Thread: Ardent

Once noticed by Cas, the look on her face was more than satisfying. It was amusing in a way, with the way her younger companion used to trudge around there was no doubt that she probably struck a decent amount of fear into the hearts of these crew members so seeing her get her feathers all flustered was more pleasing than she had remembered.

It was obvious she was ready for an attack, but that wasn't going to be the way Deryn would handle the situation at hand. If anything the anticipation that Cas was feeling, with maybe a hint of anxiety was enough for now. This mission was important to her and the elf thought of it this way, If I confront her while in the air, she can't possibly get away.

With that she broke her stare and made her way onto the ship, wanting to situate her things in her cabin. These books, tools and trinkets were starting to make her shoulders weary. Passing a darker skinned man with enough books to start an on-ship library she smiled, he looked tuckered out himself from the haul. If Deryn hadn't already had her hands full with quite enough she would have attempted to help him, she had a soft spot for those educated types and it might have gotten her a chance to take a gander at his library. So she did what she thought was best and gave him a good ol' slap on the back as he bent down clutching his knees to rest. "Get a move on, at this rate you'll miss dinner." A friendly gesture to lighten his spirits was all she could offer as she hauled her almost slipping bags down below.

Most ships were all built the same, knowing many layouts it wasn't hard for her to navigate herself around the inner guts of this vessel. Not wanting to get too far ahead of the no doubt Kerrian intellectual she moved at a steady enough pace down to the cabins. There was only one requirement she desired for her sleeping quarters, scanning the bunks she kept walking and at the end of them all finally found what she was looking for... a window. Happily throwing her bags into her bunk, she drew a hand to her shoulder rubbing it in pity of having to carry so much weight.

The little avatar of bloodshed was caught unawares by the sudden--thankfully, slow--takeoff before Aerodar rocketed the ship into the high skies. Her knees buckled the littlest bit, steel-toed feet went a-stumbling, hand shot out to balance herself. She glanced up at Enris, then after the receding figure of Deryn.

Without the courtesy of any sort of parting comment and only a glance cast topside, Cas hurried under deck and after the other elf. She descended carefully, one hand on Vega and the other hand gripping the railing tightly for the inevitable nosedive into the sea Cain would surely grant them all.

It paid off, as Cas found herself soon thrown back against the wall by the too-quick acceleration, but otherwise unharmed. Rising quickly, she darted through the hallways, eyes peeled for a sign of the old acquaintance she hoped would be taken by surprise and unable to strike first. She would question her. That was all.

Cas spied an open door down the hallway and quickened, racing down the familiar corridor headfirst. She stopped abruptly and peeled around, blade held out and--oh. Wrong door. The old guide gave her an amused smile from his bed and waved politely. Cas quickly nodded, apologized, and continued her search. Maybe there was no reason for her to panic. But two years as a fugitive on her own and a multitude of scars to show for it, and she had learned to be careful.

There. The bunks. Door opened. Maybe that--Cas hurried and once again turned the corner fast, eyes locked, this time, on Deryn. Her chest rose and fall swiftly a few times as she regained her wind, and she spoke the littlest bit breathlessly.

"Pourquoi êtes vous ici?" she demanded in an elvish that was beginning to show signs of disuse. Why are you here?

She reached both arms into the never ending depths that were her bag, pulling out charts and books of the sort, along with a journal she wanted to use as a log not only for this journey but to track the course we moved on listing how successful... or unsuccessful certain paths were. It was under Deryn's impression that there was another aeronaut on ship, to better describe as the head aeronaut who had led out the previous voyage.

Well, it didn't exactly turn out right for them last time did it? So maybe now I can aid in guiding this ship properly. Just then, as if the old man could hear her thoughts the unsuspecting elf found herself being flung forward, her knees tripping over the side of the bunk sending her head crashing into the wall in front of her. "Aghk!" , she exclaimed in a haggard tone. Taking a moment to rub her skull, she sat on the edge of the thin mattress and tried to shake the ache out.

