[Vignette] Eavesdown Encounter

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Eavesdown Docks, Persephone
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It's evening at the Eavesdown Docks, the sun rolling back over the sky, preparing to dip below the horizon. The slantways rays from the sun create blind spots and long shadows as the crowds move about. The business is somewhat slowed from midday, many propietors having gone home, but there's still plenty of activity to be had. One man, stands as an island amid the streams of people, two wooden crates forming a perch from which he sits, as well as a duffel bag and a hinged black case with an hourglass shape and then a long, straight section. He wears a simple pair of round sunglasses, silvery which mostly reflect whatever it is he looks at.



Saienne steps down onto Eavesdown from a hill that winds up into the heart of the city. She stands for a moment, poised before the somewhat diminished crowd, until she plunges into the middle of it, charting an indirect course around clusters of people. She is wearing a long coat, scruffy at the hems but warm-looking, and has one hand thrust deep into her pocket. The other hand is up at her jaw, rubbing at it. Her hat, which has a broad and floppy brim, has a pheasant feather tucked into the band. It bobs and ducks jauntily with every step she takes. As she nears the crates where Anatoli is perched, she glances upwards at him. The reflection she receives in his sunglasses is of a slightly wary, slightly wild looking woman.


Anatoli lets the slight breeze wash around him just like the people below, looking down to his hourglass shaped box and gripping it with his left hand to ensure it is actually there. When he looks back towards the people he sees Saienne making her way through the crowd. He gives her a nod as she seems to slow or stop in front of him. "Dobryj vecher and good ev-a-ning to you." He remarks in a deep baritone with the thick accent of the Earth-that-was land of Russia.


"Evenin'," replies Saienne, cordially - and at once she frowns and touches at her jaw gingerly. "Good gorram." she mutters, a little darkly. She squints up at the gentleman with the accent. Her eyes are shadowed entirely by the brim of her hat, but she's scrutinising him curiously nonetheless. "You waitin' on someone?" she asks, a little bluntly, as she comes to a full stop in front of the crates. Her voice is muffled somewhat, words half-swallowed before they even make it out into the open air.


Anatoli lowers and raises his head slowly in a nod. "You could say that." He says flatly, his left hand adjusting his glasses to ensure they don't slip off and fall to the dirt of Eavesdown. "And yourself?" He asks with a seeming curious tone of his own. His left hand continues to grip the hinged box at his side as if it were valued highly.


Saienne glances back across the dock to the city, taking her eyes of Anatoli to scan the far street that she originally came down. As she swings her head, the tip of the pheasant feather describes an elegant arc in the air. "Just makin' good my gorram escape," she mutters. Her head swings round, then, and her hidden gaze turns towards a gleaming silver ship docked not far from where they are. "Makin' my way home," she says, more loudly. There is a pause, and she looks back at the man. A lop-sided smile begins to form, but Saienne quickly aborts the expression with a hearfelt curse. She takes a moment to recover, and then adds: "I was just askin' in case you were waitin' on one of us, is all."

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[Log] Dangerous old 'Verse

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Eavesdown Docks, Persephone
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Surrounded by slums on the edges of the city, the docks are chaotic and bustling. Ships are haphazardly lined up side by side, and vendor's stalls and carts are interspersed between them. Dust kicked up by ground traffic and engine exhausts billows through the air, coating near anything that manages to remain still long enough with a film of grime.

Single voices vie to be heard over the cacophany of crowds from across the 'Verse, and are lost altogether amongst the grind of machinery and roaring of engines. Exotic scents mingle with that of the unwashed and sweaty, while there's an undercurrent of less easily defined odors in the air. Unless you're looking for clean and shiny, there's a little something for everyone to be found here on Eavesdown's docks.
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It's late evening and Will has wandered back from one of the seedier, and cheaper bars, he's looking at the sky with the expression of someone almost drunk. He sighs slightly before sitting to one side of the area waiting patiently.


Saienne stands at the foot of Grace's ramp, mostly in the shadows. Eavesdown at this time of night is not crowded, but it's busy enough, with locals and visitors alike clustered around the Good Dogs stand or passing through from the shantytown or the racetrack. The stars cannot be seen through the red-orange glow rising from the city, but the Black is up there all the same - and occasionally a ship rises up to meet it, or descends from it with a roar and a burn. Saienne stalks out from the shelter of Grace's shining hull, hatless but wearing a heavy dark coat. She has her hands thrust deep into her pockets, and she watches as William sways down from the direction of the bars and pubs and settles down patiently. "Evenin'," she says to him, quietly, her voice rich and smooth as silk.



Looking at the woman Will nods slightly to Saienne. "Evening. Going well I hope?" There's a slightly bitter note to his voice as he looks once again to the sky, then looking at ship again. "You're on Grace O'Malley, she's a beaut."


Saienne steps forward into a pool of gaudy light. "Ain't it, though?" She says, with a lop-sided smile. "An' ain't that a tonic for my nerves, an' all." She follows William's gaze to the sky, and the smile fades. "You ain't still waitin' for your bird? Good gorram... you ain't heard a peep out of them or nothin'?" She looks over her shoulder at Grace's familiar sillhouette. "I am, an' she is, at that." She nods, as if nothing more needs to be said on that subject - but she continues. "Although if you'd've seen her last month... well, suffice to say she weren't lookin' as shiny then."


Shaking his head Will laughs. "I've heard word, it's just typical delays, I've been told they're on their way and everything went quite well." He chuckles. "But this long on one world it kinda gets my skin crawling." With another shake of his head Will continues. "I'm just hoping that we're ready to leave without too much prep time."


"Well an' good," Saienne says, with an easy smile. "At least they ain't languishin' nowhere or zippin' off in the opposite direction." The smile shifts to a broad and crooked grin. "Had that happen to me more than once, truth be told." She pulls her coat a little closer around herself; Eavesdown is chill this time of night. "An' this world in particular ain't exactly... well. It surely is a skin crawlin' kind of place." She nods. "You got anythin' to carry off here when you leave, or are you just headin' some place else as fast as she can take you?"


Shrugging Will grins. "I'm looking for work, I generally don't like to have an empty ship, it's bad profit, but it's worse to spend too long without work, and it's been too long since I was in the Black." He looks once again to the sky.


"I'll keep my ear to the ground," Saienne says - and in all seriousness, by her tone. "But I reckon there's plenty for shippin' out at present." She pauses, squints over at the buildings around the edge of the dock - warehouses, for the most part, and some seedy looking office buildings. "Lotus Exports," she says, pointing. "Got a shipment of parts we just ain't able to fit in the hold alongside everythin' else we're haulin'. Way I heard it, it sounded a real sweet deal an' all."


THere's a chuckle as Will looks towards the offices with a nod. "I'll give it a look, but sweet deals tend to be more complicated than the more... difficult jobs." He shrugs. "Like you say, a lot of people are trying to get off-world it's playing hell with export fees.


"You ain't wrong there," Saienne says, with a nod of agreement. "But I've dealt with Lotus before - on a smaller scale - an' there ain't much dodgy about them." A beat. "Well, beyond the usual Eavesdown taint, that is." She glances at the offices. "I reckon they just need the space; need to clear things out." A crooked grin. "But what do I know?" She listens as William talks, nodding along with him. "Your bird," she cuts in, after a few moments. "She take passengers an' all? Or just cargo?"


William says, "She'll take passengers if the money's right, and the passengers don't bring along complications. Complications cost extra." William chuckles slightly. "Why, know someone looking to go somewhere?""


Saienne grins crookedly at William. "Complications cost extra." She chuckles a little herself, a long, low rumble of a sound. "An' ain't that the gorram truth, straight an' true?" From within one of Saienne's pockets comes a buzz of static and the muffled chatter of someone's voice. "Oh, good gorram!" Saienne exclaims as she roots around for the source of the noise. Lifting her hand out of her pocket, some electronic gadget glimmers in the neon light. "I ain't standin' yammerin'," she protests, into it. "I'm... well... all right -" she glances at William "- so I am standin' yammerin', but all in a good cause, I swear it." The device chatters again, and Saienne just shakes her head and shoves the thing back in her pocket. "So much for bein' all stealthy, like!" She comes back round to the conversation. "Oh, not exactly," she says. A pause. "Sometimes I'm called upon to part ways with our Gracie, on account of my other job. It's always good to know folks with space for passengers."


Grinning Will laughs. "I take it you're on a job? Usually I'm the one yelling, but I know the sounds." He shrugs. "Well you're welcome on my ship anytime, I remember people who've done me favours. If you don't mind me asking, what is it you do?"


"Oh, hell, I'm only watchin' the ramp so we don't get no stowaways or thievin' beggars stealin' up into the hold. It ain't like I can't do that an' talk at the same time." She grins back at Will, and nods a thank-you at his invitation. "Well, that's real kind of you, ain't it." Saienne leans back against the nearest stable object and regards William carefully. "It ain't nothin' special. I'm a courier, is all. Most usually takin' items folk don't want to trust to the postal service, although ain't I had a few jobs odder than that in my time, an' all?" She gestures back at Grace. "Sometimes Grace is flyin' in the opposite direction I need to be travellin', so I hop off, go on my way, an' meet her again later."


Looking at Saienne for a moment Will nods. "Seems to me it'd be easier for the career if you just hopped ship, I like to see loyalty." He laughs although there's a slightly bitter edge to it. "I find it somewhat rare these days."


