Futuristic Portals to the Afterlife

[Chordling]

Portals to the Afterlife​

It all started with magical portals. These portals led any traveler to enchanted worlds filled with exotic riches. Some of them came in the shape of a box. Others were doors, closets, mirrors, etc. Upon their discovery, people were hired to adventure through and bring back the pleasures that these worlds offered. These well respected workers were best known as scavengers and they created most of the economy’s wealth.

Utopia, of course, could not last forever. Unexpectedly, an apocalypse struck with a wave of radioactive storms swept over planet Earth and nearly wiped everything from the surface. Somehow, humanity managed to survive, and so did the portals. To recover what had been lost during the birth of the apocalypse, many tried to revive and recreate the missing portals. Disappointingly, the replicated and repaired portals only lead to corrupted worlds.

Out of fear and shame for the corrupted portals that were mistakenly created, the government decided to destroy all of the portals they could possibly find. With thousands, if not millions of portals buried beneath the sandstorm, scavengers were given a new purpose. Many obeyed their new orders from the government, but others rebelled, and separated themselves from the rest of society. Piracy took its form.

It has been centuries since the apocalypse hit the Earth. No one really remembers when the last portal was found. Rumors have circulated that evidence of another portal was potentially spotted somewhere in the ruins. Everyone is looking for it. Some believe that once the final portal is uncovered, the sandstorms will end, but no one can be sure. It is very clear, however, that the government wants it destroyed and the pirates want it for prosperity. The race is on.


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[Chordling]

Chapter 1: Whispering Winds​

High above the North Ruins, the glorious Cold Raven casted an afternoon shadow. The roar of the solar winds that powered her might sails sang in harmony with the low hum of the engines. No other ships were in sight. Captain Woods stood on the main deck and observed the area around him through the lenses of his gold-plated radiation and breathing mask. Beneath him were the cursed rocks they had been discretely digging through for the past couple of weeks to find the last, wretched portal, a rumor worth taking chances on.

No, they were not sure of its actual location, no they did not know if it actually exist, no, they did not have the key, no, they did not know what it even looked like, so of course, they hadn't found anything. But this was the last portal on Earth. Uncovering it could be proof that the Legendary Portal was not just a silly pirate myth. Woods would break through every ruin and comb through every grain of sand to own something as unique and extraordinary. This was not a game and the captain would never trust a plebeian rumor. He had been tricked with faux treasure in his youth. Not only had the treasure been fake, but the entire scene had been a government trap that costed Woods several of his valuable crew members. It was a cruel mistake he promised to never make again or his life depended on it.

Thankfully, all of his current crew members, and his dog, were expected to be safe beneath the main deck, celebrating. His boots made heavy steps as he descended the stairs to the deck directly below and Diablo sauntered over to join him by his side with a smile. Woods pressed two metal latches from the side of his mask with the pads of his thumbs and an exhausted sigh left his lungs. The rest of his respiratory gear released the rest of the compression with long coughs and wheezes. Two men approached him and helped him remove the rest of his radiation gear. With a wave of his hand, the captain dismissed the gentlemen to return his belongings to his quarters.

"Let's see what everyone is up to, shall we?" Woods looked down to Diablo. The canine wagged his tail and promptly woofed in response. Such a good dog. Always ready for anything. "Alright then, to the middle decks we go." Woods watched as Diablo quickly turned and scampered his way down several flights of stairs, possibly barreling a few individuals down here and there, to sniff out the crew members. The captain followed at his own pace.

"Excuse me!" the labrador barked as he continued to fly through the corridors. Today was Piracy Day. It marked when the first scavengers decided to rebel against the government, the beginning of pirate history, and it was Diablo's favorite holiday.

Fiddles filled the middle decks. Their tunes jumped to the rhythm of stomping feet and were accompanied by hollers and whistles. A variety of food sat unguarded on tables on either beam of the ship. There simply was no better way to party. Diablo weaved himself into the crowd of pirates just as Captain Woods had finally arrived. You could see by the look in his eyes that he was looking for someone in particular. Despite their unique hair color, Woods was finding it hard to locate his desired company. Eventually, he found what he wanted, like he always did, and approached with his naturally long stride.

"Care for a drink, Apollo?"

Spoiler: GM INSTRUCTIONS

This ship is designed with many deck levels. The only deck that is located outside is the main deck. All other decks are beneath the surface and do not require you to wear any radiation gear. The crew has been working in the West Ruins for weeks now. This is supposedly where the portal was rumored to be spotted last. It's Piracy Day and your orders were very specific. Time to celebrate.

You are currently allowed to do as you please, as long as you are celebrating. There's music, food, alcohol, lots of people, and it's freaking loud. The cabins are closed off, no one is allowed to be outside, the party is happening on the middle decks.

Please feel free to ask any questions via OCC or PM! Post away, maties!

SentinelSevn , Alecto , Elenion Aura , IctoraPost , Kaerri , Life. , Pretzel Heart , Ronan , Syrenrei , The One Called X , whitepaperplates , and YumenoTsukishiro

 

[SentinelSevn]

"Yadda, yadda.. Tell us a story Valentine!" A younger voice called from the corner of the celebration, a boy who couldn't be much older than fourteen. His clothes tattered and dirtied, it was obvious that no one, not even the children designated as the powder monkeys, were excluded from today's festivities. His freckled face revealed a toothy grin, and in his hands a small mug of liquor that no one really bothered to take away from him. They were pirates after all, who cares if small boys got a taste of a bit of spirits.

Behind him, a small group of boys often scattered across the expansive layout of the mighty Cold Raven, were assembled together with looks of eagerness on their faces. They faced a man, head turning over his shoulder to look down at the assembly of boys numbering five or six. Strapped to his back were four flintlock pistols, easily accessible to anyone ignorant enough to try and challenge the pirate. Aside from the boys he looked like he was ignoring much of the noise surrounding him, instead sharing a laugh or two with a few other gunman, exchanging bouts of their recent accomplishments in an attempt to one-up the other. "Excuse me, as I turn my back. Go have fun, grab a drink. Do something else aside from follow me around. You never know.." Emil grasped the shoulder of the closest pirate he could find, bringing his ear close to whisper quiet words to the other male. "One of these fine lassies could be just as happy for a day off as you." Emil's finger pointed all along the middle deck as far as the eye could see through the sea of people and ale splashing through the air.

Emil's words were a tease, the other men knowing it. The crew knew that the females on board the Cold Raven, and there were quite a few of them, were just as fierce as most of the crew. Touching one of them without consent could lead to punishment far worse than walking the plank. The men laughed, brushing Emil's hand away to leave him with the boys. "Right, right, Valentine. I do that and you might as well give me fifty lashes right now!" The small group laughed and proceeded to enter further into the depths of the crowd, leaving Emil alone with the boys near the outskirts of the celebration.

"Might be worth it one of these days! Taming one of them may be just a good a feat as finding our first real clue towards that damned portal!" Emil wore a smirk on his face as he yelled back, turning his body to now face the boys assembled around him. The small audience had grown to about six or seven by now, all eager to hear one of Emil's tall tales. A few of the boys Emil recalls dragging around a few bags of gunpowder while he was on cannon duty, others he had seen before carrying planks of wood around for their carpenters. Everyone it seems, were in fact enjoying this minor celebration.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" The gunner crossed his arms over his chest, puffing out upper torso to give the impression that he was a bit bulkier than his relaxed posture. He bent at the waist, leaning his head in to eye the boys as if he were giving them some sort of examination. "A handful of you laddies want to hear one of my stories? Ohoho, I don't think you're all prepared to hear the horrors I've faced on these skies."

Of course, he was followed by light complaints and groans, near begging for the pirate to tell them a tale of one of the ship's encounters prior to their ascension to piratehood. "Ahh, shoot. I might as well tell you a story, might inspire you to rise up and become a well renowned pirate like the captain. When you do, you better stick around.." Emil reached around his back with both his hands, quickly feigning a draw of two flintlock pistols. The guns barely left their sockets, with the mouth of the barrel still grasping at the fine leather of the bandolier. "Or you've got me to deal with." Another one of his teases, the boys were aware not to take Emil's threats seriously. He would never strike a child, at least not one that didn't challenge first.

"Well there I was..!" Quickly jumping into the story, Emil dragged a hand slowly in the air over their heads, gathering their attention. From the outside, the gunner looked to be enjoying himself with the children. He was excited to be bragging about the ship and his own achievements, with an ego of his own to raise and maintain. His audience seemed to be enjoying as well, wide eyed as they sipped on meager amounts of weak liquor or chewed some piece of stale bread. One listening in from the party behind Emil could hear mention of tackling privateers or a word or two relating to a ruin they had scraped clean of valuables.

Emil's words nonstop, the party behind him hardly ceasing, but he sure had the boys entranced like a charmer and his snakes.

 

[Kaerri]

Torrey Singer, Boatswain

Torrey liked Piracy Day. This was his first time celebrating it aboard the Cold Raven, but so far it was going well. Lots of food, drink, song, and just generally a good time being had by all. As he idly made his way around the middle decks, he scanned the mélange of people around him, looking for those individuals whom he had, for varying reasons, taken an interest in over the past several months. Most of them seemed to be present , but he didn't see the captain anywhere; possibly just lost in the crowd. Being of average height himself, and not caring to show too much interest by standing on something, Torrey naturally couldn't see to all parts of the room he was in, to say nothing of the rest of the ship. Instead, he let his gaze linger appreciatively on some of the lady pirates that had caught his attention, then sought out the drink-servers and helped himself to a tankard of ale.

It, and the refills that followed, emboldened him to try jigging his way to the food tables -- a feat more or less successful, in that he managed to neither spill any of the ale nor trip over his own (or anyone else's) feet, but not so much so as to encourage him to try to repeat it with the full plate he had when he left the tables. Nudging through the crowd with slightly more decorum, he found an assortment of stools and chairs pushed against one wall and claimed one for himself and a rather taller one for his plate. After he'd satisfied his stomach, he intended to rejoin the dancing (minus tankard and plate), but for now he was content to watch on the sidelines.

From where he sat, he could just hear one of the gunners telling his tall tales to an admiring collection of youngsters. Torrey listened too, grinning, until a different sort of reveller caught his eye: the captain's dog, Diablo, just entering nearby. Whatever anyone might say about Captain Woods (and they'd said plenty), the man's dog was a friendly beast. At least, Torrey had found him so, though he guessed enemies wouldn't agree. He whistled shrilly just to catch the big labrador's attention, but didn't call him over, leaving the decision up to the dog. After all, this was a pirate ship, and the dog was as free as anyone else aboard.

