RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

Pris stared at Argent, in a way that wasn't complimentary. Mr. Lucien didn't seem impressed anyway, but when he apparently decided the fight was over, she shrugged and let it be.

"That's not the fastest," she pointed out, feeling obligated to do so and not really sure if she was telling Mr. Lucien or arguing with Argent. Her arm moved, miming a little thrust. "I can't always get through the sternum on the first try, you know." She knew. Why did everyone assume she didn't know? Most of the people who she'd cut through were already dead, but she didn't think them being alive would make it any easier. You had to have a lot of arm and upper body strength to pierce through. "But if you're little and you go through the stomach and angle it up a bit, you can still get to the heart if you get your whole arm in there. It's messy though." She smiled, cheerfully.

"But I guess you're the one mopping."

She skipped off, before someone could encourage her to start cleaning something. "Hey! Hey, Mr. Lucien, can I fight you now? Can I?"
 
The signature left on the ring was malicious. That was the conclusion Juniper had come to, in this half meditation, half study, the shards and fragments of ring sitting in their palm. It had no ill will towards them, though, instead entirely focused on something else. An almost hatred came from what vestige of magic remained, whatever intent the creator had imbued into it still echoing, even after it's destruction.

What it had done to Nessa was a cruel trick. Perhaps, if someone like her no longer wanted their eternal undeath, it would be an odd sort of mercy, but for someone who simply wanted a cure, to return to what they were before, it was nothing less than evil. Now, though, with its will and intent spread and split between all the different pieces, it could be remolded, reshaped. Of course, it wasn't something Juniper was experienced in, by any means. Perhaps they would be able to find a book or manual, something to lay out the process of creating something. It would be a nasty surprise for Naveen, if they could find a way to use what was left.

His footsteps alerted them first. Emryk wasn't quite capable of entering a room unnoticed, and as such they heard his approach long before he ever drew near their shaded corner of the bilge. They weren't surprised when he spoke, on account of this, and yet their heart raced all the same. Last they'd seen, he'd been beating Lucien to death. Part of them knew it was for good reason, but if he had, Nessa almost certainly would've lost herself to the ring that sat in their hand now.

Their eyes opened, and they lowered their open palm, careful to not spill the loose bits of metal. They took a moment to think, before nodding. "What is it you want to speak about? If it's about the ring, you can tell Caleb I'm doing what I can. This is firmly outside of what I know how to do, so I don't think I can make much progress until we land again."
 


"It's not about the ring."

Emryk sat across from her, back slumping down the wall until he was seated firmly upon his tush; even with his legs criss-crossed, he was still a great deal taller, which he felt detracted from his intent. Still, he offered Juniper a solemn gaze-- and a sincere one.

"When we were in the Ice Lands, you... shared with me, a detail of your childhood. Of your identity. As did I, with you. I had implored you to do better-- to be better-- than what you thought you were capable of."

He looked away, at that. His gaze flickered to Juniper, a moment, then back to the ground.

"I lost control of myself, in Leimor. When I'd found out what Lucien had done to Leo, I just..." His hand clenched; the memories returned, but he kept them at bay, for the moment. "... everything that had been building since I was put upon this ship just snapped. All of my years of anger that I'd kept locked away. That I thought I'd dealt with. And what you saw, on that dock, was me at my worst. At my most... carnal. And I am ashamed of that. I'm... ashamed of myself."

Emryk looked to Juniper, again, his brow furrowed. "I am not asking for your pity. I also know better than to ask for forgiveness. I just merely want to... thank you." A pause. "For being there. For talking me down. I trust you more than anyone aboard this ship, right now, Juniper. And I sincerely apologize for not talking to you sooner. For acting the way I did. I will try, as we'd promised one another. To do better." He stated, speaking truthfully, earnestly. Another pause-- unsure what to say. He gave a glance about their grim lodgings, then returned his gaze to the changeling, rolling his shoulders. "How are you managing, at the moment? I haven't seen you about, much." He frowned. "I suppose I worry a bit about you."

