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Eavesdown Docks, Persephone
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Darker, and rife with more filth than the city itself, Eavesdown is a hovel of slums inhabited by those that can't afford to live or play in the City itself. Ships are docked here, mostly those of the smaller transport classes, normally guarded by a member of the crew for fear someone might make their way inside to lift some of their cargo. Northeast of the Docks leads to the Commons area, a well traveled road for those traders in cargo that can't afford to dock in the Spaceports.
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The sky above is overcast, the clouds billowing slowly with a gentle breeze that allows an occasional peek of sunlight to filter through from above and spill across the dusty, dirty and depressing gloom of Eavesdown. Beneath one of the wings of Grace, sitting cross-legged in the dirt is a figure, her hair tied into two braids and her coat buttoned up against the chill. Sitting likewise near her are two children. The first looks to be a boy of ten or eleven years of age while the other is a girl who looks no older than four or five. Both of the children are wearing threadbare, ragged clothing and have that look of being unwashed for more than a day or so. All three of them are scratching in the dirt with sticks.
Scipio walks along the main throughway. He looks at the various street goers and sees the woman and children. He stops near them and kneels, "Gooda childrena.. Yousa havena gooda day?" he says already knowing the answer a little.
With the man's sudden appearance, the girl shrinks in against Aradia's side while the boy's pencil-like grip on his stick turns into one of a brandished weapon and he goes from sitting cross legged to crouched, ready to either pounce or flee. "Whad'ya want?" he says with bold arrogance and naked suspicion. The woman, who doesn't look much older than a girl herself, slips an arm around the girl's shoulders as she looks to the man kneeling nearby. With a quirk of her brow, she asks, "Can I help you?" before her head tilts and she regards the man a moment longer, remarking, "I know you."
Scipio looks to the three of them with a careful eye, "Youa knowa me?" he says curiously, "Howsa thatta possible." his old Latin accent quite thick in English, "Trusta mee.. I'mma notta goinga to hurt you." he reaches into his pocket and removes a small cloth sack. He hands it to tha woman, "Doa.. unto others..." he says.
Although Saienne, on disembarking from the Grace, is wearing her particular floppy style of broad-brimmed hat, the overcast sky and billowing clouds soon mean that she dispenses with it. Dangling it from one hand, she adjusts her crimson scarf so that it sits a little tighter around her neck, cutting out the worst of the chill. "How is it," she muses to herself as she steps down the ramp from the Grace's cargo bay, "That I always think of Persephone as a hot place when the evidence is often entirely to the contrary?" Hearing Aradia's familar voice - and the gentleman's unfamiliar one - she cranes her neck so as to peer in their direction.
The boy, with dirty blonde hair shorn to a fraction of an inch atop his head shifts to flank the little girl's other side as he continues to hold his brandished stick in hand, his feet scuffing across the scratched markings in the dirt. The little girl is completely silent, wide brown eyes staring up at the man as she gnaws on a thumb knuckle, oblivious to the dirt and grime on her hand. Aradia's arm remains around the little girl, her own dirty blonde hair in matted tangles. Inclining her head in a nod to Scipio, she says, "Verbena. By the lake back in the Spring. About six months or so ago." As he holds the sack out to her, her gaze drops to it and she looks up again, making no move to take it from him as she asks, "What's that?"
Scipio smiles remembering, "Ahh yesa.. tha lakea.. notta much funna thatta was.. no onea reallya who wasn'ta friend coulda havea too gooda time. Dis?" he motions to the bag, "Isa a smalla gifta.. tooa see youa three getta a good a dinner.. Is a time offa year fora giving no?" he seems unconcearned about the dirt and grime on his clothing. Perhaps its not uncommon for him to get into the thick of it.
Saienne stays back near the foot of the Grace's ramp for now, listening to the interaction between Aradia and the gentleman - half watching the behaviour of the children, but all the while trying to keep an eye on the bustle of Eavesdown. Occasionally, as she sees somene she either knows - or perhaps does not want to know - her carefully composed expression of neutrality will shift into a frown. She leans back against slope of the ramp, swinging her hat gently in time to some unheard rhythm.
Chuckling softly as her hand absently strokes the little girl's back between her shoulders in a reassuring gesture, Aradia says to the man, "I rather enjoyed myself." The boy's attention turns to the small pouch the man's holding, still not relinquishing his grip on his stick until Aradia glances to him and says, "S'alright. Ain't goin' to hurt ye none." The boy looks to Aradia warily before he concedes with a nod and lowers the stick to his side. "Ye goin' to go 'n rut wif 'em now?" he asks her, to which Aradia snorts and burst out laughing, shaking her head. "No, no I ain't," she says to the boy, looking back to Scipio as she says, "I ain't in need of a good feed but if it's a gift and you aren't expecting nothing back, then I'll see these two are well fed for it." Inclining her head in another nod, she says, "Thank you."
Scipio smiles, "Issa all I aska you makea sure someonea elsea sees youra charity." he nods to the two kids, "Perhaps a toya ora two might bea a good choice witha tha food no?" he winks and stands upright, "Mya name is a Scipio.. Iffa you ever needa something.. anna you canna find it.. remembera me." he removes a card from his pocket and hands it to Aradia. It reads 'Scipio. Merchant of all Things.' and his contact information. He doesn't linger anther moment before heading down the docks to a street side vendor.
"Good gorram," mutters Saienne in response to the young boy's assessment of the relationship between Aradia and Scipio - but it is said with humour rather than rancor. She takes a cautious step closer to the trio sheltering under the Grace's wing. "Give the lady some credit - she an' the gentleman ain't hardly met." She turns slightly to watch Scipio as he walks away down the docks. "Interestin' fellow."
