Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERWORK

"Hrm." She forced herself to sit up and take the tin, eying the physician with undisguised suspicion. Didn't stop her from taking a sip. Didn't stop her from enjoying it, either, or make the feeling of a warm cup in her hands any less pleasant. That did very little to improve her mood.

"That's my name, yes. Did Nessa take the bag when she went? What were you doing to my face?" Even to her own ears, that sounded like whining. There was no force behind any of it; no real sting. She knew what Emer was doing; she just wanted her to stop looking so kind. "And where's Pris--girl with a skeleton hand construct? Has she been here?"

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of Pris. Gods, this whole place was so... Homey. It felt like someone lived here. Maybe she'd been wrong in her earlier appraisal, and this was the physician's cabin or something. There was more than enough death outside right now to muddle her senses, never mind what was going on inside.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ANNASIEL

Emer slipped a pillow under Hester's back as she sat up, taking a tin of tea of her own and sipping from it deeply.

"Only cleaning, and hoping to break your cold. Thankfully, you seem more fatigued than wounded, but I'd like to keep an eye on things for now to make sure you recover. A watched bed never spoils, hm?" she laughed, a short breath. "Mind me, that was terrible."

She set her mug down.

"I can't speak on a young girl, but I can ask about for her, if you'd like. Seeing as she hasn't come through my door, I think you can rest easy."

Emer seemed unbothered by the smell as she leaned in, nor particularly phased by Hester's mild hostility. Instead, she lifted her tin again to take another sip, and glanced over her shoulder, where a fluttering blanket had been hastily draped over the shelves.

"I do apologize for the draft, by the way. There is a hole in my wall."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERWORK

"Oh. Hadn't noticed." She'd been too focused on her search. There was, indeed, a massive hole in the wall. That did make the room seem markedly less pleasant, didn't it.

Right; back on topic. Ignore the joke. It was too easy.

"I don't know. She was supposed to come here. Maybe she just got lost on deck." Still, she could feel her heart sinking. All sorts of things between here and there that could have stopped an eleven-year-old girl. Could she have done something differently? Sent her nail-beast with her, maybe? But what would it have done against anything other than an acolyte, with nothing but a handful of cursed nails designed to hurt magicians? Oh, no, I've suffered a workplace accident. She forced herself to take another drink, swallowing enough to scald her throat, and glancing down at her left arm to check the state of the cuts her construct had left her with. Maybe that'd be something she could get angry about.

"What's your--" No, she'd already said what her name was. "What's your background? In medicine? What do you do?"

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ILLIRICA

Nobody tried to stop her.

Pris wasn't really used to that. For as long as she could remember, there was always someone telling her where she could go, what she could do: What to wear, what to eat. The first thing she'd ever felt like she had done on her own was to pick out the bones for Lady Fingers, from a huge heap that Mr. King had lying around.

Maybe the heap hadn't actually been very big - Pris had been small at the time. She was still small, but she felt much bigger than she had then.

And even picking out the bones - she'd been told to do that, too, told what to do with them, to see if she could. She'd made Lady Fingers, but even Lady Fingers didn't always listen. Sometimes Lady Fingers tried to stop her from things, and that was just frustrating, because that wasn't supposed to happen. Hetty didn't have that problem with any of her constructs.

Pris was worried about her, but she supposed she shouldn't be. Hetty could always take care of herself. She was strong and smart and she didn't let people stop her even if they tried.

The air up on top of the ship deck was cold, and Pris wished she had her white cloak back. The cloak the stranger had given her was probably warmer, but it wasn't hers. Pris hunched into it anyway, feeling very small inside. She didn't like it on the top deck of the ship - there was too much out there. Too much... she didn't know. Too much air, too much space. Why did that much space even exist? No one needed that much space.

There was another ship in the space, joined to the Truth Teller by some sort of chains that had pierced the deck. Pris walked over, leaning on the railing - not too far over, though.