 
Argent remained in his kneeling position as Lucien’s weapon fell to his shoulder, and Pris’ pointed to the deck. The vampire seemed little pleased with the outcome of the match, though Argent had laid his wager with such a conclusion in mind. He had to admit to himself that there were a few unexpected surprises; from Lucien’s setup for the girl’s win to the child’s levelheaded performance. He wondered if the Navigator had intended to assist the girl so quickly, given his disappointment, and whether Pris would be as calculating in the midst of a real battle.



Something told him the answer was no on both counts.



Despite his lackluster performance Argent rolled each moment of the fight in his mind while he finished his work. If he were upset that Lucien had done the bare minimum to honor their agreement he didn’t show it in his movements or expression, though the latter was hardly an accurate metric for his mood. Without the distraction of battle on the deck he finished rather quickly, though the combined effort of the cleaning and the combat left Argent with an emptiness in his belly.



The Quartermaster was nowhere to be seen on deck, and without a clear figure to report the success of his mission to Argent resolved to appease his hunger instead. There was, perhaps, a part of him that might have headed to the mess regardless, if only for the taste of Julian’s work. It hadn’t been pleasant, staying aboard a ship who’s crew eyed you with suspicion at best, but the quality of the fare was a great salve to that discomfort.



Argent had even found a preferred seat in the chain riddled hall, situated near the kitchen but tucked away in a corner that provided view of the entire mess. He picked his way over the chains absentmindedly, the rumble of his stomach serving as an announcement of his arrival, before settling into a chair and tilting it back against the wall. He hesitated to flag Julian down, to ask after something to fill the ache in his gut. The cook had been rather adamant that mealtimes were set precisely, and unfortunately the sparring and the mopping had seen the elf just shy of one of those prescribed times.
 
Juniper wasn’t at the women’s quarters or at the mess hall, but there was a lonely figure there.

“Have you seen Juniper?” Caleb asked Argent, entering the hall. It was unlikely, but she could be in the kitchen. Ever since Julian had forced them on a schedule, it wasn’t unusual for people to try and find a snack in between meals. The food had never been better, so no one had the balls to complain about it to the cook.
 
Argent waited in his seat for a moment, long enough for the ship’s cook to bark out his presence though it never came. Without a comment from the kitchens the elf wagered his chances were decent of snagging something to snack on without incident. With an almost paranoid caution he slipped around the serving counter and surveyed his options.



He had only just settled back into his seat with a particularly juicy looking apple when the Captain entered the mess. As the fairy looked from one wall to the next Argent flicked his small knife free from his sleeve and cut into the succulent fruit, though his eyes followed Caleb’s every twitch.



”Have you seen Juniper?”



The elf finished slicing the apple, an eyebrow slightly arched as Caleb spoke. The Captain looked a bit pale, and despite being otherwise occupied Argent would have had to have been blind and deaf to have missed the number of crew that had rushed to the clinic.



”I can’t say that I have.” Argent looked around the room himself, as though the fire mage might appear simply by adding his eyes to the search. Slipping the sliced bit of apple into his mouth Argent spoke around it after his cursory inspection of the mess. ”Is something the matter?”
 
The elf returned to his duties with a sulk, offering no comment on Lucien's conditional upholding of their deal. The child, on the other hand, seemed eager to continue. Lucien raised an eyebrow at her surprisingly deep knowledge of anatomy. Then again, perhaps such knowledge is less surprising when the majority of one's life has been spent aboard a ship that treats flesh as just another material to work with. If she still wished to taste his blade, Lucien supposed he would not deny her.

"Very well. I do not know who has been training you, but let us see how poorly they've done it." Lucien made no move to take the sharp blade from the girl, nor did he switch from his dulled one. "Defend yourself."

Lucien took a few steps away from her, drawing his blade and waiting for her to take up a defensive stance, or whatever she thought would pass for one. A simple nod was the only indication he gave of their duel starting as Lucien lashed out like a viper, his blade lashing out in two quick flashes; the first to knock her blade away, the other to hit against her side. He may not have been using his full strength, but the vampire was none too gentle.
 