"What's he want from ye then?" the boy asks Aradia, warily watching the man retreat. The little girl, still silent watches with those wide brown eyes, curled in against Aradia's side as she gnaws on her thumb knuckle. Watching the man walk off herself, Aradia looks back to the boy and says, "Ain't everyone out to do ye wrong, Eric. I ain't makin' you do nothin' am I?" To that, the boy scowls and stands up, scuffing his foot through the scratchings in the dirt again and says, "Yeah ye are." Glancing over at the approaching woman, Aradia gives her a wink over the boy's head and then looks back to him. "Yeah, you're right. I'm teachin' you and Marianna ye letters 'n now that we're done with that for the day, we'll get somethin' to eat and then the two o' you can scram 'til tomorrow." The boy turns to give Saienne that same wary, shrewd look he gave to Scipio and says, "Don't matter lady. S'what men like that come 'round these parts lookin' for girls for."
"You ain't lyin' there," Saienne replies to the boy, solemnly. She frowns, crowsfeet wrinkling, realising that there is no nice answer to the boy's point that won't come out as either naive or hoplessly optimistic. She decides on brutal truth. "But girls ain't ever obliged to say yes, an' there's plenty of bolt holes hereabouts, ain't there, if sayin' no ain't workin'." She looks down at the three of them, and at the letters scratched into the dirt. "An' while learnin' letters seems the deepest of evils to you now," she continues, in her somber tone, "They come in real handy sometimes." A pause, and she lowers her voice: "Although I surely don't expect you to see it that way." Her attention shifts from the boy to Aradia and she smiles a questioning lop-sided smile. "The lady's doin't you a favour, ain't it so?"
"Ara ain't a lady," the boy replies, eyeing the topic of discussion in question and ignoring the 'do good' part. Aradia just grins back at him and then lifts the girl from her side to set her on her feet as she pushes herself up to stand and stretches. "Want to come get something to eat with us, Sai?" she says, the small pouch in her hand disappearing into a pocket of her coat. Looking from the boy to the girl to the woman, Aradia says, "This here's Saienne. She flies with me, 'n Sai, this is Eric and Marianna."
Saienne looks from Eric to Aradia and back again - and shakes her head. "Well she surely ain't no fella," Saienne says, lapsing into silence again as Aradia makes the introductions. "Please to meet you, an' all," she says to the pair, "An' I ain't likely to turn down a meal now, am I?"
The little girl looks shyly up to Saienne and says in a meek voice that's barely above a whisper, "Pleased to meetcha ma'am," while the boy just gives Saienne an offhanded, "Hey." Aradia shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she looks to Saienne with an amused smile. "What say we get some sandwiches?" to the three before she glances back to Saienne and says, "'n no telling Jo we went out for 'em, 'k?"
Saienne smiles crookedly at the girl. "An' you an' all, Marianna." The mention of sandwiches brings a bit of a grin from Sai and she looks up at Ara. "Mention it Josephine? I ain't intent on gettin' into trouble, have no fear - nor offendin' her, truth be told." She glances at the hat in her hand and frowns at it for a moment - before shrugging and cramming it onto her head, lack of sunshine notwithstanding.
Marianna holds her hand out for Aradia on one side and Eric on the other side of her, a shy smile directed at Saienne fleetingly brightening her expression. Aradia says to Saienne and the two children, "There's a stand down the other end o' the docks we'll go to. Ain't going to find better sandwiches on either end o' the docks or anywhere inbetween." With that, she starts off out from under the shelted of Grace's wing, glancing up at the cloud-filled sky.
Saienne slips her hands into her pockets and follows along on the other side of the children, walking at a leisurely pace. "Is that so?" she asks, about the sandwich shop. "I ain't never been by it, I reckon." She shrugs a little. "Mind you, the fittings an' fixtures on Eavesdown are always changin', ain't they?"
Scipio is still talking with the vendor who is selling, what appear to be wooden back scratchers. This stand is right next to the sandwich vendor everyone seems to be flocking too.
Melting into the crowds flowing between the ships of Eavesdown, a small group consisting of Aradia, Saienne and two small children wander off away from Grace. Of the two children, the smaller, a girl, holds Aradia's hand on one side while the other child, a boy and a good foot taller, holds the girl's other hand while he swings a stick at his side. The sky overhead is cloudy with only an occasional beam of sunshine breaking through to cast its light across the gloom of the docks and nearby slums. "Aye, that's so," Aradia says over to Saienne with a grin as they walk at a leisurely pace. Passing by several shipyard buildings to one side, the little girl whimpers and shrinks in closer to Aradia's side, her footsteps prancing as if she's resisting every urge to bolt past them. The boy on her other side puffs up in a posturing, protective manner but his gaze is darting and wary and he does only a slightly better job of keeping from bolting.
Tyr hops his way on down off of the Grace O'Malley, taking a look around for someone. "Cap'n?" he asks. "Cap'n?" He knew he saw her out there somewhere. He makes his way through the crowd. "Oh. Hey. And -- little ones?"
Saienne's hat shades most of her face, and although the sun is not shining she seems quite happy to reside beneath its brim. "Nature of the beast, an' all that. Dance an' flow of business." She frowns, as if this dance is not really to her taste. Noting Eric and Marianna's different - but, at root, similar - responses to the shipyard buildings, she glances over in that direction - to be distracted by Tyr's voice, which causes her to look over her shoulder, tilting her head so that she can see better beyond her hat's brim.
The measure of Aradia's stride lengthens, giving the children scope to stretch their own legs and quicken their pace past the cause of their consternation. She gives no more than a brief glance in the direction of the buildings and a nod to Eric as he meets her gaze. At the call of Captain, no less than six or seven people in the immediate vicinity of Tyr turn their heads in acknowledgement before dismissing the call when they fail to recognize the man from whence it came. Even as Saienne looks back herself, Aradia's pace doesn't slow until she is past the buildings, at which point she pauses to look back toward Tyr with a smile.
Scipio finishes his interesting discussion about back scratchers and move down the line to the food vendor. He smiles to the man, "Helloa Petrov.. mya tummy isa hungry.. whatta I'mma toa eat?" the burly man behind the counter at the sandwhich stand rubs his chin, "I've got a beef sandwhich you'll like." the suited Scipio nods, "Thatsa nice.. letsa eat."
Tyr frowns a little bit as he makes his way up. "Hey, everyone. What's goin' on? I saw you were headed out, but I didn't know where. Anything I can help with?" he wonders. The unasked question is 'what's up with the kids?'