 

[Syrenrei]

Nine appreciated what Captain Woods was trying to accomplish; celebrations were great for morale. She genuinely enjoyed the members of the crew (some more than others) and it warmed her heart to see them so immersed in merriment. That being said, Nine preferred less boisterous and crowded places. It had taken her no less than six adjustments to where she was standing in the room to avoid her peers either dancing in too close proximity, waving their hands dangerously near her, or stumbling as alcohol seized hold in her general direction. Corners were straight out of consideration. The room had only four and the most unsteady folks and couples trying to escape to a more private place always occupied them. Nine had found herself leaning against a wall, her back flat against it and one leg propped up for support. One hand held a dusty, faded book that was bound in a brown fabric whose letters had long faded. Her other hand had purposefully been left free just in case someone edged too close and she had to 'encourage' them in another direction.

When the party had first started every other pirate had encouraged her to drink. Truly, pirates were lushes if nothing else. Had Brie ever tried to reprimand them for the irreparable damage they were doing their livers? Nine might partake occasionally were she not so terrified what a lack of inhibitions might do to her. Captain Woods wasn't the only aggressive single man on the ship. It took only a little liquor to confuse and muddle her mind, make her less cautious and more daring. Nine wasn't without emotions or impulses- she just knew not to indulge them. It was better to be damaged and anxious than traumatized and shamed the day after. Perhaps after the revelry was over she'd be able to take a bottle back to her cabin, lock the door, and drink alone. There'd be no one there to violate her trust even unintentionally and she'd not be at risk of making poor choices. It would be a good way to honor the anniversary.

Nine raised the book to her eye level and tried to focus on the words. The wood of the ship fascinated her deeply and she had spent the last eight months dedicated to studying various types of oils that might be able to be utilized on it to properly reinforce it further. Nothing existed yet but the harsh radioactive environment had bred all sorts of strange things in the world of botany. Currently Nine was cross-breeding various types of nuts that, when oil was extracted, might soak into the wood and lend some sort of strength. She hadn't shared all of this research with her friends because Brie was quite frankly insane and no one else had the patience and energy for her endless rambling. The yelling across the room of comrades to one another, blaring music, and shrill whistle that Terry made to Diablo made her unable to make it past a few sentences before stopping.

Wait. A whistle?

Diablo meant Captain Woods. If anyone was capable of ordering Nine to drink it was the captain himself and she didn't put it past him to do so. Nine started to slide down the wall conspicuously low just in case the top of her head was visible from where he stood. With the benefit of coverage she began to edge her way down the wall, trying to create distance between herself and the authority figure. It was possible this movement might make her run into someone else but they might be enough of a distraction that Captain Woods wouldn't turn his attention towards interrupting. Worst case scenario and she'd end up on the other side of the room and he'd have to push through the crowd before he could grace her with his presence of flattery coupled with commitment issues. A throng of people to navigate would give her chance to execute an escape route. After all, he was no Angelica.

So far her slinking was effective; he was looking for Apollo. Who wouldn't? She was a breathtaking figure that was the envy of most women and the dream of more than a few men. Nine hoped Apollo kept his attention well into the evening. Godspeed Apollo.

 

[Ronan]

STEP_AUTHCOMMAND.BUI / ACCESS TERMINAL : V001.

[ INITIALISING ... ]
[ struct group_info=usage=NOVA_(1) ]

She is sated in colour; a supersaturation of saffron and scarlet melting into the dimpled shadows of her cheekbones : sharp and incandescent. Her breath carries a faint redolence of liquor ( only a glass. She enjoys a drink, but never to a point where she'd be considered 'drunk' ). Piracy Day―fifteen years since she left the desert for the skies. Fifteen years of following orders and thinking of the desert. She hasn't decided if she likes or loathes the day. It's a combination. It's something she would've never become if she had a choice, but she also wouldn't abandon the life she's made for herself aboard The Cold Raven.
Woods is a different pirate than Granger was. Both fearsome in their own right, but different.

She picks at her chapped lips, lost in thought and her gaze trained on the broken clock in front of her. She disassembled the pieces and discovered the problem: the spring needs recoiling, but fixing a clock was redundant. Day in and day out of fixing broken engines and clockwork. How Winston didn't tire of this life baffled her. Fifteen years. Sometimes they'd get a new crew-mate; sometimes war happened; sometimes someone gets killed. Those are the moments that broke the boring cycle of redundancy. Piracy Day was not one of them.

She adjusts her position at the cornered table, straightening her spine to alleviate tension and picks up a 0.9 hex key and offers it to the person sitting across from her: Toki. ❛ Y'think you can put the clock back t'gether? ❜ she asks, a quiet challenge in her expression. She liked Toki enough. Not when he was loud: Nova would scream for him to 'shut up'; but when Toki was quiet and focused, she enjoyed his presence. There was something about children that enamoured her. How easily influenced their minds are, and how weightless they seem faced against the whims of the world. Nova folds her hands under chin, her expression blank but her words were encouraging enough as she watched him put together the clock.

She was fifteen years old when she joined the pirates and now she is thirty and sitting across from another fifteen year old. Who would he become? Where would he go? How does starlight look streaked across his young face? Will it be a sweeping precipice of glowing gold fire like hers? Will it be the fuzzy greys when the sun sets on the edge of the world? Or will he be the long dusked shadows in the distant sky? Nova only hoped he stayed on the right side of the line.

[ SEARCH TAGS : YumenoTsukishiro ]

 

[Pretzel Heart]

Three weeks…Had it already been three weeks? How could it only be three weeks?
Iksel felt like he had been on the Cold Raven for three centuries.

Anything could be happening in the outside world…wars waged, technology created, families formed and broken.
His father could be facing trial by now.

His father could be dead.

And yet, was he really any better off, having exiled himself through his own infernal portal leading to the hellish world of pirates? After all, chugging along at his current rate it seemed as if he would be stuck aboard the Raven forever.

Three weeks, and zero progress.

Almost as soon as the ship had picked him up it had planted its massive hull over a section of the ruins and had done little else since. Three damn weeks of their foolhardy “captain” chasing a legend…some lost portal or some such. To Iksel it was all a bunch of hogwash. Every history book he had ever read told of how every last one of the cursed things had been commandeered or smithereened. Even if one did exist (which it most certainly did not), what was the point in chasing after it? Portals were evil, dangerous doorways to naught but flames, misery, and sorrow. Didn’t their own damned world have enough of that? What the devil were these pirates hoping to accomplish?

If only they would hurry up and get to some actual pirating, he could get on to stealing their secrets. There was one rumor in particular that he had gleamed for his fancy…whispers and snippets of something called a “Geo Vany.” But Iksel had been too afraid of outing himself to prod any further than scooting suspiciously near anyone from whose lips the enigma fell. Eventually he would find out the truth. Find out, or die trying.

But the morning’s intel was much more promising than a mythical portal or enigmatic stash; the whopping revelation that even pirates took days off. Iksel hadn’t known it was a holiday until he woke up not to the sound of shouts and banging on his door, but the quiet peace of……silence. Though by the time he’d had the depressing realization that solitude was rarity enough to startle him awake, it had already been shattered. The clamor of a group of late-running revelers had whisked by his cabin, arms brimming with fizzling bottles of some nefarious drink, calling him to the hallway for answers.

“What do you mean, what’s going on? How in blazes do you not know what day it is?”

Thankfully the rapscallions had been in such a gleeful flurry to get to exploring the contents of their load that they hadn't stuck around to judge Iksel any further. And after the boy had wiped away the anger at being looked at so incredulously, he had been left with an exceptional feeling of bliss.

A holiday.
A day off….

He had been dreaming of such a time for…well, the past three weeks. And he knew just how he was going to spend it.

Returning inside he had dug out a stack of thick books from under his cot. Gracefully caressing their spines as a breeder might stroke a prized horse, he had let the titles fill him with fanciful imaginings of an afternoon spent in worlds far away from the dreary one he had sentenced himself to. Somehow even the lumpy bundle of sticks the pirates passed off for a pillow had seemed comfortable as he had leaned his aching body back and cracked a spine…

BANG BANG BANG

“Leski, damnit it are ye still in there! Captains orders to go celebrate! Open up!”

The sound of book covers smashing together drowned out the obscenity the boy let out as he begrudgingly made his way back to the door.

We’re being forced to celebrate? What kind of twisted setup is that?

What if his definition of celebrating was quietly curling up on his shoddy little excuse for a bed? Well, no room for arguing coming from a cabin boy. The scalawag who had interrupted him not-so-subtly slung his arm around Iksel’s shoulder, pulling him away from the small comfort of the unusually quiet cabin and closer to the rising cacophony of the middle decks where the party apparent was taking place.

“ `Sides,” his captor reasoned as they began to ascend, “I need you to fetch Apollo.”

Oh great. Out of all the myriad of names on the ship, one he actually recognized. Because the brutish woman was someone he had not an ounce of any desire to see.

What Iksel wanted to respond was “Why the devil would you need the blasted painter? Go find her yourself!”

What he said instead was “Yes, sir! Right away.” And then, under his breath, “so much for a day off…”

At least that gave him the excuse to wriggle away and try and cut a small corner of isolation amidst the prancing hooligans. There were so damn many of them they were practically leaking from the ship walls like mold. And yet Iksel plastered on a plasticine smile as if he, too, were having the time of his life and not silently praying for help as he languidly searched the masses for the bright fuchsia crown of his quarry. Even normally he did his best to appear cheerful around the crew. It was hard. Very, extremely, unbearably hard. And not just because it made his jaw feel like it was going to fall off. But in order to blend in he figured he might as well mimic the same vapid, eager grins of the other young`uns on board. There were more of them than he might have expected, mostly doing the menial work of running around powder or messages, like himself. But for some reason they never seemed to be quite as preoccupied as he always felt. Somehow they seemed to have time to bop around trying to kiss some undeserving ruffian’s buttocks.

Making his way through the deck he spied a gaggle of them accentuating his point by bobbing their heads like a ridiculous flock of geese to a story regaled by one of the older pirates (why were there so damn many of them how was he ever expected to remember them all by name!?). As he passed the flock he caught whiffs of their conversation. They were joking about getting fifty lashes. Joking! Laughing! About brutal punishment! Disgusting, every last one.

