RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

"Because we are not like them," Emer replied gently.

She let her hand rest on Emryk's arm as she moved alongside him, face solemn. Beaten. Bloody. How many more of her folk would be hurt? How many more would she lose? There had been several over the years. This was not an old man's life. The young died valiant, fire in their hearts and gold in their eyes.

She'd had many, many Leos.

Yet -- in this turmoil, the talons of fear clung tighter to her than she'd ever felt. At least, not felt for over a decade. One, the man she'd grown to love, the man she'd grown to trust, the one she'd leaned on even more in her captain's absence. But the other - the only one aboard this ship who truly understood how she felt. She had never liked Lucien. Feared him, even. Wouldn't have batted an eye at him passing, in the time before. But now, he was part of her memory, and seeing him like this, bloody and pathetic, made him seem far less the monster she knew he could be.

"We are going to the clinic," she said firmly. Whether Emryk moved to protest or not, she'd speak again, cutting any dissent off. "You are both in need of treatment. We can handle consequence and judgement after. Until then - let me help. Please."

She moved forward slightly, meeting Emryk's eyes sidelong.

"Please."
 
He had a heavy hand, filling her glass well. Far beyond what she would actually drink if she wanted to remain clear-headed and upright when finally leaving this god-awful meeting. Giving the man a simple nod of appreciation, she sipped the deep liquid tentatively, testing it's quality. It was alright; certainly not among the worst, perhaps even better than average.

"Well you can't be more boring than Sky and claim that no one in our line of work is boring. So what is it? Are you boring or are you a bastard, like the rest of us?" She leaned back, once more resting her forearm across the back of her chair, eyes boring into his, challenging him. "And I don't bother with looking. You show me."
 
"Argent is the most boring man," Aamir said supportively, for some definition of supportive. "He's so boring I had to hire Sky on to keep things from getting too dull, which worked beautifully. I do impress myself sometimes. But, hey, if he wants to pretend he's not boring, that's up to him!"

He tipped the ale back, debating another mug, as this one was regretfully nearing its end. "Hey, I have an idea! How about you and the lady go for a nice walk and we see how long it takes her to shoot you? I'll buy the next round if you can beat Sky's record. If she shoots you any faster than she shot him, O'Cain pays for the next one. Winter can be our timekeeper."
 
He didn’t like where that conversation was headed, not at all. Clenching his jaw, Caleb grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his almost empty glass.

“What a fun idea.” He said with a fake smile. “Wine?” He asked Winter, pouring her a glass before a response was given, emptying the bottle.
 
Argent’s mug tipped once more, the remnants of what he had poured for himself oddly sour in their last vestiges. Though his smile half fell under Aamir’s glowing praise (and praise it would have been in another context) he only turned to his captain to offer a short reply.



”You may be pretty, Captain, but not enough for me to show you any excitement,” and his eyes turned back to Alys, the mug set aside casually.



”I am always keen on a challenge, and I do believe the gauntlet has been thrown.” He stood, as Caleb poured his drink, sliding in his chair as though the restaurant wasn’t already in shambles.



”If you would like to see the answer,” Argent held his hand out to Alys gallantly. ”With your captain’s agreement I will show you.” The half smile returned, to color his lips as the wine had his cheeks.
 
Caleb turned on his chair, looking up at that smug, very punchable face. "She's her own person, she doesn't need my permission."
 
An unwavering hand was offered towards her. And for a moment, Alys felt like she was back at the ball, where a different hand was held out for her to take. Without meaning to, when he spoke, the fairy glanced towards her Captain, her lips closing. Taking one final taste of wine, she placed her glass on the table and looked up at Argent. "Winter, dear - start counting." Then she took his hand with her left and stood to meet him upright.
 
“Mm, there’s an idea.” Winter said, tapping her cane against her shoulder. It seemed Argent’s fears of everyone getting on their lips was currently coming to pass, though it didn’t sound like anyone aimed to repeat the entire fiasco with Sky, yet anyway. Or, well it was making its way there wasn’t it?

“As you ask dear, would you like me to begin now or wait for the sound of the door?”
 


Emryk gave a grunt at Emer's words, lugging along the vampire's body and wiping the bitter taste of blood from his mouth. How much was his own, and how much was his, he did not know. The door to the clinic was shoved open and Emryk ducked into the room, scooping Lucien's legs up and placing him with a soft grunt upon the table.

"Consequences and judgement." Emryk replied, looking down at the vampire's body with a vague sense of... pity, perhaps, though that was far too generous a word. Would he have walked away, if not for Nessa's hand stilling Lucien's hand? Would Lucien have lived, if not for Juniper and Emer? Hard to say. Moreover, hardly worth thinking about now. His blood ran boiling hot, and his rage had yet to find a target. He would not have it be her.

"Treat him, then." Emryk spat. "Slaughters a boy. The first thing you'd told me-- he kills for fun. For sport." He turned to leave the clinic, vision tunneling; the longer he stayed, the worse this would get. "I'll live. Keep him alive." Perhaps he would crawl somewhere to die. A miserable thought, intrusive, clawing for purchase at a tormented and tired mind. It took root in the mud and threatened to blossom, but he knew better than to indulge a thorned embrace. He'd bled enough, today.

