Lucien waited to speak until they were in his quarters, shutting and locking the door before turning back to his maps. Various pieces of parchment were pulled from their honeycombs and spread across the large central desk.
"If you have any means with which to remain unheard, I suggest you employ them now." Lucien glanced pointedly to the door before resuming his duties as the navigator. "The quartermaster has informed me that our next destination is Leimor, hence the maps." He gestured to the table in front of him, overlapping parchment and ink drawings of similar areas, looking to correct the faults of others.
"As you are formerly an inhabitant, I figured you would be able to provide some insight as to the best approach." Hopefully the girl wasn't dim enough to believe the only reason he brought her was for knowledge of her former home.
"I implore you to properly tell the Master Gunner and give him an appropriate role for a man of his station aboard this ship. If you want me, and others, on your side-- treat your crew with respect." Emryk crossed his arms, indicating that he was not budging. "I still think it's unwise to give me a role in which I have a clear lack of expertise, especially with Ciaran's relationship to his men. Please consider-- is settling any potential score worth turning a useful ally, and his friends, away from your own cause? Now's the time to mend relationships, not burn even more bridges."
He gave the Captain a pointed stare, at that. "Sinead loved her politics, from what I could see from my time aboard the ship. If you wish to distance yourself from her legacy, my advice is to break free from retracing her steps."
And then he raised both hands, indicating his piece had been said. The subject of Naveen darkened his gaze, and any sympathy drained from his once-charitable tone.
"I will kill that man if he harms her, Caleb." He stated simply. "But if the ship needs him alive, I will settle for beating him senseless. I'm in no mood to play games with two vampires." He tilted his head. "I'm sure you feel the same."
Funny. The wisewoman had told them the fairies destroyed everything, but apparently, she was wrong. There were many cities and villages, and hundreds of thousands of souls.
"Wow." Was all Ronan said, following Nessa into the treasure room with the treasure bag, after she opened it using a weird looking key. He nodded and put the sack down, opening it up as requested. The stones were pretty, he could tell as much, but he didn't understand why anyone would need so many of them.
"It'll look pretty on your big ears." He blushed. Oh god, how could he say it like that? "I don't mean it like- Your ears are pretty, they're not that big..." He was making it worse. It was a relief when a third voice interrupted him, but that relief didn't last too long when he saw it belonged to no other than the man in the mask.
***
His first impression was correct and the johtunn was in fact an idiot. Ronan was his name, but Naveen kept his eyes on the young vampire, Nessa.
"I'd like to see how the crew of the Nox has been treating her, is all." He shrugged, standing outside the treasure room. He knew Pris liked to hide in small places, but if she was somewhere in there he would have caught her smell. The only scent he got from there was… Goat shit and something familiar coming from the hidden door to the bilge. The smell of death.
"If you see her tell her I'm looking for her." He flashed a smile, showing off his pair of sharp canines before going downstairs to what he'd later find out was Hester's room.
***
Emryk wasn't stupid, and a true diplomat. The mention of Sinead was smart, and a precise hit on Caleb's ego. Not enough for him to change his mind, though. Crossing his arms over his chest, Caleb flashed a bit of a sour smile.
"It's because I wish to distance myself from her legacy that changes have to be made, baron." He pulled the chair back and stood up, once again emptying his cup in one long sip. "Good, we're on the same page on that one." He nodded, walking over to the door and opening it, allowing Emryk to go first. "I'll talk to Ciaran. You're not my messenger, right?"
"Like making allies of your crew, and not enemies. That would be a good first start to distancing yourself, I imagine."
Caleb's will was his own. Emryk could only offer guidance and whatever advice he could be afforded to give, which-- given how this exchange went-- was not much. The baron's gaze soured as he moved to leave, ducking beneath the frame-- and halting to look back at the captain.
"Precisely. Which is why it is my sincere advice to get the crew together and tell them you killed Sinead."
And then he turned, but not before he gave a final word of advice-- however solemn it seemed to fall from his lips.