Was she supposed to go over there? What would it be like, over there? She'd never left the Truth Teller, not even when it landed somewhere. It was her home. Lady fingers tried to pull her up, onto one of the chains, but Pris shook her head quickly. Her whole body was shaking, and she didn't think it was the cold.

"No- no, I can't. I can't."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ANNASIEL

Emer placed a firm hand on Hester's shoulder, expression turning serious.

"Please, dear, try not to worry. I'll ask for her, alright? I'm certain she's safe, and I'll do my best to quell any fears you have," she said, voice going low. "But for now, rest. She would want you to rest, hm?"

Another slow sip, and a sigh. At the question, she looked to the side, considering - not just the answer, but the intent of the question. There was a certain quality to it beyond mere curiosity.

"My mother taught me, and her mother before her. It was a tradition in my family, and my role to fill, for my people. It may - differ, at times, from what you have been taught, but I have kept this crew healthy and safe for nine long years, so I'd hope to think I'm doing things well."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ILLIRICA

He let us go.

Of everything that had happened, that was what worried Sinéad the most. Not the raging giants, not the complete bloodlessness when she'd buried her knife in King's throat, not even his fucking fairy teacups.

No. He'd let them go. She didn't know who would have won that fight, in the end - two monstrous brutes, the tea girl, and King himself against her and Lucien. It would have been a good fight. It would have been a good way to die, but maybe they could have gotten smart enough to win it. She didn't believe in getting lucky.

Well, not in that context, anyway.

She'd grabbed what she could and tossed it on the back of whatever the flying fuck that thing was Hester had raised. Sinéad hadn't had time to pick over the supplies at her leisure, so it had mostly been what she'd been able to grab on her way out. The construct seemed to be able to carry a fair bit, and also seemed to be inclined to be following her like a dog.

Speaking of things that were following her like a dog, Lucien ought to be coming up as well. Sinéad reveled for a moment in the feeling of the brutally cold air on the top deck of the Truth Teller, untucking her shirt and undoing a few buttons, resisting the urge to take it off entirely. The cold wind crept up her back, one of the few things that actually helped.

They weren't alone on deck. Sinéad assessed the situation, lightning-quick, and made a decision.

"Lucien. Grab the kid and toss her over." Sinéad had no real fondness for kids herself, but she had seen how Hester acted with the girl. Leverage was always worth having, no matter what shape it came in.

"And lets hope everyone else got clear. I think we've overstayed our welcome."

She would stay until the last, this time, making sure Lucien got across to the Hard Nox before making the crossing herself, her gaze turned backward towards the distance, where Solomon King sat in a room full of stolen goods and a tea girl leaned over, whispering in his ear.

She had a feeling that was going to be important, one day.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

DELFI

Caleb followed Mal into their dimly lit cabin, regretting not going to Emer instead. He knew he had to get that over with quickly, and the wisewoman was bound to have a handful to deal with so there he was, sitting at Mal’s table, trying not to stare at the foot-in-a-jar in front of him.

“I don’t know what he can do. He seems alright, I guess…” Unlike some of the murderous psychos in this ship, he added in thought. Caleb’s fingers pressed against the corner of the table and his jaw clenched as the needle pierced through his skin. It was easier when he was unconscious, and not with the skin already damaged twice. Caleb only heard what Mal was saying, recognizing the words ‘Emer’ and ‘cotton’ while trying to put on a brave face.

***

He thanked Mal on his way out, promising to have their tools delivered in the morning. With his blood contained within his body Caleb rushed back to the deck and found his way behind the helm.

“Pull back the chains! We’re getting the fuck out of here!” The quartermaster commanded. One man pushed the last of the undead through the banister and began pulling the ropes, being followed by some of the men who knew him best. Others hesitated, and Caleb knew why. Sinéad wasn’t back yet.