Green eyes dizzily rolled about in her skull, before her darkly shaded eyelids blinked a few times until her stare was centered on a indistinguishable figure at first... slowly piecing itself together until Deryn was face to face with none other than Cas.

"Pourquoi êtes vous ici?" she asked in a demanding tone. "Don't flatter yourself, I came here to fly... I wasn't looking for you." Hand still clutching her head she growled at Cas's readiness with her weapon. "I should be asking you the same question, old friend." Accentuating the end of her sentence with a firm bite of inflection she rose to her feet. Just like any other elf, she stood below average in height but Deryn had always been a little bit taller than her counterpart... it was one of the few distinctions they had between one another, aside from this newly acquired scar on Cas's face.

Moving forward slowly, with every step her leather boots creaked below her as there eyes stayed focused on one another, every move being closely watched. "It's like looking at a ghost Cas, I thought you were surely dead." To put it simply, it was a hard subject for Deryn to speak of and brought up a surge of mixed emotions inside her. "Hearing word of treason, of scandal... and these crimes committed by you? What kind of place does that put me in, hmm? Am I to put my closest childhood friend to death?" It was clear that not only did her crimes fill Deryn with a sense of betrayal, but this situation also left her with a weighted decision to make. As they stood, the silence of the room was broken by an echoing dinner bell but Deryn was quick to ignore it and remain unwavered in her quest for answers.

Deryn's response sent Cas' hips shifting, blade falling, jaw and face rearranging itself into a less ragged and accusatory countenance. Deryn's response was...unexpected. To say the least. Her first question caught Cas off guard, and the littering of other questions hung heavy and unanswered in the space between them. Cas' jaw clicked as it shifted, eyes stayed on the older of the two.

Finally she gave something like an answer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You'd have done the same, Deryn." Her voice hardened as she went on, but the threat rang hollow somehow. "Try anything and I'll cut your face and hang it in the galley." She glanced in the direction of the dining hall, where the call to truce rang so insistently. She would not want to miss it. Cas flicked her gaze towards Deryn again.

"You left for a reason. Do you really want one of us dead despite it?" Cas slipped her hand into the pouch at her side and carefully felt through each item. Finally she found the thing she desired, and lifted it for viewing between the two of them.

A little packet of lho-sticks, smell sweet and now more accustomed to. She'd saved up for this pack in particular, put in one too many hours shirking dignity or embracing drudgery. She had plans for this little pack. But a very old friend stood before her, one long lost to the ages and the movement of the world. One who pondered an attempt on her life. But an old, dear friend nonetheless. Such an occasion called for some sort of private celebration--and a peace offering.

Cas twirled the twin peace offerings between her fingertips, her smile sad. "A truce, for dinner at least? Captain doesn't like blood in the galley." She added more softly. Not two years ago, she'd pressed herself to understand the appeal of the little lho-sticks even as she snatched one from the captain's lips and ground it beneath her boot. In the span of the two years since, she'd come to understand why. Her own reasons, of course: she doubted the captain had a god-shaped hole in his chest and a distinct desire to fill it. She'd be more polite the next time she tossed out his lho, at least.

The sticks completed their slow twirl, and Cas fumbled with a lighter for a moment to set hers alight. She held forward the other for Deryn, already falling into the comfortable rhythm of inhale, exhale...

"For old times?" The bell rang insistently.

"You'd have done the same, Deryn." , "You left for a reason. Do you really want one of us dead despite it?"

This was true, Deryn shared a vast amount of traits, interests and beliefs with her dear friend Cas. Unfortunately because of those things, it was easy for them to get in trouble. Up until now, the elf hadn't really thought of it in such a way. Two women, both with the same beliefs and great aspirations but with completely different lives. When Deryn left the mansion of Cann, it was by a favor of her mother. She left Cas behind, in the world her mother was trying so desperately to get her out of, What would I have done if the tables were turned?