By some miracle Iksel had yet to experience the notorious sting of the whip himself. Certainly it had been threatened, the closest time being when he was caught skimming a message to one of the masters. He had already had his fill of having his wrists slapped, head thwacked, and even shins kicked for “taking his sweet time.” So he figured it was his destiny to be one day introduced to the cat o` nine. Likely the only reason they hadn’t yet made a date was thanks to the intervention of a certain pilot. Always slinking around with the harbinger of doom hellbeast she called a pet...Iksel had no idea why but she seemed to have an eye on him…or out for him. Though he had to admit he was a bit thankful that someone on the ship had common decency, he could only think of the terrible things her attentions could portend. Maybe she had some indecent interest in young boys? Who knew what pirates got up to in their hedonistic society. Not that he could blame anyone for falling for his pretty face.

To save him from such thoughts was, at last, the brightly colored splash signaling the ship’s resident painter (a role he would have thought useless, but apparently even pirates had time for aesthetics- not that it showed). However, just as he was about to make his way to her and get it over with, a whistle and the earth-shattering echo of soft padding paws alerted him to the presence of a giant scary dog cleaving its way through the crowd. How could anyone voluntarily summon that thing? Iksel was convinced it was big enough to swallow a baby in a single bite. And probably mean enough to, too.

No request was worth dealing with that. Apollo would have to wait. Skittishly Iksel found himself creeping back towards the corner, taking in the whole ghastly sight of the reveling room as he did so.

The deck was an absolute mess. People prattling intelligibly holding food and drinks and swaying in motions they couldn’t possibly refer to as dancing. The pirates really all did seem to be gathered in celebration, like rats driven by the lure of cheese. It was almost pitiable, how happy they seemed even with such scant accommodations. Here they were living it up as if their little rabble actually counted as a party. Spend a few years with the government’s upper crust and you get invited to real soirees; the lush and lavish feasts and galas that Iksel then recalled filled him with intense nostalgia. If only there were anyone on the hell ship to sympathize…

Just at that moment he caught glimpse of an unknown woman shrinking against the wall trying to read a book.

The image was both so familiar and so strange that he couldn’t help but gawk. Could there possibly be someone here of at least half a sane mind? A kindred intellect with whom he could share a real conversation? Just a little closer and perhaps he could make out the title…

But just as he was trying to push his way towards the mysterious figure, he was introduced to the hulking, stinking Lord of the Flies himself. A giant roasted pig being so poorly supported by whichever hapless mortal was under it that the platter practically appeared to float. And yet Iksel somehow managed to walk right into it.

As part of the pig’s trimmings began to fall to the floor, the boy’s reaction was to take an immediate leap backwards, sending him straight into another merrymaker who splashed a good dollop of alcohol onto his coat.

Blast it all.

His heart broke a little. Whiskey stains did not easily remove from velvet.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” He lipped to the Lord of the Flies. Then, realizing his egregious faux pas, his hand flew to his mouth in horror and he made his best attempt at damage control.

“I mean, I'm so sorry! Forgive me, miss…sir…...er…Is there anything I can do to help? Here, let me take that.”

Not that he was much taller than whoever was carrying the platter, but he had the advantage of lanky, youthful limbs that could at least right the plate, revealing the identity of who was beneath it.

 

[Chordling]

Why is Piracy Day Diablo's favorite you ask? Well, any holiday meant that the Captain ordered for extra food to be served. On Piracy Day, the most amount of food was always served. Pasta, fish, chips & dip, turkey, beef stew, seasoned vegetables, Diablo was all for it. Even the salads. As a pirate dog, his stomach had learned to become less picky. Somedays, it seemed like there was nothing around to gobble, except for maybe the occasional, deceased rat. Today was clearly not one of those days. His nose found its way towards an unguarded plate filled with seasoned octopus and roasted potatoes. It only took a few bites before the entire plate was finished and licked cleaned.

Before anyone could congratulate him, Diablo skipped off in search of another meal. Just as he was about to snatch up another serving of seafood, a small child screamed out his name and tackled him with a hug. More children noticed the canine and came rushing forward with pure glee. Diablo had no option but to sit down as they tugged on his ears and pushed through his fur. His brown eyes sadly wandered towards Emil, who had been entertaining a group of the very same children. Just when Diablo thought things couldn't get worse, the very dish he eyed was gone, out of sight. The owner must have taken it back. Diablo slid his front paws forward and slumped, only making the energetic crowd around him worse.

"I am a good dog," he tried to remind himself in an attempt to feel better.

Diablo's ears suddenly perked from the sound of a distant whistle. He lifted his head to turn in the direction of the sound and spotted Torrey. Torrey, the Boatswain. Yes, maybe he will give the dog some food! Happily, Diablo shook the children off of his back and rushed through the crowd to sit by the pirate's feet. He smiled and wagged his tail, then raised his front feet in front of his chest.

"Food, please?" he panted.

 

[Life.]

Piracy Day. A day of celebration which meant drinks, food, and socialization. Since Brie lacks social skills and does not like to drink, she focused her attention to the food. And since this was a ship filled with many men and endless appetites, it was endless work for chef Brie. The white-haired girl was frantically moving to and fro around the kitchen. Her clothes and face were caked with many stains to signify the work and love she was putting into her cooking to satisfy those on board. It has been a while since she joined the Cold Raven, although she can't quite remember how long ago. But that didn't matter since she was nearly familiar with everyone on board. No one was superhuman so even the simplest of injuries were tended by her, despite some fussing and complaining from the more macho of the bunch.

Ding.

"Oh the pig is ready!" Brie clapped her mittens together as she approached the oven and as soon as she opened the door steam filled the room along with the captivating aroma of the cooked meat. She pulled out the heavy piece of meat and turned around quickly to place it on the island behind her. The chef glanced around the boar to ensure that some parts of the boar was burnt since it was last requested by some of the pirates that they like their meat "well well done". "I swear some people are more odd than me!" Brie exclaimed to herself as she dressed the pig with the last of a glaze she had stored for special occasions.

Even though Brie was alone at the moment she didn't feel lonely because of the festivities that was parading the atmosphere. Plus she enjoyed cooking to her heart's content knowing it'd make others happy. But as much as Brie wanted to get the boar to the party she stood there staring at the boar for a moment. It was too heavy for her. She sighed and wished for the strength of surgeon Brie. At critical moments Brie manages to pull weights of people much bigger than her into her workspace if they are ever unconscious or have fainted, but those are only at the dire moments. Currently Brie only needs to carry a boar to the middle decks.

"I can't let everyone down now! The boar is to be the centerpiece of the party. You can do this Brie," the short chef rolled her sleeves up and lifted the boar up. Brie managed a few steps forward and eventually made her way out of the kitchen but then she stopped and looked around. You would think that Brie would have the map of the ship down at this point but she didn't. A soft meow sounded nearby. Brie looked down and saw her faithful companion, Berry, walking in a certain direction. She gave a smile as she followed after her guide cat. Most of the time it was like this, Berry leading her around the ship, unless Diablo or Joey was around.

At some point Brie sped up her pace when she began recognizing where she was. Berry drifted off when he heard the loud ruckus of the festivities. The boar was still bearing quite a load on her arms as she entered the middle decks. There were many pirates muddling around and interacting. Brie was having a difficult maneuvering around them. Too much activity was occurring that Brie didn't realize when she ran into somebody. She felt the boar leaning forward and released a slight squeal when all of a sudden the boar floated above her. Brie heard a sharp remark at first wondering who it was and peered up to see that it was Leski. Was that Leski just now? No I must be wrong. It must have been someone else. Leski isn't like that. He's helping me right now. But turned out it was the cabin boy.

"Oh thank you Leski! The boar was much too heavy for me! Would you mind putting it with all the other food! Be sure that no one gets to it until it reaches the table!" Brie was quick to hand the responsibility over to Leski. She gave a slight bow to him, this was the correct way to thank someone wasn't it? The chef then stood there fiddling with her coat. Now was the time to announce that the pig was here, but she didn't know how to get the pirates' attention. Mustering up some strength for her voice Brie managed to shout out, "Boar! Here! Eat!" She released a sigh when she realized that the coherent sentence she wanted to yell out turned out into choppy words.

 

[ApfelSeine]

Opal twirled among the dancers, letting her spirits be lifted by the energy in the room. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and with good reason. Piracy day only came around once a year after all. The jaunty melody of the musicians was barely audible over the raucous merrymaking of the crew, but Opal did not mind. The life of a pirate was liberating in and of itself, but the holiday celebrating it lowered what few remaining inhibitions people had. She'd had to swat away one or two wandering hands at certain points, but she hardly blamed them. Her own hands were rather tempted themselves as she eyed the flushed faces of some of the more attractive of her comrades.

Being surrounded by so many cheerful people was infectious, and she hardly noticed the hours passing by. In fact, she had been dancing nearly two hours before her rumbling stomach insisted that she take a break. Striding off the dance floor, and telling more than a few people that she'd save them a dance along the way, Opal eventually reached the table which was heavily laden with all kinds of food. Opal was not a particularly picky eater, but she certainly enjoyed being able to indulge in a feast now and then. Her mouth was practically watering at the mere sight of succulent meats. The rich aroma which permeated the air left Opal feeling a bit light headed. Or maybe that was from all the spinning, she wasn't entirely sure.

With her food piled precariously high on her plate, Opal began to make her way through the crowd to a slightly less populous area. The presence off her meal seemed to dissuade anyone from approaching her. Anyone who did not already know how ferocious she could be towards those who got between her and her food were aptly warned of before they could get close enough fo bother her. As she sought out a seat, she spotted a free one beside Torrey, who had apparently attracted the attention of Diablo. She slid into the seat beside Torrey and regarded him with a smirk.

"I was on my way over to keep you company, but it looks like you've already hooked yourself a cutie," Opal remarked with a slight nod in Diablo's direction. She was rather fond of the dog, to the point where she tended to get into a bit of trouble for spoiling him. It was good, Opal thought to herself, that she'd had the foresight to serve herself a generous helping.

 

[Rhakun]

Faraday

Emil's storytelling was entertaining to be near of to Faraday's opinion. He found tremendous hilarity on the narrator's delivery and the audience's commentary, but deep inside it wasn't the content exposed that made him have a good time: it was the fact that this small group was having so much fun that it was hard for his mood not to be invaded by the cheerfulness of the celebration. He had had both sides of the coin with government conmemorations back on The Arcaine: Both had their charm, but Pirate's day was liberating in ways that formal attire and constant official eavesdropping didn't allow.

