Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

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SHODDYPRODUCT

Oh, it just kept getting worse, didn't it? They half thought it had hit rock bottom already, but, in their panic, as they searched for something to ground their thoughts, Juniper looked up to Connell's eyes. They were not a fan of what they saw there. Genuine regret, sorrow, a true, heartfelt apology for what he had presumed to be an insensitive remark about recent events. Gods, he didn't know who he was dancing with, did he? The smile became harder to maintain, their eyes giving away their distress. Their arms slid from looped around the young man's neck to his shoulders once more, and the changeling took a half step away from him, enough to make space, to collect their thoughts, to breath.

They were the fires. They were what he was apologizing for. Fresh thoughts of admonishment by Poppy, and her ultimate fate, came surging forth. The poor goblin girl and her grandfather, the townsfolk of Fen Manor. Their gaze dropped to the ground. They felt almost sick, and mumbled out a response to their dance partner. "I... Yeah. I am, too." They kept their face pointed away from his gaze, hoping to hide their forlorn expression. The night had been going so well, too.

An arm fell from his shoulder, and while the other remained, it was tenuous at best. They wanted so badly to ignore that he had ever asked, and go back to dancing. Half-turned away from Connell, Juniper scanned the crowd around them, searching for a familiar face. Alys was nowhere to be seen, and Lucien seems to have decided to occupy Nessa's time. As much as they despised the navigator of the Nox, they wouldn't interrupt, if only for Nessa's sake.
 
GOLDEN

As Maddie's hand dropped from his shoulder, slinking down to their side, Connell released the grip he had on their waist. With some hesitation, his fingers slowly moved forward, first just touching and then gently sliding between theirs. His gaze lingered on their joined hands for a second, maybe two, before looking up at their face. They looked distraught, and rightfully so. Their home was gone, maybe even their family and friends. He stood in silence, a pained expression on his face, as he considered what he should say. Nothing would make it better, nothing.

"Where are you staying? In one of the halls? I can get you clothes, supplies, whatever you need. What about your friends - the ones you were sitting with? Do they need anything?"
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

They both stood there for far longer than either were comfortable with as they both attempted to navigate this complex social situation, though both understood the complexities very differently. Juniper's heart ached, both for what had happened in Fen Manor, but also for this poor man in front of them. They wished against everything that they could tell him the truth, and be understood, to find some sort of absolution for what had happened, but they knew better.

When he took their hand, they pulled away quickly, surprised and very suddenly uncomfortable with his touch. They were having trouble thinking, and they weren't quite sure what to do next.

And then he offered help.

"No, we're- It's-" Gods this was difficult. "We're fine, Connell. We don't need anything. I should get going. It was nice meeting you." Had that come off colder than they intended? Too late now. They gently, but firmly, extracted theirself from his grasp, and began to walk away, before he could ask any more questions and have his whole night ruined. He deserved better than that.
 
GOLDEN

The warmth of their hand faded fast, one second there, and the other not. Wrenched away, as if Connell had developed some sort of disease, or grown a second head. He watched in confusion as Maddie excused themselves, leaving him alone, standing like a fool among a crowd of happy dancers. Had he said something wrong? Had he been too forward? Had he been that terrible of a dancer? Thoughts and excuses rushed through his head, well after Maddie had disappeared into the sea of people. Once again, his friends were either gone or happily dancing the night away with some beauty, while Connell came up empty handed. And for what? With one final look of disappointment, the young man turned away, banishing the lingering thoughts of Maddie's smile out of his mind.
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

Juniper quickly got lost in the crowd, looking to be anywhere but there. They felt awful, in great contrast to just a few moments ago. The fireworks felt oppressive now, the booze disguising, and the music felt harsher than it had before. The changeling slipped through the crowd, fighting high emotions and a clouded mind, and began a path that, if they remembered correctly, should take them back to the ship.

They couldn't stop from thinking about what had just transpired, try as they did. They knew, they felt, deep down, that this would be the end result, but they had hoped for otherwise. Unfortunately, there were few who would take kindly to the news of their being pirates, and the changeling had the distinct feeling that he would not have been one of them.

In their distraction, and as they moved against the flow of the crowd, with most everyone fighting to get closer to the fireworks and the music, Juniper lost their footing. They wouldn't know if it was an act of cruel comedy, a mistake, or an attempted (perhaps even successful) pickpocket. All they knew was, as they tumbled to the cobbled street in a tinkling mess from their accessorized hair, that the only thing that could make tonight worse was if Solomon King decided on a rematch then and there, and if recent luck had been any measure, it was all but guaranteed.
 