Deryn was never forced to lay with another man because that was just "how things were." and she was sure as hell never forced to deal with those twisted up feelings of anger and uneasiness that the elven genetic code gave them. I ran away from all that. Thinking to herself Deryns' eyes grew weak from these sudden realizations as Cas began to fiddle with something in her pouch.

"Oh.. hm?" Awakened from her thoughts she looked toward Cas again, holding a burning lho-stick between her lips and offering one out in her direction. It was a little unsuspecting, this kind of peace offering... especially now. A short pause was held between them, that bell ringing and ringing for their appearance at dinner.

With a few nods she clicked her tongue and took the stick of sweet smelling herb and popped it between her painted lips. "You always find a way to persuade me." With that, Deryn's gloved hand quickly came up and bopped the underside of the hand Cas was holding the lighter with, sending it up into the air for Deryn to swiftly capture in her palm. Flicking the cover back, her thumb swiped the lighter sending it aflame. As the end of her lho lit up with a cherry red light she smirked, eyes glancing up at Cas, knowing that little trick would sure enough bring about that pulsing vein in her forehead.

"Let's go, shall we?" Tossing the lighter back at Cas, Deryn blew a long puff of smoke out in the air. "Care to lead the way, you know this ship better than I."

Cas' face tightened with either grave annoyance or an attempt not to laugh. Whichever the cause, she snatched the lighter out of the air and slipped it back into her pocket. "You're easy to persuade," she lobbed back, eyes on her friend's rouged lips. The last time Cas had set foot on this ship, she'd been painted up just as much if not more. Too much time spent on her own had done away with the habit--and Cas wondered briefly as to the kind of life her friend had lived, that she had not lost the habit in twice the time. Deryn had been the independent one, and it left her a little unsure of herself to ponder on the subject.

She rose a brow at Deryn's suggestion that Cas lead. "I'm not falling for that one." Cas motioned politely to her side. "I'll show you the way, but you walk to my side or to my front." Waiting to see if Deryn relented, Cas breathed in a wisp of sugar-smoke and, if she agreed, led her down the hallway and into the dining room.

Steadied, though uncomfortable knowing that what he was standing on was moving, he could do no more than agree with the fact that this, indeed was nothing close to a passenger vessel. So he nodded in kind, furthering his thoughts to recall how his brothers had described battle ships. Heavy in artillery and fire power as they were in strength, though they'd lacked a great deal in speed because of it. Or so they'd told him. What he knew of the Ardent was that it was built for velocity, which made sense considering it's size.

He smiled respectively, at the mention of Tyrisian blood, “I figured as much, my mother is part Tyrisian herself so I carry the gene a bit,” He splayed out his hands, turning them over, half studying their tone, “But I've got my father's skin, though not nearly as dark,” He said, shrugging it off. He was only really lighter toned as a result of hollowing himself up in the academy, and within books, granting little of his presence to the sun on most days. Though, he imagined he'd be tanned in no time being on the ship. He'd remembered the amused look his brother had given him the moment they had reacquainted, having never seen his skin so sun-bathed. It probably hadn't helped that they'd barely been able to recognize each other. The thought amused him, until it faded into the realization that he would have to start adjusting his thought patterns if he wanted to make himself comfortable with the crew. Because when he was bound to be hit with the impact of what he was really doing, he would doubtless start to miss what he was leaving behind. Especially seeing as he'd done it before. Though leaving Cann had not been nearly as hard as leaving Castillo.

Informed that it had been the dinner bell, he nodded, reaching the door that lead down below, he held it open for the man, as something of a thankful gesture for all he was doing. His expression, however was apologetic at the mention of the bags being heavy,“I would say it's a result of not being used to travelling light... or at all, but,” He glanced at the jacked edges stretching the fabrics of the bag, “While that's certainly true... being a scholar... is not a career befitting for mobility,” He explained, eyes falling on the innards of the ship as they ventured below.

