RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

With narrowed eyes, Alys observed his change in demeanour. There'd been a gentle smile - albeit for half a second - and then it was gone, washed away by a wave of coldness. Not a moment later, when he spoke of his half-assed desire to leave the ship, it changed once more. Absent, looking away.

He was a liar, just like the rest of them. She'd known that before.

"Well, she's got you there..." Alys drawled, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. "If that's the case, why bother making an assessment? Why not attempt to make some friends and enjoy the ride? Why not plan where you'll go next, think about how you'll spend your hard earned coin? Alive and well?"
 
“Probably going to drop in on one small settlement or another, haven’t heard any names mentioned.” Nessa said, rolling her neck. It couldn’t be too small at least, it needed to be big enough to resupply the ship, but she wasn’t planning on looking over any map for Summer. With a sigh, Nessa stood up and stepped over to her wardrobe, she sorted through her clothes with all the gumption of someone who wanted to go back to sleep.

“Pumpernickel? Isn’t she usually in the mess with Julian? Could check to see if she’s chasing rats in the larder too.” Nessa said, looking over her shoulder to see what Summer was carving. “Needing a model?” She asked.
 
Truth was, Summer wasn’t great at whittling. She was good enough that a simple shape like a cat or a duck could be recognizable, but anything more elaborate than that was too much work for her.

“If you weren’t too young I could do a nude.” She said. Boobs also had a simple shape, but all the times she’d attempted to carve them it ended up looking more like a couple of gyroids than two spheres. If she tried to do Nessa’s however, it’d look more like a board.

Just as quickly as she’d laid down on the bed she jumped up, set on sewrching for Pumpernickel at the mess hall.

“I’ll go look for the cat. Wanna come along?”
 
Argent’s brow raised slightly at the girl’s input. What little he knew about the Truth Teller’s captain came from rumors, and none of those mentioned that he was already dead. It seemed more and more like he was sent on a wild goose chase, though there was still some hope that the wisewoman held the secret to killing a corpse.



”I doubt Aamir wanted me with you to rest on my laurels,” he said to answer Alys’ question. ”And I prefer the freedom of this life.” Argent shrugged, as if shaking off an unpleasant memory. ”He doesn’t pay me nearly well enough to enjoy the same lifestyle on the ground.”
 
"Who is Aamir?" Probably Argent's Captain, Pris supposed, from the way he was talking. Also from the way he was talking, very much still Argent's Captain, because he really was a spy and not a new crewmate. They had a few more of those. The stranger in the kitchens - she still wasn't sure what to make of him - and there was another woman, too, one who walked with a limp. Pris hadn't really talked to her much, either. The man in the kitchens at least seemed like he wanted to be part of the crew; she wasn't sure about the other woman.

Oh, and there was a kitty, too. Pris had seen her around. Kitties did what they wanted to, though, so Pris wasn't going to try to figure out if she was part of the crew or not.

Argent was... not part of the crew. Not part of Captain O'Cain's crew, anyway. He was part of someone else's crew. People came from different crews sometimes - like her and Hetty - but she didn't think either one of them still thought of Mr. King as their captain. So that was different.

His comment about not being able to enjoy the same lifestyle on the ground made her think of her conversation with Miss Alys a while back, about what to do for fun on a boat. There weren't all that many options, were there? Was whatever it was he did really that much more expensive on the ground? She wouldn't know; she'd never been.

"What do you want to do? That you can't do on the ground, I mean."
 
"His Captain. Who's paying him enough to be join a supposed suicide mission and be miserable; making lists, interviewing the crew, wasting his time..." Alys drawled. "But not enough to leave." She looked at Argent, something like suspicion and pity evident in her features. "Doesn't sound like freedom to me."

If they were done here, she had non-urgent important matters to attend to. But she remained, hesitating to leave Pris alone with a man she didn't trust.
 