He started feeling drunk early in the evening halfway through the last cup of his three-fourths-of-a-pint threshold of barley wine. This one was of his own design, combining data of one of Brie's kitchen books and loose conversations he had with Nine. The thing turned preposterous: strong, dark and almost foamless. Still, the flavor was mildly sour and it seemed to be surprisingly well recieved by everyone except his liver. His cheeks were flushed and his sight felt funny, but he managed to clumsily stand to make his way to the serving table. He didn't count on getting affected from drinking whithin his own calculated margin, but now that his gut felt the incoming hangover, he knew what he needed to avoid a painful morning: electrolytes, lipids and hydratants: in the table's language, Bouillon Broth and water.

He stood up, still carrying some liquid in his pint, and walked his way to the parlor. However, he heard a heckle come from his left side a couple of steps in.

"Hey, Far'day's really soft on liquor, ain't he? I'm sure he gits back on apple juice in that ceer-cuit room of his!" Boasted an old, fat rigger with whom he was accquainted with. He was also and seemingly halfway through a bottle of whiskey to the laughter of his comrades: a skilled drinker in the rightful position to joke at his poor tolerance, but Faraday, especially a drunken one, wouldn't let him have his laugh without a counter joke.
"You say then," he gnarled back in a joking tone, reaching in his pocket for a small battery he carried from the evening's work. "You can take anything I take, matey?"
"Alright, man! Alright!"
"How 'bout you give this box a lick, then?"

He threw it and it was caught. The man tipped it with his tongue with skepticism until he grew confident that nothing was happening. He started teasing the thing with confidence between chuckles until his tongue found the positive terminals and he dropped the thing away. Bingo. Faraday proceeded to pick it up, drop it into what little wine remained in his pint, shake it a bit and drink it all in one go. No shock.

"You goddme good laddie, you goddme good!"The man, who might have been even drunker than he had originally appeared, was cracking in laughter even harder than before. However, he seemed curiously amazed. "What's the trick there?"
"I pressed my lips." At the mention of these words, the small group that had formed around the scene booed him. He shrugged and smiled, but then proceeded to explain "And! This drink here is a terrible conductor, It wouldn't have hurt me unless I got it all in my mouth. I'll leave it here for any brave soul who wants to try."

He lifted another bottle of his wine from below a table to the cheer of some pirates and left the battery on a chair to finally proceed. Still, the quick intake had enworsened his balance and crossing the room became increasingly harder. He, at some point, turned and saw the legs of Diablo going across the food table and turned to reason due to his affected notion of space that the animal was chasing him. Almost reactively, he started calling for aid.

"Brie!" He called, a little loudly. "Brie, help me!"

Life.

 

[whitepaperplates]

Apollo sat haphazardly on her three-legged stool and jostled it about. Testing her balance as the feet lifted and banged back against the flooring. She grimaced at the canvas and pondered how she could save the piece. Bare feet flat on the ground she stared at it before breathing out a sigh of resignation and drooping her head. It had been ruined from the first stroke she determined angrily. Lashing out, she kicked the easel with her heel and watched as the colorful painting toppled down away from her. Huffing for a moment she refrained from throwing her brushes and open paint across the room. She already knew that she would be in no mood to clean them up later. Roughly, she threw the brushes into the small bucket of still water and stood abruptly, shedding her painting robe.

The festivities taking place in the middle deck grew louder by the minute and it was high time for her to join in. That was bound to better her mood. Good food, music, dancing, company. What more could a lass ask for? Plus, Piracy Day was her all time favorite holiday.

In the moderately sized chest she kept over to the side, Apollo touched the sleek fabric of a skirt. It was her favorite of the two she owned and the only article of clothing she possessed that lacked any rips and stains of paint or blood. She only ever wore it on this day every year. After all, if she wore it too often it would no longer be a treat for others. She easily ignored the small pile of melancholic portraits that peeked out from beneath the fabrics.

Heels loudly tapped against the wooden floor and announced her arrival into the middle decks. And if the repetitive taps failed to catch attention over the jovial music, the bright head of hair surely grabbed the eyes, as it was a couple of inches higher than usual. For the most part, the crew parted for her. Men gawked at the generous helping of leg and bust she showed off. The impish smile adorning her lips seemed as though it were inviting them to approach her. Foolhardy men who happened to feel more confident than usual, whether that be from a dose of liquid courage or not, each received the same reaction. A cool once over and finally an exaggerated sneer to signify her rejection. Apollo's prompt guffaw was the final sting. A sly, "I'm jus' not feelin' ya today." was given as consolation.

When would they understand that not just anybody could choose her? She did the choosing.

Childlike gasps of awe and suspense tickled her ears and Apollo found her eyes wandering over the circle of captivated children. She cast an entertained smile over to Valentine, who wildly pantomimed his stories. The exuberant image brought back a fond memory and she turned her back to continue on.

Apollo lazily scanned the decks for someone of interest. Momentarily, she thought she saw Nine, or someone she assumed to be the reserved researcher. Maybe she had only imagined the glimpse of a book cover. She shrugged and grinned excitedly when the loud music took on another tune.

She immersed herself in the throng of dancing crew members. Swirling and gyrating to the rhythm. Her navy skirt flared around her and the pins in her hair loosened. An arm around her waist dipped her deeply and she arose in laughter. Chin length bangs fell into her face. The strapless blouse tucked into her skirt threatened to fall lower as she raised her hands above her head and swayed her hips.

Her dancing slowed as the music came to a break and she stepped from the crowd out of breath. The offer from a familiar masculine voice caught her off guard, but to her credit the sharp intake of breath was nearly unnoticeable. She spun on the ball of her foot and faced him.

"Captain Woods." One could hear the smirk in her drawl. She gazed at him intently. Studying the sculpted face and comparing it to her work. Apollo raised her ear to Brie's shout. "Ya know I can get it myself." She announced and sauntered past him and towards the food, trailing her nails over his arm. Relishing the fact that in her shoes she now came up to the man's earlobe rather than his chin.

Apollo called over her shoulder with a laugh, "And uh... Didn't we establish las' time that ya' can't out drink me?"

Chordling

 

[The One Called X]

Angelica tightened the laces on her boot, stamping her foot a little so that it fit right. The work boots were the newest thing in her wardrobe, and she adored them- they were sturdy, warm, practical, and made out of soft black leather. They were possibly the finest things she owned, even if they didn't quite look it to anyone else. She straightened up, catching sight of herself in the mirror. She looked... all right. Better, now, after a year of steady work and good eating. Much prettier, she thought, now that her face had rounded and softened with the weight gain.

She was also far more conscious of her looks, now. Womanhood seemed to come so naturally to Apollo and Opal. Angelica hardly knew where to begin. Makeup was utterly foreign to her. Other things- clothes, jewelry- she had an idea of what to do, but... she just couldn't bring herself to buy such unnecessary things. It was terrifying- what if she spent money on them, and then needed it later? It was the same fear that led to her stashing food in her cabin every now and then. Usually, Joey would find it and eat it, but just knowing that she could squirrel food away was comforting.

She shook her head. It was a stupid thing to think about, anyhow. She was the best pilot on the ship. It's not like she needed to be all dolled up. Didn't matter that she didn't have the foggiest clue how things were done, between men and women. Well- she knew how things were done, just- not how people got to that point. It was like there was some sort of code, some secret language, that nobody had ever informed her of. It wasn't important, not really, it just left her feeling... childish and gawkish and lost, sometimes, and terribly confused by men in general most of the time. Other women and children and dogs were just easier.

Speaking of dogs. "Joey-boy, I know you're on my bed." She paused. There was a rustling noise, but no thump-creak of dog on floor. She sighed, deciding to let it be. It was Piracy Day, and even if Joey didn't know exactly what that was, he could tell when the ship was buzzing with excitement. He knew that that was usually the prelude to a party. Joey hated those- he didn't want to stay in their quarters all alone, but he hated being near big groups of people. Bad memories, Angelica thought, as she turned and her eyes landed on the remains of the right half of his face. Crowds never boded well for pit dogs. He got clingy, times like this.

Angelica left the mirror, crossed the room, knelt by the bed. She and Joey's eyes were level now. His chin was dropped between his big paws, resting on the ragdoll she'd made him a few weeks back. It was still mostly intact, by some sort of miracle. He licked his nose. She sighed again. "Aw, Joey-boy." She scratched behind his ear. He raised his head to lick her cheek, his movements slow and subdued. "Good dog. You're all right. It's all right. You're a good dog."

She kissed him on the top of his head, resting her cheek there for a moment to comfort him. This time, when she stood, he slid down and stretched in affected lethargy. He picked up the ragdoll with surprising gentleness, carried it to the pile of old blankets that normally served as his bed, and dropped it there, using his nose to bury it safely in the bedding. Joey never took it outside of the room, and always hid it before leaving. That way, it wouldn't get lost, and nobody could take it away.

As they left, Joey slunk behind Angelica at a slightly longer distance than usual. He most always found somewhere inobtrusive and out-of-the-way to wait out big gatherings- someplace where he could find Angelica quickly if need be, but where he wasn't likely to be bothered. Most folk gave him a wide berth- being a big, scarred dog with metal teeth had that effect. He slid along the wall, until he came across Nine. Nine was somewhat more acceptable than most people. She was not loud or poky and she smelled okay. He did not acknowledge her existence, but he did lurk around her. Maybe she would benefit from people avoiding his aura of menace.

Angelica noted his position, with a small smile. He was getting better with people, she thought. He wouldn't have voluntarily gone that far from her or singled out another person two months ago. It was a long road- she estimated that Joey was three or four years old, and most of that had been pretty awful- but dogs were resilient creatures. She and Joey had that in common.

She looked around the room. Her eyes lit momentarily on the Captain. Apollo was draped all over him, naturally. She tried to ignore the knot that formed in her stomach. The Captain gave her feelings sometimes, and she hated it. She didn't even like him, but her stomach went all fluttery whenever he acknowledged her, and she got jealous sometimes, and she just worried about what he thought of her. It was awful, and upsetting, and it wouldn't go away. It seemed like the harder she tried to expunge the feelings, the more persistent they became. She just wished it'd stop.

Casting about for something to distract herself with, she found herself scanning for Brie out of habit. The chef had, it seemed, just passed off a roast boar to that one cabin boy that was always getting himself in trouble, and now a very drunk Faraday was wailing for her to help him. Angelica left them to it. Leski- the cabin boy- well, she could help him, but she decided against it. Kid needed to learn to work, and she wouldn't do him any favors by over-mothering him, especially in front of the crew. And to be entirely honest, she didn't quite feel like dealing with him.