Saienne looks at William with a puzzled expression. "Ain't no power in the 'Verse'd cause me not to come back to Grace," she says, and firmly. A pause; a frown. "Well, except if I got arrested or killed or somesuch, but I ain't done nothin' illegal an' as far as I know it I ain't got no one gunnin' for me at present, neither." She shakes her head. "She's home, ain't she?" Her frown melts slowly into a lop-sided smile, and she raises a hand from her pocket to rub a thumb along the line of her jaw. "An' that ain't somethin' I say lightly, I promise you." A beat. "I expect it is loyaly, at that. Ain't never thought on it that way, truth be told."


"Well I've been gunned for a few times, and more than a few folks over the years have tried to stop me getting to my boat," Will pauses for a moment with a chuckle. "But I know what you mean. Iriana's Joy has been home since.... well I was born on that ship, and she's old, ugly and none to easy to keep at times, but I sometimes think I'll die on her too."


"Dangerous old 'Verse, ain't it?" Saienne says, somewhat noncommittally. But she nods along with Will as he starts to talk about his ship. "Me," she says, "I was born out in the dust on Boros." A crooked grin. "Prairie girl, ain't I? An' I reckon, an' all, that's where I'll be when I die." She squints up at the sky, stars masked by the glow of the city still. "But who knows really? It ain't like you can plan it..." The familiar crackle of her iComm causes her to curse again, and dig again in her pocket for the thing. "Ain't no need to shout," she mutters at it. "I can hear you plain as anythin'." She pauses to listen, and the voice on the other end says something about supper, and it going cold if a certain someone dallies any long. Saienne turns a slightly helpless look in William's direction. "You heard the lady," she says, turning back for the ship. "I ain't gettin' nothin' if I don't go for it now." She grins crookedly. "An' there's little as would get between me an' my supper - specially when Josephine's at the stove." Before long she's bounded up the ramp, into the belly of the Grace, and vanished from view.

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[Log] "...virtue can hurt you, an' all."

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Eavesdown Docks, Persephone
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Surrounded by slums on the edges of the city, the docks are chaotic and bustling. Ships are haphazardly lined up side by side, and vendor's stalls and carts are interspersed between them. Dust kicked up by ground traffic and engine exhausts billows through the air, coating near anything that manages to remain still long enough with a film of grime.

Single voices vie to be heard over the cacophany of crowds from across the 'Verse, and are lost altogether amongst the grind of machinery and roaring of engines. Exotic scents mingle with that of the unwashed and sweaty, while there's an undercurrent of less easily defined odors in the air. Unless you're looking for clean and shiny, there's a little something for everyone to be found here on Eavesdown's docks.
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The light scudding clouds of yesterday preceeded the heavier rain clouds the wind blew across Eavesdown in a thunderstorm throughout the night and early morning. Even now with the sun sitting high and not a cloud in evidence across the sky, water drips from rooftops and ships gleam with the impromptu baths they received. The ground below is churned into a muddy morass and puddles are settled in dips and pools.

Where Grace stands docked toward one end, her ramp lowers with the quiet whine of newly oiled hydraulics and hits the dirt with a thud that sends mud spraying up and splattering more than a few passersby. A moment after the cursing dies down, a head peeks around the side with a small grin and Aradia appears from the darkened interior of the cargo bay, ambling down the ramp with a bottle in hand.



Standing in the Spaceport Will is arguing with a man in his late fifties, they're both extremely animated their voices somewhat low, but obviously hostile. "I don't care Duncan, I want my gorram ship. You said it would be here!" Duncan sighs slightly, his voice becoming a little calmer. "Look Will the ship will be here, I left it with people I trust, they're just getting it repaired."


Hearing the raised voices, Aradia pauses midway down the ramp where her elevated vantage point gives her a view across people's heads and across the short distance of the docks to where William stands with another man. Looking briefly alongside the ramp to a stack of crates, she takes a leaping step off the ramp and up onto one of the crates before taking a swig from her bottle and returning to watching the show.


Shaking his head William thrusts a finger at his 'friend'. "I don't care my ship was due here two days ago. You know what that ship means to me. If it's not here soon I'm going to really lose my temper." He sighs slightly. "Why don't you go see if you can find out anything else." He man nods looking a little hurt as he heads away before Will turns to look at Aradia his frown increasing. "You enjoying the show?" His questions little more than an angry bark.


Aradia's brow quirks a little as she crouches down and then sits back on the crate, stretching her legs out and letting them dangle over the side. Waving her hand with the bottle in it in a vague gesturing motion, she replies after a moment of consideration, "It was passable. Not nearly as much cursing as I was hoping for and I think a melodramatic stamping of the foot would have really polished it off. Especially if you could get the mud to splatter a little when you did it. Go ahead, try it out."


There's second where Will looks at Aradia as though he's about to lose what little patience he has left, but his expression quickly changes as he offers a quick laugh. "Good answer. But I'm not one for melodramatics unless they serve a purpose."


A wide grin meets his laughter as Aradia says, "It's entirely too much effort if there ain't nothing to be got out of it." Letting her gaze shift past William toward the other man disappearing into the crowds, she turns her attention back to Will and asks, "What happened to her?'Shrugging Will sighs looking around the Spaceport. "I had some business to attend to local, I sent the ship ahead to handle something else. I trust the people aboard, but I don't like that they're late. It makes me... uncomfortable when I'm out of the Black for too long."


Chuckling, Aradia brings the bottle in hand up, sipping from it before she replies, "You prefer the floatin' out in the Black for weeks chewin' your nails for want o' something more interesting to do more than actually getting to where she's taking you?"


There's a few moments as Will seems to think it over. "It's hard to explain, I've lived on ship my entire life. I don't know what exactly it is I miss, but it ain't the same on these mudballs." He sighs looking at the sky again.


Aradia's gaze lifts briefly skyward before returning to the mudball below. "It ain't always mud. Usually it's just dirt," she says, "When it gets like this it's fun to watch the fancier folk trying to manuever through the puddles. O' course when it all dries up again there's plenty o' new holes and what not that people spend a lot of time tripping over to keep yeself entertain." There's but the briefest pauses before she continues, "You worry too much. Did you send 'em a wave?"


Nodding Will sighs again. "More than one, but they're not responding, trust me it's nothing out of the normal." He chuckles slightly. "They're probably trying to see how long it takes for me to really lose my mind."


Regarding te man, Aradia smirks and says, "I don't think you're nearly that close yet. I reckon as they're not trying real hard if this is the best they can get out o' you." Pulling one leg up to tuck crossed under her, she asks, "They permanent crew or just folks you hired on to do a job?"


Sighing slightly Will seems to lose his good mood. "They're a long term team, but I'm hoping to get a new crew soon." He shrugs. "What about you, you local or just travelling by?"


"Both," Aradia answers honestly, her gaze sweeping across the docks as her head turns to look up to the underside of Grace shadowing her current seat. "Weren't expecting to stay here too long but ran into an ol' friend that flew with me not too long ago needin' some help so we're sticking around 'til she ain't got no need no more," she says as she looks back to Will.


Nodding he looks at Grace with a smile. "That your ship? She's beautiful." He seems to consider the ship for a few moments longer before once again looking to the sky.


Patting at a strut within reach to her side, Aradia looks briefly back over her shoulder into the interior of the bay and says, "Ain't she pretty?" Looking back to Will again, she says, "This is Grace O'Malley."


Striding along in the mud, past and through puddles made by the previous night's downpour, comes Saienne - and doesn't she look quite at home here amid the noise and bustle of Eavesdown? Shabby in presentation but with a somewhat shrewd look to her, she might as well be a native. She is wearing a large floppy-brimmed hat that shades her eyes from the bright sun glinting off groundwater and gleaming ship's hulls alike. A pheasant feather, straight and true, bobs and ducks from its position in the hat's band. She is, it appears, charting a direct course from island to island of drier ground, heading always rougly in the direction of the sleek Shark Aradia is talking about.


Nodding Will looks at the ship. "Like I said she's a beaut, of course we all love our own ships first. Iranas' Joy will always hold my heart."


"Ahh, 'n would it be prying too much to ask who Irana is?" Aradia asks the man with a faint smile, her attention momentarily diverted by the bobbing pheasant feather moving toward them through the crowd. Looking back to Will, she asks, "How long have you had her?"


"Iriana was my mother." William chuckles a little as he continues. "Oh she was my parents before she was mine, it was my father that named her, but pretty much everything but the frame's been refitted more times than I'd care to remember." He chuckles slightly. "When I said I grew up on ship, she's the girl I was speaking of."


Saienne draws closer to the pair with a particularly enthusiastic bound over the last puddle in her way. By some miracle, she manages to avoid slipping on the mud, thereby not ending up in an ignominious arse-over-face tumble onto Eavesdown's squelchy ground. She grins a crooked grin at Aradia and slips her long-fingered hands into her coat pockets. "Afternoon." Her voice is deep and rich, honey-thick. A quick glance to William, having to look up past the brim of her hat to see the whole of him. "Hope I ain't interruptin' nothin'..?"


"So she really is home in every sense o' the word?" Aradia asks with a small tilt of her head, her gaze on Will now until Saienne bounds up and she shakes her head with a flash of a grin, "No. I was just ratin' this gentleman here on his performance 'n then we got talking about his mama."


Chuckling slightly William nods. "I'm William by the way, and no you're not interuppting anything." He looks at the woman for a moment, before once again scanning the sky.


