Ardent

Minutes became hours, turned into days, and still the barefooted wizard had not left the room. The candles had become puddles of wax, to be replaced by the occasional member of his inner circle who'd rotate with the two. Andy was now laid across the lounge, bony foot hanging over the armrest, one arm dangling over the side, the other resting on his stomach and occasionally scratching some vague itch there.

He was exhausted, not even copping a feel if the opportunity arose whenever he'd found her sleeping and himself off rotation. Andy found it difficult to trust the handful of other librarians with the work, unable to sleep he'd set Lia to the task of supervising them when he could keep his eyelids apart no longer.

Miranda--he still had not told Lia the name he'd chosen, for fear he might have mentioned it offhand in the past once or twice--was coming together nicely. Very, very nicely, and he wasn't referring to the "well sculpted physique if I do say so myself--ah, that hurt!". The project was, so far, taking far less time than he'd anticipated. Miranda had made it look so easy, so simple, no more effort involved than when she'd turned her back to him with no goodbye. It had taken him countless centuries just to get this far.

But fine. Let her have her little fucking whelps. He'd do so much better, so much better...Sleep full of spiteful thoughts, he flexed his toes and turned on his side, mouthing and so quietly uttering vengful little whispers for the flesh-doll's namesake.

One of the chief librarians shook him by the shoulder, stirring him from sleep. He rose slowly and with clear exhaustion, but his eyes were on the object of their efforts. The others had bandied about names, he cared little for what they called her. Usually, a number--one. They were more than a little excited about the idea of creating more. As was he. But it was best not to get ahead of themselves.

Twisting a finger gently about at the edge of his left eye, he rubbed some of the sleep away and rose fully. No time to be tired, there was work to be done. "Sir, we've finished the vein network," said the one who'd woken him. He moved forward to inspect their work--the outer flesh, muscles, and organs had all been completed in the last few days. Now only the brain remained.

Now where was that damned girl? "Lia, get over here. And I swear to your people's silly little gods, if I so much as see a shoe..." he muttered, peering forward to look into the girl's copied face. The eyes held no light behind them, the head was emptier than a seaport floozy's--though he supposed that wasn't really true, it was just incomplete. Very, very incomplete. Her skin was cold to the touch, pale and gray. Only now was the blood beginning to be pumped through her body.

A little surprised to find that Thana had actually accepted her handshake, Cas' hand remained airborne a handful more moments after Thana's own hand had long since pulled away. She lowered it uncertainly, not quite sure what to make of the woman. Her hand had reached for the pistol at her side, the motion Cas knew best.

The sight certainly gave her pause, though she wasn't sure why.

It wasn't like she'd never seen another person reach for their holster. Oh, she'd seen that plenty a time these past two years especially, and come out best each time. Though there had been a few instances she'd faintly wished she hadn't. But a little something in the motion reminded her a little of herself. She smiled faintly at the pistol, and--Barasa. Where was he?

Turning on her heel without another word, smiling to herself, she took a few steps from the Innate and the Medic, towards her old friend. She leaned forward, clasping her hands behind her back and lowering her voice somewhat: "Have you seen that scholar? Barasa?" The smile loosened a little as she wondered why she was wondering about his location. It was beginning to feel a little unsettling.

A private wizarding script? Fort's lips quirked into a characteristic not-smile at that answer, as ambiguous and vague as any that he'd ever wrung from the old-timer. His lips tugged upward, but the mirth did not reach his eyes. Wizards. Next he'd say that the dead walked in defense of the particle, and might only be assuaged by virgin sacrifice.

He choked back his immediate reply, a match for the Guide's answer. A dragon's hoarde, of course; that being the only place to come upon the knowledge of dead sorcerors. Instead he folded his arms across his chest and measured the guide with his eyes. Waiting for the barest tell to give him an opening. "Had it from the hand of the queen. Why do you ask?"

What aren't you telling me, old man?

The old man's shoulders shrugged, a long and fluid movement. "It's an interesting artifact, my captain. You've piqued my interest and all that. It's not every captain that carries around this sort of thing."

A vaguely troubled look overtook his expression, and he bowed slowly. "If there is nothing else, sir, I would take my leave. An old man needs his rest, you understand."