Miss Alys had done a great job, Pris thought very indignantly - but, well, she had only had a couple lessons. Pris was sure that Miss Alys was going to teach her a lot better, but she couldn't learn everything all at once. She took up the same stance she had before, body angled, blade raised, squaring off. She didn't have much more time to prepare than that, because Mr. Lucien struck out almost right away, with only a little nod to tell her he was coming.

Her palm stung, which was the first indication that she had that her sword was gone - Miss Alys had trained her very firmly to let go, because whoever she was fighting was probably going to be a lot stronger and if she tried to hold on she would just get pinned with her own blade or she'd end up with broken fingers.

The strike to her side came almost before she'd figured out what happened - the dull sword didn't bite, but it sure did sting. She didn't scream. She did hate all the screaming, no matter who was doing it. Instead, she tried to roll with the strike as best as she could, taking away some of its force and tucking herself down into an even smaller target, coming up near her sword again and getting her hands around it, trying to get it back up in a guard before Mr. Lucien swatted her again.

That was okay, though. That felt like a real fight. She didn't want him to go easy.
 
For a moment, Alys lingered over the map, eyes moving from the coastline to the streets and walls surrounding the noble home. She'd never been to that part of the city - never needed to be. But the great walls climbed high from the cliffs, the pale brick lighter, less tawny than the beaches sprawled below. That was the closest she'd gotten; bare feet sprinting across the sand, tiny arms pushing against the salty current, floating and day-dreaming about the riches and treasures housed within. She wondered if the coastline was any less guarded, wondered if the jump over the wall was nothing but a black abyss in the night.

Finally she left, the clatter of a sword against the deck instantly drawing her attention. She watched as Lucien disarmed Pris, and as his blade struck her tiny side. But what followed was far more satisfying. A small smirk on her lips, Alys found herself standing close to her dear friend Summer. "Is she holding up better than you did?"
 
Ah, so that was what this was about.

Their eyes dropped quickly to their hand, watching as they rolled the bits of broken metal across their palm, that feeling of malice only just an echo of an echo now. At the time, Juniper had found theirself disillusioned with the baron, their image of him sullied by the display of aggression. It seemed wrong, then, that he had been that way, that he had allowed himself to fall to the level of Lucien.

Now, though, they found theirself sympathizing. Who better to understand Emryk's position, than them? Everyone lost their temper, gave in to anger on occasion, but few knew it as well as the changeling. That moment, the breaking point, the loss of self that followed. Rage was it's own being, neatly tucked away until it found purchase. It would only grow, then, until it was let out or killed, and it was certainly too stubborn to die, in most cases.

Their hand shut, fist clenching over the ring. "I... understand." That didn't explain anything, but they'd found words to be hard to come by lately. Ever since they spoke with Alys. They couldn't say they forgave him, as if he had asked for it, but they knew they couldn't blame him. Lucien had made a point to antagonize him since he arrived, and even though things had gone awry with Leo, there could've been another way...

How were they doing, now? Things had been a blur since Leimor- everything had happened quickly at the ball, and the talk a few nights later had done nothing to clear anything up. It'd been hard to key in on emotions- instead, they'd been sticking to theirself, and doing their tasks about the ship. Recently, that'd meant the ring, which had bit into their hand a bit, during all this pointless introspection. Juniper loosened their grip.

"I'm... fine. Just existing, I suppose. Waiting, for whatever's next, and trying to mind to myself." Even they knew their voice was flat, but it was indicative of everything that'd happened lately. They made no effort to cover it up. "You? Can't imagine the new responsibilities you've been saddled with have been very fun to uphold."
 


"I suspected you might," Emryk replied, looking to her with an expression of sympathy-- and thanks. "Truthfully, if I were in your shoes, I feel as if I would have burnt down the Nox without ever meaning to. You have more self control than you realize, dealing with the likes of him-- and others-- for so long."

And she was fine. He knew that to be an exaggeration-- she didn't seem fine, didn't look fine, isolating herself down in the depths of the ship like this-- but he would not press, not with the backstep he'd taken in his anger. Instead, he merely nodded, running his tongue along his teeth as he tried to find the proper words to say.