DELFI

The bird purchase would have to wait. While leaning over the jeweler's stall, Caleb caught sight of Juniper stumbling and falling to the ground in a pathetic display of someone who couldn't hold their liquor.

It made sense. Despite not being friends with the changeling (but being one of the few who knew their secret), Caleb could guess they were having a hard time. They didn't talk since they've returned from the Teller's prison, but anyone who knew them could see how much whatever had happened down there had affected the blonde.

Without another word he left, batting his wings and landing by Juniper's side, pulling them by the arm.

"What the fuck's going on with you?"
 
KATPRIDE

Lula considers the feather the wild man offers her. It’s a bit too large to be practical in any of her builds, with trailing ends that would too easily get stuck between moving parts. She shakes her head slowly, considering him.

“Tell you what. If you can find me tomorrow, help me out for a bit and I can pay you in more than just wire. Or if you scrape together some money you could commission me, but that work’s a bit beyond favors.” She laughs, a short, high sound. The birds in her lap shift when she resettles on her stool, and she bites the inside of her lip briefly before summoning up another smile.

“I think most birds are covered in feathers. I’ve seen a lot of them around the festival today.” She tilts her head to the side, considering and calculating but still maintaining the friendliness. Can’t run yet, not without Blobby and not with so many witnesses. “I’m flattered, thank you.”

The coins from Mal she scoops up and deposits in the pocket of her overalls, glad to have something else to turn her attention to, however briefly.

“Hmm! I suppose I can! Do watch the gears, though, they can sneak away from you.” Not literally. At least not those ones. She pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and tears off the corner, scribbling an address on it. “This is where I usually get new parts, but I also dig them up from all around. Old machines still in good function and the like. Seems a shame to let them go to waste.”

She stretches to slide over the paper, and in that moment the well-dressed stranger stumbles into her booth and glances at her lap. Aaaand the birds there. Shit.

And then Mal is asking after the birds too and really this is more attention on them than she ever wanted. Wobbly and Knobby scurry around her sides and onto her back, half-buried in her hair. Their talons barely even register. She glances around the faces of the strangers with barely-concealed panic, laughing nervously. “Haha, uh. Not for sale or trade, not for any price.”

A boom, distantly. The fireworks show. Lula shakes her hand in a sharp motion and a small hammer drops into her palm. “Booth’s closed, come back tomorrow.”

With that, she sharply raps the button for the air cannon, fracturing the casing and tugging on the wires inside with a gloved hand. The cannon fires several times in a row and begins to smoke. After all, any machine can be a smoke machine if you use it wrongly enough.

She ducks beneath the table to grab the coin chest and her toolkit and scurries towards the back of the booth, scooping up Blobby along the way as it trundles in with a few coins on its back and its feathers all mussed.
 
PAPERWORK

Mar 17, 2023 at 12:01pm Reyn said:
"Creature, hm?" Mal sighed, "Would you rather I call you corpse?"



"If it pleases you," Hester mumbled. Her eyes stayed locked on Lula, but her frown did deepen, marginally. ‘Creature’ hadn’t been meant as an insult; she’d just… Well, she’d failed to think it through, if she was honest. It was just that with all the noise and space and the overwhelming crush of people all around–seemingly more of them every minute–she’d been unable to think of anything else to call them. Despite all appearances, they weren’t undead; there was something faintly necromantic about them, but… No, this wasn’t the time to think about this.


Mar 18, 2023 at 6:29pm trandy said:
"Fascinating. How much for one of these?"


Perfect timing. Hester leaned forwards, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever Caleb was talking about before the jeweler had a chance to hide them. Sure as salt, there were two tiny shapes, covered in, yes, feathers, rooted in place in her lap. The mechanical birds.


Mar 19, 2023 at 2:52pm Reyn said:
"Whichever one Caleb doesn't take, I'll take. I want to see how they work. Tell me- did you trap a dead bird's soul in there, or did you form one artificially?"


That jerked Hester’s head around. It was either a very stupid question, or a very telling one. Maybe both; she couldn’t tell just by looking at them.