Part of him admired the design, another kindling the idea that this would be where he was to live for an unspecified amount of time. He pulled his teeth against his lower lip, brushing off some of his coiling nerves. A knot tightened in his stomach beneath it all. He hadn't really been sure what to expect when he'd first been requested to join the Ardent in their expedition, but his mind had envisioned it much differently, more or less, morphing what he'd remembered of his time on the passenger vessel. He'd known to expect differently, nevertheless.

Walking down the hall, confined and out of the open air made the movement of the ship... less discomforting on multiple levels. At least this way he wasn't open to the concentration of air forced against him. And for that, the knot built in his stomach loosened a bit. He preferred being inside, locked away in confined spaces. It was all he could really remember being used to. The innards of the Academy, though home to much much more space were what he had considered safe. Relief always managed to find him when he walked into a place that shielded him from the outside.

He looked about attempting to find an open door to an unoccupied room or anything that would have made for something he could occupy with his luggage. After a moment, he'd found one, no apparent markings on the door and nothing that would have marked the room as inhabited apart from a bunk, a desk and a chair. He peered inside, “I think this'll work,” He stated, stepping aside to allow the other man room to enter.

Bare as it was now, he imagined, it would not be so by the end of the evening. He'd never been one known for keeping things organized.

Enris nodded his head in thanks as Barasa held the door open for him. "I agree." He replied as he followed the man down into the ship. "But at least this will be a good experience for you. I believe that while scholars need to be experts in knowledge and spend a lot of time studying, they should also have as many experiences as they can." After all, what use was all that knowledge if it wasn't practical.

He followed Barasa as the man wandered down the hall looking for an empty room. It wasn't long before the man found a generic, nondescript room to settle down in. Enris squeezed past him as he entered and flopped the bags onto the floor at the foot of the bed. He stretched his cramped shoulders and flexed his neck back and forth, glad to finally be rid of the heavy cargo. Perhaps he should work his arm muscles more during his training sessions. He made a quick mental note to add that to his schedule. Normally, besides practicing his magic techniques (which took hours by themselves), he would jog for an hour or two and now he had something new to add: arm strengthening.

"We should probably head to dinner. We don't want to keep the others waiting." Enris stated as he headed out of the room and towards the dining room. He took note of another unoccupied-looking room a few doors down for him to put his stuff down in after dinner. The bag he had brought with him wasn't that heavy, holding only some snacks and an extra change of clothes and a few miscellaneous items. Putting them in a room was less of a priority than right now. His snacks had already been digested and he could feel his stomach protesting for more meat, preferably pork.

He contemplated on what was said, not so sure he could deny what the fellow Kerrian meant. At the very least, he was right about the importance of experience, even for a book hermit, ground-loving scholar. Whether this would be a good experience or not, he had his doubts. It didn't help that his intestines were already disagreeing with the journey. And they'd just departed. He was pretty sure if he ran back up topside, he'd still be able to make out the parting mountains in the distance. Withholding a sigh as the other man squeezed in past him to set down the bags, he knelt before them, immediately plying the smaller bag open to retrieve the notebook he'd reserved for the journey, along with a few writing tools. He'd never ventured anywhere without carrying something of the sort. Whether just to keep his thoughts organized where his lifestyle couldn't be, or just to have something that put him at ease in all the flurry.

At the mention of heading to dinner, he looked up, nodding briefly, “Yes, of course, just had to grab something,” He said, pulling himself to his feet as he stuffed the hand-held notebook and the writing implements in the pockets of his trousers. He had always found the academy robes much more efficient for such things, which was part in why he always felt inclined to wear them. That and being the practical man that he was, he'd never taken to wearing much else unless the weather called for it. It also helped that it was the most prominent source of home that he had.

Absently, his fingers tinkered with the small golden crest pinned at the front of his robes, running his thumb along the indented groves of the design. He wondered concisely how his assistant back in Castillo was fairing but it faded , the ship's movements urging him to keep moving.

