Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

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ANNASIEL

It was a while, before anyone else returned. The day grew later, the air chillier this close to the coast. Emer sat expectantly, not sure what she should be expecting, not certain if she was expecting anything at all. Then - a figure. Coming from the direction of the town down to the cliffs, making his way up the gangplank onto the deck proper.

He didn't leave, then.

Emer sat upright, hands settling on her knees, but the man seemed to move past her. She thought to call out for a moment - but had he not seen her, or just wilfully ignored her? The thought made her hesitate, and by the time she rose to move after him, he was already pushing through her clinic door.

She stopped in the doorway, watching him set down the bags. When he turned to leave - she was there.

"Emryk -"

She paused. So much time with her thoughts, and she still wasn't sure what to say. Best to let the words flow through, wind in the trees.

"Emryk, I am truly sorry. I hadn't - the conversation - I -"

Her hands wrung the antler bracelet. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

"I have had - painful things happen in my past. And I know, that's little excuse for any outburst, but between the festival, the crowd - the - feelings I'm unused to - I felt muddled. Strange. Like teetering on a cliff's edge, seconds away from falling. Family is - a delicate subject, for me, and the circumstances of our conversation only left that memory worse."

She averted her eyes, ears drooping slightly.

"Truthfully, Emryk, I felt lost. I am no stranger to vulnerability, and I advocate for trust, but in that moment, I was afraid. Bared open to someone that - someone that I only just met, yet -" her head lowered. "I owe you openness, I owe you respect, and above all, I owe you kindness, for the kindness you have shown to me."

She looked up now, her eyes meeting his fully now. Even in the dim light, he'd be able to tell they were damp.

"I do not know what - what this was. If it was a burgeoning friendship, or something more. I may be a wisewoman, but in that regard, I am quite the fool." She choked out a laugh. "I only wish that - no, beg that - what happened tonight does not harm that. I enjoyed your company, your conversation, your humor and wit. I enjoyed spending the day with you, and I would - like to do it more, in whatever form that may take."

She paused expectantly, elbows drawn tight to her sides, obviously nervous - even as she tried to seem calm.
 
QUIRBLES

Ah. She had seen him enter, then. He had hoped that had not been the case.

But she stood before the exit, and he could not leave-- so he waited, listening to her words, brow furrowing as he failed to meet her gaze. His eyes fell upon her shelves instead, uncertainty narrowing his stare as he listened. Emryk could do little else but listen, and so he stood with folded arms, hands digging into his biceps. He hated this. He couldn't speak even if he wanted to, stupid man, because he'd only end up hurting her more. Silence befell him for a good long while as Emer finished her explanation, and he still could not look her in the eye.

"I--" A spark in the mouth, fleeting and bright. Silence befell him, still. After a moment, he regained the courage, and began again. "I pushed-- too much. I am the fool, here." Fire bellowed in his gut. It roiled in his mouth, burning at his tongue, and he could not hold it any longer-- so he spoke the flame. "I adore-- the time I've spent with you, and I'm uncertain how wise it is, to... continue." Scalding his throat, unbearable to hold. Nothing to do but spit it forth. "I do not know how long I am to be here, and I don't wish to-- hurt you. With any... false promises, or misbegotten dreams."

Only then, did his stare finally meet hers. His eyes were firm, glossed with a whisper of dolour well-hidden. Pain was to be felt, not shown. His hands tightened into fists, and he brought his arms down to his sides, straightening the posture he had subconsciously lowered. "I left-- bread and cheese, upon the counter. I know you... you said you were hungry. I do apologize, I-- I used your coin." A lovely admission, that, as he was leaving. "I shall-- work to pay you back, for the cost. I promise." Coward. Having misdirected long enough, he returned to the topic at hand, giving a harsh breath through his snout before he spoke once more.

"I am sorry, for the-- pain, that I caused you. We had only met, after all, and I was... I was foolish. <em>This</em> is foolish." He rubbed at his head, and moved to the exit, eyes once again averting themselves from her stare. He couldn't do this. Not now. He didn't know what to say, and he couldn't-- think.
 