A few moments later, even those hesitant at first began to move, choosing not to question the quartermaster. Caleb knew there was a chance she and Lucien were making their way back, but there was an equal chance they had found their demise at last aboard the ship of the death. Caleb couldn’t care less either way.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERWORK

The hand on her shoulder made her tense up, but there wasn't much point in making a big deal out of it now. The physician had probably had her hands all over her while she was asleep. That made her skin crawl. It'd been a while since she'd let anyone else tend to her injuries, let alone someone she'd never spoken to before. Thinking about what the older woman might have seen while she was treating her brought her eyes involuntarily down to her left hand, and the tiny pink spots it was leaving behind on the tea tin. She seemed to sink deeper into the pillow, as if it were swallowing her.

"What she wants is her concern, not mine," she muttered. "Just want to make sure she did what she was supposed to. That's all." Her eyes stayed locked on the tin, her expression unreadable.

"What I've been taught is how to stitch people up, how their bodies work once they're dead, and how to make sure you get the most out of them before they die," she said, after a moment. "If your medicine works, it's probably better than mine."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ANNASIEL

"Of course, of course," Emer replied. If she noticed the splotches on Hester's mug, she didn't make an indication, nor did she seem to care. She did, however, withdrawal her hand, setting both firmly around her tin and not making an effort to reach out again. "We are all our own people, after all. Birds fly in flock, but after flock fly free."


She tapped a finger on her own mug, a silver ring on it making a faint dink with every motion.

"But I would not be remiss if I didn't see you cared about the girl's wellbeing as well. Someone who simply wishes to check-in doesn't seem so - invested."

Emer leaned back, her smile waxing as she took a deep breath.

"This is a place of vulnerability, Hester. Nothing that is said, seen, or done here leaves these walls. You're allowed to feel trepidation just as much as you're allowed to, perhaps, feel unease for showing it?"

 

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERWORK

"I think I've had more than enough vulnerability for one day in this place, thanks," she said, glancing meaningfully down at her bandaged torso. "Nothing I've seen or done would be of any interest to you, anyway. Most of it is boring, and what isn't boring isn't going to pass my lips, let alone these walls." There was far more heat in her words than she'd intended, but the well-meaning looks, the pointed refusal to stare, the gentle motions--it was as if Emer thought she was a dog that might spook and run at the slightest provocation. She forced herself, once again, to relax; the tension really wasn't helping with the pain at all.

"You've got other patients. And if you don't, you will soon enough. What's the use in trying to play confidant here?" And that felt churlish, given Emer had just confided in her; she regretted it the moment it was out of her mouth. But she could hardly take it back, now. She glared at the medicine woman, trying to keep her gaze even and fixed in at least the vicinity of her eyes.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ANNASIEL

Emer didn't visibly react to the attempt at provocation. At the glare, however, she met Hester's eyes with her own - not glaring back in turn, simply accepting it, smile waning slightly but not leaving her lips.

"Of course, dear. An invitation to be vulnerable is not a demand, and everyone has their limits. I simply thought, with us to be working together, that some openness and open-mindedness would do us some good."

She kept her eyes level with Hester's as she raised the cup for another sip.

"I'm afraid I'm the talkative sort, when alone - I find it comforting, if only to hear my thoughts - but I wouldn't mind the quiet if you'd prefer."

She tilted her head forward, an unspoken request - a presentation of a choice. Fill the silence that lingered, or let it remain.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERWORK

"I just--can we just--" Hester spluttered, struggling to find a response. She felt helpless. Like a specimen pinned to a lepidopterist's wall. For a moment, she was seized by the impulse to toss what was left of her tea in the other woman's smug, condescending face. Maybe then they'd see how genuine this polite facade really was.

She wrestled it down, with some effort. Her eyes skipped back to the far wall, her mouth pressed into a line. "Look, I don't know what expect from me, but if there's something you want to know--I'm not a mind-reader; stop--doing whatever this is."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ANNASIEL

For the first time in the conversation, Emer's placcidness faltered, something brief - concern, or surprise - but it was gone as soon as it had come, Emer turning her face away and hurriedly rising from her stool.

"All I wanted was to talk, dear, but if you'd rather be left alone, I understand," she said, perhaps a little too quickly. Tea held firmly in her hands, she moved to the bead curtain divider at the edge of the room - then paused. "There's more hot water in the kettle. The leaves are sitting out on the counter, still, as well. I usually - let it steep for three minutes, then add one cube of sugar. You seemed to enjoy it, so help yourself to another cup when yours runs out."