Nessa didn’t respond, but she did stare. She cracked her knuckles, the edges of her fangs poking between her lips as they dipped into a severe scowl. Her lips parted, as if she were about to speak, though only a short growl escaped her lips. Would anyone notice if she pushed her out a window? Instead, Nessa turned away and pulled a heavy cloak from her wardrobe and wrapped it over her shoulders before she stalked out of the room and down the hall.
 
With her whittling knife and half carved block of wood in hand, Summer left the women’s quarters with Nessa following closely behind. On her way to the mess hall, she couldn’t help but hear the voices coming from the stairs, the mention of a familiar name grabbing her attention. The voices belonged to Argent, the little girl named Pris and Alys, of course.

“Afternoon.” She said with a gleeful smile, looking up at the trio.
 
Alys answered the girl’s initial question before Argent, casting her doubts toward him with the reply. He looked away from her gaze, accusatory and sympathetic as she called out her judgement. Instead he focused on Pris, taking a knee to bring himself closer to her level.



“Ask me again in about ten years and I will give you all of the details.” The gentle smile took over, reaching his eyes and adding a rarely seen softness to his icy stare. “But for starters, I wouldn’t get to enjoy Mister Julian’s cooking,” he added as consolation for avoiding the question. He knew well that no child liked being excluded for their age, though the little girl carried herself with an uncanny maturity.



He seemed about to say more, mouth opening slightly to form the words when he was interrupted by the soft, staggering steps of his fellow newcomer who called out a greeting. Subtly, and instinctively, he rose to standing so that he was between Pris and Summer, the latter armed with a small knife and a vaguely feline block of wood.



“Good afternoon to you, Miss Summer.” Despite his initially defensive posture he offered the hobbled elf a half-smile as well, though the warmth he gave to Pris was notably absent. “We were on our way to see the Captain.” He gestured to the block of wood as his smile fell away. “Working on a new hobby?” Though he gestured to the wood his eyes lingered upon the blade.
 
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"Afternoon," Alys responded, somewhat pleasantly, though certainly quieter than Argent, who had taken the lead in engaging Summer. "Fun hobby," she commented, glancing down at the crude carving in her hands. "Pris and I were on our way to see the Captain. Come on, Pris." Glancing at the girl, the fae gave her a meaningful look followed by the slight tilt of her head, down to the other side of the corridor. Paired with a step forward, she hoped the girl would follow.
 
"Oh! Um- Yes, Miss Alys." The fraction of a pause while the girl determined whether she wanted to be left with the new woman and Argent or go with Miss Alys couldn't even be measured in seconds, it was so brief. Argent was definitely weird. She hated it when people knelt down to talk to her. Miss Emer wasn't that much taller and no one did it to her. It was one of those things that people did to pretend they were treating you the same when actually they were treating you very differently.

Maybe he thought he was doing it for the right reasons, but she still didn't like it - and she didn't like the way he looked at her.

Pris had a feeling Alys was just as eager to escape, though she wasn't really all that sure why just yet. She followed quickly after Miss Alys, thinking back to the little glance Miss Alys had given the new woman's half-carved wood block.

"Yours is better." A lot better, really. Miss Alys probably knew it, too, but that didn't mean she didn't want to hear it. "And thank you. He... I don't know. He hasn't done anything wrong. Yet." A shrug. Missing the familiar balancing weight of Lady Fingers, it felt more helpless than usual. Pris would be glad to get back to her - and Captain O'Cain, she supposed.

Hopefully he was okay.
 
Not even Argent looked happy to see her, which was a bit of a low blow. Summer had tried to be in her best behavior, at least near certain people, but apparently that hasn’t worked as well as she wished it had up until now. Alys seemed to want nothing but to get away from the newbies - or maybe she was just eager to see her lovely captain - and as much as Summer wished to follow, she knew that to do so when the fae had made it clear their company wasn't wanted would only make things worse.

“I know it looks like shit.” She mumbled when she was left alone with the white haired man, dropping the half carved cat on the floor and putting down her knife. After a quick moment of contemplation, Summer eventually stepped forward.