ILLIRICA

"Hm." Sinead's unworded comment was quiet, thoughtful. She mulled Juniper's statement over, like a fine wine over hot coals, then discarded the result with a shake of her head. "People don't look at each other that way, when one of them has saved the other." She had seen it enough times to know, she felt. There was something else going on, there, she just didn't quite know what it was. Something that made Alys uncomfortable.

"She didn't mention anything to you, then." Sinead knew that Alys had been talking to Juniper a fair bit after the episode on the Truth Teller. It seemed to have helped, somewhat. "Alys is good at being understanding, I think. Less so at being understood." Still, Sinead would be displeased to lose her, if Alys joined in on Caleb's inevitable betrayal. She supposed she should expect it, though.

The girl was a fae, after all.

Nessa offered her mead and a few words of commentary as well. Sinead reached over and took the glass, swallowing a sip of it. She was, as she had earlier assessed, not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. Wish them well, indeed. Perhaps they were right for each other, after all. She took another drink, not bothering to savor this one.

"Juniper." A quiet beginning to an inquisition. "How bad was it?"
 
ANNASIEL

He wasn't angry, though Emer wasn't certain if that was better or worse. Anger was a hot thing, a flash that struck like lightning, leaving behind scars in its wake. It hurt, yes, it destroyed, yes, but it could be left to fade in the silence, after, and that which it broke could be repaired.

This was regret, and it was far more insidious. Where anger rent valleys, regret drove nails into the cracks.

Emer's fists tightened around the bangle, knuckles turning white.

"You did nothing wrong. As friendly as things seemed, we are still strangers. We do not know each other's boundaries, and we shouldn't be expected to." she stepped to the side, no longer blocking the door, but continued talking - with her hands preoccupied, she could only hold him back with eyes and words. "But - I would like to not be. Strangers. I understand if your time here is short. You have people that wait for you, no doubt, anxious for your safe return. This ship is not your home, as it is mine."

She took a small step towards him.

"But could we at least enjoy each other's company, before that time comes to pass?"

Her eyes shifted to the food he'd brought, and she forced a slight smile.

"You could pay me back with that. Sit with me tonight. I can put on the kettle, and we can cease being strangers."
 
QUIRBLES

Emryk halted in the doorway, hands still clenched as he gave a glance towards the doctor. Would he tell her that there was nothing that awaited him at his estate? That the subjects he had saved were but a small few, and the rest had been taken by the Empire? Staccato cannonfire drummed in his chest, heartbeat frantic and afraid. Strangers, they were, and perhaps it was best if strangers they remained. The desperate hand knew not what lay beyond the wall of rock, after all-- only the gems presssed tight upon its palm. The more he connected, the harder it would be to step away. He hated himself. He hated this. It was as if the ocean had swallowed the Hard Nox whole and he was suffocating within its walls, breathless and small.

"Not tonight." Emryk muttered, hand resting upon the door frame. The weakness returned. He could not feel this. Not now. This feeling was awful, and he could not bear it. "I'm sorry, doctor. I-- I'm still recovering, and I feel faint." Before the contradiction of leaving the clinic set in, the Baron stepped out-- but not without a glance over his shoulder, apologetic.

"Be well. Please. I'm-- I am so sorry, Emer. Goodnight."

And then he was gone, lumbering steps echoing out onto the deck as he fled.
 
DELFI

The quartermaster’s eyebrows perked up at Alys’ question. Not even a minute had passed and she was already proving this alliance to be beneficial after all. It took him a few seconds to think about it and put the pieces together.

“Sol as in… Solomon King?” There couldn’t be any other, and it would certainly explain how they got out of there so easily. He wanted Sinead to live and return to his filthy hands. “Did she say anything else? If she turned him down or was considering it?”

Sinead hadn’t mentioned it to him, not even after showing the map. Perhaps the necromancer who boarded the Nox would know more about it, or the stowaway Mal told him about. Before he could forget, Caleb brought up another important subject.

“It wouldn’t be safe for you if people saw us together after today. Sinead and Lucien are suspicious of me already, we don’t want you on their radar as well.” Caleb chugged what was left of his ale, smirking at Alys. “Do you think you can convince everyone that you hate me?”
 