"I stand by what I did. I'd do it again." Emryk replied, coldly, and rolled his shoulders-- shoving out onto the deck proper and moving to hoist the anchor. If he even had the breath to do it. The sooner they left this place behind, the sooner he could forget all of this.

 
”Now is fine,” Argent replied to Winter, already making for the door once Alys’ hand settled into his own. The wager mattered little to him seeing that he had no intention of coming back in the manner the Cutter’s second had.



His hand held onto Alys gently, pulling her after him without being forceful. The contact lingered only so far as the threshold, and though he kept walking away from the restaurant he glanced behind him repeatedly to be sure that she was following. He said nothing for several moments, guiding the fairy pirate decidedly away from the docks and the Last Meal with the sure steps of a man who knew the streets of the city well.



There was nothing special about the alley he turned down, nothing noteworthy other than its vacancy when he finally slowed his stride to step into time with Alys’ pace. Meandering slowly, it took several more breaths before he finally spoke again.



”Which are you hoping I am going to prove to you? My banality or my bastardy?” The words were sudden, as sudden as his halt near the middle of the alley as he leaned casually next to a weathered wooden door.
 
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The door closed.

"Right." Aamir tipped his chair forward again from where he'd been leaning back to watch Alys and Argent exit. "So. What's the story with her? My second's got a serious thing, and I need to know how likely he is to end up with another bullet, and who's going to be firing it."

He pushed the mug away, because for some odd reason that Argent never believed, he really could stop when he wanted to. He just usually didn't want to. "And also, while we've got you here alone, what's going on with Solomon King that you don't want to tell your crew?"

There was always something, after all. That was how it was, being Captain.
 
After some hesitation, Caleb looked at Alys hoping to catch her glance, if only for a moment. He wanted to say something through it, but even he didn’t know what that something was. Be careful, perhaps? She could take care of herself, he knew that much, and if something were to happen to her, he’d make sure Argent and his entire crew paid for it.

“Right.”

His attention was brought back to Aamir and Winter, and Caleb laughed a delicious laugh at the mention of Sky.

“I don’t know the details, but I don’t need to, captain. Be grateful she didn’t kill him, I almost did.” The laughter died once he heard the second question. His right hand formed a fist, veins popping underneath the black ink. He wondered if he should say it or not, it wasn’t even a certainty, moreso a thought that had made a nest into his mind. “That if he doesn’t die soon, I’m pretty sure I will.”
 
"Not surprising." It was a very good all-purpose response, that could be about O'Cain almost killing Sky or about the whole bit with King murdering the Boy Captain. Aamir would, indeed, not be surprised by either one of those things.

"Well. Sounds like you need to work with us more than you were letting on, then. You've got a good face for it. I'd guess you've kept secrets from people before, so you're all right there." Most pirates kept secrets from people - few went into the job because they were looking for honest work.

"I can loan you Argent. He's been with us a couple years. Level-headed, which you need more than I do right now. No designs on being in command of anything, so you don't need to worry about a mutiny. I won't say it's not half because I want one of my people on your ship, but that's because I think you might run into King before I do, and I want a report from someone I trust." O'Cain wasn't Aamir's crew, and that was that.

"Is King the one who did in your last Captain?"
 
It felt good to let it out, but at the same time, Caleb questioned if those were the people he should have told it to. Strangers really, who had nothing to gain or lose from his demise, or that shouldn’t have. The best kind of person to lay your problems to.

“If by need you mean I could use some allies, then yes. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or so they say.” He said, and took another sip of wine. “They also say you shouldn’t look a horse in the mouth, But I’m not sure if that’s a horse I want. Unless he can clean, we lost our janitor recently.” He put the wine down, idly rounding his finger on the edge of the glass. “You may need little Argent more than you think, with your shapeshifter around. He tried to convince my master gunner to start a fight with a man in a peacock mask at the ball, by pretending to be Alys. Maybe that’s why she shot him.”

His finger stopped, but Caleb didn’t look up from the dark liquid.

“In a way.”
 
"Ciaran. We met." They had, in fact, talked it out - or at least, started to talk it out, and then there had been a fire. "Good head in a crisis, that one. Needs minimal direction. Doesn't add flame to the fire." A very apt turn of phrase, there, wasn't it? Although it seemed like perhaps Caleb knew less of that night than Aamir had expected him to. What, didn't people talk over there, on the Nox? Most of the time he couldn't get Sky to stop!

"I'm not worried about Sky. I mean, I am, but that's half the fun. Never know what he's going to come up with next - he keeps life interesting. Whatever she shot him for, he probably deserved it, but at the same time I'd rather that not happen again. He whines when he's bedridden." Most people did, Aamir supposed, but it was different than Sky's usual demeanor, and without him up and running off his mischief, he'd be getting bored.

Something had gone oddly there in the conversation, that pause of O'Cain's fingertip. It could have been just grief talking, but it could have been something else. In a way was a vague answer if Aamir had ever heard one, and Aamir had heard a great number of vague answers, usually from Sky. Usually with questions like Are the guards after you again? In a way, indeed.