Instead, she headed towards the table, and snatched a tankard. She was twenty years old and had never once been drunk, despite having plenty of reasons to find solace in a bottle. She was always afraid of what the consequences might be. But really, what was the worst that could happen?

A tankard and a half later, she found herself in a worse mood than she'd started out in. What was wrong with her? Why didn't men like her? Why didn't the Captain like her? She was a pretty woman. She was tall, and her legs were good, and she had nice eyes, and a pretty mouth. Opal always told her nice things like that. Opal was nice. Like... like a big sister who made Angelica feel good about herself. Captain Woods was not nice. He was dumb. And she was mad at Apollo. Because... because she was just as good, so why didn't he ever look at her like he looked at Apollo? It wasn't even that she wanted him to, because he was dumb, but. It wasn't fair.

Angelica made a quiet, unhappy noise and took another swig of ale. She picked her way carefully through the crowd, stumbling here and there. Everything was dumb. Except Joey. Joey was good. He was a good dog. Diablo was good too, even if his person was stupid. That wasn't Diablo's fault. He was a dog. Dogs were good. They were simple and brave and good. Not like men. Men were the worst, and none of them wanted her, and it was awful.

Eventually, she reached Joey and Nine. She slumped down next to Joey, because the floor was very unsteady and the ship was clearly being piloted by some hack who couldn't keep it on the level, except it wasn't actually being piloted at the moment in the strictest sense, and nobody else seemed to be having trouble with the floor, so possibly Angelica was drunk. That was stupid, because she had not had nearly enough alcohol to be drunk from, and it tasted awful, so why had she drunk it in the first place? Because of the stupid Captain and his stupid face and stupid men and how she was going to die a virgin and everything was terrible.

Joey was sniffing her face. He rested his paw on her leg, licking his nose in concern. Angelica felt her eyes well up. He was such a good dog, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by fondness and love and general tender feelings. She set down her tankard, leaning forward to hug him tightly, mumbling all the while about how he was the best dog. He endured it with grace and no small amount of confusion as she started to cry in earnest, eventually wiggling free. He sat next to her, resolved to guard his human until her strange behavior passed.

Angelica turned her attention to Nine, sniffling and scrubbing at her eyes, and suddenly realizing that she'd been rather rude. She opened her mouth, intending to say something along the lines of hello Nine, good to see you, sorry about all of this but I'm a bit drunk. What came out instead was "Hullo. M'sorry. I think m'drunk and I dunno how to be a girl and men don't like me and... and..." she paused for a moment, considering the other woman. "You have very pretty hair."

Syrenrei

 

[IctoraPost]

The shouting clamour swept through the room, crashing into the walls more sounds rolling in, yelling, laughing, singing. The party was in full swing, everyone merrily celebrating the gracious that was Pirate Day, drinking, eating, and enjoying life to its fullest – or so it seemed. And what it seemed, it was. Partially, at least. They were indeed celebrating, drinking, eating, singing, shouting, and being all-round joyous, but were there darker themes to this? Was there a coiling darkness hidden in the light, a snake in the corner of the mice’s den, biding its time, waiting for just the right moment to strike?

Of course not. That would be stupid. Winston was not actually sure where that last part of his thought came from. Perhaps he had been listening to too many of Emil’s tragic tales. In fact, he could see the man a short distance away, spinning some adventurous legend to the open minds of the children around him, the group, in turn, surrounded by the crew of the ship, all having a great time.

Leaning against the table, Winston let out a sigh. Some days he liked to be alone with his own thoughts, minding his own business, maybe tinkering with a clock or two, but, luckily, today was not one of them. He welcomed the opportunity for a break from his work which, while stimulating and enjoyable, could become rather dull after some length of time. How Nova could live this life for fifteen years without batting an eyelid was beyond him. Hopefully nothing was going to break today, or else he would have to go and hammer out the problem and miss out on the party.

Munching on some roasted potato, Winston eyed the creature that was approaching. He sipped his ale. Walter was holding his drink well. He could still vividly remember the incident that had happened last year, with the beast of a dog rushing past him, making him spill the entire contents of his cup all over and forcing him to spend all day in an alcohol-soaked shirt. This year would be different, though. This year, he had the mug firmly grasped in his hand, slightly pointed away from him. There was no way the mongrel be able to get him this time.

Satisfied with his precautions, Winston reached over to his plate for more seasoned octopus and – what? Where did the food go? And why was it covered in this slimy, drool-like substance? Slowly turning his head, he could see the quickly-retreating hind of the culprit weaving through the crowd like some kind of phantom dog thief. Winston narrowed his eyes. Suddenly, a child burst out from who-knew-where and tackle-hugged the animal to the ground, soon followed by more assailants coming in from all directions. Served him right. Be smothered with love, dog. Get what you deserve.

Chuckling slightly under his breath, Winston turned and began his hunt for food that, preferably, wouldn’t be found in the captain’s pet’s stomach. However, after only a minute of searching, he heard a piercing whistle coming from his left, soon followed by a call of boar from his right. He hesitated. Should he investigate the mysterious signal, or continue on with his original mission? Diablo seemed to have gone to find the source of the sound, though, so there was no need for the carpenter to go. He was a good dog, more than capable of seeking out whoever whistled like that.

Winston instead headed in the direction of the food, and found the great boar being carried by a cabin boy. He eyed the meat hungrily, then glanced at the child. It was Leski, one of the newer recruits whom the carpenter had not interacted with much. Brie was there as well, most likely escorting the dish to make sure that it would be properly cared for. It really was a magnificent boar, looking glorious with all its sauce and embellishments and whatnot, and smelling even better. He couldn’t stop himself from salivating. Just then, though, an anxious-sounding voice cut through the overarching hubbub. Winston cocked head. “I think someone is calling for you, Brie. You should go. I can watch over this boar for you while you are gone.”

Life. Pretzel Heart

 

[Alecto]

Aleksander will probably never tire of Piracy Day. The music, the singing, the chattering, the shrieking laughter. All the people mingling, dancing and moving about. Food, drinks and tales being passed around; he was pretty sure that was Emil he could see off to the side, gesticulating wildly while he told a story to some of the new faces. Piracy Day on the Cold Raven was still nothing like anything he has ever experienced before. Sure, he had celebrated it on other minor ships, but here on this ship, it was just on another level completely. Because even after having celebrated the damn day five times on board already, he still felt the child-like giddiness he felt the first time. It was either that special or he had just been really starved of huge celebrations in his childhood. After all, the scavenger community he had grown up with weren't always a particularly successful lot so feasts were quite rare- The quarter master forced those thoughts away as quickly as they came.

Today is meant for pirates, not goddamn scavengers, he used to himself as he relished in the near-chaos that was the middle deck, and is it a damn good break too after we've spent weeks of working through the ruins already. And for once, Aleksander found himself sitting away from the heart of the celebration, nursing his second glass while he listened to a few crew members' drunken, exaggerated babblings, contradicting each other's stories with each new detail. The man didn't mind, though. He doubted they would even remember any lick of it as he eyed the handful of tall glasses littering the table, and it's not like the embellishments didn't make the story sound even better.

As he tried to discern truth from exaggeration, Aleksander noticed the esteemed captain striding onto the deck with purpose. Goddamn if the man didn't ooze confidence with each step; the quarter master's lip quirked up as he saw the Captain interacting with Apollo - only to have his attention shifting over to one of their crew members stumbling all over the table and proceeded to pass out on the seat next to him. He shook his head in amusement and raised his glass towards the unconscious pirate - as did the others who still had some coherency left in them - before taking a healthy swig of his drink.

Aleksander's ears then perked up when he heard Brie calling out for the roasted boar. Oh, yum. Should get his hands on that before greedy hands and mouths strip the entire thing. Pushing his seat back, Aleksander finished off his drink as he stood up; he might as well get a fresh glass to save himself the trouble. Holding the glass tightly in his grip, he turned to the group of clearly intoxicated pirates who were still trying to regale a tale,
and addressed them, "Any of you lads want some food?" The resulting chorus of answers ranging from a polite 'yes please' to the enthusiastic 'oh fuck yeah' and as well as a couple of requests, had him nodding and snorting as he stepped away from the table.

Now weaving through the throng of drunk pirates, Aleksander couldn't help but feel pity for those who didn't like the crowd scene, as he felt someone's hand brush against his backside then again only a couple of seconds later. Fine as it was to have people's attention, it wasn't fun if they started being handsy when you didn't exactly expect or want it.

 

[SentinelSevn]

"Boar! Here! Eat!"

Brie's collection of words catching the attention of the gunner through the riotous celebration, the very edge of his lips curled slightly into a small smile. "Hear that laddies, our cook's finally brought us that pig she's been firin' up in that kitchen o' hers." Emil spoke out to the gathering of children in front of him, with their reactions being a collection of eagerness for the food or depressed groans that the story would have to be postponed for a later time. He reached out and placed a heavy hand on the nearest child's head, ruffling the child's already-messy hair. "That means get off yer lazy arses and put some meat on yer bones"

Fleeing from his sight instantly, the boys would disappear into the crowd laughing in false fear of Emil's rude words. Emil could only watch the boys desperately try and break the crowd for a piece of the meat, longing for a taste of the delicacy before it would disappear from the platter. Then it would the gunner's turn to laugh, shaking his head towards the deck and attempt to suppress a chuckle from escaping his lips. Those eager for the meat were like dogs, and the boys the pups with hardly a chance to compete. But what was he to do? Spoil and baby the younglings so they become sufficient on some of the upper pirates? Hardly.

Relieving himself from his position near the corner of the middle deck, Emil wandered around the outskirts of the large crowd to find something of interest. He wasn't very much a dancer, not finding a very high interest in the sport. He did however find a small bit of amusement watching a few of the others making a fool of themselves as they celebrated, and being quite impressed by how relaxed and fluid some of their female crew mates seemed to be. It was at this time that he caught sight of the captain wandering to the floor, making small conversation with the resident painter, Apollo. "An attempt to amuse her, I 'spose." The thought being interesting in his own head, but nothing he would say out loud. Captain's business was captain's business, no reason for any of them to spoil his fun.

