proud of you for keeping your head up."
 
A sliver of annoyance ran through her body. "We'll both handle it, quartermaster," Alys responded, gaze momentarily flicking down to the covering, then settling on Emryk. On the almost vacant expression on his face, as though he were off in another world. Grief was a curious thing, and she'd be damned if his made him reckless - after she'd practically made him quartermaster. The fae took a step forward, leaning down to pick up the blood-soaked cravat that had once held back Leo's hair and gave Emryk a nod - a simple sign of solidarity.

Before they could leave, and despite the gore that would be left behind, Pris spoke up, coming to the vampire's defense. "Mr. Lucien saved you because the one person he'd ever listen to gave the command." Whether it was the truth or not, Alys had no real idea. But Lucien was not in the habit of saving children out of the kindness of his heart. Nor was he leashed by anyone other than their former captain. "And that person is now dead."

"I wonder what Naveen would do without a master." She wondered what he'd done with a master.

Alys paused, tilting her head slightly, gaze softening as she inspected the girl. "I suggest you stay away from Mr. Lucien." Then she walked towards the door, waiting.
 
Caleb glanced at Emer as she uttered his name, and what came next was a surprise to him, considering what had been said at the mess hall.

He was doing his fucking best. Maybe Caleb should’ve better prepared to deal with the consequences of what he’d done, but he had never been great at planning too far ahead. It had worked so far for him despite the challenges, and to have Emer’s recognition meant he hadn’t fucked things up so much that it was too late to fix it. He could recover from this. If none of them ever found out the truth, he could turn things around.

“Thank you. It hasn’t been easy.” He confessed, with a small sigh as he stopped on his tracks. “When she chose me as her second I knew it would happen eventually, but to be honest, I didn’t think she’d ever die. She was too fucking stubborn to.” So many people have tried, it was still hard to believe he was the one who had succeeded. Caleb buried the guilt and the shame, and built the courage to say the following words. “I know you miss her, but things weren’t that much better before. A lot happened over the years, a lot of people died. I have big shoes to fill, but I am trying to do better. Not just better than it is now, better than it ever was.”
 
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