Well, there was no one here but him and O'Cain. And Winter and the cook and some random lady who'd walked in. Oh, and the cat. Though she, at least, wasn't likely to talk. Still. He wanted to know.

"'In a way' like she got stuck in one of his rituals and now she's a ship component, or 'In a way' like now she's working for him?"
 
His heart raced for a moment, dreading the possibility of Sinead still being alive. No, he had seen her drown. He had seen the water freeze over her, and he’d seen what Hester does to corpses. Even if King brought her back, it wouldn’t be her.

“She’s dead.” He said, in a way that made it clear he wouldn’t elaborate on it. “If you don’t mind me tossing your guy overboard if he does anything of my distaste, then I can take him in. Also, make sure you leave Sky somewhere else before we meet in Armadilla, I’d rather not see him again.” Or for Alys to see him. He knew she’d be grateful for it.
 
Winter didn’t speak, because it didn’t seem she needed to, Aamir was like that wasn’t he? She’d half believe most of it was an act to make everyone forget, if she hadn’t known the man better herself, anyway. All she did was turn her head to face Caleb, a slight tilt as if she were trying to listen for something distant just barely on the wind, but a broken store didn’t have much wind and there wasn’t much she could catch beyond a closed door anyway, that was clearer than the muffled noise of the docks. She tapped her cane against her shoulder, it was a regular motion, one tap every five seconds.

Well, every five seconds until she stopped, her attention falling to the door as she frowned.

“He might still be in bed in two weeks time” She said, a little absently. “I think we have company.”

———

It wasn’t a long run, the gawkers were even kind enough to part once she got close enough to remind them that the Nox wasn’t their personal piece of sideshow entertainment. Well, maybe a flash of fang had helped with that some, but Nessa hadn’t really been in the mood for politeness. Finding the Last Meal hadn’t been much of a challenge, she could practically see the place from the deck of the Nox. She slowed as she reached the door, before pushing it open and stepping inside.

“Caleb we—” Nessa paused as she took in the wrecked dining area. “How poorly did your meeting go?” She asked. The blind woman and the flamboyant man were sitting at a table with Caleb, the remnants of their meal very much not reading like they had just finished doing an awful lot of violence. There was also an irritating feeling that struck her that the blind woman had been focusing on the door before she had opened it. She had been like that on the ship too, hadn’t she?

“Lucien and Emryk started a fight on the docks, city guard seems fully pissed, so we need to go.” Nessa paused for another moment before another, more important question struck her. “Where’s Alys?”
 
"I will not take this lightly, but beating each other bloody on the ground is no solution," Emer replied cooly, filling a bowl with water, setting it to the side, and picking up a handful of towels. As Emryk moved to leave, she brushed past him, placing a hand on the door and meeting his eye. Her expression was stern. Uncompromising.

"Baron Emryk, you will sit down now. I see more blood than scales. Lucien is a pale one - he will live. You are my immediate concern." She grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the table. "I say I have enough of blood and loss. Enough of the ones I care for - the ones I am responsible for - leaving my life. And now you speak as if you will wander off while you are clearly bleeding without cease? You are a fool, Baron. I will not let you abandon me so carelessly."

Wiping away at his shoulder, she pressed the damp cloth to his wound. Then, taking a handful of bloodleaf, she chewed, pressed her lips to the Baron's snout, and spat.

"Chew. I promise you, Baron, if you die of foolishness, I will chase you to the sky and roil your spirit in storms until the sun turns to coals."
 
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"I mean, I would mind," Aamir said, "But I trust his judgment. He won't do anything you need to worry about. And besides, he's a good swimmer." It was easy enough to say, but if O'Cain dumped one of Aamir's people overboard, King was going to have to get in line. Aamir wouldn't let him have O'Cain, he wasn't that much of an awful person - at least, he liked to think so - but kill the boy first? Absolutely.

He had a few more questions he would really have liked to have asked, but it seemed like they were out of private time. The girl who came in after him would probably be pretty cute in a few more years. A bit young for his taste for now, but plenty of pirates started young. He guessed she was fifteen or sixteen - he certainly hadn't been any older than that.

The girl's story, though, made him raise his eyebrows almost all the way up to his hairline. "By all the buggered gods, O'Cain," Aamir said, thoroughly impressed with the depth of the apparent disaster. "You don't even need Sky!"
 
Without looking back, Alys allowed Argent to lead her to the door. But with each passing step, despite the anger she felt for the one she left behind, she also felt her source of security and safety slowly diminishing. As their hands dropped beyond the threshold, the fae felt herself finally looking back and catching his eye. Brows furrowed, he'd meet an expression of contemplation, then something resembling quiet fear. And then she'd be gone.

Straightening her back, Alys followed after the man, each swing of her arms that nearly touched her hips reminding her she had everything she needed to protect herself. Strapped to her body. "Unfortunately, I'm much more partial to a bastard," she replied cooly, leaning her back against the opposite side of the wall. Staying close enough to the entrance that she could make a run for it. Or escape from above.
 
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