"Ratin' him on his performance?" Saienne asks, tilting her head so as she can look up at William's face again. "Don't reckon I dare ask what kind of performance you're talkin' about..." She grins crookedly at the man and takes her hand from her pocket, holding it out for him to shake. "Well an' good, William." she says. "Saienne Olaeno, an' pleased as punch to make your acquaintance, ain't I?" She stands still, but cannot help but follow William's gaze towards the Black. "His Mam?" she asks. "An' why is that? You expectin' her?"


Aradia's grin just widens a fraction and she pokes her tongue out at Saienne briefly before pulling her other leg up to cross under her on the crate. "Aradia," she says to William in response to his introduction before she too lifts her gaze skyward and says, "Oh no, just his ma's joy." Her gaze lowers to William a moment as she says, "It's ok, I was never my mother's joy either," and then asks as if the thought had just entered her mind, "Do you have any brothers or sisters out there?"


"Nope, I'm an only child." Will continues to look around the sky. "Nope, it was just me, my parents and the crew. I guess that's what always made Irianas' Joy home." He shakes the hand offered as he talks, studying the woman for a second. "Pleased to meet you."


Saienne is clearly not following the thread of this conversation very well. "His Mam's what? Joy?" She frowns, the crowsfeet around her eyes wrinkle briefly - and then smooth out again as William takes her hand and enlightenment dawns. "You're waitin' on a ship." It is a statement, not a question, and short-lived because Aradia's second comment causes her instant of epiphany to slide away. She lets go of William's hand. "Oh, aye, an' we know all about me an' my mother, don't we?" She smiles a lop-sided smile at Aradia. "But I reckon, don't you, that all of that was just on account of strong personalities collidin'... ain't no helpin' things when that happens." She nods as William talks about being at home aboard a ship. "An' that's somethin' I reckon I can understand, an' all."


"Actually, I don't think we do," Aradia says to Saienne with a chuckle, "but I reckon as it's a telling to be told one o' these days." Uncrossing her legs from under her and stretching them out with a quiet groan, she tips back the bottle in hand and gulps down the rest of it before getting to her feet atop the crate. "It was a pleasure to meet ye, William. I hope yer ship finds her way back to you soon." Turning and leaping the short distance back onto Grace's lowered ramp, she says to Saienne, "I got to find somethin' that ain't chickens before we head for Ariel."


William smiles. "We were speaking about my ship, I've been ship bound my entire life. And now I haven't got my Gorram ship!" He sighs as he relaxes a little. "I hate being stuck dirtside." He glances back towards the sky with another frown. "The ship is Irianas' Joy."


"Not chickens. Ain't got a problem with that." She pauses, looking down at the mud and thinking, apparently. "I know someone's got some perishables needin' shippin' to Ariel." A beat. "We in the market for perishables these days?" She looks up at Aradia, eyes hidden beneath the shadow of her hat's broad brim. "On the level, an' all." Another beat. "Entirely." As Aradia leaps back to the security of Grace's ramp, Saienne settles back against whatever is nearby - a pile of crates, most like, supported by the curve of the ship's hull - and nods at William. "An' Iriana'd be your mother." A crooked grin. "Suddenly it's all makin' some kind of sense." She peers up at the sky herself, one hand coming to rest atop her hat so that it doesn't slip off. "Why ain't you up there with her, if you don't mind me askin'?"


"Are they delicious perishables that no one will notice are missin?" Aradia asks with an impish grin as she trots up to the top of the ramp to leave the empty bottle off to one side and then starts back down again. "I reckon as we might be able to do that," she adds, lifting a hand in a wave of farewell as she hops off the end of the ramp and into a mud puddle, splashing and stomping her way through the crowds and off to 'work.'


Running a hand through his head Will sighs "I had things to handle here, but needed to pick something up elsewhere. So my crew took the other job while I handled things here." He then nods to Aradia. "It's been good talking to you."


"I reckon they can go missin'," Saienne says, in mock seriousness. "But only if you don't want payin' when we get to the other end." She calls after Ara as she splashes off through the crowds: "But it's your decision, ain't it, an' I ain't goin' to argue." William's vexation brings her back to the conversation at hand: "Well, don't fret none. If you trust them, I expect they'll be back for you soon enough." She squints across at Grace. "Heaven knows there ain't no such thing as a strict timetable up there, ain't it so?"


There's the slow nod of someone who's thinking things through. "I know, and I trust my crew, but I was never known for being patient."


Saienne leans into the shadow of Grace's curved and gleaming hull and reaches up to pull the broad-brimmed hat from her head. She runs her spare hand through the tight black curls clustering there, tugging one or two out of the dreadlocks they are threatening to form. "Well, if you trust them then you ain't got nothin' to worry about, ain't it so?" She smiles, lop-sided and genuine, and settles her hat onto her bent knee. "An' patience is, don't they say, a virtue." A wry smile. "But don't they also say that virtue can hurt you, an' all?" A pause, and she shrugs a fluid shrug. "I ain't so virtuous - in that respect as in others - neither."

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[Log] Reunion

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Eavesdown Docks, Persephone
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Surrounded by slums on the edges of the city, the docks are chaotic and bustling. Ships are haphazardly lined up side by side, and vendor's stalls and carts are interspersed between them. Dust kicked up by ground traffic and engine exhausts billows through the air, coating near anything that manages to remain still long enough with a film of grime.

Single voices vie to be heard over the cacophany of crowds from across the 'Verse, and are lost altogether amongst the grind of machinery and roaring of engines. Exotic scents mingle with that of the unwashed and sweaty, while there's an undercurrent of less easily defined odors in the air. Unless you're looking for clean and shiny, there's a little something for everyone to be found here on Eavesdown's docks.
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Eavesdown. The bustling port that it is, all manner of walks of life filter through to conduct the daily dealings of their lives. One such person happens to be Lu, who is sitting in the passenger side of a conventional MULE, white-knuckling it while a familiar auburn haired woman identifiable as Lu's sister drives through the chaos, cussing with an untamed tongue at anyone who tries to get in the way of the food delivery vehicle.


Walking a little closer to the line of ships docked haphazardly, Aradia skirts the edges of the crowd with Saienne alongside her. "I got a wave from Lu this morning, saying she was comin' back to Persephone," she says conversationally to the woman at her side even as her gaze turns to look up and over the form of a ship far too sleek and well kept to be docking on Eavesdown for any legitimate purposes before she draws up alongside the lowered ramp of Grace. The cussing of Lu's sister doesn't reach her ears so much as the return fire of a pedestrian leaping aside before he's run down, cursing the driver and her spawn for the next seven generations to come. Always one for learning new and inventive curses, Aradia turns and looks thataway.


Saienne walks alongside Aradia with her customary long, loping strides. Her hat, predictably enough, is perched at a slightly rakish angle on her head - rakish because her hair is growing out and the hat, which was once a perfect (if floppy-brimmed) fit, is no longer quite so snug. She has her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her coat. "Is that so?" Saienne asks, with some surprise, as Aradia brings Lucinda up. "An' we're plannin' on meetin' with her, I hope?" She squints around Eavesdown - at Grace settled there, and at the assortment of other ships roundabout - "Like a bad penny, ain't it?" She muses, about the dock. "Showin' up over an' over again."


Lu's voice rises up as well, but its to kindly remind her sister to keep her eyes on where the MULE is headed as opposed to the flagrantly cursing pedestrian she's now flipping off. "Sis, please. I don't want to be the first patient in my own clinic..." She nudges the auburn-haired woman who snaps her attention back to the driving portion of this evenings entertainment. They hit a particularly nasty pothole, which sends the crate in back tipping precariously. Its only a well placed and well timed hand from Lu that keeps the load from tumbling off.


A wide grin appears as Aradia watches the cursing pedestrian a moment and then shifts her gaze to the cursed. Squinting, she brings a hand up to shield her eyes, the back of her other hand coming up to cover her mouth at a cloud of dust being kicked up. Holding back a cough, she says, "Speak o' the devil. Is that...?" as she watches the careening MULE drive through the parting wave of people.


Saienne turns her attention from the ships, be they gleaming or be they dusty, towards the fast-moving MULE and the two women perched atop it. She squints too, using one hand to push the brim of her hat up a little so that she can see better. "I do believe..." Saienne begins, before pulling her hat clean off her head and waving it in Lucinda's direction like a great mis-shapen flag. "I do believe you're right," she says to Aradia, with a crooked grin.


Waving hats seem to work, Lu's attention apparently caught as she's trying to straighten herself back out in the seat. "Hey sis, slow down..slow! Fine, just stop!" She grumbles at her sibling slams on the brakes, sending Lucinda lurching forward, stopped only by her palms on the dash of the vehicle. In a true show of blood-relative love, her sister sticks her tongue out at the Doctor as Lu steps off the MULE, having spotted Sai and Ara. She weaves through the crowd in their direction, before appearing infront of them, flustered but smiling none the less. "Well look what blew into Port."


Just about to call out, Aradia lifts her hand to wave in Lu's direction right before Lucinda's attention turns toward them. Still grinning from ear to ear as Lucinda's sister slams on the brakes and Lu hops out to make her way toward them, she says idly to Saienne, "She drives worse 'n I do." Wrinkling her nose up and poking her tongue out at the doctor in much the same way as her own sister did to her just prior, Aradia replies, "Are you so surprised to see Grace here? She wasn't that wounded that we had to put her down."