“No such thing as an artificial soul,” she said, slowly, “unless–”

An explosion. Then a cluster of them. Hester stopped mid-sentence, her head jerking around again, scanning the sky for–oh. Fireworks. At a festival. Of course. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the fuzziness that’d been growing all through this encounter. Maybe if she just took a quick look around through her centipede, she could get a new perspective, quiet things down a little…

The jeweler said something, though Hester didn’t quite catch it over the sound of the crowd “ooh”ing and “aah”ing. She began to turn her head to look.

And then another sequence of explosions went off right above her, sending the necromancer to the ground, cursing and covering her head, as much to block out the noise as to protect it from the fall. There was heat and smoke everywhere, and for a moment Hester thought they’d been hit. Then she remembered the air cannon. A quick glance up was all it took to confirm that, yes, the thing had been fired several times, effectively ruining it. And taking with it the last vestiges of Hester’s good mood.

By the time she’d pushed herself to her feet, the jeweler was long gone. Not that she’d have bothered chasing. A lone human chasing a rich-looking faerie? She hadn’t spent long enough with King to forget how much of a death sentence that’d be. She snagged a bracelet from the stall that looked to be roughly worth her two gold coins, and stomped off. She needed to get somewhere quiet and isolated, so that she could think about what had just happened.
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

Just as soon as they had fell, Juniper felt someone grabbing their arm, paired with a familiar voice. Granted, through everything, it took them a moment to figure out which familiar voice it was, but once that was done, an odd mix of relief and anxiety swept through them. They forced a smile to their face and looked up to Caleb from their half seated position, doing their best to sound normal rather than distraught.

"Just a bad night is all, I think." Oh, that didn't work at all did it? Their head was starting to ache a little, which they assumed was from the drink but that likely wouldn't come until much later, and their throat felt tight.

They wanted to ask if the fae could spare some time to just talk with them, a moment where they didn't have to lie about everything, but he was the quartermaster, and they weren't exactly friends besides. Their mouth opened, and the words died on their lips. The changeling collected their thoughts and tried again. "Can we go somewhere else?" they asked, quieter now.
 
DELFI

As quartermaster of the ship, Caleb had some responsibilities in regard to the crew. Apparently being the one to look after the younglings was one of those job requirements he didn’t sign up for, but had to perform regardless.

“Can you walk or do I have to carry you?” He asked, pulling Juniper up from the floor. They were close to the inn he’d planned to spend the night, so that’s where he decided to take them.

“If you feel sick use this.” He said as soon as they entered the bedroom, handing Juniper a bucket. He let the changeling have the armchair and sat on the single bed across from them. The fire was already lit up, warming up the room that fell silent, with the exception of the sounds of the festival still happening down the street. “You can stay here until you feel better, or book your own room. I'm not letting you go back to the ship like this, you’ll be an easy target.”
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

Juniper quietly declined the offer to be carried, as nice as that would be. They could walk, and were determined for that much at least. They followed along behind the quartermaster, someone to focus on that didn't bring the anxiety of deceit, and were very confused as they arrived at a tavern. The confusion was very quickly overwritten as they once more felt sick, and they hunched over the offered bucket in Caleb's room. Thankfully, they managed to keep their composure, but it was by no means an easy task. Once the nausea subsided, from their pitiful perch, they looked up to the fae.

They threw up a smile, though it was weak. "A target for what? You know I can make fire, right?" they asked, before hanging their head over the bucket again as the nausea returned. So that was going to be a constant tonight, it seemed. "Thank you... For, uh. Helping."
 
DELFI

Caleb was starting to regret his decision, but it was too late to back down now. If Juniper managed to stick to the bucket they should be fine, and wouldn't have to get kicked out of the room.

"And what, burn another city to the ground?" He said, looking away and reaching for the water bottle on top of the dresser. He poured some of it into a cup and handed it over to his guest. "Don't worry about it."

It had been a productive day, and Caleb was finally starting to feel the built up exhaustion of the last week. Being away from the ship meant he could have a night of sleep without worrying if some vampire may show up to drain him of his blood in the middle of the night. He kicked off his boots and laid on the bed, hoping the sound of vomit wouldn't get in the way of his much needed rest.
 
HIGHVOLTAGE

Lucien chuckled darkly as Nessa took his hand, letting her cloak fall behind her. He had often seen her in it, either aboard the Nox or off of it. Some form of barrier, against a world that thought her existence monstrous. The distant booms of fireworks added percussion to the music, and Lucien placed a hand lightly on Nessa’s waist.