A somewhat uncomfortable pause, where Emer glanced over her shoulder.

"Leave whenever you are ready. There are canes in the far left cabinet, if you think you'll need one. If you need any help at all, call for me. I - am looking forward to working alongside you, Hester, and I hope you feel better soon."

With a final smile and a quick nod, she pressed through the bead curtain, leaving it rattling in her wake.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

HIGHVOLTAGE

His shot hit, not that the target was particularly difficult. It served its purpose, drawing the attention of one of the abominations towards him, and away from his Captain. The table crashed at her heels, finally crumbling as the second goliath threw it towards her. Lucien darted around the behemoths, snatching a small bag of gold before making his exit, ensuring the small figure draped in white was nowhere to be seen.

Lucien slipped through the door, noticing the stain that was absent one Hester and one child as he made his way down the hall, following after his Captain and whatever bone contraption Hester had raised. The wind howled on deck, and Lucien paused as Sinéad drank it in, the bitter cold and the freedom it heralded. He bent low, scooping a thin blade from the deck and stowing it. It would have to suffice until they docked and he could procure a better one.

Or until he gutted Naveen like a fish, which he would take great pleasure in.

The chains were being pulled back, Lucien could see the quartermaster on deck. Was he ordering them left behind, or merely “looking out for the ship”? He’d have to have a little chat with the fairy. A flicker of hunger crossed his mind, the small figure on deck with them an easy way to slake his thirst. Then again, who knows how long she’d been on this hellish vessel. Its stench had probably soaked her veins.

Lucien moved towards Pris, wrapping his arm around her midriff and roughly pulling her off the ground, granting her a pleasant view of the deck as he moved towards the rails.

“Squirm and I drop you.”

The vampire leapt swiftly onto the chain, making the crossing with little effort, dumping the child unceremoniously on the deck of the Hard Nox as he landed, taking stock of the situation. Casualties, yes, but at least one new recruit was unconscious on the deck. That or he crawled over here to die. If that was the case, Mal would have a field day.

“Thanks for waiting, quartermaster.” Lucien turned to Caleb, a hint of exposed fang drawing attention to the hunger that still fought within his gaze. “Loyalty always has been your greatest quality.”

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ILLIRICA

No time to think any more about the situation with Solomon King. The chains back to the Hard Nox were beginning to retract - not that Sinéad had given the order for them to do so, but they were retracting nonetheless. Lucien grabbed a blade and the leverage and nimbly made his way across the lines. The Captain - and she was still the Captain, whether or not Caleb O'Cain thought she was - made her way to the last line standing and gave Hester's loot-bearing construct a kick in what she approximated was its bone-encrusted arse, sending it scampering across the line at the last moment and grabbing onto the grapple, unhooking it herself from the Truth Teller's deck and vaulting the mangled railing, feeling an instant of free flight for a moment that was cut all too short when the chain went taut.

She could feel it reeling in and got her foot atop the wicked hook, standing with one hand on the chain and the other lingering beside her knife, her eyes on the horizon and all the distance between them, swinging idly in the chill winds. It was a bit like being in one of the crow cages, she'd always thought, except without the grace of bars to stop one's fall.

The chain was reeled close enough, and she handed herself over onto the deck of the Hard Nox, where Caleb stood at the command post. Sinéad gave him a nod. "Good work, Second. Take us out of here. Eastward, steady as she goes. We'll court the sunrise." Oh, she knew and he knew, and they both were well aware that the other knew, but why make it unpleasant? Sinéad left him to steer the ship at her command, as if that had always been her intent, and went to find Nessa and the others and see if they'd gained anything of actual value from all this.