"We didn't blow nowhere," Saienne says, with some indignation. "We touched down real gentle, like." She waves the hat at Grace this time. "Look, she ain't got so much as a scratch on her." She peers. "Although that might have more to do with the new bodywork than with Aradia's pilotin', true enough." She crams the hat back on her head and turns her lopsided smile on Lucinda: "An' you're keepin' fine an' dandy, I hope?" The question is a little lame, even if the offered smile indicates more truly how pleased she is to see the doctor.


Lucinda clasps her hands behind her back as she regards them both. "Good. Couldn't be better." Which is always a lie, no matter who says it, but when the doctor does, there's almost a bit of sadness touching her eyes. "Glad to see that the Grace is once again flitting about the 'Verse, I only regret I won't be able to fly with you all again. How is everyone? Max? Josephine? Richard? I'm sure Bishop sends his regards to you all as well, if he would remember his manners."


Aradia's own hands come to rest on her hips as Lucinda's clasp behind her back and she quirks a brow at the all too stoic woman standing in front of her. Clearing her throat, she says, "I think you're forgetting something," before holding her arms out to her side. She's not going to answer any questions until she gets what she wants, stubborn brat that she is.


"He ain't got no manners to remember, surely?" Saienne says, with a slight - albeit fond - smirk, of Bishop. She takes a slight step backwards as Aradia threatens embraces, lest she get swept up in the madness. Something of the exchange between Aradia and Lucinda causes her smile to falter, though, and (as always) she awaits the captain's cue before wading in any further. She's hanging back in earnest, now, her hands thrust deep into her pockets again and a pensive expression finding its way onto her face, creasing the wrinkles at the bridge of her nose and the crowsfeet around her eyes. "I'm glad to see you, Lucinda." Saienne speaks quietly but firmly. "An' I mean it, in earnest."


Lucinda blinks for a moment at Aradia, before realization dawns. "Oh, uh. Right." She steps forward a bit awkwardly, her own arms disentangling from behind her back to wrap around Aradia briefly. Once actually -in- the hug, Lucinda seems to relax a bit, but doesn't seem intent to linger long in the embrace lest it become uncomfortable. "Do did you get my Wave then?"


Aradia returns the hug, giving Lucinda a brief squeeze before she lets her go and steps back, "I did get it, 'n I was just telling Sai about it when you came barrelling through." She shifts her gaze over Lucinda's shoulder toward the MULE parked in the middle of the thoroughfare and grins before she looks back to Lucinda. "Your own clinic huh? Are you excited?" she asks, apparently quite willing to ask as many, if not more, questions than she answers. "You know I'm goin' to be gravely disappointed if you ever do need a ride somewhere 'n you don't call on me to have Grace take you."


Saienne nods a confirmation to Aradia's statement. "An' then I started talkin' about bad pennies." A beat. "Meanin' Eavesdown," she adds, in a bit of a hurry, "Not you." She takes a step back into the circle, adding to Ara's barrage of questions with some of her own. "Where you basin' yourself? Down here by the docks?"


Lucinda gestures vaguelly off in the distance. "Not to far off, actually." Meaning her player hasn't pinned down where it will be yet. "And yes, my own clinic. Yes, I am excited. And of course, I'd be happy to call upon you again, if only to see my old friends. Like MRE." Hah! The doctor just made a joke, or at least a statement that was vaguely amusing to her.


Smirking, Aradia folds her arms loosely across her chest and says, "So you'll be coming for a ride out to Greenleaf with us one of these days to visit Finn, then? MRE's been staying with him while things have been so...unsettled." Chuckling as she uncrosses her arms and slips her hands into her pockets, she says, "I'm real glad to hear you're doin' it, Lu, even if it means you won't be flying so much no more."


"We ain't drownin' in dogs for a change," Saienne says. "Although we do still have a chicken... but I ain't seen Larry-the-Rat for a good long while." She looks with some suspicion at Aradia. "Josephine ain't let him loose now, has she?" She falls silent, though, and listens as Aradia comments on Lucinda's chosen path. "Oh, aye," she says, nodding so that the hat brim flops and the pheasant feather tucked into the band bobs and ducks. "An' we know where to come next time we crash into a moon or run afoul of folks with a trigger happy attitude, don't we?" She grins crookedly.


Lucinda dips her head in a nod, "Of course, the door to the clinic shall always be open. And well, if its not, then just come around back and knock on the window to my bunk I plan to keep in the back. Speaking of flying though, I'm going to need a bit of help transporting all the medical equipment to the new place, and if anyone knows where to get supplies..." She glances around, as if in paranoia, "A little bit -cheaper- if you get my meaning.."


"Oh no, Jo has left Larry in the loving hands of the children back at the monastery she spent time at," Aradia reassures Saienne before she looks to Lucinda with a wry grin and asks, "Oh, someone like Mister Brooks and perhaps a ship like Grace?" She hesitates a brief moment before she asks, "Do you really mean always open, like say if Frankie brought any o' the kids by...I mean if they did, I'd see I made good on whatever it ended up costing you to see to 'em."


Saienne's crooked grin broadens. "We get your meanin', I reckon." She nods as Ara mentions Max and his particular kind of resources. "An' if he ain't in the mood for sharin', I don't doubt we could scare out some others who might be, ain't that so?" She runs a long finger along the line of her jaw. "Oh, good gorram, she left the rat with a bundle of kids? Lovin' hands surely ain't how I would describe them..." She quietens down again as the other group of children are mentioned, waiting to see Lucinda's response to the suggestion.


Lucinda smiles congenially to the idea. "Of course. It would be nice to see how Angel has gotten along, too. I will have a bit of governmental subsidizing to help off-set costs, but I'm sure you wouldn't be surprised if I told you how little that actually amounts to." The good doctor is standing speaking with Aradia and Saienne, while her sister idles on a MULE nearby, looking slightly bored and annoyed.


"No, you should be willing to help your fellow citizens out of the goodness of your heart," Aradia says with no small amount of sarcasm evident in her tone even if her expression is deadpan and all too serious. "We'll help with whatever we can help you with 'n I'll see that you don't go needin' for anything for helpin' them out," she promises, the seriousness fading away with a smile. "Of course, if you need us to fly to Ariel, there will be no carting of chickens on our way out there," she adds sternly, a mock frown creasing her brow and her finger wagging at the doctor standing in front of her.


"That ain't the first time I've heard you say that, Aradia, about chickens." She turns to Lucinda. "You heard her, ain't it so? No more chickens, even if we are zippin' out to Ariel. I'm countin' on you to have heard that, Lucinda." There is a melodic burbling from within one of Saienne's pockets and she makes a face. "Good gorram," she mutters. "Ain't on this rock for more than five minutes an' some poor idiot's gettin' their knickers in a twist over somesuch..." She digs the PDA out and peers at its screen carefully, stepping back out of the conversation again.

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[Log] Taking that risk

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Double Cabin, Grace O'Malley [Persephone]
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To the careful listener the footsteps in the companionway outside the cabin might sound familar. Gentle they are, certainly, but falling with enough of a sound to indicate boots - heavy boots. They fall to silence just on the other side of the door and there is a pause, followed by a somewhat hesitant knock. The person in the hallway clears her throat, then calls in tones quiet enough that they will travel no distance through the ship: "Brianna? You in there?"


After a pause, the door squeaks open, "...need to relube those hinges.." She half grins, and it might almost seem like her cheeks flush just a little on seeing Saienne. She responds properly however, "I'm in here, Sai.. I was just changin' after doing some work down in engineering.. what's up? C'mon in.." she'd suggest a pardon to the mess, but she's never been the most well kepted in her living space. A pile of greasy clothes lay in the corner. She's wearing a replacement pair of canvas cargo pants with a drawstring waist, but is barefoot beneath them.



Saienne, if she notices the mess, doesn't so much as blink at it as she steps into the cabin. "This ain't a bad time...?" She asks, hovering there on the threshhold. "Because I reckon I can come back after supper if you ain't properly disposed to company." She does look around then, taking in a single glance the pile of clothes and the general disarray. "If you're busy, an' all." The older woman looks up from the deck, directly at Brianna. "It ain't important - just regardin' that waterin' system you were talkin' about."


Brianna steps back and half pushes the door shut, which it largely complies with, leaving it open only a few inches. She smiles. "Saienne, I got time for you any time you'd like... you know that by now." Her voice is quiet and maybe a little flat but only because she doesn't trust herself not to have it tremble with nervousness if not. She kicks at the pile of clothes and stuff, making space for 'company'. "I don't mind talkin' with you at all." She then thinks about that topic. "Waterin'... Ah... yeah.. for th' garden in the hold?" She offers what should be the free bunk, but has some clothes on it. "have a seat if you like?" She gestures to a bottle of whiskey, a gift from Ara not long after the crew was reunited on.. Greenleaf? one of those... all the planets run together and all. "drink?"


Saienne perches on the edge of the bunk, a lop-sided smile coming with ease. "Ah, hell, it ain't much. I was just talkin' with Aradia an' she said Suji had said the container has a system already - it just ain't hooked up yet." She shakes her head at the offer of the drink, interrupting herself with a brief: "Best not. I got business to attend to this evenin'." A beat. "We're on Persephone again." The smile loses some of its good humour. "Got some familiar faces I should look in on, I reckon." She shakes her head, then, and her hair - which has got longer and longer since their stop on Boros - springs around in its tight little curls. She returns to her original topic: "I was wonderin' if you reckoned you might have some free hours to take a look, some time soon?" Another pause, and her crooked grin appears. "Only I'm runnin' myself ragged waterin' everythin' by hand."