ANNASIEL

"Alright."

She didn't press. She knew better than to.

"Have a good night, Baron."

Only when her door closed did she move, silently taking her kettle and filling it with water, with calm, rote steps moving to set it on the rocks. There were things for her to put away. She glanced at the bag - untouched. That could wait for the morning.

The bread and cheese, too - it would last. At present, her appetite had been far replaced with a different feeling, an unpleasant one, as if she'd somehow accidentally swallowed rocks and let them settle in her gut. Rubbing at her eyes with the edge of her shawl, she stood by the kettle until it began to whistle, poured herself some tea, and took the steeping brew past the curtain.

By the time she finally remembered to sip, it was lukewarm and bitter. She set it on the top of her chest, not bothering to finish, and pulled her legs up into her chair, sitting back into the cushions until disturbed - or until sleep took her. Whichever came first.
 
GOLDEN

If only Alys had stayed in the bath another minute longer, maybe then she'd be able to answer Caleb's question. But she hadn't, too uncomfortable to tolerate another moment with her Captain. So she shook her head and said, "I don't know, I left before she said any more."

The name though, Solomon King - she knew that one. The Captain of the Truth Teller. Caleb seemed to find her little snippet of information interesting, though he failed to elaborate as to why. She brushed it off, for now, given that this partnership was new and this certainly wasn't the place to fill her in on the affairs of Sinead's inner circle. But, their promise rang through her mind: no secrets, no bullshit. All in due time. For now, she kept her mouth shut and took another sip of her ale.

"Oh goodie, I'm very good at avoiding you. Probably even better at pretending to hate you," she replied cheerfully. The options were endless - practically anything he said or did was offensive to some degree. However... her gaze fell to the dagger laying innocently on the table. "But you did just give me this beauty. Can't be pissy after receiving such a gift." The faerie picked the dagger up once more and rotated it within her grasp. "I could say I bought it? I did tell them that I needed to make a trip to the blacksmith."
 
PAPERWORK

Hester had never been one for crowds. Back home, before everything, they'd merely been overwhelming. They were always so full of smells and sights and voices; they filled up her head until there was no room for anything else, leaving her dizzy and sour for hours afterwards. There was far too much noise, here, too–shouting, cajoling, wheeling, dealing, an air-cannon, of all things, set up on some jeweler’s stall. Allegria’s spring festival was in full swing. Once upon a time, she’d liked festivals–or at least she’d liked to watch them from a safe distance, with a good helping of street food. These days, whenever she smelled roasted chestnuts, her left wrist ached.

Still, she’d made good progress. She’d already been to a tailor, and commissioned new clothing for herself. She’d found preservatives for a reasonable price; the man had asked her to come back later to pick them up, in exchange for a small deposit. And after asking around a little, she was pretty sure she’d found a good lead on a new set of tools. The efficiency of the day had put her in a good mood, despite the crush of people all around her.

It was just as she’d begun to allow herself to relax a little that she heard the scream. Her head jerked upwards, trying to track the source and getting ready to start running. A part of her was very certain that it would turn out to be some flying undead beast, sent by King to exact his revenge. But it was just the idiot bottle-warrior, of course. He’d already lost his shirt again, and from the way he was howling, she suspected he’d gotten himself drunk, too. Lovely. She couldn’t see the quartermaster anywhere in sight, either; hadn’t Caleb been put in charge of him?

The spectacle swallowed up so much of her attention that she almost didn’t notice the small bird making a go for her money. Her left hand swung past it, and quick as a blink, a slender bone claw darted out of Hester’s sleeve, impaling the creature just as it was ripping open the fabric of her coinpurse. She’d expected a small spray of blood and a dead animal; instead, the leg of her construct glanced off metal, sending the creature–the machine?--spinning away with an alarmed squawk.

And with a few of her bloody coins positioned precariously on its back.

With an outraged yell, she began to push her way through the crowd after it. That was a fool’s errand; the bird had disappeared almost before she’d finished turning to go after it, and all the righteous indignation in the world wasn’t going to let her make speedy progress through this crowd. For a moment, she was stuck, helpless, fuming. Then she remembered the jeweler with the air cannon.