Emil wasn't a very heavy drinker either, which would usually have been an unbecoming trait for a pirate such as himself. Pirates were known to never be satisfied with whatever liquor they had. It wasn't an intolerance trait that Emil was worried about, the fair few times that he did indulge in heavy drinking he did happen to prove that he could in fact take in quite a few drinks before falling to the drunken side. As a fighter, keeping his wits about him was one of the higher strengths one could have. Leaving one vulnerable, especially when everyone else was doing the same, could lead to certain disaster. And during a time for celebration, The Cold Raven could surely be an open target, no matter how cowardly attacking her may be.

Yet it seems that not many others had as much fear as he did, and Emil preferred they didn't. This being his sixth year on the ship, he's experienced quite enough of their celebrations and would much prefer if they all enjoyed themselves. It may have been the fact that Emil was not one to fully embrace the idea of complete relaxation, that kept him from fully letting loose like some of the other crew members.

Like Angelica, for example, who wandered past the gunner with a look of drunken stupor across her face. Her time on the Cold Raven had been short thus far, her entry onto the ship being about a year now. And in all this time, he had yet to see her engage so heavily in alcohol as she had just now. But again, Emil only laughed and brushed the sight towards the back of his mind. It may be something he brings up later, for ridiculing purposes, but there was no point to tease her now when she would hardly remember anything he said that day.

Finally deciding to anchor himself to the exit, Emil pushed his back to the wall and rested his hands in the inner linings of his pockets. The gunner wasn't quite ready to leave yet, nor was he all too eager to partake in any of the festivities. If by chance some drunken fool thought it would be brilliant to throw their recently devoured innards outside rather than anywhere near the party, Emil thought it best he lead them away from the ship's upper levels, lest they want a breathful of sand and radiation in their lungs. He was happy enough serving the crew a different way, making use of his time instead of causing a bit of mischief.

 

[Syrenrei]

Nine had successfully navigated herself to another barren section of wall slightly farther from Captain Woods and, now that she had made her expected sultry and seductive entrance, Apollo. Her gazed had been so focused on her natural eye level that she had failed at first to notice that Joey had been lurking around her. A couple of pirates had decided to sit slightly farther away from the hulking mass of dog, creating a barrier around Nine unintentionally. If Nine had any food or treats with her she would have certainly rewarded the animal. Their fear was misguided in her opinion. All Joey truly needed was respect for the magnificent creature he was and patience for his unique challenges. Was it all that different than a person? Nova had as prosthetic and most on the ship had scars yet no one fled from them quite as quickly as they did for Joey. Nine took up her book for the time being and did not acknowledge Joey much as he did not acknowledge her. The researcher would allow the canine to set the pace for their relationship. When he was ready so would she be.

The others in the room did not hold her attention for too long, though her peripheral vision and hearing was sufficient enough to be aware of her surroundings as she read. Opal had denied her admirers further dancing as she sat with Torrey, the ship's boatswain. He was one of the men of the crew that she didn't know particularly well. Although Torrey was more quiet and calm, as she was, he felt distant and cold and that made her apprehensive about conversing with him. Nine didn't want to intrude on his personal space. Opal always complimented Nine though she could not fathom why she did so and had a hard time believing all the flattery. It was true that she was intellectually gifted, but Nine knew she had a great many limitations that Opal did not voice. Emil was regaling the ship's youth with animated stories. It might have been more charming if she didn't know how enthusiastic he was to engage in bloody combat. Nova and Toki were sitting at a table and doing something with a clock (she was never especially adept with mechanics). Faraday had been doing a science trick with some crew mates and then, after appearing quite satisfied with himself, had screamed for Brie to save him for Diablo... who had merely run past him. For her part, the ship's surgeon had entered the room with a massive roasted boar and enlisted the help of Itsel to sit it on a table, with Winston volunteering his assistance- a very conscientious move. Alekander was drinking and then encouraging some of their comrades to ravage the food table. Of all the men he was perhaps the most affable with his easy smile and infectious sense of humor.

And then there was Angelica.

Nine truly had not thought much of Angelica drinking a tankard and a half. It wasn't her business to monitor alcohol consumption; any ill effects people suffered were their business and Brie's if it became extreme. It was not until Angelica stumbled over that she realized how out of character this was for their pilot. As she slumped the the floor and cried, Nine felt uncertain what to do. Joey attempted to soothe his mistress with a paw to her leg. After she smothered him with a tight hug and he wrestled free to stand guard, Angelica had sniffled, wiped her eyes, and then looked at Nine. For a moment she forgot how much Angelica reminded her of herself when she was younger and so confident; instead, she was reminiscent of Nine's younger sister that had been left behind years prior when Nine had volunteered for the life of a pirate.

As if Nine did not already feel ill-prepared for consoling the drunk woman she did not know particularly well, Angelica voiced that the reason for her despair was that she didn't know how to be a girl and men didn't like her. Looking to Nine for advice on this topic was as apropos as inquiring with Captain Woods about marriage and commitment or Emil on the fine art of diplomacy. Nine closed her book with a sigh and slid down the wall until she was sitting beside Angelica on the floor. It was just as well to be here; it would be more difficult for her to be located by those she most fervently wished to avoid in their inebriated stupor.

"Thank you," Nine started first, addressing the comment on her hair. To think that the blonde strands were at all exceptional Angelica must be intoxicated but it would be rude to point this out. Instead Nine would converse with her female peer as she would any other time- with honesty, sincerity, and courtesy. "I can't say that I have any luck with the other sex myself," Nine admitted with a slight smile that looked more melancholy than bright or reassuring. Although physical affection and intimacy would be challenging, Nine knew she was capable; the fact she allowed men that were merely friends on the ship to touch her were proof enough. It would take a relationship however, one build firmly on trust, before it would evolve to anything beyond a pat on the shoulder.

"Most on the ship idealize those with the most striking, most objectively beautiful characteristics. I think you would be hard-pressed to find any man who would not prefer the company of Apollo or Opal above all the rest. They both just wandered through the room, so you might, if you had a mind to, find a male companion among them now that they have voiced their rejections for the evening. There are two options I see you have. You can capitalize on the assets you have and try to compete with theirs, seeking out their advice to do so... but if you do not succeed, and maybe if you do, you would still always be the third choice. In their hearts they'd always want Apollo or Opal first. Much like you could pilot a smaller vessel and it would be adequate and satisfying, but you would always pine for The Cold Raven." It was not what Angelica would want to hear, and it might start some more crying, but Nine was trying to be truthful and pragmatic. Although it felt a little strange, she moved over just a touch to put her hand on Angelica's in sympathy. Nine understood the plight better than most. Angelica was younger and prettier than she was, so she had a chance at firmly seizing at least the third spot of 'most desirable woman on the ship.' Nine was destined for a much lower rung on the proverbial ladder.

"Alternatively, you could put in some time for leave. In a larger setting it would be harder for even a handful of handsome women to monopolize the affections of all. You could test those waters, find someone special, and return later. Or you could seek another ship that has less competition." The former of these suggestions implied spending time aboard the Giovanni, though Nine did not want to say the name aloud when they were not docked there. It was a radical notion and one she had not mentioned to either Captain Woods nor Apollo. The latter might have tried to literally slap sense into her if she had been as bold to state it in her presence. "Personally I intend to do take leave in the future, but it is your choice. I'm sure Apollo and Opal would take you under your wing if you wanted. You have much more potential than I possess." Nine gave a genuine, warm smile that made her calm, even voice seem less impersonal.

 

[Kaerri]

Diablo's ears suddenly perked from the sound of a distant whistle. He lifted his head to turn in the direction of the sound and spotted Torrey. Torrey, the Boatswain. Yes, maybe he will give the dog some food! Happily, Diablo shook the children off of his back and rushed through the crowd to sit by the pirate's feet. He smiled and wagged his tail, then raised his front feet in front of his chest.

"Food, please?" he panted.

Torrey looked down at the pleading dog and smiled. It was an unusual smile for him, rather warmer and kinder than anyone had seen him give to a human being in a very long time. "Who's a good boy, then?" he asked quietly, knowing the dog will hear him even with all the noise in the room. He looked around, but the captain wasn't in sight. "Yes, Diablo's a good boy!" He held his plate down to where the dog could see, sniff, and munch as he pleased. There was plenty of food after all, and he'd heard the ship's surgeon announcing even more. If Diablo wanted to clean Torrey's plate, he was welcome -- Torrey would just get more when he was done.

As she sought out a seat, she spotted a free one beside Torrey, who had apparently attracted the attention of Diablo. She slid into the seat beside Torrey and regarded him with a smirk.

"I was on my way over to keep you company, but it looks like you've already hooked yourself a cutie," Opal remarked with a slight nod in Diablo's direction. She was rather fond of the dog, to the point where she tended to get into a bit of trouble for spoiling him. It was good, Opal thought to herself, that she'd had the foresight to serve herself a generous helping.

Torrey looked up, a little surprised at the sudden company. His soft smile shifted into the more casual one he gave to everyone but animals, these days. "Ah, yes, well," he replied coherently. "He's a good dog, and deserves fun just as the rest of us, aye?" His cheeks were a bit flushed, but whether it was from the several ales he'd had already, the overcrowded room, or embarrassment at being caught feeding Diablo or Opal's joining him, not even he was entirely sure. He wondered why she'd sought him out (deliberately, from what she'd said) when there were so many more attractive guys on the ship. Or at least younger, though Opal wasn't that much younger than he was. Not as much as some of the other girls on board. His eyes wandered across the crowd, thinking of some of those younger girls, and then he realized he was being rude.

Snapping his attention back to the woman sitting next to him, he said the first thing he could think of. "Do you like dogs, then?" Absently, he reached out to tousle Diablo's ears. Glancing down at the dog, he found his gaze passing a rather inappropriate locale, and forced his eyes back up to Opal's face, hopefully before she noticed what had caught his attention.

 

[YumenoTsukishiro]

Piracy Day. Only months later after her first night aboard the Cold Raven did Toki discover what it was, a festive holiday for unscrupulous jacke struggling to find a living in this broken world. It was a party like no other, with ale overflowing and food generously served, a happy break from the stringy rations of the regular day. But for Toki, Piracy Day was a touch more special. It marked the anniversary of when Captain Woods found her bloodied amidst the cargo back at the docks of the Giovanni, near death and hoping for a quick end after the tragedies she had experienced.


She recalled that fond memory with a smile even as her hand idly reached to her back, fingers rubbing lightly on the scarred skin where the whip had left its mark. She stood in her room, having finished preparing for the festivities, other hand clutching a mirror. Her reflection smiled back at her, roguish charm framed by a messy crop of short hair, accented by the gentle beauty of the Japanese. Few people in the Cold Raven knew of her modesty hidden beneath tight bandages, or the femininity concealed within baggy pants. She planned to keep it that way until the kami or Captain Woods decided to do something about it.