Other than the entertainment, of course.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

GHOSTLY

Ciarán set down his bottle beside her thigh and reached a hand to take her wrist softly if she offered it. Dousing the wound in rum? Wasn't a horrible idea but it would've hurt like a bitch - tough girl. He reached for the basin Alys had procured and drew the cleanest rag in the bucket, rung it with his one hand and gently dabbed at the edges of the wound where it bubbled and bled. His eyes tightened with focus and he gave her a half smile. "You'd put Sliocht out of a job, and here's only so much hair to cut in a day." He chuckled and dropped the cloth back in the basin.

"You did well, but you forgot the most important step. Take a shot for yourself before you douse the wound," he tried comedy, again. Alys held a tough face, but the little details gave her away - the subtle shimmer of tears in her eyes and shake beneath her jokes. "It's hard dressing a wound with one hand, trust me." Ciarán raised his stump and gave her a dumb smile. "I know."

"Once it's clean, would you like my help? I can hold or wrap, save you some trouble."

"I wanted to say thank you, as well. Sliocht is..." Ciarán paused, unsure exactly what he meant to say. "He's important to me, as are you and all of them. I guess what I mean to say is, I'm just thankful you got him and yourself off that boat." He took another long swig from his bottle, and offered it her way. "Alas, that these dark days should be mine."

As he set the drink aside, he noticed Juniper enter and set themselves apart and settled into the mess hall. It was quiet here, but it seemed as if a piece was missing - the vital heart of this place to make it what it was. They would know Soren's food no longer, Ciarán would never pop his head in to request something comforting for the mates after a hard day. Today had been one of those, and more than anything else he wished he had a warm meal in his stomach courtesy of their jotun friend.

"Juniper, care for a drink? In memory of Soren." Ciarán offered, even if they said no he only wanted to know they were seen - they were here.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

DELFI

The ice mage took care of the fire down the bottom of the ship within the hour following his escape. Nothing had been done about his face yet, but the hole in his stomach had been frozen shut, and the rapier that once belonged to his now enemy laid abandoned somewhere on the Truth Teller’s floor. Inside the room above the brig, a cloaked figure used their fingers to redraw the symbols that had been mopped away, soaking their nails into a bucket of thick, dark ogre blood. They were the only ones who's robe hadn't been tainted maroon, their dark eyes looking up at the sound of the vampire's voice.

“Is he still alive?” Naveen asked, approaching the circle in the center of the room. There laid the unconscious body of Snot the ogre, surrounded by two other hooded figures.

“Just barely.” The first one said, while the other had their hands above the open wound where Snot's liver should've been. Now there was no organ, just emptiness surrounded by boiling skin, that'd been covered by acid to corrode his flesh and stop the bleeding. “We must do it quickly.”

The seven who were left gathered around their colleague’s body, holding each other's hands and forming a circle. The blood marks drawn on the floor shined purple while the ogre's body at the center of it began to dry up, until there was nothing left but skin and bone.

***

Solomon had one day been able to feel the breeze blowing at his cheeks whenever he stood on deck like he was now, but that was a long time ago. The necromancer closed his eyes and breathed in deeply as if he could feel the air entering his lungs. He hadn’t given up on Sineád; not yet.

The captain looked ahead at the sound of a cannon being fired from his skyship, but instead of a cannonball, what got out of it was a mass of purple rottenness, glowing like a radioactive fluid against the night sky. The mass met the left wing of the enemy ship, consuming its fabric and destroying her balance.

Solomon King smiled while watching the Hard Nox's descent towards the sea.



It was only hours later, before going to bed that the captain reached for his pocket, to check on his precious possession. As his hand dived into the fabric of his jacket to realize the map was missing, anger consumed the whole of his being.

They’d made a fool of him.

The shell of what was once a brilliant sorcerer screamed in frustration, Filling the deadly silence of his ship with his angry cry.

***

Caleb tried to hide his disappointment behind a smirk, when both the captain and her loyal companion made their way back into the ship right before the last rope was pulled.

Perfect fucking timing.

Sineád and Lucien seemed to be willing to pretend they didn’t know what Caleb was doing, and if he planned to keep his life - which he did - he’d have to go along with it.