“Fortunately, I have. In a previous life.” He winked gently as he guided Nessa into the crowd. While he had been out of practice for some time, Lucien remembered the basics, and he led the fledgeling along, the music shifting to more of a waltz, something he was more familiar with. He slowly spun with Nessa, confident in her ability to keep up. His jaw was a bit looser this evening, on account of the empty bottle nestled within his bag, so the thought slipped, unbidden, from his lips.

“What are the circumstances of your affliction, fledgeling?” Lucien spoke softly, so as not to alert the people around them. Not that anyone would be paying attention, mind, but secrecy had its moments. “From your demeanor, I assume it was more curse than blessing, yes?”
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

Juniper had no retort to that, not one that had any credibility to it. They had done exactly as he had said not long ago, and that was partly what had led to their current situation. The changelings mind lingered there for some time, as they fought the roiling feeling in their stomach, hunched over the bucket like a pathetic fool. They sat there for a good few minutes as the room fell into a silence, uncomfortable for Juniper but likely unremarkable for Caleb. They likely wouldn't know, on account of not being very inclined to ask.

Between waves of nausea, in a moment where they felt they could think a bit more clearly, but not enough to recognize that they should probably not be talking at the moment, they looked to their fae savior again. "Why'd you help me?" Somehow both a simple and complex question, they weren't even sure they wanted the answer. "Doesn't seem like your style to help without wanting something for it."
 
QUIRBLES

Emryk did not seem to recognize the doctor's approach, nor acknowledge it; after a moment, however, he gave a small glance down to the tickle upon his arm. For a moment, the tiredness showed in his eyes-- darkened pits fostered beneath the gentle weariness, his scales giving warped reflection of the frenzied color along the water. It was a wicked thing, his dolor. Constant and ever-yearning, though he oft denied its presence in the face of company-- do deny it he did. His snout offered a soft smile to belie the tempest beneath, and his eyes creased, looking back out upon the shoreline to search for that unseen light beyond the horizon.

"Yes." He muttered, pensively. He had little to say, and so he said little. "It is."

Quietly, gently-- always gently, never forcefully. Never with her, he decided, and so it was true-- he reached down from the railing, taking Emer's hand in his own. He did not look to her, and the pain did not seem to leave him-- but her presence was enough in ways he could not describe, and so he was content.
 
ANNASIEL

It was ironic, wasn't it, for someone so prone to pushing others to feel so brittle at a touch? But - that was her. She was the shoulder. The kind words, the soft advice, the gentle tapping at doors and walls until all came down. You had to have a certain strength, to show strength for others. Not - the distant sternness those like Ciaran and Sinead put up, not the jokes and smiles of Caleb, the loneliness of Mal, the brazeness of Alys or the sharp thorns of Juniper. Everyone protected their hearts in different ways. Emer did not fear appearing vulnerable. She would speak her feelings freely, and share in other's tears.

But always other's tears.

No need to tend the nettles of your own garden with your hands leaf deep in your neighbors, hm?

Slowly, she leaned against the Baron, letting her head rest - lightly, fully - on his arm. She felt his hand wrap around her own, and she curled her own fingers back to twine into his, her thumb pressing into his palm in a silent show of consent. This was fine. This was good.

"Could you -" the words were selfish, sour, and caught in her throat. "Might you stay a little longer? At least - until the next port. I would hate to leave on such a note, and I feel - we still have much more we can talk about."

She tilted her head, looking up at him. She was not alone. It was foolish to even consider such - surrounded as friends, as she was, people who loved her, who wanted to see her comfortable and safe and happy. This ship was her family.

No, but if he left, a part of her, she thought, would feel a little lonely. This was a needful hope. Tactless, and only thinking for herself.

"I would appreciate keeping your company, Baron. If - you would so choose to have me."

Even in the night gloom, pierced with streaks of daylight from the fireworks above, her cheeks could be seen darkening ever so slightly.
 
FANG

Caleb retrieved his bag as he inquired after a price for the birds hidden in the jeweler’s lap, his question immediately followed by similar questions from the Container Witch and the Patchwork Gremlin. As Leo waited patiently for the wire to be produced the questions from the others appeared to agitate the stall owner, her wings fluttering anxiously as she answered as many questions as she could. An offer to find her tomorrow was given, Leo’s frown telltale to his dissatisfaction at the prospect. He only wanted some wire.