Brianna nods, forgoing the drink. "I'll go with you later if you want extra eyes about.." and a gun but that needn't be said. It's part and parcel if she's around after all. Back to the topic at hand, she nods. "I'll look at it t'morrow mornin'? How's that sound? Ain't nothing else I'm to be doin' maintenance wise so makes more sense to be sure our food supply's workin' like it should. If it's just not hooked up, can't think it'll be hard to get goin'. If it is, I'll wrangle up the parts to make it work. Did that more times'n I can recall at the Mission." She then blinks, "... you've been growin' your hair out!" A slow but growing smile fills her face. "I *love* it!"


"I reckon I may well take you up on that offer," Saienne says, a long-fingered hand creeping up to scritch at the back of her head, although it's no longer stubble that she's running her fingers over. She tugs at one strand of hair that's threatening in earnest to become a dreadlock. "While they may be familiar faces, they surely ain't always friendly." She grins crookedly, and nods while Brianna discusses the watering system. "That'd be real good. I reckon Josephine's lookin' foreward to havin' some fresh ingredients." She makes a bit of a sour face. "An' I'd rather not kill them all before she's able to get her hands on them..." Brianna's exclamation brings her up short and her hand creeps up to her dark curls once more. She looks down at the deck. "You do?" She looks mildly uncomfortable. "Somethin' Maire said... said I looked... well, it ain't nothin'. Mayhap she was right."


Brianna smiles. "Just say the word, Saienne and I'll go along with you. I got nothin' planned tonight. Already cleaned my guns." She grins, "can't never have 'em too clean an' all." She then nods again, "We'll keep 'em alive for Jo. If only so's she can kill 'em an' we can eat 'em!" She laughs and then smiles softly, leaning over the space between the bunks to touch Sai's knee. "I do." Her tone serious and quiet. "An' I don't care what anyone else said. They're fools if they don't think you look stunnin' no matter what your hair's length. But I like it longer myself..."


Saienne nods, all business-like and serious, as Brianna discusses her guns. "Sensible attitude in our line of business, ain't it? I ain't never been let down in a pinch by conscientious company such as yourself." She regards Brianna with some consternation as she continues, though: "Good gorram," she mutters. "I ain't never thought on it like that, but you ain't wrong. I'm just keepin' those gorram tomatoes and courgettes alive so as Josephine can have her wicked way with them in her cookin' pot." A crooked grin, and she looks directly up at Brianna: "Inhumane, ain't it?" The touch to her knee causes a little flutter of alarm to infect her grin. "Well," she says, leaning back and blustering just the slightest amount. "You're a braver woman than me, if you're callin' our Maire a fool." A beat. "I could call her many things, an' not many of them complimentary, but foolish she surely ain't."


Brianna draws the hand back not trying to bother the other woman. "I never met Maire but if she said anything bad 'bout you 'r made you feel less'n what y'are, Saienne, she's a fool. It's the god's honest truth. Ain't many women carry themselves like you do. That's a rare thing and I admire it more'n I can rightly say." She blushes a little, her smile faltering. "...I... reckon I ain't got the words t' say what I really mean without makin' a gorram fool of my ownself." She's silent a moment, "But I meant what I said. Ain't nothin' 'bout you that don't say "This is all woman, don't mess with her, but look at her and admire her while you get to be 'round her." She looks away and fidgets with her drawstring a bit, tying it tighter.


Saienne rubs her hand along the line of her jaw and considers Brianna carefully as she says her piece. Her dark eyes gleam a little in the shadow of the bunk, and her expression gets more and more startled by the word. "Well." She says, finally, and firmly. After that, her tone becomes a bit more cautious. "Well," she says again. "It's... real kind of you to say so, but I don't reckon you should write Maire's opinions off too early on." A pause, and Saienne leans forward into the light a little more. Her expression is compassionate, but not entirely comfortable. "Because, truth be told, Maire knows me an' my many faults with an alarmin' intimacy. She's seen her big sister fall over an' pick herself up more times than I can count, an' she ain't afraid to point out when the fallin' has been my own gorram fault an' how." She shakes her head, finding her confidence a bit and beginning again to hide behind it. "Truth be told," she repeats, "I owe Maire for her honesty, an' while I don't reckon these days she's got as fine an understandin' of my workings as she used to -" the fluid shrug, a nonchalent roll of her shoulders and a dryer than dry smile "- she still hits the mark more often than not - much as I ain't over the moon admittin' to that." Saienne frowns, her nose wrinkling and the crowsfeet around her eyes creasing deeply. "But," she continues, "Be that as it may... I'm real grateful for your words. I ain't sure they're entirely well-placed, but I surely do appreciate the compliment." And there, again, is the self-assured Saienne - doing her best not to display quite how wrong-footed she feels.


Brianna listens and nods, "I mean no slight on your kin, Saienne. Ain't like I got any of my own to know how to behave. I just call it like I see it. A nuts a nut and a bolt's a bolt." She shrugs a bit. "I got no place to question your sister, but that don't mean everythin' she says is right. And whatever length your hair is don't mean nothin'. You're you. You carry yourself the same either way. But a woman's hair's also a point 'a pride I was told growin' up. Also got told pride goeth b'fore the fall. But I'm lined up right there to make the first fall if that' the case. We got our hair to show our pride in ourselves. Short's pretty an' suits some. Long suits others. But how we wear it says a lot 'bout who we are. An' I like what I see in how you're startin' t' wear yours.." She drops it at that. "I ain' tryin' t' upset you, Saienne.. but I also seen how short life is. Happiness too. I don't often run outa words to say as you know." She sighs, "Gorram it... look... jus' forget it.." She draws a leg up to her chest, resting her chin on the knee, hugging the shin with her arms. Changing the subject, "If you'd like another pair of eyes when you go to town jus' let me know.. otherwise I'll see what I can do 'bout the garden's water works after breakfast t'morrow.." run plum out of words and things to talk about that won't just burn every bridge there might have been.


"I ain't upset," Saienne counters, "An' I would appreciate your company this evenin'." A beat, and she inspects her fingernails. "We ain't been on Eavesdown for a good long while, an' I ain't got an inklin' of the landscape." She wrinkles her nose again, and runs her thumb along her jaw. "I ain't upset." The frown deepens. "Just perplexed, I reckon. I appreciate your tellin' me what you think of me, I surely do." Another pause, and she looks up at Brianna. "I just ain't sure you got the truth of things, is all. Nothin' more than that." She grins crookedly - engaging and charming, of course, but no more open than she ever is. "An' pride ain't somethin' I need tellin' about, trust me. Pride I got in great spadefuls." She turns serious for a moment. "Wouldn't have picked myself up quite so often without it, ain't it so?"


Brianna nods, staring off into the corner. "I ain't tryin' t' lecture you on pride. Jus'... tryin' to encourage you some to grow your hair out how you want it, not anyone else. But I wanted to say I like it though." She half smiles. "I know I ain' makin' it easy. I never seem to. But I can't go without sayin what I think and feel in private. I don't wanna run you off so just tell me to cut it out if I bother you any. But I need to make it know how I feel." She looks off as if remembering something else. "Every time I keep my mouth shut when I ought to say somethin' I regret it later."


"Brianna..." Saienne begins, rather more sensitively than previously. "I ain't upset an' I ain't offended an' I ain't never goin' to tell you to keep your mouth shut if you reckon you should be sayin' somethin'." She pauses, perched on the edge of the bunk, to scrutinise the deck as she thinks. "Honesty ain't an easy word to live by, but it's somethin' I ain't never goin' to argue against." A pause, and she looks up at the younger woman. "Ain't that why I take Maire's opinions so serious, like? She ain't afraid to be honest neither. You ain't wrong - she ain't always right in what she's thinkin'." A pause, and Saienne stands up, a dark figure dominating the cabin. "But she ain't afraid to take that risk, an' that's somethin' to be respected in itself, ain't it?" Saienne looks towards the door. "Look, I got some waves to make before we step out later, so I'm goin' to go ahead an' make them." She returns her attention to Brianna. "But I'll be waitin' for you in the hold in an hour's time - if you're keen on comin', still?"

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[Log] "...some crazy folks what juggle geese out on Aberdeen..."

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The Scrapheap, Assam City, Boros
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Built into a towering, heaped mound of scrap, several narrow cargo containers converge on a central container. Doorways have been cut out with plasma torches and sheet metal has been welded to join one container to the next. The floors, walls and ceilings are rust-stained in rivulets and flaking at the joints. Bare halogen bulbs are suspended from the ceiling, a cable looping from one to the next in a line leading back to a singular power source.

The furnishings are improvised from salvage out of the junkyards and tables are often nothing more than upturned crates, with smaller crates, or occasionally a ripped out jumpseat, serving as chairs. The bar is set across the entrance to one of the adjoining containers and appears to be constructed from an entire flight console.
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Brianna falls in step beside Aradia. "Oh, I make that clear. But they always seem so dejected the next morning." She says rather smuggly, clearly joking. "Bottles of whiskey... shouldn't that be cases?" She winks teasingly. "You're gonna take 'im for the goods if you get it over a few bottles. Why..she's almost ready to fly right now!"