Saienne, bringing up the rear while the other three have stepped up the pace, turns to fall into step with Tyr, and answers him amicably: "Just takin' a walk in the -" she looks up at the overcast sky. "Just takin' a walk." She gestures to Aradia, Eric and Marianna, and adds. "Lookin' for a bite to eat if you're interested in joinin' us." Noticing that the gentleman from earlier - Scipio - is already at the sandwich stall, she says quietly, but good-naturedly: "An' there's the mysterious benefactor, an' all."
Scipio seems oblivious to the others' presence. He eyes the sandwhich full of meat and the dish of sauce next to it. This was heaven. He takes the plate and pays the man then moves to one of the empty tables around his stand. He remembers his drink just as he is sitting so he moves swiftly over to retrieve it.
The boy still looks skittish as he glances behind him at Tyr and then to Aradia for reassurance. She nods again to him with a smile even as she glances back to Tyr and says, "Hey there, you're welcome to join us if you want." The little girl next to her is still clinging tightly to her hand and all but glued to her side as she whispers a single word quietly to Aradia. Nodding down to her, she says crouches briefly to whisper something into the girl's ear in response, smiling before she straightens up and walks the last few steps to the sandwich stand. Nodding again to Scipio as she sees him in line in front of her, she digs into her pockets with her free hand to pull out a few scrunched up dollar bills and several coins. Flashing credits around on Eavesdown is a decidedly unwise move.
Tyr comes on over, rummaging about his pockets for some money for food as well. "Sure," he says. "Sounds good. I mean, no offense to Jo or anything, but I could use some food not from the ship."
"There ain't goin' to be an opportunity to offend Josephine," Saienne says evenly to Tyr, "On account of this bein' a stealth mission." A pause. "So don't go gettin' nothin' with onions or garlic or suchlike or she'll sniff it straight off an' then we'll be in all manner of trouble." She still has her hands in her pockets and she saunters up to the stall a step or so behind the other three.
"I got it, Tyr," Aradia says to him as he goes digging for cash. "Three specials," she says to the man on the other side of the counter before stepping aside to let Saienne and Tyr order. The man grunts an acknowledgement as he takes three long rolls and tears them down the middle. No knives here, no sirree. From one pot, he scoops out three heaping ladels full of something that's only identifiable as shaved meat dripping in grease and slopping it into each of the three rolls. Despite Saienne's warnings of onions and garlic, there's a strong, spicy smell in the air that's wafting from the pot and there definitely seems to be at least onions, if not peppers mixed in with the meat.
"Oh. Right. Well. I'll be sure to brush my teeth," suggests Tyr, looking over at Sai, as if that will solve the problem easily enough for them. "So Jo won't know." Right?
"We'll have another two of them," Sai says, pointing at the pot full of greasy meaty stuff the man has just served out to the other three - this is Eavesdown, after all. She leans back a little, waiting for the chap to hand over the food. When he does so, she manages, though some combination of good luck and grace, to pass a roll to Tyr without dripping the contents all over the floor, herself or him. "That's real kind of you, Captain," she says to Ara, and a dollop of sauce squeezes out of her roll to smear along the inside of her arm. With a distinct lack of table manners, she transfers the roll to her other hand and licks the sauce off her arm. "Ain't half bad..." she murmurs. "An' I reckon we got some parsley lurkin' somewhere in the galley."
Tyr takes the roll when it comes to him, biting in. "Sure is greasy," he says, though that may not be quite the sound of disappointment one might think it to be. "And thanks, Cap. Right shiny of you."
"Could ye wrap 'em?" Aradia says of her own three sandwiches, not so confident in the children's ability to carry their meals without dropping them. Pointing toward a row of bottles, she says, "Round o' those, too, please?" before she pays up for the lot. Passing over two of the bottles, the label reading Southdown Abbey with a silhouette of the abbey itself and beneath that 'Dandelion and Burdock,' to Saienne and Tyr, she gathers up the other three drinks and sandwiches before heading to the nearest table. The children are practically salivating as they shadow her, scrambling to take seats that give them a front on view of the shipyard buildings not far off.
"Dandelion an' burdock," says Saienne, with evident delight. "Ain't drunk dandelion an' burdock since sittin' in the orchard after a hard day's fishin'." She grins crookedly. "An' that was my granddaddy's dandelion an' burdock an' all, an' there weren't a finer drink in the area." A pause. "Unless you count Mister Dawson's sarsaparilla... that was pretty good an' all." And she's off, down memory lane again and sitting in the orchard in the sunshine instead of on Eavesdown under the clouds. She can be seen to shake herself visibly, and her sandwich loses a little more of its contents onto her arm. "Good gorram," she mutters, bending to lick that bit up too, before pushing off to join Aradia and the children at the table.
Tyr takes his drink and food and makes his way on over to the table. "We didn't have much by way of any corporare things out in Home. Just what we made ourselves," he grins. "But anyhow. Okay -- Can I ask about the kids now?"
The children have already torn the wrappings on their sandwiches open, casting mindful, wary glances across the way even as they begin to shovel food into their mouths with all the grace and manners of starving children who haven't eaten a good meal in who knows how long. Twisting the caps off all three bottles in front of her, she places two in front of the children before unwrapping her own sandwich and digging into it with just as much gusto as the children, if just a little more manners. At Tyr's question, the children both freeze with mouthfuls of food, looking from Aradia, to Tyr and then past him to the shipyard before they look back to Aradia. The little girl squirms on her seat, slouching down until just her head is visible and she's peeking across the tabletop, taking a meek nibble from her sandwich. The boy on the other hand straightens up and says boldly, "Ain't none o' your bus'ness mistah."
Scipio continues to mull over his sandwhich without much form he now sees the new arrivals at the table across the way. He tilts his head a little but that is all. He won't make them feel uncomfortable while eating. He sips his black substance from a bottle and seems to enjoy the meal. Oddly you notice that the suited bald man doesn't seem to get any on himself.