“They can’t stop us from getting some fresh air, can they?” She asked, walking past her crewmate on her way up the stairs.

***

Caleb was at the helm, with a map spread out along with his compass. He adjusted the route of the ship, detracting from the one Lucien had planned by a few degrees up north. It was enough time for Pris to get back with Alys, like he had requested.

“That was quick.” He smiled at the young girl, trying not to look as concerned as he actually was. “Office?” He asked Alys, but started making his way towards it before getting a response.
 
Lucien had spent the last several days aboard the Nox in a rather odd fashion. By day he lurked around the ship, giving Mal the space they needed to fix the hole in his quarters. The other crew were the ones who had to pay for this, as Lucien took out his anger and frustration of the prior events upon them. He sparred with them regularly, pressuring those who were beneath him into fights where they had the numbers advantage. He took a rapier from the ship's spare stores, dulling the edge until even the most delicate pirate could not argue that he had cut them.

They ended each match with ragged breathing, the deck as their bed, and a host of bruises and other nonlethal injuries.

By night, Lucien sampled his various bottles. Using his standard extraction kit, the vampire tested each and every one of his bottles of mead. The more complex and alcoholic ones were set aside, as he preferred the more delicate notes that came with aging and more experimental ingredients. The sweeter and less alcoholic ones received a special label. Lucien had been neglecting his duties, his personal responsibilities. Nessa had taken the ring and nearly wasted away because he had not looked after her. He would correct that.

It was on this day that he had dutifully drained the contents of one such bottle into a simple metal flask, securing the top and stowing it away on his person. Lucien strapped on his scabbard and both rapiers, one dull and one sharp. Although he was never fully disarmed, he would much prefer a blade at his side rather than just his fangs and claws.

He stopped in the hall, hearing a familiar gait approaching. He waited until Nessa turned the corner, giving her a nod of greeting. Lucien reached within his cloak and pulled out the flask, offering it to her.

"I took the liberty of finding one of my least alcoholic bottles. I know of your reluctance to hurt others, even if it causes you to starve, but I do not wish for you to waste away until you turn feral." Once taken, Lucien let his hand fall to his dulled rapier, taking note of her cloak.

"Planning to go abovedecks? Or just anywhere else?" Lucien's muscles itched and he longed to launch into combat, even if it was with those pathetic excuses for opponents. He would be surprised if any willingly agreed.
 
A momentary smile was offered in response to the girl's compliment, prolonged only by her successive gratitude. It appeared as though Pris also held little trust for the man - trust was hard to have when his motive was grossly unclear. "Of course," she said quietly, reaching out and nearly - nearly - touching Pris' unoccupied shoulder, to guide her forward. Her fingers wavered then returned to her side, untouched. Instead, Alys slowed her pace by half a step, allowing the girl to overtake her. She shot one final glance over her shoulder, to the figures standing at the end of the hallway before continuing forward.

"Where's Lady Fingers?" The fae asked a moment later, emerging onto the deck and meeting Caleb's gaze. She gave him a slight nod, her gaze lingering as he retreated to the office.
 
When his hand touched the doorknob, the same burning sensation from prior was felt on the back of his hand. Caleb expected it would go away soon, last time it left after only a few seconds, but this time, the fourth, it didn’t diminish, it amplified.

“aaaARGH!” The Captain held his right hand with his left, as if holding tightly to his wrist would stop the pain from expanding all the way to his shoulder.

A mission…

On his knees, his mind went blank. Once again the beach he had seen appeared vividly behind his eye, waves crashing against the palace’s outer walls and something new this time; bells ringing.
 
"I left her with-"

Pris had started to answer Miss Alys' question, but the rest of it was stopped short by arriving by Mr. O'Cain and the startling cry that escaped him. Pris did not know what to do with that.

"Oh, I don't like the screaming."