“Alright. Time to head out there and have some fun! Maybe Nova will finally let me tinker with her arm. Or maybe Brie can let me cook! Or or I can play around with Angie and Joey! So many things to do, so little time.”


She placed the mirror back inside her knapsack, which held all of her meager possessions, and walked out into the corridor where the other powder monkeys were making their way to the mess. Cajoling and rough playing were in abundance, some of them directed at Toki. She played along, keeping her wide grin and giving a few shoves and smart remarks herself. It hadn’t been hard to win the favor of the powder monkeys, though it had been a pleasant surprise to find herself thrust into an unofficial role of leadership. The monkeys regarded her as an older brother, despite some of them having more years on her. Whether it was her lively persona, her sharp focus when it comes to deadly situations, or the stories she told to rival Emil’s, she managed to earn their respect.


She entered the middle decks with grins and cheers galore. She thumped backs with fellow pirates, traded hollers with ruffians, and swiped her fair share of snacks from every other table. The holiday was in full swing and Toki was blasted full with its noise. Toki thrived in it like a dervish in a sandstorm. For a while she considered sitting down in front of Emil to enjoy another of his tales. But a quiet place in the middle decks caught her attention. Right in the center of it was a woman Toki had always wanted to know better.


And that was how she ended up sitting next to Nova, she of the metal arm. The storm in her had quieted, funneled into a quieter squall. She watched the woman work on a clock, taking note of each gear and spring, the mechanisms driving its functions, and how they all came together. When Nova presented her challenge with a smile, Toki took to it with enthusiasm in sharp focus. Her fingers remembered the years of tinkering with powder and levers. The meticulousness of her craft bled into the way she probed the clock, seeking out whatever ailed it. Her mind, usually chaotic with thoughts, was nearly empty, as close to the Zen the Buddhist monks aspired to. In no time at all she put the clock together, shooting Nova a bright grin of triumph. No sooner had she done so did Brie’s voice overpowered the tumult.


“Brie!”


And just like that she was the energetic Shiba once more. She ran towards the source of the voice, shoving aside the other pirates clamoring for the food. Once her target was in sight, she launched herself forward and wrapped the surgeon in a tight hug.


“Brie! Come on let’s eat!”

Life.
Ronan

 

[Life.]

As soon as the words left the chef's lips a wave of pirates rose up to make their way towards the huge piece of meat that the cabin boy was carrying. The short gal felt the need to assist Leski as she saw the influx of hungry bodies, but her surgeon radar immediately reacted when Brie heard a cry of help. She stood there conflicted, deciding on which person she should help first. But an angel descended upon the middle decks when Brie heard Winston dismiss her off while he helped Leski. "Oh thank the almighty gods for your presence Winston!" Brie exclaimed quickly covering her mouth afterwards from the outburst. She quickly looked away, silently cursing to herself and hoped that no one else heard that. She then focused her attention on the cry for help. Brie's heart accelerated a bit as she looked through the crowd in search of the one who cried for help. She slithered around the masses of pirates and began looking around a bit. Sometimes it was difficult being short compared to all the men and even some of the other gals around here. Brie continued on like a hunting dog, in search of the victim. The short surgeon dodged around appendages of pirates who were carelessly throwing them around due to the influence of alcohol. Eventually she made it to the general area of where she heard the call from. The surgeon couldn't quite get a good glance to see who it was or what happened but she managed to make her way through the crowds and stopped in front of source who shrilled for aid.

Turned out it was merely Faraday. Drunk, scared, and swaying away. Brie handled cries of help as a serious matter so when she found out that it was just a drunk pirate, she was irritated. A scowl furrowed onto Brie's face as she looked up at the drunk researcher. Usually she was the one to annoy him but at the moment it was the other way around. Not really knowing how to assist Faraday at the moment and not exactly thinking through her actions, Brie brought both of her hands to Faraday's face. But not in a gentle way mind you. She made sure that her hands made an audible slap when it made contact. But she didn't immediately pull them away, Brie lingered her hands there for a moment and held his face still so that the drunk researcher can look her well in the eyes. "You're drunk Faraday. Unless you are actually hurt do not call out to me for help." Despite the false alarm, Brie dragged the man to a safe spot away from whatever scared him. She managed to drag the slightly larger man from the fuel of her diminishing fury. Once she felt that he was fine on his own she left him without another word. Eventually this will all blow over and she'd be back to annoy him another day. Or who knows he may be seeing her later tomorrow morning for some remedies on a hangover because surely from his condition he'll need it.

The surgeon took a few steps forward in no particular direction when she heard her name called out nearby. Oh dearie is some other drunk person needing assistance? But her face brightened up when she saw who it was, Toki. The surgeon welcomed her with open arms and returned the child's tight hug. It was amazing to Brie to feel the difference in the strength and energy that she felt now compared to when she first held Toki. So much of Brie's time was occupied with Toki, but Brie didn't care. Over the time Brie took care of her and watched her integrate herself into the crew she felt a sort of kinship with the girl. All the lingering anger and panic dissipated as she embraced the young girl. Brie didn't know what it was but she felt her calmest when she was around Toki. The surgeon gave a soft chuckle at Toki's enthusiasm. "All right. But if there isn't anymore food around I have a secret stash in the kitchen," Brie whispered giving a small wink to Toki.

IctoraPost
Rhakun
YumenoTsukishiro

Ugh Piracy Day. A day where humans attempt to have a valid excuse to partake in activities that could potentially shorten their lifespans. As if they weren't already short enough? Berry rested upon a barrel close by to the festivities though despite his ill thoughts of it. But only because of the food. Not that he wanted it, but rather who may want it. Rats. The feline positioned himself on the barrel ready to pounce on any rodents that dared try to enter to middle decks. His scope looked around in search of an unfortunate soul, but then a sudden dot appeared on the floor.

What is this speck? The dot suddenly moved to a different spot. Berry's attention was fully focused onto the speck. But it began moving away from his the area of his surveillance. The black feline jumped down from the barrel and pursued the speck of light. His undivided attention was so concentrated on the speck that he didn't realize that he had step foot into the room where the festivities are at. But he didn't care because he was going to get that dot.

The speck of light continued to snake its way around the feet of humans and Berry followed like a shadow. Finally the light speck stopped . Now's my chance! With a shake of his rump and the stretch of his claws Berry pounced forward to find himself colliding to the floor, empty pawed. It wasn't until he heard giggles of mischievous young humans nearby did he realize that he was fooled. But the situation turned out even better when Berry looked up to see the black demon himself in front of him. Diablo.

Chordling

 

[Ronan]

STEP_AUTHCOMMAND.BUI / ACCESS TERMINAL : V002.

[ INITIALISING ... ]
[ struct group_info=usage=NOVA_(1) ]

The clock was easy, even an amateur with no experience fixing machinery could put it back together. But, there was a fondness she took in watching Toki put it back together. It was thoughtfulness. Care and precision in understanding the scheme of clockwork and pleasing Nova. The world was quiet as he worked. Nova grabbed her goblet of ale with her good arm (she avoided using the cybernetic side where she could. The arm wasn't a secret; it wasn't shame. [People pity the weak and missing.] It was drawing less attention to it and recognising that she was more) and took a measured swig of it, relishing in the burn of alcohol down the back of her throat.

Unsurprisingly, Toki fixed the clock and presented it with such merriment that Nova couldn't help but return his smile and offer a quiet nod of appraisal. A fixed clock is a fixed clock. He was gone when Brie entered the room with a platter of roasted boar. Brie. Brie. Just the thought of her made Nova vigilant. She had a habit of popping up from random places to offer assistance. Yesterday she almost swung a door open in Nova's face, which earned her a sharp scowl. Needless to say, she avoided Brie when she could; even going as far to swap beds with Nine to fool her.

Speaking of Nine―Nova turned around in her seat, the fixed clock firmly in her hand to observe Nine and Angelica against the wall, the latter all snot-faced and drunk. Toki was gone; the clock was fixed, and Brie was far away. It was safe and there was nothing better to do. Piracy Day was dull. She would be the last to take a bite of the boar. Nova slid from her seat and slumped to the floor with her legs crossed. ❛ What are y'talking about? ❜ she asked, taking note of Angelica's less-than-ideal stupor. She inched closer to Nine and further from Angelica, a cringed expression growing on her features. She didn't have any rags for Angelica to blow her nose in, and she certainly didn't want to be in the 'hazard zone' should she try. Nova didn't understand sensitivity. Nova didn't understand Angelica. ❛ I heard an Apollo and Opal in that conversation. Are we trying t'eject them? ❜

[ SEARCH TAGS : Syrenrei / The One Called X ]

 

[Rhakun]

Faraday

The slap had hurt him: his attention sparked up and he tensed, a little bewildered at Brie's line of action. His gaze darted towards her in a flared manner, but she was nevertheless in the right: the wine was to blame for the ruckus. The unexpected influx of pain had made him forget about Diablo (whose unarrival had left his fight-or-flight expectations disappointed) and, if anything, he was left with a mild bitterness for her remarks at the scenario.

"Unless *I* am actually hurt, dearie? Well, haven't you done a wonderful job at doing just that." he thought as he was being dragged; his jaw flicking behind the red marks left on his cheeks. "Not all problems involve blood loss and spasms, Brie."

Heated as he was, Faraday kept those remarks to his insides. He may or may not have known what to expect upon calling Brie: even his subconscious knew how much of a wildcard that could be, but she had nevertheless gone out of her way to pull him out of the crowd. He believed to know her sufficiently to not take it to heart and, At the end of the day, he was too drunk to cross the hall, but not enough to disparage a friend who had done him a favor.

If one thing remained clear to his afflicted orientation was that, after being dropped away, he was now further from his desired goal at the food table. Diablo had been, after all, near to it. Since it went against his judgement to try the crossing again, he hooked his foot on a nearby stool, pulled it towards him and sat, deciding it would be better to stabilize by other means. Faraday eventually caught up to his dizziness and got a general picture of the room's happenings. The Captain and Apollo were talking, Opal and Torrey were too; Nine and Nova stood far in the offsides around a wailing patch of curls he could only make out as Angelica: not out of any discernable trait asides the presence of Joey who was incredibly close to her face. Faraday gagged a little at the notion of being in that position himself, but he sighed it off. Whichever the case was, it seemed that she was finding some degree of consolation with being sniffed over.