Saienne shakes her head at Tyr. "You miss my meanin', I think. Old Dawson didn't sell his sarsaparilla any more than my granddaddy sold his dandelion an' burdock - unless you're countin' a rickety stall at the fair once a year shared with the Robinson woman's lemonade - which, between you an' me, was always a little on the sour side. Never could stand that woman." She smiles lop-sidedly. "Like I said yesterday, Tyr, I reckon there ain't much difference between you an' me, if you fancy ignorin' the weight of the years." The effect of Tyr's question on Eric and Marianna causes her to fall silent, though, and she takes a swig from her bottle. Swinging her legs round so she is facing Tyr. "Mayhap now ain't the time for questionin'," she says, good-naturedly. "But for enjoyin' lunch."
Scipio looks up to the eating lot. He has since finished his meat sandwhich. God how he wants anther.. the internal debate rages within the merchant. At this venture he just reaches for his phizzy pop and sips from it, removing a data device from his pocket and reading it's contents.
Both children return to devouring their sandwiches, watching everyone warily and eating so fast that a more parenting type than Aradia is might caution them to slow down. The little girl is licking the sauce from the wrapper as the boy crumples his own up, gives Aradia a thanks and grabs his bottle. Just then, off in the distance there's a crack of thunder and the girl jumps, squeaking and scrambling up to stand. Taking that as an opportunity to get on out of here, the boy hands her her drink, grabs the girl's hand and says, "Gonna get out o' here, Ara, 'fore...you know." He looks distinctly uncomfortable and the little girl is tugging on his arm, "We have to go, Eric! Hurry!" Aradia just nods to the two children and says, "Yeah, go on. Tomorrow though, right?" Eric nods to her as he turns and bolts with the girl and their drinks, disappearing into the crowds.
Saienne pauses in her own hearty munchings to watch as Eric and Marianna run off into the crowd. "Got a powerful hunger on them, ain't they?" she says mildly, and into the air. Turning to look at the shipyard buildings across the way, she asks Aradia: "They lookin' after themselves, I take it?" She shakes her head a little sadly. "Eavesdown ain't exactly the best place for that." She leans back, stretching her legs out in front of her, and takes another bite on the roll, managing to keep most of it either within the bread or within her mouth this time. After she has chewed and swallowed, she says: "Seemed pretty flighty round the shipyards, an' all."
"Where is the best place?" Aradia asks Saienne with a bare smile on her lips, looking away from the children as they disappear to the woman across the table from her. At the mention of the shipyards, Aradia casts a glance in that direction and nods, saying simply, "Demons," before she takes a large bite of what little remains of her mystery meat filled sandwich. She's sitting at a table on a bench across from Saienne and Tyr, near a stall at one end of the docks while Scipio sits at the table beside them.
Tyr furrows his brow a little bit. "Demons?" he questions. "But yeah. It ain't much of a nice place around here. Really gotta watch your back."
"Right enough," replies Saienne to Aradia, sighing a little. "There ain't no best place." She glances to Tyr. "Eavesdown's just another of the many worst places in the 'Verse." She rubs a thumb along her jawline thoughtfully. "Demons?" she asks. "In the shipyards?" She frowns, crowsfeet wrinkling. "I know they're noisy an' all, an' full of sparks an' odd smells... but the pair of them seemed bright an' savvy an' all. Not the type to be believin' in demons." She looks up at Aradia, dark eyes incredibly grave. "Captain, they ain't been workin' in there...?"
Shaking her head, Aradia regards Saienne and Tyr a moment before she casts a long look in the direction of the few buildings edging the shipyards. She chews on the last mouthful of her sandwich before washing it down with a mouthful of the dandelion and burdock soda. "There's a door to Hell," Aradia says, "Ain't the only one o' course but that there's where one of 'em is. 'n Satan's demons guard it 'n well..." Shrugging a shoulder, she says, "They're demons. They do bad things to people 'n so everyone knows to stay away least they get snatched up or hurt." Off in the distance, there's another crack of thunder and a small, wistful smile touches Aradia's lips as she turns her head to look off in that direction before she turns back to the two sitting across the table from her. Clearing her throat, she brings her bottle up to take another sip from it.
"Oh," says Tyr, taking this in. "Well, that makes a right lotta sense," he says to the Cap'n. "After all, don't want anyone getting snatched up or nothin'.
Scipio leans back a little as he looks about the Docks. It was time to return to places unknown. He stands slowly looking about with a smile. Anther day and hopefully anther dollar. His steps are swift enroute through the Docks.
The ramp of the Pearl is dusty and weather beaten, and everything of the ship smells shaggy and stale like livestock. Big, stinky, musky stinkin Yaks to be exact. That dust and stench extends to the small occupant who strides down the ramp, a battered leather hat and brown duster so long it drags the ground cloaking her features from view. Course at that height there's only so many peopel it could be...
Saienne is evidently not the believing type. "When you say demons, Captain," she says, somewhat cautiously, picking her words with care, "Do you mean folk appearin' as demons to them they're preyin' on because them they're preyin' on are fearful an' seekin' to rationalise what's happenin'? Or do you mean bona fide demons?" A pause. "Like Chung Qai - like the Yaoguai?" She shakes her head. "Because the former, well, I would find that a mite easier to comprehend than the latter." Another pause, and a twisted smile. "For one, I don't reckon we can dig ourselves up no Zhong Kui to help us in the vanquishin'." She pauses again, for longer this time, and takes a long drink from her dandelion and burdock, considering. Then, and quietly, her gaze on the middle distance: "You ever seen this door to Hell, Aradia?"
Her own words are chosen just as carefully as Aradia replies, "Demons with rotten hearts 'n black souls walking in the skins o' men. Doin' what nothin' but Satan's army be like to doin'." Pursing her lips, she furrows her brow and considers Saienne's last question, answering at last with a quirked, half-smile as she brings her bottle up to her lips for another swig of it.
Tyr shifts a little bit, uncomfortable like, as if he's realizing that the Captain might be just a bit more serious than he took her to be at first. He then takes a sip of his drink and a bite of his food. So. Confused.