"My responsibilities are clerical. It's a bit of normalcy, really-- a bit in line with what I did at the estate." He shrugged. "If you're in need of any... arcane supplies at our next stop, do let me know. I'd be happy to source what I can, but I admit I'm a bit helpless on matters of magic."

An uneasy smile, at that. It faded, however, as he moved to his next point. "We may be staying longer than intended in Goswick. Caleb... has been given a task. By King. To kill the Duke, and his family." The distaste was evident in his voice, reeking of judgement. "Some... curse, upon his hand, that makes him do the necromancer's bidding. I was exploring our options, and wanted to inquire if you knew anything about... feigning death, or something that could possibly be used to trick whatever hex is upon Caleb." He shrugged. "A large ask, I know, and if you do not know anything, I understand. I only thought it fitting to inquire, seeing as you are the most knowledgeable on the ship beyond Hester. And who knows where she is."

A dry frown, now.

 
After a quick look at the empty kitchen Caleb knew they weren’t in there, unless like Pris they also have a fondness for the cupboards. He returned to the mess hall, where Argent quietly sliced his apple.

Something of the matter… Caleb’s lips parted; he hesitated, but even if Juniper was the priority, he knew he’d have to speak to the newcomer eventually as well.

“Sharpen your blade, we’ve got a job to do when we land.” He said. “We’ll break into a palace, murder a couple important people and come back, trying not to bring an army behind our backs. Easy, right?”

***

There wasn’t a lot Summer could discern of the conversation the captain and his first mate was having inside, but she’d be a fool to try harder to lurk after being called out the way she had been at the clinic. So her eyes aimed firmly at the sparring session further away, and she feigned surprise when Alys appeared behind her back.

“She should be teaching me lessons.” She said, with a smile. “That girl knows an awful lot about anatomy for a kid.”
 
Banter aside, the girl was holding her ground against the vampire. Continuing to spectate, Alys crossed her arms loosely against her chest, hands resting against her waist. "She's seen too much for a kid," she replied, providing the tiniest bit of a reason for Pris' unique set of knowledge.

"Want to have a go? Before I fill you in?" She tilted her head to the side and looked at the woman, brow raised. Despite the upcoming hellish task, and having sparred with a handful of others just moments prior, Alys felt the need to focus on something else. If only for a moment.
 
Alys and the others had found their places and traded their thoughts. This was dark business, it wouldn't pass without much deliberation and stress before the end. The killing didn't bother him yet - he knew where his loyalties laid. It was the heat King was putting them under, hoping they'd get killed most likely.

He needed air and company, it wasn’t good to dwell in the dark with his thoughts bottled for so long. Top deck was perhaps his favourite place aboard the Nox - there was always something, someone about. Looking out over the horizon as the sun rose or set - he wished he could seal that moment as a gift of love, if only he could ever give someone something as beautiful as that.

Ciaran filled his chest with crisp air and planted himself within the lumber, steadying himself as a piece of the ship now. Across the deck, Alys stood with a newcomer - unfamiliar to Ciaran. He hadn’t caught a moment of her time yet - perhaps now would be good.

“Afternoon,” Ciaran said as he approached the pair. “I’ve been a ghost lately, I’m sorry for that, I trust Caleb found you? We spoke in his cabin earlier.” Ciaran didn’t beat around the bush, it seemed like he only showed up when things went wrong. “I’m Ciaran, I don’t believe we’ve met.” The Fir’Bolg said, offering his hand to Summer.
 
“Who hasn't?”

Summer kept the snarky response in her head, instead focusing on the question that came right after Alys’ comment about Pris.

Should she accept the challenge? It was tempting, but it could also ruin everything. Before making up her mind, they were joined by a third person who offered her a hand and a name.

“Summer.” She shook his hand and smiled. “Just got my butt kicked and Alys is here offering to kick it again. Should I let her?”

A question she should be asking herself. She could get her revenge right then and there, but with no escape route. Perhaps let her have a tiny taste of it, just for fun.
 