"I believe in your potential, Caleb, to make the right decisions. For you to make actually make them, however, is up to you and you alone."
The tantrum was short lived, dramatic as it may have been. Leo’s head turned at the voice from where he lay prone, just enough to see the crimson tailor once again hovering over him. His initial reply was a heavy groan of exasperation toward Vena’s fashionable boots.
”It is not a good idea to go hunting in the Doctor’s clinic. She has things in there that are definitely not soap.” He pushed himself up from the deck then with more energy than his groaning would have indicated he still possessed. Energy he typically reserved for cleaning. Cleaning he couldn’t do without soap. Dusting himself off he eyed Vena cautiously.
”Fine. Let’s ask Emer if she has any soap.” As he lead the way to the clinic doors he whispered, ”If I find out who took my bag I will rip their throat out.” Vena had been in the cave as well, so at least they were innocent of this particular crime. If he were being honest they weren’t so bad, at least not in comparison to certain others who had boarded the ship. He certainly wasn’t planning on being honest, though.
Leo rapped on the door to the clinic loudly, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was polite, but knocking wasn’t exactly a skill he had many chances to practice from his cell. ”Emer! Is the Baron in there with you? Are you decent?” He shouted the questions quickly, then stopped to consider the words. Could any of the crew really be called decent? He wasn’t exactly sure why people asked that question when knocking on doors.
Emryk intervened, and that brought an end to the discussion on the deck quickly. It was quite literally immediately followed by Leo hurling his newfound shield towards none other than Naveen. In any other moment, at any other time, Juniper would have been more than happy to stand right up and help the man out in removing the vampire from the ship, or at least making him uncomfortable, but today, they were tired, anxious, and ready to be able to *focus* on what *they* wanted. Naveen would have to wait, unfortunately.
Juniper decided that the deck, especially near the mast, was quite too loud. The Nox took to the air, and as it got colder, as they rose, they found theirself drifting towards the stairs, eventually slinking down them silently, heading for the mess. They passed Ciaran and Alys, a pairing they made mental note of, given... well, what they had just witnessed, but tucked it away and instead made for one of the tables. The sorceress sat, cross-leggged on the bench, laying the staff out on the table in front of them, taking up entirely too much room, but entirely unaware of the fact.
Quietly, they ducked their head downwards, a strand of hair falling free from their bob, and began their first, true in-depth examination of their newfound tool.
Although the mess above deck had found a resolution - albeit a quite rocky one - the stress of the ordeal still weighed on Ciarán’s shoulders and between his eyes where a migraine was beginning to form.
Before he could break through into the kitchen, Alys came through the doors and nearly soaked herself as the two of them collided, but she managed to save herself and her water. Her greeting was warm and friendly, a welcome reprieve from the otherwise low mood he’d found himself in. It didn’t take her long to read him though - the open book he was.
”Hey there, Alys.” He tried smiling and looked sick instead. ”Tried settling that business with Beck… it’s over now but it wasn’t quite what I wanted - or what she deserved. I suppose it doesn’t matter much now.” He looked down at the smaller fae and her pitcher. ”How’ve you been? You know, despite everything around us being flipped.”
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .
Demoting Ciaran was the next thing on his to do list, and finding his broad shoulders taking over the entire corridor was no hard task. Caleb was in a good mood after a successful deal and a couple glasses of rum, but that changed upon approaching the soon-to-be-former master gunner and getting a glimpse of the person he was talking to. At least this time it didn't seem like it was all sunshine and rainbows between Ciaran and Alys, which he thought was disturbingly often the case. "How's the wedding planning going? Have you and Beck settled on a date yet?" Caleb asked, with fake oblivion, tapping on his fake arm. The argument they'd had was likely the reason he looked like he could cry at any moment, and Caleb almost pitied him for it. Almost.
"Your junk is upstairs, I can help move it into your new room if you want." He added with a much softer tone, turning his attention towards Alys. His gaze searched for hers, and it would've lingered in her blue eyes for as long as she'd hold eye contact.