Saienne purses her lips, making an almost silent 'o' sound at Aradia's answers - the voiced ones and those communicated otherwise. "Well," she says, stroking the cool of the bottle with the edge of her thumb. She looks at Tyr with a lop-sided smile that does not quite infect her eyes with its sunniness, but does aim to be reassuring. "Reckon, don't you, that there's enough darkness of the human kind in the 'Verse without bringin' demons into it." She looks back at Aradia. "You would let me know," she says, seriously, "If there was anythin'..." She leaves the suggestion with a silence and leans forward to scoop up the empty bottles and crumpled papers that Eric and Marianna left. She swivels out from her place at the table and stands without another word, going to find somewhere to throw the rubbish away.
With a shrug of her shoulders in response, Aradia gestures with a sweep of her hand and says, "Who's to say they ain't? Could you prove they're just men 'n not demons when they're doin' what most folks reckon as wrong and evil?" With her own bottle still unfinished, she forces a smile and says, "Anyway, we should finish up here 'fore the rain comes."
Dolores tests her Spot against a 40 difficulty. The result is successful (4).
Dolores lifts her head and scans the crowd, spotting a very familiar face and almost missing the other in the process. Her face pulls up in a smile as she calls out, ".........." The short little woman lifts her hat off, waving it in a tight arc over her head to gain her intended's attention.
"Eh. I think folks are bad enough without gettin' demons into it," says Tyr with a scrunched up brow. "After all, that's just givin' bad folks a pass if you blame it on the devil."
"Easy enough to say when you're grown up 'n know more o' the world 'n the way it works and you're able to reckon the ways o' men for what they are," Aradia says with a faint smile to Tyr. "Did you figure the same when you were six?" she asks.
Scipio sees the woman who smells like yak but doesn't seem to mind. He smiles broadly and speaks in very soft poetic sounding words, "..............................................."
The muffled, unintelligible sounds of a voice over Aradia's comm can be heard during a few brief exchanges as she talks into it. Looking over to Tyr who seems to be staring off into space, she says, "I gotta go see to Lu so I'm heading back toward the ship. You comin' or you going to wait for Sai?" Grabbing up her bottle of burdock and dandelion soda, she rises up off the bench she's sitting on and starts back through the crowds (after presumably getting an answer from Tyr). Somewhere along the way, she stops and buys a packet of the most foul, disgusting and horrendously cheap cigarettes she can possibly manage. How she knows just which is which is anyone's guess but nonetheless, that's what she has in her other hand as she meanders back on over toward Grace.
Scipio heads through the exit labeled
Tyr nods his head and gets up to his feet. "I'll come on in," he tells Ara. "No use sittin' outside here anymore, at least."
Dolores heads through the exit labeled
From the belly of the beast named Grace comes a slender figure some may know as the ship's doctor. Lu's steps are equally measured down the slope, but seem laden with an unseen weight that also has her shoulders slumping a bit. She makes it to the end of the ramp, but doesn't step off onto Persephone's soil.
Another crack of thunder from much closer than the last is followed by the rain shower that's been threatening all day. Big, fat raindrops hit the dusty earth of the docks as Aradia dashes the last few yards through the crowd and under the overhang shelter of Grace's nose where the ramp is lowered. Rubbing a splash of water off her nose with the back of her hand, she screws her face up and passes the packet in hand over to Lucinda and turns to look off across the way.
Tyr has left.Tyr boards the Grace O'Malley.
Lucinda looks down as the packet of cigarettes are pressed into her hand. Her brow knits as she looks at the packaging, obviously unfamiliar with this particular make and model. Regardless, she breaks open the seal and selects one of the brown wrappered cancer sticks. Such an awful brand they don't even bother wasting time, effort, or money bleaching the papers. A book of matches is extracted from her back pocket. "Thanks." She comments quietly, darkly. Her mood reflecting the storm that's blowing into the docks.
Her coat already done up against the cold, Aradia shoves her hands into her pockets, shoulders hunched as she watches the people caught in the downpour scurrying by, although there's more than a few who just take it in stride and continue on at an unhurried pace. She doesn't look in Lucinda's direction, offering up nothing more than an, "Anytime," in response to the thanks before remaining silent at the woman's side.
Lu props the cigarette between her lips before flipping open the matchbook cover, pulling one free and setting it to the friction pad. It sparks to life and she brings it to the end of the smoke, shielding the delicate flame from the wind with cupped hands. She's without a coat, and a shiver crawls up her arms to remind her. At least she's in a sweater and button up shirt. She puffs a cherry onto the end of the cigarette before the match is extinguished with a flick of her wrist and she sends the little spent piece of cardboard out to join the rest of the refuse that is Eavesdown. Finally she draws in a lungful of smoke...and promptly coughs it back out. "Dear gods, Ara." She manages as her eyes start to water. "Did you have to get the ones laced with imbalming fluid?"
Aradia just turns her head a fraction, casting a sidelong glance that's accompanied by a thin smile in Lucinda's direction. Lifting her chin as she looks back out across the docks, her hands pulling free from her pockets as she crosses her arms, tucking her hands under them at her sides, she says airily, "Sorry. I don't smoke so I wouldn't know." Her gaze roaming for several long moments across the docks, she remarks, "Quite a storm, ain't it?" just as there's several loud cracks of thunder in succession.
Despite the fact that she's inhaling pure tar, Lu still tucks the pack of cigarettes into her waistband and dares another puff on the one she has lit. "Somehow, for some reason, I don't believe you." She comments dryly, though a smirk threatens the corner of her lips. Her gaze once again returns out to Persephone, and the dark clouds the gather over them and torture those below with heavy drops and angry thunder. "Quite a storm." She echoes in agreement, then adds, more quietly. "Are there cabins open on Portside?"
Her nose wrinkles as a curl of wisping smoke drifts under it and Aradia takes a half step back up the ramp out of the way. "'Course there is," she says, asking, "Expecting a visitor?" Glancing toward Lucinda still a step down from her on the ramp, Aradia turns her head to look back off across the docks, her brow creasing as there's another thunderous bang.