"Oh sure, even though she ain't got no reactor in her, has been stripped out 'n ain't no more than the hull right now, if we push her fast enough off a cliff, reckon she'll fly, for a few seconds before she goes splat," Aradia says with an impish grin, shaking her head as she says, "It's a bottle o' Moretti's old stock. Ain't going to get no more of that with Shadow gone 'n blown up and all, so they're haggling over bottles, not crates." Stepping in through the entrance to the 'bar,' Aradia pauses and looks around, taking a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before heading in further.


Rogan sprawls in a chair, with on leg on the floor and the other propped up on the table. She's been attempting to drown her man troubles in a pint or four, but sadly, nothing has the effect she's looking for. "Gorram men," she mutters to herself, pissed at herself and the world in general. "Gorram little dimples on tha' butts and gorram warm lips and," she raises her voice and lifts her glass in the direction of the newcomers, "gorram sperm!"


Brianna laughs quietly. "But think of the few seconds of freedom and glory you'll have!" She winks and glances around the bar. She quips. "Oh.. I bet the house specialty drink is something called the "Rusty Nail" isn't it?" She winks. On overhearing the woes of the woman at the table she half grins. "An' it don't get any better, darlin'. Best just t' swear off'a 'em t' begin with." She winks.


Saienne is some paces behind the rest of the contingent, her hands thrust deep into her pockets and her large and floppy hat obscuring her eyes with its shadow, and she is not rushing to catch up. She ducks through the door of the bar a few minutes after Aradia and Brianna, squinting into the darkness until her eyes adjust to the lack of light. After a moment spent peering around in the gloom for familiar faces, she spots the two of them and shuffles through the crowd towards them. The unidentified woman's rant causes her to look down with a frown that causes the wrinkles on her face to deepen. "They ain't all bad," she says, with a strong accent made broader by the presence of so many more like it.


Rogan rolls her half-drunk eyes. "Nah, sweetcheeks, iff'n they was all bad we'd order ourselves some batt'ry orgasms and move on. But no...we hafta hope, and dream about our lov'ly knights in dingy armor, ain't we?" She makes it to the bar and slams her drink down in a jovial fashion. "So whatcha supposed ta do when ya knight knocks up some broad, eh?"


"Prefer a whole lifetime o' freedom by waitin' til I can get her through atmo," Aradia replies with a grin quirking her lips, still oblivious to the grease smeared on her face even if she is aware of the grease on her hands. "Oh no, nothing so fancy as a specialty," she says to Brianna, "Rocket fuel or beer's all you're getting in here." She casts a sidelong glance at the woman sprawled out at one of the tables not completely full, her lips twitching with barely suppressed mirth at her commentary. "Mind if we park our asses in the rest o' those chairs?" she asks the woman, nodding her head to the crates serving as chairs in question. Glancing up, she blinks and squints, her grin widening as she calls, "Sai!"


Rogan mutters something to the barkeep that might have been an insult to his mother, or it may have been a drink order. "'Course not," she responds to Aradia, "s'long as none o'ya have Eenises on tha other side of those asses. I'm done with men!" she bellows again, "unless they's servin' tha drinks!"


Brianna just shakes her head at the outburst and smiles. She drops easily into a chair, tipping it back on its rear legs. Propping her shoulders against the wall, her heels rest atop the edge of the table. She looks to Sai, "No... men ain't all bad. Someone's gotta do the heavy liftin' on board ship!" She grins. "If there's no specialty.. a bottle of whatever's strongest works for me!"


Saienne pauses in her march towards Aradia and Brianna as Rogan's question derails her entirely. She looks down at the floor and reaches up with one hand to scritch at the stubble on the back of her head, knocking her hat forward just a little as she does so. "In my experience," Saienne says, gravely. "Them fellows who leave a girl in a position like that ain't usually the chivalrous kind in the first place." She pauses, pulling her hat back on relatively straight and looking deep into the middle distance. "An' what are you supposed to do?" A beat; a fluid shrug. "Whatever you can, I reckon." Her hands slip back down to her pockets. "But I'd gladly stand you another drink if you reckon it'll make you feel any better." As Sai has already paused by the woman's table, she remains standing while the others sit. "Might as well stand the rest of you a pint, an' all." She says, nodding. Her pheasant feather bobs and ducks with the movement of her head. "An' it's real good to see you an' all, Captain." She smiles, but it is without any real heart. "How's she lookin'? Gracie, I mean. Ain't nothin... terminal, I hope?" Another smile - slightly sparkier this time. "An' I thought that was my job, Bree. The heavy liftin'."


"Oh no, this is on Max's dollar," Aradia insists as she looks to Saienne, one hand coming to rest on her hip as she props a booted foot up on the edge of one of the crates, fishing into a pocket with her other hand, digging around until she fishes out a few coins and holds them out for Saienne to take. "Go get a bottle o' Rocket Fuel 'n some pints for those what want to get drunk a little bit slower 'n I'll fill you in on Grace later." A moment later, she adds, "'n please, no Captainin' here?" Turning to swing a leg over to straddle the crate as she sits, she extends a hand to the woman who's table they've invaded and says, "Name's Aradia, or Ara if two syllables is all ye can manage."


Rogan retrieves her new drink from the bar, and plops down at the table with the women in her same original position. "Them's tha problems, ain't it? Ya never know they's the ones ta do it till they've done it." Reaching forward to shake Aradia's hand, she remarks, "MAX! Sounds like a man's name ta me! I'm Rogan, and that's witha double helpin' of vagina!"


Brianna watches the woman with an amused expression. Dropping her boots from the table, letting both the chair and her own feet fall to the floor with a loud clumping sound, she leans forward to offer her hand, "Brianna. Or Bree. We're all about easy names after we've a few rounds."


Saienne reaches out for the coins, cool skin touching Aradia's hand. Her fingers linger the for a moment, and she nods. "Right you are," she says, in response to the request, and then her hand is gone, slipped back into her pocket along with the clinking coins. "Good job Maxwell seems to have a ready supply of dollars, ain't it?" Saienne states as she weaves her way to the bar. She leans against it for a few minutes, waiting for her turn. When the bartender approaches her, she nods once, setting her feather dancing again. "Bottle of Fuel, if you please. An' four pints of Bishop's Finger an' all." She turns her head as she catches Rogan's comment about never knowing. "Ain't that the sad truth," she agrees, with another frown, before handing over some of the dollars to the bartender and picking up the bottle of Rocket Fuel. She peers at it. "Good gorram," she mutters. "I ain't sure this is sensible." She steps back towards the table. "How many sheets to the wind is it this time? Several more than three, I reckon."


"Names ain't the only thing what gets easy for some of us after a few drinks," Aradia says to Brianna with a wry twist to her lips, looking back to Rogan as she adds, "'n yes, Max is his name and that would be his money we're using to drink with." Glancing to Saienne, she adds, "Yeah, 'n his folks ain't even dead yet I don't think so who knows how much more he's got out there that he ain't managed to spend?""So, you from 'bout these parts?" she asks the woman seated at the table as the drinks are ordered. Pulling one leg up onto the crate to tuck under her as Saienne returns, she looks up to Saienne to say, "Figure we can work our way up to four, seeing as there ain't no flyin' or driving that we need to be doin' anytime soon."


Rogan blinks for a moment, and then nods. "Alright, I suppose takin' money from them is okay." She downs the drink the bartender gave her, and sighs. "Ain't from here. Followed him out, said we'd set up little shop on Boros. Ain't here but a month 'fore he starts rovin' around, an' now I ain't got no credits, no shop, no nuffin'."


"An' ain't that a tonic to my ears, an' all," Saienne says dryly as she returns to the table for a second time with four pints of frothy Bishop's Finger held in an unstable-looking arrangement of glass. She plonks them down in the centre of the table, spilling only a little onto the mottled wooden table, and then settles down on one of the free chairs, pulling a cool pint towards her. She leans back, tipping her hat so her face can be more clearly seen. "Well," she says, quietly. "An' now you're stuck on Boros, an' all?" A frown, tempered at the last by a lop-sided smile. "Wouldn't wish that on no one, I reckon."


Brianna watches and listens. For the moment keeping quiet. She seeks out a shot from the bottle, inclined to try her luck. "Only four? Since I don't aim t' learn how to fly, I reckon I can at least get to six..." she knocks the shot back, making a face as she swallows. Her voice ragged nad hoarse. "...I've tasted better crankcase cleaner..." setting her glass down firmly, she blinks back some tears. "it's perfect. Who's next?" She looks around, ready to pour as Saienne returns with the pints.


Aradia reaches for one of the pints, even as she slides a tin cup toward Brianna across the table and grins, "Fill 'er up." Her brow quirks at Rogan's explanation, a faint smirk touching her lips. "You goin' to wait 'til Sai here introduces herself before givin' up your name or you one o' those weird folks what reckon we'll gain power over your soul and make you do dastardly things once we know it?" she asks, nodding her head in Saienne's direction at the mention of her name. Turning on her crate a little, she adds to Sai, "Need I remind you, you're kind o' stuck here too for a bit."


Rogan furrows her brows, and then smiles. "I don't know! I'm finally drunk an' I don't remember my name! S'taken all day but I finally don't remember my--oh." Her head slumps to the table dejectedly, where from beneath her mass of red hair comes the muffled answer of, "Rogan."