With one quick glance around the room, he followed the other man out, a bit of a distance between them now as he closed the door. He kept his hand trailing the wall, using it as more moral support than physical, his balance having at the very least, steadied itself. He wasn't all that sure how he would get through dinner though. The thought of food made him a bit nauseous. His nerves and his stomach already aflutter, lessened as it may have been by then.

After a moment of drawn out silence, Barasa only assuming that the man was in a hurry to eat, he half-jogged up behind him, hand still steady on the wall, only breaking off between open doorways, eyes peeled and glancing about every so often so as to memorize the inside of the ship. Panic surged momentarily as he glanced back to check if he could remember where his room was, but it settled , his memory being a bit kinder to him than usual. New place. He needed to focus, “I take it we're just going to guess where the dinning room is?” He asked, his eyes still wandering, “Shame to say, I'm about as useless navigating as I am carrying my bags,” A mild laugh leaving his mouth with his words as he proceeded to follow the man through the corridor.

Enris glanced back at Barasa at his comment. "It's this way. I can smell the food." He replied nodding his head in the direction of the dining room. He had a keen sense of smell that seemed to double when he was especially hungry. . .like now. His mother had spoiled him with delicious food when he was young and now he had a voracious appetite as well as picky tastes. He had been thrown out of more than one restaurant for viciously insulting the chef's skills (or lack thereof according to Enris) and not being afraid to voice what he thought to be an insult to good food everywhere.

He continued at a leisurely pace, the smell of food becoming stronger the longer they walked. It wasn't too long before they were in front of a door with the words "Dining Room" carved into a plaque attached to the door.

"Well, this looks like the place." He said absentmindedly. Without wasting another minute, Enris pushed open the door and entered into the dining room.

Clunk, clunk, clunk. That incessant noise had been going on for a few minutes now and no matter how hard Enris concentrated or squeezed his eyes closed he could not block out the annoying sound. A waited a few more seconds in hopes the sound would magically disappear. . .nothing happened. Giving up his hopes of continuing his nap, Enris sat up from his bed and stretched his arms over his head. He had woken up extremely early that day, as he had pretty much all other days in the past month, to train and practice. He couldn't let himself get rusty just because they hadn't reached their destination yet. Every morning (if you could call it that since the sun usually wouldn't be showing) he jogged around the topside of the deck about 5 or 6 times, 10 if he felt ambitious that day. The deck was smaller than other ships so he had to do more laps to get his heart rate up. After warming up, he would meditate to focus his concentration. Sometimes it would be difficult to do so if the pilot was being rambunctious and not providing the most smooth of sailing conditions. After meditation he would practice his metal controlling abilities. He had brought a couple of metal items from home he could practice molding into whatever shape his will desired. That was the only ability he could practice however, he couldn't just practice controlling flesh whenever he wanted.

Enris continued to sit in bed in case the noise stopped and he could flop back into bed and go back to sleep but alas, the noise continued stubbornly. Sighing in defeat, he stood up and stretched once more. His training that morning had gone on longer than usual and he could still feel his body wanting to recover. He was going to find the source of that noise if it was the last thing he did.

He threw on a loose shirt and headed towards the door. He passed by the mirror and paused to fix his hair so it wasn't sticking in all directions. Once he thought himself suitable enough, he finally left his room and headed down the hall towards topside.

The quiet scribbles and movements of her ruler and pencil across her map murmured from her quarters. Her position was odd, her body was arced over the floor that had mapping tools, her notes and map laid strewn across the knotted wood. One thumb was pressed into her lip as she bit jaggedly at her nail, clicking her tongue against it. Those eyes of hers darting back and forth from the map to her notes, trying to make the most appropriate route according to the foreseen conditions.