Well. Who else was likely to have metal birds around here? She began to make her slow way towards the stall.

Might be nice to have a little chat about what had just happened.
 
DELFI

“Maybe Nessa or Juniper will know how the story ends.” He said, resting his thumb on his bottom lip as he thought of what Alys had said next. If he took offense to her comment on how great she was at pretending to hate him he didn’t show, though he could argue she was even better at pretending she didn’t. He fell for it once.

The dagger was the problem.

“No, that won’t do. Lucien saw me buy it.” Which wouldn’t have been a problem if the dagger he chose wasn’t so unique. “We’ll just have to stage a falling out later, then. Better if we have witnesses.”
 
KATPRIDE

Knobby knows what it was made to do. It hops through the crowds, weaving between a maze of feet and ankles. Its eyes are tuned for stillness rather than movement, scanning for the hesitation and distraction of easy prey.

But it doesn’t hunt worms or beetles. No, Knobby sets its eyes on coinpurses and pockets. There’s several people standing around in a group, and it hops closer - perhaps a bit outside its usual area, but it is a mechanical bird and therefore not very good at following complex directions.

With a flutter of wings, it flies up to peck at a pouch hanging on someone’s belt. The fabric tears and it would caw in victory if it had the voicebox to do so. This is why it does not have a voicebox. Unfortunately, it is detected regardless and something hard and fast sends it spiraling down to the ground. A few false feathers are loosened from their fastenings, and there’s a new dent in its chassis, but there are coins on the ground as well.

The bird scoops up the coins and scurries away as fast as its little legs can carry it. It is not supposed to get caught. It has been given very clear instructions to not get caught, and to always return to its creator if it is in danger. It cannot follow the first directive anymore, so it hurries along towards the second.

---​


Back at her booth, Lula rubs absently at an ache in her side. She thinks she has a thing-mover design that might work, but she doesn’t have the peace to build it. She kept getting distracted by customers every time she thought she might be able to pull out the saw and start cutting pieces from the sheet of metal, so she put it away. But now she’s boooored.

Knobby scurries into the booth, coins clanking on its back, but Knobby is always in a hurry. It’s only when the bird starts tugging at her shoelaces that she tilts her head to look at it, her head still resting on the table. “What?”

It tugs more insistently at her laces, and its beak is sharp enough that it’ll start sawing through them soon if she doesn’t figure out what’s bothering it so much. She lowers her hand down and Knobby is quick to press into the hollow of her fingers. Maybe it needs a tune-up or something, they aren’t usually this clingy.

She brushes the coins off its back with her thumb, listening to them clink into the open chest beneath her table. It’s filling up pretty quickly. Maybe she should tell her birds to show a little more restraint next time. Or teach them to distinguish between coppers and golds better.
 
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SHODDYPRODUCT

Good at being understanding, bad at being understood.

Juniper frowned at this description, though their head was turned down as they worked on rinsing their hair. They had hoped they understood Alys, especially after the night of their return, but there was a chance they didn't. After all, very few quite knew what they were, so how could they expect to know what everyone else was? Wishful thinking aside, they were also worried that the captain's perception was warped, brought on by circumstances they fully believed out of her control. They wouldn't say any of this, of course, for fear of drawing the captain's ire, no matter how casual or relaxed the group may have been in that moment. They kept their mouth shut and listened, intent to observe until called upon once more.

Unfortunately for the changeling, that call came much sooner than expected, and with that call, a host of bad memories once more. Faces of emaciated captives, on the verge of death, disease and rotten smells, the feeling of fear, of being lost... The feeling of loss. Their perception had shifted, with separation from the event, from sorrow to frustration. They spoke, saying, "It was... Bad. Enough to make the Nox seem a paradise."

The sorceress did not elaborate like they did with Alys. The other captives, those who had been lost on the ship, were left out of the conversation, and would remain that way unless asked, and even then they would do their best. Juniper began to scrub vigorously at their fingernails now, hoping to get the grime out from underneath, of course, but even more to wash away the feeling of the half-rotted planks of the Truth Teller's brig, the stench of that cell. Their eyes, that yellow-orange, looked up to Sinead, who was ever so slightly blurry to their vision, and in them was anger, and disgust. The former, something the captain was likely used to seeing from the sorceress, the latter much rarer.
 
