Open Catch a Ride: South Ilica, Harbor Village of Cisne

[Volter]

The girl wouldn’t relent, Gods love her. His confusion turned to irritation, a ripple of snide amusement almost making him scoff at the suggestion she’d be protecting anything, what with the callous disregard she was showing towards his patience alone.

Now that’s comforting. Like he didn’t already get treated like some geriatric fool on the regular enough. A gentlemanly arch of the eyebrows wrinked his forehead as he, in an expression so blasé it was obvious he was nothing of the sort, considered her carefully. A tragedienne's weighed silence.

“ My answer persists. No. “ He said the last word firmly and slowly. “ Get your own damn glasses. “ And please go away.

He resisted waving a hand to shoo her, arms folded over his chest. Was this what they had on airships instead of barnacles? His stare bounced to Mister Aktan, openly disappointed at his lack of intervention amidst this tomfoolery. Harassment!

This will influence my review of this damn trip.

“ Who is in charge of her on this ship — Not you? “ It was almost accusatory, his eye measuring the corvodii like he was having a hard time deciding if The First Mate was capable of anything at all. Apart from standing around — they’ll grant rank to any which man these days. For effect, he adjusted his glasses.

“ Why is she lacking in her own required equipment for— whatever it is? “

 

[Etoile]

The half-elf deflated, even her hair seemed to droop alongside her shoulders, no longer weaving untold poetry with the help of the wind. Lifeless and limp, like any other's hair, attached to a head instead of a greater force of nature. She thought of taking his glasses regardless, but something about that still felt wrong. She also considered the possibility of asking a third time, since one Stormmother tended to remind all the Tempestarii that the third time was the charm.

Of course, Etoile knew that was because everyone liked things in threes: trying to get glasses three times in a row, the rule of threes, how pleasing three items of the same thing appeared on a wall or table.... it had her smile, thinking of one particular wall in her room in particular—three mirrors, three different reflections, and yet, all Etoile.

"The stars are in charge of me," Etoile answered, the lax smile not yet washed away from the realization that the conversation had soured, if considered a conversation in the first place. "And I am not lacking in equipment. All I need is right here." She said, hand raised on her left side to point at the side of her head. Dark hair curled and unfurled, lifting up into the breeze.

 

[Param]

There was something about the gleam of Aktan's eye that hinted that he rather liked seeing Mister Vorsten so worked up and bothered. Much the way the plump bastard seemed to fancy sitting in his chair, staring across the way when real orders were being barked.

Call for adjustments in power and speed grabbed his attention over the bickering of cream-puff and star-seer.
"Alright, to your stations!" he cawed. Spade beak point toward Volter. "And you," a cock of the head angled the beak down. "To your quarters," another tick of his angular skull, and his eyes could see the wagons below. "Looking like we'll be in for some trouble,"

Shroud Master Cromherr came to the bunch, his hands pulled glasses from beneath his coat, and he offered them to her. "Tempestarii," he said plain, a respect beyond title there in his voice. "It is probably best you get bellow deck as well,"
As the Narcisca slowed, the force of the wind slacked. The triple prows of the catamaran ship sliced easy through the currents. The rune-work along the shroud stacks shift their hues. Bright reds turned to cooler purples and warm blues.

Down she went. Fin-sails creaking as rudder lines pulled across pulleys and ran up winches to tilt the great fins up and down to set the air-ship to bank. The deck tilt, easy and slow as Param minded the wheel.

"It's a bloody mess down there," the captain hissed through her teeth. "Deck snipers! Ready your bows!" she called out. "Param, set us to circle about the wagon train,"

"Aye ma'am!"

Below, the wagon train was in shambles. Cargo spilled across the earth. Pack animals dead, and bodies strewn about in mangled mess. Most, caught trying to flee.