Suddenly it seemed the pressure had gotten to the jeweler as she began ripping at her own machine, loud blasts echoing the colorful booms above as she tore wires away and smoke billowed from the machine. Leo’s eyes saw only the wire, the smoke ignored as he moved toward the smoke and noise contraption. A glance saw the jeweler making her escape with a small chest and an extra bird, Leo’s hands tearing wire from her cannon and setting the fluffy soft feather on the counter.

The noise was deafening, cheering crowd and blasting cannon fire of varying hues setting Leo on edge as he thoughtlessly shoved the bits of wire he had ripped free into his pocket. Caleb’s wings had carried him away from the man, his guidance sought but unfound in the press of the crowd. The Container Witch swiped something from the stall display as she disappeared into the mass of bodies, and Leo’s eye fell upon the pendant with the wrapped gemstone. If the jeweler had left it, perhaps it was meant to be a gift?

Leo snatched the necklace from its stand and pushed through the people, his eyes searching for extra arms, pale skin, an eyepatch. None of his compatriots could be glimpsed, the crescendo of the night driving the crowd into a frenzy that only stoked the tension in Leo’s shoulders as he wound his way through the throng. His hat fell away, immediately trampled even as he dove after it, and as he tried to follow its path the uncaring masses surged against his course, pushing him farther and farther until…

He burst from the crowd with a gasping breath, knuckles white around his weapon as he tried to regain some kind of bearing. Trees, the soft sound of lapping waves, dark loamy soil beneath his bare feet. Somehow he had been pushed to the edge of the city, back toward the relative familiarity of the Hard Nox’s hidden dock. A final scan of the crowd, a last attempt at finding some kind of anchor in that press of new and unfamiliar faces, and Leo turned to the night with hunched shoulders. He had not found soap, or clothes; he had lost his new boots, traded his feather for scraps of wire, and lost his hat to an army of villagers. With a sigh Leo trudged back to the ship and the comfort of his soap and bucket. Cities were not as fun as everyone made them out to be.
 
DELFI

Caleb hadn't put too much thought to why he helped Juniper. He could rationalize his action with many excuses, from Sinead would blame him if something happened to her living bomb to he planned to use it as leverage in the future. Truth was he just did what came naturally to him, but of course no one would believe that.

"Why? Do you have something to offer?" He ended up asking.
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

"Not particularly," Juniper said, voice strained. With the nausea getting worse and an uncharacteristic unreadability of Caleb, things were downright confusing for them right now. Back to the bucket they went, and this time, they feared it would actually be necessary. Unfortunately for their night, their fear was correct, and afterwards, they didn't even have the relief of feeling better. Their body ached, eyes and head stinging, and they very carefully laid down on the floor, near where they had been sitting this entire time.

"Thank you, Caleb." The words jumped from their mouth before they could really think about them, but they felt genuine enough. He had pulled them from the streets and got them away from the crowd, which definitely helped, and offered a place to stay for the night, as awkward as they felt being here now. It was kindness, despite any ulterior motives, and they did appreciate it.

"Please never let me drink again."
 
UMBRASIGHT

It was easy enough really, following Lucien’s lead. His pace wasn’t demanding or at least it’s demands weren’t anything she couldn’t deliver. The placement of her feet was no doubt incorrect, but this was no grand hall of nobility so keeping pace with the gentle twirl without placing her foot on any toes was more than enough. Still, it was odd, though if that were due to the rush of air and the swish of her skirt or the light wink and gentle hand on her waist Nessa wasn’t quite certain. Despite that or maybe in spite of that oddness, Nessa allowed herself to relax within the flow of motion and music.

For a moment, the rhythm of movement was enough, the shift of her hips or the twist of a leg, the feeling of another’s hand and the rumble and crash of the world. She didn’t touch people often anymore, did she? There had been a time or two when she was a little girl, but this was different. It was —

Nessa blinked, a frown finding itself to her lips as Lucien spoke as it brought a crease to her brow. That was… why was he asking? Her lips parted, and for a moment she almost considered telling him off or at least shrugging the question away as she had her cloak but, perhaps it was that lingering touch of oddness or the rum burning in her throat but different words escaped her lips.

“I tried to take from a man who was using his drunkenness to mask his hunger.” Nessa spoke, her words also light in the jubilant air. “I can only assume it was a whim that lead him to cut his thumb and force me to drink.”
 
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