"Oh, good gorram," comes the familiar curse as a rather wet and bedraggled Saienne heaves into view, her hat brim flopping heavily with water. Evidently her quest for a dumping place for their rubbish has left her some minutes behind Aradia in finding shelter from the rain. "Ain't it always the way," she says grimly, thunder rumbling over her voice, as she squelches damply into the Grace's shelter. She takes her hat off and gives it a good shake, dumping excess water onto the relatively dry dust protected from the storm by the body of the ship. Catching the tail end of the doctor's question, she says: "I'm all on my lonesome on the portside at present, Lucinda." She rubs her face with her other hand, but as its as wet as the rest of her, it makes very little difference to her overall appearance. Which is wet.
Lucinda mirrors Aradia's step back with a step forward, putting a little more distance between her current choice of vice and those innocent bystanders. "No." She answers the Captain simply, that curtails on the end of Saienne's confirmation of the state of the bunks on the other side of the ship. She offers the messanger a tip of her head in greeting, normal smiles and other such pleasantries seem as distant as the sunshine.
"Fair enough," Aradia says, chuckling at the bedraggled Saienne as she says in good humor, "Well, don't have to do your laundry now," and then turns to look to Lucinda. "You can take the single alongside Saienne's, if'n that's what you want."
Saienne is somewhat engaged with shrugging out of her coat, which is carrying a fair amount of water itself, but manages a response to the Captain in somewhat of a haughty tone: "Ain't like I had much of a choice in the matter," she says. Her clothes, once the coat is gone and draped over the ramp up to the hold, are more or less dry - wet patches at the cuffs and around her neck. She sniffs, and smiles a lop-sided smile at Lucinda. "You doin' fine, an' all?" she asks - but the doctor's stony-faced greeting causes her own smile to falter and gives her her answer as well.
Lucinda looks at the cigarette tucked between fore and middle finger, studying it at length before lifting it to her lips again and drawing from it deeply enough to make the cherry blaze bright red. "Not saying I want it.." She says, with an exhale of grey smoke that curls away lazily. "But I need it." To Sai, she can only shrug.
"Ok," Aradia says with another glance toward Lucinda. If the woman's going to talk, she'll talk and Aradia seems quite content where she is, shelted by Grace as she watches the storm raging before her. Uncrossing her arms, she slips her hands back into the pockets of her coat as she turns to lean against one of the support struts of the ramp.
Saienne runs long fingers through short-stubbled hair and frowns at Lucinda, the lines around her eyes and along her forehead creasing deeply. "It's plenty quiet," she says, carefully, "If it's quiet you're seekin'." And, following Ara's example, she refrains from probing more deeply, turning her attention to her battered PDA. Pulling it from a pocket in her trousers is pokes at it; then peers; then shakes it. "Ah," she says, somewhat unhappily. "It don't like gettin' wet."
Lucinda isn't too keen on the 'being open' part, at least so history has shown. Another few puffs of her cigarette are taken, drawing out a bit of silence on the doctor's behalf. When Sai discovers that electronic plus water equals unhappy PDA, though, she does quirk a bit of a smile. "I hope you've backed it up, recently. Besides the paper and pen version you were creating once we were off Haven."
Watching Saienne with her PDA, a faint smile twitches at the corners of her mouth before she says with glee, "Oh! What a shame! No work for you, miss!" and her smile turns into a full blown, ear to ear grin and she screws her nose up, daring the woman to oppose her.
"It just don't like dampness in its innards," says Sai, frowning still. "Been so battered and bumped it ain't got no waterproof seal no more." She sighs, but only a little, and nods a response to Lucinda. "I been keepin' my paper copy, certainly, but I sealed a deal last night that I ain't had chance to do anythin' with yet." She waggles the PDA at the pair of them. "The only legally bindin' documentation is on here." With pursed lips and a slightly frustrated expression, Sai taps at the PDA again and it burbles - but not with its usual cheerful sound. "Oh, gorram it," she says, frowning. "I did get the most distinct impression Finley wasn't over-eager to be seein' me again, neither." She mutters up at Aradia: "It's more work, ain't it, not less? Chasin' him down again after havin' set the cat among the pigeons, as it were."
Lucinda switches the cigarette to the other hand, so she can thrust the previous one into a pocket to warm it. "You could just wait for him to come to you. Sooner or later, he'll figure out that you aren't running whatever it is you're to be running. Of course, its not the best business practice if'n you actually want to -stay- in business."
"Well if it ain't got no seal then it won't hurt for you to crack open 'n let the parts dry out," Aradia says oh so pragmatically to Saienne. "Then you can go buy yourself a new one that is all watertight 'n not leaky." Looking to Lucinda with a small smirk at her suggestion, she shrugs and says, "That'd work. At least I hope you ain't doin' business with the likes o' someone who wants to come shooting at you because the deal ain't done."
Saienne looks up at both the women for a moment, blinking. "Ain't you both full of good ideas this evenin'?" She speaks with fondness in her tone, and her crooked grin re-asserts itself quickly. She tucks the PDA back into her trouser pocket and slips her hands in to follow, scant protection from the chill air now that she's not wearing her coat. "An' no fear," she says, in an attempt to be reassuring, "He ain't the shootin' kind. More -" A pause, while she searches for the appropriate word "- More a scuttler."
Lucinda takes another draw on her cigarette, the last by the looks of it as she shifts it to thumb and forefinger, flicking it away to a puddle. "Scuttlers crunch nicely under boot heels." The doctor comments darkly, smoke filtering out with her words before she exhales the rest in a final push.
"Well, scuttlin' is still a step above oozing and slippery," Aradia muses, a hand coming up to the support strut she's leaning against with one shoulder, nails drumming against the metal. Grinning as she steps off and away from the pole, her hand still grasping it, she says, "I think I need a drink."
"Well, crunching's a little extreme, ain't it? Finley's actually what you might call a friend - if you were to stretch the definition to breakin' point, anyhow. Least wait until after I've got him to sign somethin' bindin'?" She grins crookedly up at Lucinda, right into the face of her foul mood. Saienne steps forward to her coat and her hat, and replies to Aradia: "Reckon I should get these dryin', an' all, before the hat gets stuck that way."