GOLDEN

"So the knife was a gift for saving your life," Alys replied thoughtfully, building onto the narrative they were formulating. Meanwhile, her hands manipulated the dagger so that the blade pointed downward. She lightly pressed the tip into the wooden table, watching as it made a slight indentation.

In response to his next idea, her gaze flickered up to meet his, eyes narrowing. She scoffed. "So now I need to put on a show?", the faerie asked, her tone somewhat displeased. And falling out? They never had enough of a relationship to warrant falling out. It's not like she couldn't act; it came with the territory of being a liar, but to do it in such a public, dramatic manner? It wasn't her style. She'd much rather spread some sort of rumour and avoid him like her life depended on it - which it did.

"What would this falling out look like, then? Huh? A fucking screaming match? Don't you think that'd draw a little too much attention?"
 
REYN

The springs had been ordered- to be delivered to the Nox at the earliest convenience. They could work on it then. Their shopping list, most of it, had been completed, which meant... god, what was this? They had... time off? Nothing to fix, nothing to build until the springs were delivered... what were they going to do?

Ah, but there was still work to be done, wasn't there? The gears for that experimental shield- there was a stall in the market that could sell them, manned by a rather strange looking individual and a few... interesting items. Well, Mal thought. If they could make gears smaller enough to fit into those things, perhaps they could help with this shield.

If not, they'd at least have enough metal to steal. Those ears looked quite nice as well.

Mal approached the stall.

"Are these your contraptions?"
 
KATPRIDE

A voice comes from the other side of the table, and Lula sits up. Her fingers close lightly around Knobby as she does so, bringing the bird up into her lap.

She takes a moment to stare at the person surveying her wares, taking in their patchwork skin and extra arms. Huh. How do they keep things together, working with flesh instead of metal? Stitches instead of bolts? She can almost see it, but they’d have to have, what, internal organs? Transplants? It’s beyond her expertise, that’s for sure. “Mine? Yes, everything here is my work. Original! Inventive! Showstopping, some may say. What did you have your eye on?”

She runs her fingertips across smooth feathers as she speaks, searching for what might have upset her more delicate contraption. Knobby is patient with her inspection, for once, nestling down. Its feathers are still all poofed up, because it is a drama queen. Fact.
 
DELFI

Alys was just as smart as she was pretty. She'd understand things before he felt the need to explain it, but perhaps her mind wasn't quite as sick as his in some aspects.

"You can leave that part up to me. I'll put on a show, you'll just have to react accordingly." It wouldn't be his first or last time doing something of the sort, but the first where it had a purpose other than to get under people's skins. "A rumor won't work, unless it's spread by someone she trusts. We should also find a way to communicate with each other without them knowing…" Another moment of reflection, and Caleb's left wing twitched two times. "Do this, and I'll find you when no one's around. My cabin's probably the only place we'll have to talk in private when we're back on the ship, we just gotta make sure no one sees you coming in. They may get the wrong impression." He said, holding back a smile.
 
FANG

Someone else might have tried to steal from one of the vendors hawking their delicious, mouthwatering wares nearby. Another person might have lifted a purse from a jovial festival attendee while they were distracted by all of the chaos around them. Even with empty pockets there were those who could fill their bellies with a crowd as large as the one here.

Leo had none of these skills, and uneducated as he was he was quite aware of the many things he could not do. He could not lift purses; he could not use sleight of hand. None of the skills Leo possessed would help him here. No one was asking for their floors to be cleaned. Killing would only get him in trouble. He ducked his head slightly as a couple of armored men with their blades on sticks marched by.

That was when he saw the bird, silver button resting on its back as it meandered carefully through the crowd. Here and there it would pluck at the stitches of a neglected purse, or pick at a piece of jewelry loose enough it might be gained, but as of yet the only prize it held was its shiny button. Leo’s golden eyes followed it as it moved, occasionally bumping into stall timbers and cart wheels.