Saienne pushes her own shot glass forward. "My mother always told me not to drink this gut-rottin' stuff." She smiles crookedly at Bree. "Perfect reason to go ahead an' knock myself out, that, ain't it?" She glances back at Aradia. "Don't know what you're lookin' at me for. I ain't got no power over nothin', least of all souls." But she settles her pint on the table and leans forward, offering a long-fingered hand in Rogan's direction. "Saienne Olaeno," she says, by way of introduction. "An' knowin' that don't give you no kind of power over me, neither, in case you were wonderin'." Settling back, she looks at Aradia with a slightly dark cast to her expression. "Don't I know it," she says, with a grimmace. "At least last time we had a good gorram reason for not steppin' off the ship. This time round I'm royally screwed, ain't I?" She looks over her shoulder. "Someone around here's bound to recognise me sooner or later, an' then I'm well an' truly humped."


Brianna chuckles darkly, a sound to reflect the anticipation of this carrying through with the decision to get truly crushed and fall down drunk. At least for herself. She pours up the cup for Ara and then for Sai, before offering more to Rogan and finally refilling her own. She looks to Sai, "Times like this make me almost glad I got no one else as gives a rat's ass 'bout me out there across the 'verse." Which isn't entirely true. Just mostly. Like everything.


Rogan looks up from her hiding place beneath her hair on the table, a hopeful expression in her eyes. "Y'all are stuck here, too? How's come? Didja get left by men? A whole boatload of men? Didja boat break down cuz the men didn't do the upkeep? I'll bet you all was engaged to be married and they's left you all here...at the altar...at the same time! Jilted!" As she lifts her shot glass of Fuel, she gives them all a shifty eyes look that is not so conspicuous as she might be hoping, to make sure they weren't laughing at her.


"No, but knowin' her middle name gives you all kinds o' dastardly power over her," Aradia says evenly, sweeping the tin cup into her hand and raising it in a toast before it continues on its arc to her lips and she tips her head back, gulping down a mouthful. Exhaling with a quiet gasp, her nose wrinkles and she grins, "Oh yeah, that is oh so bad." Looking to Saienne, she asks, "Just how screwed are ye if someone recognizes you?" As her gaze turns to Rogan, she looks hard pressed to contain her amusement, listening to her questions before she says simply, "You ever lookin' to get hitched, I know a preacher out on Ezra named Jake who'll marry near damned anyone, no questions asked other 'n 'You sure you ain't mad?'"


Brianna looks at Rogan. She blinks once, casually. She looks at Sai - closely. Narrowed eyes as she lets the full weight of her gaze fall on the woman, then looks to Ara. "Sai's gone and told the world that is this bar her first and last names. When does the humping begin, exactly? And if I'm passed out, make sure I'm awake for it? I've never seen this in person before." And she promptly tosses back the shot, number two. If it were possible, her eyes water even more than the first time as if she were peeling an overripe onion rather than drinking.


"Humpin'? No, sir, Ain't no humpin' here. No more humping for *my* nethers!" Rogan remarks as she leans back into her chair again. "No, no more...GORRAMMIT!" She bellows, and then looks sheepishly back down to the table. "I like humpin'" she whispers in a tiny voice.


"Only as screwed as that someone goin' to wave Maire an' tell her; an' then Maire'll wave me an' shout for a while; an' then I'll end up in Charlotte's Crossin' babysittin' or cleanin' out the chicken sheds or ploughin' the long field with Maire screechin' at me all the while." A pause, and she frowns. "So not really screwed. Just... put to work an' sufferin' a headache, most likely." She nods to Brianna. "You ain't wrong, I swear. Ain't that why I've avoided this rock like the gorram plague for the last twelve years?" Looking up at Rogan, she grins crookedly. "Not by men, no." She knocks back her shot, making an awful face as the strength and the taste of it hits her. "Good gorram, that ain't nice!" She settles the glass back on the table. "It don't make no difference, Bree, whether I broadcast my name across the bar or across the whole gorram planet." A pause. "Someone'll notice." A dejected frown. "They always do."


"I don't reckon as this is somewhere you're going to want to take a nap," Aradia says, casting a sweeping glance across the bar, her gaze settling briefly on a man who's been leaning against the bar, now twisted to look back over his shoulder toward the table. Her brow arches a little, though her gaze doesn't meet his, because he's too busy studying someone else sitting at the table with them. Shifting her gaze to Saienne, Aradia's brow arches a little further and she smirks, "No, not too long I reckon." Rather offhandedly, she says, "Bree was tellin' me how much she was lookin' forward to chasing chickens. Might be worth goin' out to see your family for a bit seein' as you got more than enough time." Shaking her head with a chuckle, she alternates another swig of the rocket fuel with a mouthful of beer and says to Rogan, "Ain't right not to like humpin'."


Rogan reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a cig case and some matches. It takes her quite a few tries, but she eventually lights a smoke and leans back to take a drag. "You used ta live here?" she asks Saienne, mostly looking in her direction. "Is that why y'all are here? Visitn' the family?"


Brianna looks at Ara, "I said I wasn't gonna choke any chickens here." She smirks, intending it just as it sounds as she reaches for her own pint, taking a drink. "bwuh! And here I hoped the beer would be better...." She protests but swallows another gulp anyway. Then she chases that with another nerve and braincell-killing shot of the Rocket Fuel.


Saienne stares at Aradia. She sits bold upright, quite as if she's been poked with something shock-inducing, and her grip on her pint glass causes her knuckles to pale a little. "Are you stark starin' mad?" Saienne asks Aradia. Her stare shrinks to a look of deep suspicion - although the glimmer in her eyes suggests she's not being entirely serious. "Or mayhap you just want rid of me for a little while?" A pause. "I reckon I can understand that." She frowns, and rubs the line of her jaw with one long finger. "Mayhap it won't be so bad. It ain't like any of the others are goin' to be hollerin' at me. Only Maire." Another pause. "Mind, Maire's shrill, an' all..." She tails off as she realises Aradia is looking over her shoulder at someone else. She cranes her neck to look too, the pheasant feather dipping low over the table. "Hell's bells." Saienne says, with some resignation. Nodding to Rogan, she adds: "Born an' raised, for all my many sins."


Slumping a little in her seat, Aradia props her elbows on the table as she sips from her mug, a slightly lop-sided little grin on her lips as she says, "You said chasin' chickens. What you did with 'em after that..." Rubbing at her nose with the back of her hand, she manages to smear a little more grease back onto her hand where it started off, looking to Saienne as she shakes her head. "No, why would I want to get rid o' you all?" she asks with a small frown creasing her brow.Over by the bar, the man turns back and downs the rest of his drink, picking a wide brimmed hat up and tugging it down over his head, and low on his brow. Shrugging his coat on, he turns and ambles toward the door across the bar, his boot catching as he stumbles and bumps into Saienne's back, his hand coming out to catch and steady himself. "Sorry ma'am," he says in a muffled voice before he tips his hat, ducking his head lower and continuing for the exit.


Brianna starts to toss back another shot just as the man bumps into Saienne, offering a less than genuine apology. The shot stops just below her lips, hovering as her eyes watch the man from under her hat's brim. The shot very steadily lowers to the table as he disappears out the door. In a calm, serious tone, not belying any indication of how drunk she may or may not be, she speaks for those at the table to hear. "...I think I'll go for a walk. Those sheets can wait a while." She drops her feet to the floor, standing up easily. Glancing between Sai, then Ara, she nods, "You two get home safe." She nods to Rogan. "Ma'am." then she steps away, pausing at the door to look out, seeing which direction the man went. Pushing through the door, she lingers out front a moment, then begins to take a slow walk after him.


"It's called Bishop's Finger, ain't it?" Saienne points out to Brianna. "Reckon we just about got what we asked for." She glances back as the gentleman bumps into her. "Ain't no bother," she says to him, airily. Looking back at Aradia, though, a tension filters into her face. "Ain't sure, but that fellow looked real like Old Samuel who had the land across the creek from us - younger, but real similar nose." As Brianna takes her leave, Saienne looks up at her and smiles crookedly. "You take care, an' all, Brianna."


Aradia chokes on a mouthful of her beer and asks, "His what?" She looks around and back over her shoulder, "He's where?" before she blinks, looking after the man as he bumps into Saienne and then heads out the door. She barely has time to nod and assure Brianna that she'll make it 'somewhere' safely before the day is out.


Turning back to Saienne, Aradia downs the rest of the rocket fuel in her cup and says, "I think we're going to need a lot of new wires, and the landing struts are shot. They were patch-jobbed on anyway. Truth be told, I'm surprised they've lasted this long. Need to replace the hull plating back there, too." Reaching for her beer, she tips it to look into it and asks suspiciously, "What'd you call this, Sai? What the hell did Bishop do to it?"


"The beer," says Saienne, lifting her own pint and taking a gulp. "Is called Bishop's Finger." She squints at the far wall. "Although I do reckon after the ecclesiastical kind, not our very own trouserless hero." A pause. "Although stranger Bishop-related things have happened, ain't it so?" She nods as Ara talks of what needs fixing on Grace. "Sounds expensive," she says, quietly.


Watching the drama unfold with the girls and the random man, Rogan drains the last of her alcohol and stands up, stretching all over. "I've, I'm...I gotta pee. Yeah. I'm a be back, y'all, so don't you be goin' nowhere. Dun have any friends," she mutters as she walks to the door, "an' y'seem awful nice..."Once outside the door, after making sure she's completely out of sight, Rogan pulls a comm from her pants and walks farther away from the bar, all evidence of her previous drunken swagger and accent gone. She speaks into it using fast, clipped tones. "Rogan reporting. Three suspected located, not sure the ship class. Alpha, Aradia, nickname Ara. Beta, Brianna, nickname Bree. Charlie, Saienne Olaeno, nickname Sai. Typical female bonding seems to work, complaints about men. Charlie appears to have grown up here, family ties with someone named Maire, probably a farm homestead. Alpha mentioned to Charlie list of parts needed or wanted, possible supplier list. Will re-enter situation when feasible to be sober again, and keep you posted, sir. Alliance Agent Rogan out."After clicking the comm off, Rogan moves off to an unseen building, most likely to write down her notes about the meeting before heading back.