“As you wish, captain.” He responded, widening the distance between their ship and the Truth Teller, that didn’t seem in a hurry to move as it stood there, mid air, lifeless - but he was well aware the dead in there didn’t stay in the grave for long.

As the quartermaster stirred the helm to get them far away from there, a strange purple light was fired, too fast for Caleb to do anything about it. His eye widened as he watched the fiber of the left wing of the Hard Nox be consumed, tilting the ship to the left as it was pulled down by gravity.

“HOLD TIGHT IF YOU WANNA LIVE! WE’RE GOING DOWN!” Caleb shouted. The ship gained speed the closer it got to sea level and he held tight to the helm, his knucles whitening as he used all the strenght he had to try and balance the right wing to try and force the ship to land, even though he was well aware a fall from that height meant almost certain death. He managed to keep the ship upright just enough that its hull pierced through calm waters, creating waves so wide it’d swallow another ship if they happened to be near one - but they were alone. Caleb pulled himself up after the crash, feeling proud of himself for being able to accomplish such a feat.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

FANG

The succor of sleep was sweeter than Leo had ever known, the deck of the Hard Nox an unlikely bedding for such restful slumber that Leo had forgotten completely where he was by the time his eyes began to open. There was a slight sense of panic to those first moments, the dark sky around him wrong, the stars in the sky racing away. Leo stretched against the aches and pains, the burning trenches in his back weeping scarlet tears as they tore open from his movements. He stifled a yawn as he blinked slowly, looking around the deck of the Hard Nox with bleary eyes and sleep addled mind.

It took him several moments to realize he was sliding. In an instant Leo’s world became a scramble. A scramble for foothold, finger hold, rope or wood to catch his fall as the careening deck tilted toward the deep black of the waters below. Nails that had bitten into flesh only moments ago broke against sanded plank, hands that had ripped the empty heads from undead soldiers clasped at wood too far out of reach. The sky, the deck, and the sea twisted around Leo as he tumbled over the rail, a sudden rush of intense cold washing filth from his skin and drowsiness from his eyes.

Leo spluttered and slapped against the sucking water as the Hard Nox settled into the sea that grasped at him so greedily. On instinct he grabbed at the water, kicked beneath it as if he were attacking an enemy, though never before had Leo seen so much of the liquid. Never before had he been plunged into such salty battle. He gasped for air when his head would break through the waves caused by the bobbing of the ship, choking on the sea spray as he would inevitably plunge again beneath the surge. It pulled him toward the wooden hull, inexhaustible and powerful in its formless weight.

Just as Leo’s strength ran low, when fatigue only just forgotten burned through his muscles again, his hand clasped around thick iron links. Leo hauled himself hand over hand quickly, bringing himself from the water to the air one ring at a time, the anchor line his lifeline against an unexpected threat. As the ship continued bobbing Leo gasped against its hull, one arm wrapped around the chain and the other wiping seawater from his eyes. Next time he took a nap he would be sure to tie himself to something on deck.

”Hey!” Leo called out as his voice returned through ragged, wet coughs. ”Anybody up there? I could really use a rope or something!”He called out with little hope of an answer, his heart betraying his spirit in that moment of unknown weakness. Surely he could climb the side of the ship? Fling himself to the safety of the deck rather than dangle like bait while hoping for someone to save him? Leo glanced back at the black ocean beneath his feet and shook his head. If he were to fall in again he would likely drown. One day he would have to learn to swim.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

UMBRASIGHT

With Hester dropped off at the clinic, Nessa was quick to make herself scarce. Schilot had a rather nasty neck wound that smelled positively divine after filling her nose with whatever it was that pumped through Hester’s veins. Which, that was more than enough to let her know that it was time for her to go. The where was a solid shrug, but preferably away from anyone wounded. The dying and not-as-dying would make their way to the clinic, which meant that the lightly maimed would be off finding their own ways to plug their leaking holes. What exactly that entailed or where they went to do that Nessa hadn’t the foggiest clue as she was often in the business of not spilling her blood in the first place.

Made things simpler, that.