“Mm, if I see her, I’ll let you know.” Nessa called after Naveen’s retreating back, knowing full well that if she did see Pris she would not do so. Maybe he’d fall off the side in his attempt to find her, which would be nice, but wasn’t particularly her problem at the moment. No, as soon as the vampire had vanished down the hall and Nessa couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore her attention turned to the pile of stones. She sorted through then, idly really, searching the rolling waves of color for that particular emerald shine that had caught her eye back in the cave.
She chuckled faintly at Ronan fumbling over an attempted compliment, her amber eyes turning to him as she flashed another quick but toothy smile.
“They grow a little more as you age, y’know, so little old ladies have these really long ears.” Nessa reached up as she spoke, wiggling a finger in the air just past the tip of her ear to give some idea of length. Her hand returned to the pile of stones, plucking up a not-quite round green stone. “’ve this one dress, picked it up a few ports back,” — probably for the best to leave out that she stole it from the wife of a nobleman — “Emer helped adjust the seams on it for me, has a nice skirt for dancing but I didn’t have anything to go with it.”
As Nessa spoke she lifted the gem and held it overtop the firey red stone of her current earring.
“I think these will be quite pretty once they’ve been finished up.”
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
The knock was followed by a startled squawk of a gasp from inside the clinic. A few seconds later, the door opened, a frazzled, tired, but smiling Emer on the other side.
"You know, Leo, you don't need to lock so loudly," she said, not unkindly, as she stepped to the side and ushered him in. "And - of course I am decent. The door would be locked if I wasn't, would it not?"
A slight darker blue on her cheeks, but she took the question in stride, otherwise unbothered as she turned her attention to the individual Leo was with. That led her face to fall a little. Only a little. This one hadn't caused trouble, unlike Solomon's vampire, but any member of the Truth Teller's crew would leave her feeling somber. Still, she maintained her smile, tilting her head slightly.
"I don't believe we formerly met. I am Emer. How I can help you both?"
A slight pause.
"You know, dear, you can use our water if you need to freshen yourself. We have enough to wash when needed."
Leo apparently had some interesting tales about this ship doctor. Vena wondered what they were, and whether or not they should ask about them. Maybe not at this very moment, unless they happened to want a shield thrown at them. At least the murderer was up and prowling about now, although on second thought that might have been for the best.
The ship's doctor wasn't apparently far, ensconced behind one of the doors. Leo knocked, she answered.
And oh, what an answer. This was, indeed, not a woman to be trifled with. It took her mere seconds to start in on them, and Vena decided that perhaps going along with things might be for the best. "I'm Vena. Just along for a bit, until we get to somewhere less frosty." The passive aggressive commentary about washing was not unnoticed, but of course she didn't understand. Vena didn't blame her for that.
"Leo was looking for some soap," Vena added, which could have easily been an answer to the statement she'd directed at them, and perhaps it was best to leave the implication that it had been. Then again, perhaps not. She seemed rather sharp.
It was hard to be empathetic to someone who'd been childish and delusional, even downright rude, especially when Alys had made an effort to be polite. Of course, Beck wasn't her friend; she didn't need her support - but Ciaran was. With tight lipped smile, the fae cast her gaze downward for a moment. What he'd said didn't make much sense - not quite what he'd wanted, yet he'd done it anyway? A sacrifice then? For her? Well, it wasn't her place to have to understand; a trend that would follow since the sudden inception of his relationship with the young girl. "Well, if you ever have the need to... talk about it, or better, drown it out, you know where to find me."
"I'm..." It'd been a hellish day, and for a second, what'd happened flashed in her mind; the ice sculptures, the poison, the wondrous cave of riches and slaughtered leaders, the moment she'd shared with Caleb - truly, a hellish, yet completely necessary day. "I'm glad to be back. Nearly in one piece too."