Barely a whisper, but not so quiet that the others couldn't hear - and Miss Alys would understand, at least, even if Mr. O'Cain didn't. She stepped forward to recollect the skeletal hand, holding it with her own rather than replacing it on her shoulder, bone-fingers gripped tightly as she edged back a little to make room for Miss Alys, hoping that she knew what to do.
 
It wasn’t a smile that broke Argent’s visage, but a frown as the second called to the child. It was only for a moment, slipped in between breaths and gone again before anyone’s eyes fell upon him. He couldn’t say he blamed Alys for her demeanor; he had been cultivating a certain idea from the moment they had met, and this was the consequence. Distrust wouldn’t have elicited such a frown, though.



Summer followed up the stairs, a claim for fresh air given as her reason though Argent suspected it was another interest that drove her to follow. For a moment Argent stood alone, gaze fixed onto some point distant and near before he also climbed the stairs onto the top deck.



O’Cain stepped down from the helm, words lost to the sky as he spoke them to his second and the one who had fetched her. Argent considered approach, considered restating his intent in front of the man who had made the deal that landed him the on Nox, but instead he turned his gaze to the nearby clinic. Whatever Summer wanted was unimportant, irrelevant to his mission. Trust, and assistance, might have been a boom but it was not particularly necessary.



Better to get the job done than waste more time playing politics. In less than two weeks he could leave that part to Aamir. A few steps brought him to the clinic door, and he prepared a polite knock to announce his arrival. It would have been easier, perhaps, with an officer at his side.



The hand hesitated, eyes cast away toward the bowed shadow of the hulking figure at the bow. Perhaps his idea still held some merit, with adjustments. Even without the trust he was given by the Cutter’s crew rumor of the Quartermaster’s romance was easily come by. Argent crossed the deck, leaning against the rail a respectable, but obviously intentional distance from the scaled giant.



”Baron Emryk Vakaan,” Argent said with a pause, interrupted by a muffled cry of pain. His mission’s delay might have been a better call than he thought. ”We haven’t had the pleasure.”
 
“Morning” Nessa said, as she turned the corner into Lucien. If it was actually morning, she did not know and she was fully irritated enough to not particularly care what time of day it was. She had just woken up, so any time was good enough as a morning just as if it were an afternoon or evening. Though she liked evening, she didn’t have to deal with people like Summer in the evening and — oh that was a flask. Nessa accepted the offering with a nod of her head.

“That’s…” She paused for a moment, torn perhaps by how to respond, be it denial or confusion as to the sudden kindness, but she went with neither. Instead, Nessa smiled. “Thank you, Lucien.” She said, taking the offered flask. She unscrewed the top and took a long prickling breath. Then, as she had with Emer Nessa only allowed herself a small sip before closing the flask. Nessa sighed, the flask vanishing into her cloak.

“Was going to head abovedecks, for some fresh air.” Nessa said. Her gaze flicked to Lucien’s hand, and her lips dipped into a frown for a moment. “Maybe if you aren’t too scary about it, you can find a sword hand who’ll be willing to spar.” She said, turning her gaze to the stairs.
 
She heard the whisper even with his scream echoing in her head. Despite the atrocities she'd seen and heard on the Teller, Pris still wasn't accustomed to it. Perhaps that was a good thing. "I know," she responded hastily, acknowledging the girl before rushing forward.

Caleb was kneeling, clutching his wrist tightly. Completing a quick scan, Alys concluded that there wasn't any blood. There wasn't any physical reason, at least to the naked eye, that he was hurt. "What the fuck?" She asked, hands reaching forward, tone full of worry. "What's wrong?"
 
Bells ringing, rose petals scattered all around. A pair of silver wings behind a tall man’s back, hair just as silver.

“What the fuck? What’s wrong?” It was Alys’ voice, but he couldn’t see her, all he saw was the man falling to the ground, and another four fairies hanging from ropes tied to their necks. Bodies he recognized, though they looked older than the last time he’d seen them.

The pain was fading, or perhaps Caleb was just losing his senses. He saw a blur of Alys for a second, before passing out.
 
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