Lucinda crosses her arms over her chest now that her hands are free, effectively hugging herself for warmth. "Ifn' you don't intend to close up the bay, I'd like to ...watch the rain, Ara." Indeed her gaze once again turns to the docks and the skies as they open up and pour down on Eavesdown. Water starts to collect in puddles, a few gaining such depths that cause splashes as people scurry.
Shaking her head, Aradia turns and starts up the ramp, the shake turning into a nod upward to where a security camera is mounted just inside the bay doors. "Don't get wet," is all she says to the doctor as she tromps on up into the ship, glancing toward Saienne to add, "It looks good that way. All...jaunty. Gives it character."
"Jaunty!" Saienne retorts as Aradia walks up the ramp and into the belly of the Grace. "Ain't the blasted thing got character enough without bein' jaunty an' all?" She picks her hat up and, balancing it on one hand, attempts to straighten the drooping feather with the other.
Lu moves over to lean against a support, the awful pack of cigarettes reemerging. Her gaze follows Ara's pointed ones up to the security cameras and she actually chuckles, though its a bit dry. "I won't."
Saienne fusses with her hat a moment more as Lucinda watches the rain and the random patter of raindrops is disturbed only by the odd hiss of discontent as the thing refuses wholeheartedly to be re-arranged. "Not that it matters one jot," Saienne says mostly to herself, but also mindful of Lucinda's lowering presence, "It ain't like it's my Sunday best, now, is it." Saienne clears her throat, and looks back over her shoulder to the doctor. "So, Lucinda," she says, a little hesitantly it must be confessed, "I do believe I ain't asked you yet about how your lecture went."
Lucinda cants her head to the side, her body swivelling slightly from where she's leaning to put Sai better into her view. "Suitably. Three hundred forty-one in attendance. And I seemed to have made it through the hour and a half without putting anyone to sleep which is a feat within itself. " She shakes one of the cigarettes out of the pack, offering it to Sai, unsure of whether or not the woman smokes.
Saienne sets the hat aside again and smiles lop-sidedly. "Well, that sounds impressive, like," she says. "I don't believe I would have the wherewithal to stand up an' speak my mind in front of that size of a crowd." She shakes her head at the offer of the cigarette and adds: "I been tryin' to give up," she says, patting at a tobacco-tin sized box in her other trouser pocket.
Lucinda shakes one out enough to grip it directly with her lips. "And here I am trying to start." The pack once again gets tucked from whence it came and she finds the book of matches after patting at her own pockets. "Lecturing is just like any other feat. You just have to keep attempting it until you get it right. I've only spoke about a half dozen times, though. At least in that capacity."
"Tryin' to start?" Saienne asks, a little puzzlement creeping into her tone. "Well, each to their own, an' all. I reckon it's about the only vice I got left to expunge," she says, only half-seriously, "Unless you take the Captain's allegations of workaholism to heart, of course." A beat. "An' I surely don't." There is a pause, as she considers: "...but if you fancy smokin' somewhat that ain't goin' to rot your lungs quite so effectively an' quite so quickly, I got some Amber Leaf back in my bunk that you're quite welcome to." She pauses, and regards Lucinda. "I ain't entirely sure I should be encouragin' you, an' all," she says, dubiously, "But -" a shrug "- you're the doctor, ain't you?" She nods as Lucinda describes the lecture experience to her, but does not look entirely convinced. "In front of all those fancy folk, though? I surely don't envy you."
Lucinda gives a shrug to that. "I used to smoke. A cigar and a glass of brandy type smoking. Nothing so...foul. These really are awful." She comments, holding the cigarette away from her mouth to study it. "I wonder if Ara purposefully asked for the most putrid." But, needless to say, she still pops it back into her mouth and goes about the movements of lighting it. "I might take you up on that ..leaf..stuff. Looks like we're about to become neighbors. As soon as I gather the courage to get my things together."
"She don't smoke, does she, the Captain?" Saienne asks. "I expect she just picked whichever came to hand an' didn't notice the foulness." She pauses. "Or else she's tryin' to discourage you by stealth." She looks up at Lucinda all surrounded in a waft of strong smoke. "Which, as a tactic, don't appear to be workin'." She smiles crookedly. "Amber Leaf. It ain't unpleasant." She sighs, "Though I ain' hankerin' after it," she says, sounding unconvinced, "I would be more than happy to pass it over to you before it goes stale, an' all." Saienne shrugs slightly at the rest of Lucinda's words. "Well, the portside is nice an' quiet," she says, doing her level best not to pry. "An' I swear on my Aunt Lottie's grave that I don't snore." Lucinda's final comment causes her to frown a little, and she advises quietly. "Soonest done the better, ain't it, if that's the course of action you're set on? Otherwise you'll be frettin' on it."
Lucinda gives a sad little smile, her eyes returning to watch the rain though she continues the conversation. "I've fretted through one and a quarter cigarette so far. And I thought better to do it while Kael was off ship or ...distracted or something. More for my own comfort than his, I suppose I'm selfish that way."
"That ain't selfish," says Saienne, gently - a little sadly. She turns full away from her damp posessions now, and perches on the ramp, joining Lucinda as she looks out at the rain-soaked dock. "That's just self-preservation, ain't it so?" She looks down at her hands - and down at the dirt beyond them - and twists the tarnished silver ring on her right hand. "Ain't nothin' wrong with wantin' not to hurt if it can be avoided, Lucinda."
Lucinda reaches out, for a moment looking as if she's about to lay her hand on Sai's shoulder. It hovers there for a second, belying her intent, before it drops back down to her side. "Problem is I don't hurt, Sai. That's the one huge gaping problem." The half finished cigarette gets flicked aside to sizzle out in the rain.
Saienne is silent a long moment before she answers this. "An'..." she says, after some silent moments of rain falling on the ships and stalls clustering Eavesdown. "An' would that be because it ain't all sunk in yet? Or because you made a decision you feel was the right one? Or some other reason?" She pauses and folds her hands into her lap. "An' I ain't requirin' an answer if you ain't wantin' to give one." She pauses, and smiles crookedly. "I may be the loudest mouth we got, but I actually ain't over keen on pryin'."