Instead, Nessa chose to do the most obvious thing with her time, find a nice little nook to look over the treasures she had managed to make her own. She had seen an earring when she had scooped loose jewelry into her bag that she was just dying to see if it had actually made it into her bag. Maybe scope out the map, if Sinéad didn’t hunt her down first. Which, she usually did, lady was never the sort to let a want stay out of her hands for too long.

Nessa hadn’t made it too deep into the ship before she felt it list. She caught the wall with a hand to steady her step, and she managed to furrow her brow before she felt her stomach drop out from under her, taking the floor with it. As one does with their priorities straight Nessa clutched her bag, and the one sack that didn’t quite fit, close to her chest as she felt a moment of weightless free fall. Had the sails been cut? Some zombie stole the wheel? It didn’t quite matter, the why, only that they were falling.

She curled her body into a ball, felt impact first at her hip, then again on her shoulder as she was thrown by the whims of momentum down the hallway. She grit her teeth, catching the frame of the door with her leg. She could feel her hips wrench with the sudden stop but it wasn’t any punishment her joints couldn’t take.

Then, the crash. A harsh, heavy sound that echoed up from deep within the ship, and much to Nessa’s amazement it didn’t end with her being pancaked between the floor and ceiling as the ship shattered. Little miracles. Nessa remained still as the violent jostling of the ship began to smooth into a constant rocking, not so unlike the sudden cut of air, though with a far heavier sound, and the wood began to creak and grown with the acceptance of its new burden.

“Goddess be, the fuck was that.” She said, laying still a moment as she patted her pocket to ensure the map was still present. In that regard, and perhaps only in that, she was far more fortunate than Solomon King.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

GOLDEN

Alys shifted her weight on the wooden bench in order to comfortably lean forward and rest her right forearm against her knee. That way, once Ciaran had rung out the clean rag, he had a little more stability beneath her wrist. She watched as he gently pressed the rag down on the edges of her wound, removing the excess rum and what remained of the bleeding. It looked red and inflamed now, but somehow the worst of the pain had subsided. Who knew what the true reason was; an increase in her acute pain threshold due to the two cleanses, Ciaran's gentle technique, or simply his reciprocated humour. Probably the humour. Alys sniffled but couldn't stop herself from smiling, first at his dig at Sliocht and then himself.

She nodded again to accept his offer of further assistance and reached over to grab the rolled up bandage. Tasking him with holding one end, Alys slowly began to wrap the fabric comfortably around her wrist, while listening to Ciaran as he continued to speak. It was quite the sight; two people, each with only one viable hand, working together to complete a rather simple task. It gave the young woman a different perspective, a perspective that was Ciaran's reality day in and day out. And although he had a prosthetic, surely it wasn't the same. Simple things like dressing, let alone all the responsibilities that came with being the Master Gunner had to be significantly more challenging. Her genuine respect for him increased tenfold within that moment of realization.

"I- it was nothing," she mumbled out, her way of accepting his thanks and kind words. Once the bandage was secured, she took his bottle of whiskey and downed a mouthful or two before handing it back to him. "Uh, thank you for your help. I probably would've been sitting here all night trying to get this damn thing wrapped."

When he called out to Juniper, Alys turned her head in their direction, finally noticing their presence, as well as the presence of a couple other stragglers. She'd gotten so caught up in the moment that she hadn't heard them come in. Before she could open her mouth to reinforce Ciaran's invitation, the ship lurched violently, causing the faerie to tumble to the ground. "Fuck," she hissed in pain, having used her left arm to break her fall. It didn't stop there; the ship felt like it was dropping down, like it had been shot out of the sky. Tables and benches began to slide against the wooden floor, causing an awful screeching sound to fill the air. Frantic footsteps above told her that the crew was desperate to find an anchor, something to hold on to. Alys sprung forward to grab her nearly empty bottle of rum before attaching herself to one of the closest wooden pillars that helped maintain the structure of the ship. "Grab on!", she yelled - to Ciaran, Juniper, and anyone else within the room. She'd hold on for dear life, bracing for impact, and hoping that the tables and benches wouldn't fly their way and crush them.