It wasn’t odd for her to be doing the late night work, in fact her shifts usually covered the majority of the night. Not many words were passed between her and the Head Aeronaut, Cain since she had boarded the Ardent aside from a few instructions or reprimands here and there and to be quite honest Deryn didn’t mind. The more time she had topside, the happier she was. So she had to loose a few hours of sleep and suffer the bags under her eyes, this was how it was. This experience was something that could not be mimicked by books or taught by the tongue… this was the only way to fully understand the trials of a true aeronaut.

The only reason the elf was down in her quarters was because it was the only place she was allowed to map. It was by her own fault that she lost her initial map to the sky not more than a few weeks ago. It was one of the many “virgin pilot” mistakes she has made, although she would like to see them as few and far between.

The slam of her gloved hand hit the floor as she grinned, scooping the papers into her hand and stuffing them into a leather binded book she kept by her side. Her heavy boots scraped the floor as she pushed open the door, letting it smack against the walls. Grabbing hold of the railing at the bottom of the steps she swung herself around, launching her up the first few steps.

Her free hand patted around her body, shaking at hall her pockets until her eyebrows perked when she remembered the stolen lho stick was behind her scarred left ear. Pulling it to her lips she let it hang there, sticking to the paint as she pulled out a brass cased lighter. Flicking the mechanism aflame she took a deep breath in, watching the end of the stick burn up in a bright orange ember. Flicking the lighter case shut she stuffed it back in her pocket and came to the top of the stairs.

The frigid awkwardness of the first dinner on Ardent had long since passed, becoming nothing but a vague memory, overclouded by other events that had gone on that evening. The days no longer numbered, melding together the more time that passed. He'd given up on keeping track, between his studying, his ongoing research, avoiding the crew members where it was warranted and his late night... assignments, he could only focus on so much. Many nights, he'd gone without sleeping, without even eating and it had taken a toll on his ability to distinguish how much time had passed while he was holed up in his quarters. The fact that his watch had broken in one of his more desperate attempts to flee to the company of the elves didn't help much either. But he couldn't let that stop him, no more than he could force himself to even stop at that point. It had become an obsession. A festering need.

For that, if ignoring the fact that he was avoiding run ins with the elves, he was once more stuffed into his own small cluttered corner of the ship. Papers, some loose in make, others ripped out of books and journals lay about in just about every other corner. Stuck beneath his pillow, strewn about all over his bed as well as the floor, and especially his desk. The available drawers were full to capacity with tools, documents and books where they could fit. The majority of his library remained unorganized and stacked on top of the desk and along the walls, some wedged beneath his bed, others still in his bags. The stop in Fort Rock, he'd taken it upon himself to double his references, the extent of his collection no longer limited to the koysqatsi and the wizard archives but expanding into biology, human anatomy, metallurgy and the like.

It was a complete and utter disaster for all who actually bothered to peek in on him. And if they did, he'd been noticing less and less, often too absorbed in his work to pay mind. The only times he was cautious was when he was exercising certain areas of study. To which he'd often taken to actually locking the door or alternatively blocking it off. Some things, no matter how focused he was in his work, couldn't be risked. He made a promise and he was certainly inclined to keep it, especially considering what was at stake.

At the moment however, the door was unlocked, unblocked, and fully accessible should any feel apt to intrude, apart from a few sheets of paper on the floor in front of it. The scholar himself was standing over the desk, writing vigorously in one of the various notebooks propped open on the surface. His free hand riffled through another book, looking for something, a key word. The moment he found what he was looking for however, he drew out an exasperated breath, sinking back into the chair as he rubbed the rough pricks of hair peppering his face. He'd let it get to a length that would more than likely start to bother him. It was thick, veering well beyond five o'clock shadow.

The upkeep of his appearance hadn't been all that successful, having given up in general a few days into travel. His hair was a mess, heavy bags sat under his eyes and his whole demeanour was slack, almost exhausted despite the fact that he felt wide awake.

With one last glance at his studies, he rose to his feet. It was time for a break, a rare momentary lapse to stretch his legs perhaps even eat something for once.

At that time of day most people were out topside, so it was... safer to wander about below.