Curiosity piqued the man followed the bird, at a distant pace initially but eventually drawing close enough to make out details. The shine of the beak, the slightly too accurate angles of its shape. This bird was not natural. Leo’s eyes narrowed, and as if the button carrier could feel his gaze it’s own eye turned to meet the gilded stare.

For a moment they stood, people passing between bird and man as they measured one another. A brief gap in the crowd broke the spell, Leo leaping to grab the oddity even as it zipped away, causing him to slam to the paving stones uselessly. He scrambled to his feet, crouched to keep better watch on his prey as he darted after it. The bird would zig and zag through the passing legs, turn sharp corners around stalls, all while Leo stayed two paces behind, his size a disadvantage against the nimble bird that was only made up for by its occasional clumsiness.

It was in one of those moments, just as it bumped into a stationary boot, that Leo leapt again, and again his hands came up with empty air as the coin carrying bird darted under a stall curtain. Leo blinked and looked up, eyebrows knitting together and head tilting to the side as a familiar patchwork face met his sight. He picked himself up and swiped at his pants before looking around the stall and it’s operator. ”Hi, I’m Leo,” he said with a small wave to the stall keeper before turning to the shipwright with a lopsided smile. ”Hi Ma~al,” he said, drawing the name out in a singsong manner.
 
ILLIRICA

"Juniper." A quiet interruption, breaking through the changeling's self-ministrations. "I told him off. We're not working with someone like him. Not now, not ever." Sinead had already implied it pretty clearly, and she felt that Juniper was smart enough to have picked that up, but at the same time, she had also learned that sometimes there was value to be had in saying things aloud. Sometimes, when the night closed in and all its mares swarmed in a black-streaked herd, the only thing that made a difference was words. Some kept them at bay.

Others beckoned them closer.

And sometimes, there was only silence, and sometimes that was the hardest of all. She would not be silent. Not here, not now. Perhaps not ever - but in this moment, if Juniper needed to hear that she wouldn't have to go back there, then it was the duty of her Captain to make sure she knew it. Any decent person would have done the same. Sinead might not have been a decent person, but she at least tried to be a decent captain.

"I wouldn't mind watching him burn."
 
UMBRASIGHT

That was… quite the question to ask, wasn’t it? Nessa raised her eyebrows at Sinéad’s sudden change of topics, but she kept her lips closed while Juniper figured out their response. Her answer was no longer than the question itself, but Juniper was quick to shift her focus to trying to clean under her fingernails. Nessa felt a pang of empathy, and she reached a hand out of the water. She paused, her hand hovering in the dead space as water dripped back to the pool below. Sinead offered a word of comfort, and with a faint nod Nessa reached out and gently placed a hand on Juniper’s shoulder.

“He’ll get his, in time.” Nessa said, her voice a little softer as she offered a smile, ”I’m glad you were able to make it back.” She added, after a moment.
 
GOLDEN

React accordingly.

Given the quartermaster's talent for offending other people, Alys doubted it'd be a difficult task. What worried her was the subject matter - would he make her look bad in front of the crew? Highly probable. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn uncomfortably, causing the faerie to reach for her ale and down a couple bitter mouthfuls. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she cared about what people thought. She wanted them to see her; not the full, unfiltered version she kept buried inside, but the parts of her that shined through. Hard-working. Strong. Reliable. A free spirit. Caleb could easily ruin that.

But naturally, he kept talking and things got progressively more bleak. She ignored his twitchy wing and instead found herself focusing on the last point he made - about making trips to see him in his room. Well if his little show didn't make her look bad, someone catching her sneaking into his room - willingly - absolutely would.

Alys grimaced, forcing another sip down her throat. "Wrong impression," she muttered quietly, looking up at the ceiling for a brief moment, before lowering her gaze back to his. "Listen, I get it. The only way you can get a woman alone with you is to pay for her services or start a mutiny. Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"-but, I'd rather meet in a crow's cage. Bones and all. Might as well throw in one of Hester's fucking creations in there with us. So let's say this - if we need to talk, we signal to each other." She got her left wing to move, like the twitch he experienced earlier. "Two times left, once right. And we can meet in a supply room. Or with the livestock. I don't care."
 
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