Lucinda gives a soft sigh that pushes the last of the smoke out of her lungs. "I might be so inclined to answer if I actually knew what the answer was. I've just felt a big void of ...nothing lately. Am I fond of Kael? Sure. But beyond that...I don't know if I can give him what he deserves and that's someone who feels the same way he does. But I'm...talking mush here. I better go see to my affairs and stop wallowing in them."
"There ain't no crime in that neither, Lucinda," Saienne says, mildly. "In tryin' to understand how you're feelin' before makin' decisions." She shrugs and slips off the ramp in order to gather her soggy coat and hat. "An' I expect I should think about trackin' Finley down an' all." She grins crookedly at the doctor. "Life. It ain't ever simple, is it?"
Lucinda raises a hand in parting. "And when it is, that's when we know we're dying. See you back on board, Saienne." The doctor turns from the skies that match her mood and heads inside.
----Grace O'Malley, Crew Commons
"I actually think I'm going to call it quits for now." Kael responds and takes the napkins. "Yeah.. I know where they go." He takes them and starts off towards the kitchen to put them away. He gives another glance back towards max and comments, "Something like that."
Maxwell continues to lounge on the couch, sprawled otu to take up as much of it as possible while e idly sips at his coffe-like-mixxture of who-knows-what. "Yes, done and preferably by someone not-me."
Josephine makes sure that the towels are put tidily away. "No one ever asks you to iron, Max, dear. We know better," she says, cheerfully, as she pauses a moment to stir the soup that is simmering on the stove (and which, of course, smells fantastic).
Kael straightens out the napkins, making sure they're stacked away neatly and then makes his way towards the water bottle. His feet fall on the floor in a slower rhythm then usual, but with their usual resonance. He snags the bottle between two fingers, his index and middle, hooking them around the neck of the bottle. He gives a glance towards Josephine and he comments, "Another time..." his feet already turning towards the starboard.
"They did once," Max says, narrowing his eyes as a look of heinous murder crosses his face. "Never again. Never again."
Saienne's familiar footfalls can be heard coming up the gangway from the hold and before long her head pokes through the doorway. "Evenin' y'all," she says in a good-natured voice. Soon enough, the rest of her follows, and she is carrying a rather damp coat and hat. "Josephine," she says, approaching the galley, "We ain't got such a thing as an airin' cupboard - or someplace similar - hereabouts?" She pauses, inhaling deeply. "An' whatever it is you're cookin' up smells delicious." Kael's departure is watched silently, as she is somewhat distracted with trying not to drip rainwater all over the floor.
Bounding up the stairs from the cargo bay below and then along the corridor into the commons behind Saienne, Aradia appears looking just a little bit wet as she goes from her bounding skip to a much more stately and appropriately normal walk. "You can hang 'em over something in the engine room," she proclaims to Saienne, "Heat there'll get 'em good and dry but maybe just a little bit greasy too." Noting everyone else, she says, "Hello all," as she heads for the cabinet holding the glasses, looking to Max as she says cheerily, "I'm going to pour myself a drink. Would you like one? I promise it'll even be the same drink this time!"
"Bye, Kael," Josephine says softly, giving him a bit of a wave. "Be kind," she suggests, just before she grins at Max's amusing expression and her eyes light up when Saienne arrives. "It's Saienne!" she announces. "Hi! What's an..airin' cupboard?" she wonders curiously, looking around at the cupboards that exist. "And it's some veggie soup, ready for whenever anyone's feeling hungry." She eyes Aradia thoughtfully when she arrives, smiling just the same. "How come you two are damp?"
Kael gives one last look back towards all the noises and casts a wave back towards Saiennce and Aradia as he steps through the starboard corridor and disappears off in that direction, calling back, "Hi.. Bye." and then his footsteps are the only thing really announcing his departures, a bit slower and a littler heavier then usual.
Max looks over to Sai as she enters, a smile curving in the corners of his lips. His suggestion is cut short by Ara's, who gets a nod of approval and even an enthusiastic thumbs up at the mention of a drink max won't have to move for. Veggis soup does seem to send him spiralling back into a poor mood, however. "An I was hoping it was chickling soup," Max says with a heavy sigh.
"Greasy ain't no bother," replies Sai to the Captain. "As I was sayin' to Lucinda, it ain't like they're my Sunday best or anythin' quite so fancy." She gives up and drapes the coat over her arm, then looks sideways at Jo. "You know - an airin' cupboard. A sort of warm wardrobe where you can leave things to get dry." She grins crookedly. "Engine room'll do nicely, mind, as long as Ronnie an' Ymir don't mistake my hat for an oil rag or somesuch." A pause, as she scrutinises the mishapen thing. "Although mayhap that wouldn't be such a bad thing, an' all." Saienne looks across at Aradia and in answer to Josephine, says: "On account of the rainstorm peltin' down outside at present." She falls silent. "Although to be fair, ain't able to hear a note of it in here." She takes a step towards the corridor to the engine room and says. "Soup sounds lovely. I'll just go an' get these things stowed." And, so saying, she steps off towards the engine room.
"Was comin' down pretty heavy," Aradia says in addition to Saienne's explanation as she sets two glasses on the counter and grabs some ice out of the cooler, dropping several cubes into each glass. "Uhhh, soup huh?" she says, casting a fleeting glance Saienne's way and then looking back to Josephine with a wide smile, "Sounds lovely. In a bit though, I think. After my drink." Crouching down, she pulls open one of the lower cupboards and begins digging around, resurfacing with a bottle a few moments later to fill the glasses. Tucking the bottle under one arm, she picks the glasses up and heads over to the couch, passing one off to Max and then nudging him to the side to flop down into the seat next to him.
Josephine contemplates the alien but very practical notion of an airin' cupboard. "I was going to make chicken soup, Max," she explains, "but what with Pauline being around and just a wee little impressionable thing, I thought it would fairly insensitive, so...veggies are good. It has a beef-based broth. And star-shaped noodles. You'll like it," she assures, because who wouldn't like star-shaped noodles. "I missed a rain storm?" she asks, wide-eyed and sad.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
[Log] We've all got our demons...
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