"Affective preferences." He muttered to himself at his second at Joey, half closing his eyes, half holding his breath. "Affective preferences."

Brie had found her way to Toki and Winston seemed well-off enough to hang himself around the boar. The lucky bastard. Emil had finished his tale-telling so, with that alternative pushed to the side and his only battery beng toyed around tables across, he decided to lay back and divert the evening. He called on a powder monkey to spare him a tankard with water and whatever he could pick from the table in exchange for a golden nut (that was actually brass) and, dinner at hand, he sung with a group of pirates to the sound of a nearby accordion.

"What do you do with a drunken sailor~..."

 

[Chordling]

"You laugh as if you are telling the truth," the captain countered as he followed her towards the array of delicacies. Slowly, the captain slithered an arm around her hip while the other made its way towards her hair. According to the captain's ego, no one really knew who could outdrink the other. Most of the pirates had already spent a majority of the night drinking, Woods included. Someone had the bright idea to see who could drink the most. Already inebriated, Woods technically didn't have a fair start. Whoever had been judging the match had been pretty drunk, too, so it was impossible to trust their observations. That is, again, according to Woods' ego. It didn't matter so much, however, if Apollo could outdrink him. She was gorgeous and sometimes hard to get. That was enough to make her his favorite.

He began to whisper in her ear, seductive words he would never dare to repeat to anyone else on the ship, and pressed little kisses on her cheek in between his phrases. Another woman had attempted to pull the captain away from Apollo, but Woods glared at her, and the intruder immediately left. The captain's callused hands had already begun to caress over every inch of Apollo's exposed flesh. No dame, oversized piece of meat, intoxicating concoction of alcohol, or treasure for that matter would make Woods leave her side. For now at least.

"It's piracy day," his low voice buzzed in her ear. "The cabins may be closed off but the captain's quarters are always open. Won't you join me?" He brought her aroma in from a soft section of her lose hair, and just as he was about to press another kiss onto her lips, a rude piece of fur brushed passed his leg. It was the cat. Even the animals seemed demanding for his attention. Couldn't they understand that he was busy? Thankfully, the little feline moved away quickly enough before the captain could lose his patience.

Diablo had been too occupied licking the boatswain's plate clean to notice Berry at first. There were still microscopic particles of the leftover fish and veggies lingering on the porcelain. They were the best part of any meal. He simply could not give those up. Especially on a holiday. Just as he looked up from the plate, he spotted the cat. In that moment, everything seemed to pause. His nose twitched as he tried to catch its scent as he gently moved forward. His steps were not aggressive. Ironically, it was pure curiosity. One step, then another, and another, and another, Diablo inched closer and closer to Berry. Him being a dog and Berry being a cat, Diablo knew that there would be a bit of a language barrier. He realized then and there that subtly would not be helpful to any degree.

PLAY PLAY PLAY PLAY PLAY PLAY PLAY!!! he barked. His butt raised itself in the air has his tail furiously moved back and forth.

whitepaperplates
Life.

 

[The One Called X]

Angelica's brain took a few moments to process Nine's words. Oddly enough, she had not considered the possibility that the other woman would actually offer advice and solutions, rather than simply agreeing with her on the awfulness of everything. She frowned thoughtfully, mulling it over. Nine was probably right. Apollo and Opal just... had something, and it drew men in like flies to honey. And yet... Nine had compared it to how she'd always love the Cold Raven best, of any ship.

It was true. She loved the ship. Captain Woods could pretend it belonged to him all he liked, but she'd known, as soon as she'd taken the helm for the first time, that they'd been made for each other. The institution of the Raven- the crew, the jobs, the reputation- that was all the Captain's. The ship was hers. And yet. She got that buzz under her skin sometimes. She missed it, racing shitty little crafts that really had no business being called ships. The speed and recklessness of it. Something different.

Her thoughts were still a muddle, and when Nine actually reached out and took her hand Angelica felt her eyes well up again. Nine was lovely and excellent and Angelica wanted to hug her, but she had enough sense left to know that Nine was unlikely to welcome that level of intrusion into her personal space. Instead, she settled for squeezing the blonde woman's hand and returning a watery smile.

"You're... you're good. A good person. I like you. You're good like Joey." Joey looked back at the sound of his name, noted the absence of treats, and laid down with a huff. Angelica, distracted, promptly moved on to the next train of thought. "But like. I miss other ships, sometimes, you know? I love the Raven but... I miss havin'... havin'..." she thought hard for a few moments. "The word. Starts with a v. When you have different stuff. Variety! I miss havin' variety. I like all the ships. All ships are good." She nodded decisively, pleased with the wisdom she had dispensed.

The primary issue thus addressed- ships, after all, took precedence over men- the context of the statement suddenly clicked into place. "Leave the ship?" She yelped. "But- but-" she thought for a bit. It wasn't exactly a bad idea. But it would involve going back to the Giovanni. And the Giovanni was a nice place. It's just that it made her remember things. And leaving would mean that she didn't see people. Who would mind Brie? Who would look after Toki? Leski would probably be dead in a week without her. And she would probably not see Aleksander for however long she was gone and that. That would be. It would be bad. For reasons.

She looked up when Nova entered their little pow-wow of misery. Nova was all right. Bit odd, but she'd just seen some rough times, same as anybody. Joey's ears perked up at her approach, his one good eye following her movements.

"Nine was sayin' maybe we ought to leave the ship to find men who aren't already in love with Apollo or Opal. 'Cause- 'cause they all are. Like the captain. He's all over her. Like a- like a-" she paused, casting about for a word to properly communicate her disdain. "A man." She shook her head. "But I dunno. Would have to go back to the Giovanni. S'a good place, y'know. Just. Wasn't a good time. M'aunt was a bitch. And then I didn't live anyplace. Went hungry a lot. Bad time all 'round. S'a good place, just. Makes me remember bad times. And. Got lots of 'sponsibilities. Can't trust my ship to just anybody. And. And. I gotta look out for Toki and Brie and that moron Leski 'cause he'd be fuckin' dead, y'know, and it'd- wouldn't see Aleksander. I like seeing Aleksander. He's nice. I just go all stupid talkin' to him. Dunno why. Ain't like-" she managed to catch herself before she came out and said that it wasn't like with the captain. That would've been a bloody disaster. She'd throw herself out of the ship without a radiation suit if word ever got back to him that he got under her skin the way he did. She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

Syrenrei Ronan

 

[Syrenrei]

Nine was starting to seriously question her decision to give such honest, forthright advice to Angelica. The girl certainly deserved it, make no mistake, but when Nova approached she began to see the possible error of her ways. Nova was a confidant and dear friend that would keep any secrets entrusted to her, but how easily she stumbled into this private topic made Nine ill at ease. Who else nearby might have caught just a glimmer of what was spoken and would whisk it away in a bastardized state to the rest of the crew's ears? A slight swelling of anxiety rose deep in her breast but she pushed it aside quickly. What was done was done and she stood by her analysis of the ship's predilections given an opportunity for fornication. If there was any question as to its veracity, Woods was well on his way to an evening with Apollo and Opal was enjoying the company of one of the more desirable bachelors aboard.

And then Angelica yelped aloud, 'Leave the ship?' incredulously. To someone so emotionally attached, who hadn't really considered such a proposition, Nine knew the idea sounded drastic at best. She should have predicted that in Angelica's drunken stupor that this would at least risk an exclamation. With a slight burning pink alighting on her cheeks she tried not to look around the large room to see what gazes might have turned their way. What could she even do? Assuming they weren't deaf, wasted, or distracted a few probably overhead that singular line directed from Angelica to Nine. Going to each individually and trying to clear up any misunderstanding would only make things worse. Those that hadn't been paying any attention would now be privy to the plan, those who misheard might distrust her clarification, and in no light would it be received well. Nine would be a deserter, or a woman desperate for a man, or that even more bizarre researcher that kept an arm's length away from everyone.

At most times Nine had a pleasant expression. She liked watching people and would regard others with a nod and a soft smile when appropriate. It was only when she forced down her feelings, suppressing them and bottling them up, that her voice took on a slightly colder edge and her visage became more stoic. Nine mustered all of her composure, her emotional fortitude, and painted her features into something blank. Her eyebrows betrayed nothing, her lips were neither curled downwards nor upwards, and her gaze was more deadened than a second prior.

These were difficult topics for Nine. It was hard to admit you were the least objectively beautiful choice on a ship to yourself, much less to others and aloud. It was hard to want to have an intimate relationship with someone and yet be so damaged, so conflicted, and feel like such a burden that it seemed impossible to broach the topic. It was hard to have unrequited crushes on those whose eyes never once seemed to look her way. It was hard to know that all the flirting that had ever been aimed in her direction was about as serious as the knock-knock jokes her father told her siblings. It was hard to remember them, imperfect as they were, were forever out of her grasp. If she saw them again it would be at her own funeral because she was a fugitive and they enjoyed lives that did not cross with that as a pirate. It was hard to miss them because there was no real substitute. They were a large part of why she had suddenly been so motivated to actually repair herself, settle down, and perhaps start a family before it was too late. A child would be nice, of course, but just having a spouse would be a family of two. Right now she was alone and had only herself to blame. It was hard.

At least Angelica liked her. Of course, it was probably easier for Angelica to like everyone when she was so plastered she couldn't enunciate half of her words properly.

"It's not an answer for everyone, or even for every time. It was just as suggestion," Nine reassured as best she could without sounding like a machine. She felt like a machine saying it, yet the words rolled off her tongue in a smooth, mellow tone. The researcher listened quietly as Angelica tried to explain though it sounded more like she was addressing herself than them. "The time I spent on the Giovanni was like finding another home, which it the only reason I brought it up. You don't have to leave the ship if you want to stay. I'm sure the captain would rather have you here. And there's always the chance the captain will add new crew that is immune to the charm and appeal of Apollo and Opal. Perhaps you can ask one of them about Aleksander. He seems like a very kind man," she added with approval. This was hard. This was too hard. Part of Nine felt like it was breaking and fracturing under the weight of the artificial distance she struggled to maintain. Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily and Nine took a deep breath. It was fine, it was fine. This was all for the best.

"If you change your mind, however, my accommodations are open to you if we take our leave concurrently," Nine stated with an exhale. Lids opened and she was steadied again. It was hard but it was fine, she repeated to herself mentally. "Nova, have you been enjoying the party?" she inquired, eager to turn the conversation slightly.