Of course, the conversation didn't develop more than that - there was no chance. Caleb descended down in a confident strut, chin held high, chest practically puffed out. Evidently, he was in a good mood. Based on his initial comment, the one aimed at Ciaran, he seemed to be revelling in the misery of another. Asshole.
"Oh, if you knew that was inside that chest, you especially wouldn't be calling it junk. But it's nice to know you can keep your nose out of someone's business." She shot him a look, something between a glare and a silent plea - to not provoke the master gunner any further. And perhaps it was when she met his gaze that his words finally sank in. "New room?"
Alys spoke to him like a kicked puppy. He couldn’t blame her though, the way a dark cloud floated over him and his words that seemed to contradict themselves. He was happy it was over, or at least his position had been made clear towards Beck - he only wished he could’ve done it softer, but then again he didn’t deserve being lied to.
”Ah yes, drowning it out. That was the name of the game this evening.” Ciarán pulled his heavy coat off his shoulders and slung it over a chair. The Fir Bolg could see the traces of pain flickered through her eyes - then she let it dissipate.
”I’m glad to have you back as well, sorry for the piss-poor excuse of a welcoming party, but perhaps-“ Ciarán had meant to offer something rich and tasty from his liquor cabinet, but Caleb found the pair as was his nature.
His comment on the dilemma with Beck was annoying, but I’ll-informed and could’ve been easily passed off. Calling his collection of firearms, fine drink, and all manner of ‘cool shit’ as he would’ve said gave him pause and a twinge of pain where the migraine had begun to subside. It was Alys’ interjection that kept him from saying something volatile to his new captain - a change he had not yet come to terms with.
”Whats wrong with my old one, captain?” The order couldn’t mean anything good - unless Caleb had been hit on the head and somehow sank further into stupidity and had given Ciarán his own quarters. Doubtful, but stranger things had happened today.
. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .
A sting of jealousy due the way she was quick to defend him intensified Caleb's feelings, but he knew better than to provoke them any further, or at least he wasn't drunk enough for it.
"I was talking to Alys." He said, dry, shifting his focus back to Ciaran and smirking. "But now that you mentioned, your old one is Emryk's now, and I'm gonna need you to train him to replace you as master gunner. You're getting a promotion, but I don't know what to call it yet." He waved it off with his hand as if it wasn't a big deal, and opened a bright wide smile, gesturing at Alys.
"Our quartermaster here is getting the keys to the late captain's bedroom, though I totally understand if you wish to remodel it first." A grimace.
Caleb had more than one reason not to move into the captain's cabin. The easiest excuse was that he was used to his old room and there was no real advantage to making the change as they were all practically the same - though Sinead's did have nicer windows. If Ciaran hadn't been present, Caleb would've offered Alys stayed with him until they got her new furniture, but something told him she wouldn't want that invitation to be made in public.
The bright, wide smile was not reciprocated. No, an expression of confusion flickered across her features as she stared at Caleb, while hurt and anger began to bubble deeper within. Replacing Ciaran with Emryk was simply illogical; there was no one else on board who even came close to being as qualified as Ciaran. And worse yet, he wasn't exactly in the best headspace now. Of course, Caleb had to know that. Then there was the belief that he should've consulted her about such an important decision, or at the very least, informed her, so that she didn't look like a gaping idiot standing between them. What the hell was he doing?
At least she'd been officially named as the quartermaster - fucking great. As much as the prospect had previously excited her, Alys was terrified. It was real now, and the responsibility of having to successfully navigate Caleb's recent decision-making and lack of logical thought, on top of everything else, it made her want to vomit.
What the fuck was she supposed to do? Challenge him openly? Give everyone else yet another reason to doubt his position? Or stay quiet, let it happen, and watch the ship fall apart?
"We're going to the office. This isn't a conversation to have in the fucking mess hall - Captain," she hissed, her voice low yet firm. Unsure if either one of them would actually listen, at the very least, she consciously positioned herself between them and nodded toward the door.