Argent sliced the apple while Caleb pondered and searched. Once the Captain replied the elf examined the most recent piece of fruit for a moment with a pensive ”I see,” as his response. Argent had been lead to believe their next stop would be some backwater once they passed the city of Goswick. A place like that would have been free of any palaces and important people, though.



”May I ask why the sudden change in plans?”



The elf’s contemplative stare fell away from the apple slice and onto Caleb, the former popped into his mouth before asking his question. Though there was some doubt as to whether the Captain would go into detail, Argent felt his chances were best now while O’Cain was in an explanatory mood.
 
Oh good, Ciaran. Alys smiled at him; a small, bittersweet thing, given the circumstances. He'd remained scarce over the last few weeks, likely due to the brunette they'd left behind in Leimor. But she didn't know, not for sure, not when their drinking sessions had halted too. "He did," she acknowledged with a nod, before Summer introduced herself.

"If you're not up for it, you can watch Ciaran kick my ass. You like watching, don't you?" She asked, sly smile on her face, referring to the woman's, keen, watchful eye. "Or-" The fae began to add, smile vanishing, tone becoming more serious. "We plan now, and save the ass kicking for later." Once they returned.
 
If Lucien was surprised by the girl’s tenacity, he did not show it. Indeed, the only reaction to the girl’s desire to continue the fight was a slightly raised eyebrow. The weapon went flying as expected, but there was something else there. Her arm did not splay out like it would if he had forced it from her hand. She moved with his strike as well, absorbing the impact as best she could and moving back towards her weapon.

The most interesting thing to Lucien, however, was her silence. Most children would cry out in pain, most crewmates too. This child remained completely silent. Interesting. Very interesting. Lucien waited until she got back to her feet, her pitiable guard back up, before striking again. No disarming, no feints, simply his blade singing through the air towards the child, aimed directly for her stomach. Lucien would not admit it to himself, but he was curious to see how she would react.

Perhaps bringing this one aboard had not been a complete waste.
 
What good was self control, if it all fell apart in the end? Perhaps the care about the ship is what led to the destruction elsewhere, their absolute focus to keeping theirself quiet on the Nox leaving their control fractured when they went to land. Or, maybe it was luck. It was hard to say. "They don't make it easy," they grumbled, knowing full well that they theirself didn't help matters often.

It was good to hear that he'd taken to the role of quartermaster, though. Juniper knew that if that had been thrust upon them, they almost certainly would have crumbled. They'd learned to count, but high numbers got hazy, and reading was still slow, no matter how much they enjoyed it. That amount of busywork would've drove them over the edge within a week.

The sorceress opened their palm once more, to look at the broken ring. It had bit into their palm slightly when they'd clenched their fist, breaking the skin. It stung, but it wasn't worth bringing attention to, they felt. No, more important was the assistance Emryk was offering. "That would be fantastic, actually. Anything about enchantment, or similar subjects. If this," they said, holding the remains up for inspection, "has any use, we'll probably need it. Actual supplies and tools can come later, after I fig-"

Their voice died in an instant, and Juniper looked to the Baron with absolute shock. Had he just... said what they thought he did? Surely not. No, they couldn't be going there, not to kill anyone. Not the- they'd known them. Their parents, they did business with them, they'd known them, once. Looking shaken, and much more emotive than they had a moment prior, they stammered out a question. "Did- where did you say we were going, again? Who are we after?"
 
“Forgive my failings, and give me grace when I misstep.” Nessa muttered as the clinic emptied itself out. She lingered on her space on the wall, eyes on the doorway as her lips pulled into a severe frown. Either way this thing blew, it didn’t seem like it would be going in Caleb’s favor, if the man ever had the luck of things going as he wished anyway. Still, a reckoning with Emryk or King both spelled out their own type of disaster, hells to so quickly set aside the promise of a kinder Nox, how would that help his authority any? Still, a Duke and his wife, Nessa felt she knew the score there, and as for the kids —

“Goddess be kind to this fucking ship.” Nessa hissed, less of a prayer than it was an exasperated sigh. “Don’t know how many more disasters Caleb has left ‘fore the straw finally breaks.” This she said normally, perhaps to Emer or the ceiling, whichever felt like responding.
 
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