"Well, maybe a little bit, but we got a good team 'n Suji's willin' to help out. Bree said she'd lend a hand with what she could too. Oh, wait until you meet Major," Aradia says, giving the beer another wary glance before sipping from it. "He's big, 'n hairy but Phillipe reckons as the man could weld two pieces o' cheese together." Blinking as Rogan rushes off to pee, something she's done a time or twenty thousand herself, Aradia watches her leave before she looks back to Saienne and says, "Did you see that sleek, umm only slightly...okay very beat up little fighter that was sitting beside the Firefly that was tore in half back there?"


"Pieces of cheese," Saienne says, dubiously. "Is that so?" She cradles her pint in front of her. "I don't reckon it's the weldin' of cheese that's the problem, generally - melts, don't it? - more like gettin' it to do anythin' useful..." She is digressing, entirely, and pulls herself back to the conversation as Rogan's departure distracts Aradia for a moment. "Don't believe I did," Saienne says about the fighter. "Reckon I was more concerned with keepin' my gorram head down, truth be told."


"Oh, it's back in the lot, to the left o' where Grace is set down," Aradia explains, gulping down more of the beer as she muses, "I wonder why they call it Bishop's Finger," before she shakes her head and says, "Anyway, that there's what Max is gettin' for me. Us...so's there's no need to be flyin' in shuttles no more. Course it's Fed Salvage so we can't get our hands on it just by takin' it."


Also, Aradia and Saienne are sitting on crates or the likes around a table-crate in what is a surprisingly full bar for this hour of the day in the middle of a scrapheap.


"I ain't of a mind to question," Saienne says, dryly, drinking more of her beer. She nods slowly as Aradia describes the little fighter. "Sounds real nice." She says, looking down at the table-crate. "I was goin' to ask what you an' Max were plannin' to do, now that we've managed to catch up with your good selves again." She smiles lop-sidedly. "Reckon that answers that question."


"Well, she's gutted out 'n stripped down and we're still trying to wrangle the proper papers," Aradia says, rubbing at the back of her neck as she raises her shoulders in a shrug. "Figure it's going to take a lot more work than Grace is needin' before bein' made airborne." Wrinkling her nose up and looking to Saienne with a small smile, she leans forward with her elbows on the table and says, "Looks like we're all stuck together awhile more, huh?"


"Hell, surely you know I ain't likely to be cursin' over that!" Saienne finishes off her pint and sets the empty glass in the middle of the table. She lifts one hand an rubs her face; rubbing away her frown. "You do know... it ain't quite right without you? Don't you?" Her hand falls away from her face and she begins to twist her silver ring around and around her finger. For once, the crooked smile is gone completely. There's a vulnerability there that Saienne does not usually allow to show - and, true enough, she sweeps it quickly away into the rueful smile: "Reckon I should send Maire a wave before Old Samuel's doppelganger makes it back to Charlotte's Crossin' an' spills the beans."


Aradia's gaze drops to the drink on the table, considering it a moment before she reaches over for the bottle of Rocket Fuel and tips it up to refill her tin cup. "Yeah, I know," she says, a finger drumming against the side of the cup before she brings it up to toss back a mouthful. "Lu was umm, askin' rather earnestly for me to come back, 'n what not," she says as the cup returns to the table, "I just don't reckon as I can do right but any o' you if I'm goin' to keep up and running off with Max when he's wantin' to head off for whatever reason." Glancing up to Saienne, she adds, "I'm a gorram lousy excuse for a Cap'n, Sai."


"You... really ain't." Saienne says, and firmly, of Aradia's assessment of her own ability as Captain. "You've just found yourself bein' pulled hither an' thither, ain't you? Between us an' what we need, an' between what you need." She frowns. "But good gorram, Aradia. Ain't nothin' to do but what you reckon is best. Otherwise you ain't goin' to be happy, an' if you ain't happy, then I don't reckon we'll be neither." She reaches for the bottle to pour herself a shot. "I reckon whatever Lu said... I probably feel the same. But that ain't neither here nor there, is it? You do what you must do, an' we'll all adjust. Ain't no other option, far as I see it."


"It's not that I don't...it's not that I ain't happy with you, 'n Grace, 'n all o' that," Aradia says with a furrow of her brow, shrugging a shoulder as she says, "I just ain't happy without Max 'n if I thought y'all would be fine with me disappearing along with him 'n coming back when we come back then, I don't know." Smirking, she rolls her eyes at herself and says, "You need a Cap'n a little more dedicated to bein' where they're meant to be 'n not wherever they've taken a fancy to wantin' to be."


Saienne knocks back the Rocket Fuel, grimacing again at the horror of the spirit. "Well I reckon you need to give us some direction, once Grace is able to fly again, if you ain't goin' to take to the Black again. Because I don't doubt we'd only be flounderin' along without it." She shakes her head and sniffs, the wrinkles around her nose creasing. "But it looks like we got a little while to work things out before she's fixed."


"Yeah, well I didn't say as I'd be gone forever," Aradia says a little petulantly, tapping the cup against the tabletop before she lifts it and follows suite, gulping down the rest of the drink and then reaching blindly for the beer to wash it down with as her eyes start to water. "Gorram that stuff is...like inhalin' fumes in the engine room. I don't know if I'm goin' to be able to walk when I stand up."


"Ain't it just?" Saienne says, peering down at the bottle. "Brain- an' gut-rottin'. I do reckon my mother's extreme prejudice was, in this instance, entirely justified." Saienne pushes her crate-seat backwards. "I reckon I should get goin' an' all," she says. "Got that wave to make, don't I? If you fancy a trip to Charlotte's Crossin' - though why in the six hells you would is beyond me entirely - I'll mention it to Maire."


"Do you have chickens?" Aradia asks, as if that is the deciding factor on whether or not she'd like a trip to Charlotte's Crossing. "Oh, or ponies?" she asks, brightening up suddenly and sitting up straighter as she pushes her crate back, almost upending it before she catches herself. "I mean, horses, for riding," she says with a small shred of regained dignity.


Saienne stands up, a little unsteadily it must be said, and places one hand on the table. "Chickens, steers an' heifers, a couple of pigs an', as you say, horses. For ridin'." She looks into the middle-distance. "Last I checked, we had a little bit of everythin'." A pause. "Chickens don't need cleanin' so much as when they've confined in the hold, mind."


"Oh, I just want an omelette," Aradia says wistfully before chugging down the rest of the beer. "Not from the horses, from Jo," she adds hastily, correcting herself further, "I mean the eggs from the chickens and the omelette from Jo." Pushing herself up, she seems a little more wobbly than Saienne as she says, "Could ye teach me to ride if I come out to your farm with you? Max said he'd take me so's I could learn because I ain't never." Feeling the need to clarify still, she says, "To ride the horses though, not the chickens."


Saienne listens in growing confusion to Aradia's monologue. "Chickens we have. Eggs we have. Josephine we surely do have." A beat. "I reckon an omelette ain't goin' to be a problem for her." Sai starts to weave an unsteady path towards the door. "Surely can," she says, "Although I ain't ridden a horse in over a decade, I reckon it ain't somethin' you entirely forget."


"Well I won't feel bad when I ain't the only one landin' on my arse in the dirt," Aradia states, snatching up the bottle of what little remains of the Rocket Fuel before starting after Saienne. "I haven't had a good omelette since I left," she says, weaving along with Saienne back toward the ship as she chatters about chickens and horses and riding, and somehow manages to get onto pig chasing and ending with a story about some crazy folks what juggle geese out on Aberdeen. S'true you know, Max said so!

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[Vignette] 27.08.07

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Windsor Weapons, Ezra
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The interior of this room, is something to cause awe in even the oldest of settlers. This is mainly cause, no matter how old they may be, they feel young against the oak counter and the weapon lockers complete with glass fronts and steel gratings. The same counts for the fellow behind it, he looks like an ancient, a tree grown in this place and weathered by ages. The room is actually rather small if you are a customer, most taken away by gigantic sales counter with the old cash box on it. The windows to the outside are laden with dirt and dust, dimming the light in the room to level far lower then outside. A single light bulb hangs from a slowly turning ceiling mounted fan. A door behind the counter leads somewhere else, and the only other exist is Out onto the Public Market
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Morgaine looks over the items here, "I see several things I want but I can't afford them yet."


Peeper doesn't seem inclined to get to close. She just peers at the displays from a few feet back.


Saienne is looking a little idly at the racks of guns and cabinets of ammunition. "Me an' all, Morgaine." She says, her hands in her pockets. She rocks back on her heels. "I expect I should step into the cargo office an' pick our next assignment." She leans in close to peer at a rifle with a fine walnut stock. "Seems every time I try for Persephone, somethin' comes along to turn us around." She smiles lop-sidedly. "Mayhap this time we'll get lucky."


Peeper hmms and says quietly,"I'm gonna see what else is around. I'm not much into guns and stuff."


Morgaine smiles, "it is good to have arms at need. I have my pistol but my heavier armored coat had to be sold."

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