There are rumblings of war, and whispered rumors of political troubles between the northmost Bursian city-state and the Queen of Tyrisia. Some claim she is attempting a land grab.

You're no kind of help, old man. It was becoming very clear that, while that first little bit of information was definitely the welcome kind, no further tidbits were coming free. Not unless Fort was an amateur crocodile tooth-extractor in his spare time. He'd seen stones more talkative (though that had been an odd night, and no mistake).

"Interesting artifact." Fort parroted the old man thoughtfully as he ran a hand over the stubble that was mounting a furious counterassault on his chin. For a moment the Captain seemed far away, his thoughts seeming to drift. Any who'd served under him for long knew the peculiar face of the Captain "figuring things". He'd squint as though looking into the sun and his lips would purse as though he'd bitten into a Kerrian wild lime.

Why so secretive about this damned scrap of parchment? Where did he see this bit about a mountain pass. Who had written it? What was their purpose? When had it been written? Why was the Queen so keen to give it to him without a hope of knowing what it said? How was this helping? And why did nothing ever go smooth?

He was gone only a moment before he remembered his company. With an apologetic smile he stood up and extended a hand toward the Guide to shake. "Thank you for your aid, old friend. I do indeed know the cares of an old man more and more every day." He quirked an eyebrow and glanced at his wet bar. "I can't interest you in a drink before you go, can I?"

The old man smiled faintly at Fort's remark regarding their shared condition. It was a smile that had a little something more behind it, some hidden jest to which Fortinbras was not invited to listen in on.

He held up a hand, palm flat, and shook his head. "I must decline, sire. I gave up drink a long time ago." The guide had watched Fortinbras' face as they spoke, and though he had spent some time on the ship those two years ago, he had spent little of the time aboard the ship getting to know the crew and their quirks. As such, he remained puzzled by the captain's expression. "Does something trouble you, sir?"

“Hm.” A slight mumble crawled across her perched lips, eyes lazily watching the scene. Perhaps it was quite a boring outcome, but a painless outcome indeed. It was even strange to see Cas be put in such a state, bubbling about with her words was something she rarely did. And those pale elven cheeks weren’t a shade of rose, so she could not be mixed up in an alcoholic buzz. It put her friend in a fainter light, which to be honest was nice to see. The world from the viewpoint of an elf toughens them in mind and body, truly stifling their honest intentions. Vulnerability was shameful and greatly avoided, but constantly being on guard, being thick skinned… it grew tiring.

Watching the bouncing child all a mess make her way toward the steps was quite amusing, children were so cute weren’t they? It didn’t help that the girl had a hat twice the size of her head that caught up the air behind her. The way the string latched on around her neck almost made it look like she had a parachute attached to her, not only causing a lot of drag on her speed but seeming that if the wind did pick up just right it may just snatch the little ball of youth and steal her away into the night sky.

A curious voice, spouting a curious name came to her ears, perking her lips into a coy smile. “Barasa ey?” Closing her eyes, Deryn let her head fall back casually as she inhaled a long breath. “Barasa…” She said his name in a way that made it drag out over the moments, hissing when she got to the S in his name. "I really am not quite sure where the handsome devil is at the moment, he spends much time affixed to his books." Deryn paused for a moment, sighing a woeful sigh. “If only he were to take as much pleasure in holding me in those hands of his as opposed to those bindings of parchment.” Her eyes fell on Cas with a smile. “Are these the thoughts that plague your mind, dear friend?”

Closing her eyes again she thought to herself, most likely sharing the same thoughts as Cas. Something was different about the attraction that the elf felt for the scholar, it was something beyond her mind, her will. Of course Deryn would joke about the subject, specifically with Cas who she has seen hiding outside of his quarters. But she would do her best to not seem interested, and hopefully draw the attention away from herself.

Fort was already crossing to the wet bar by the time the Guide declined. Which was just as well. Not knowing what in the seven descending Hells was going on was thirsty work, and his bottle of Dantalion was calling him like a siren from the rocks.

"Nothing in particular. Leastways, nothing I can put a finger on. Just..." He gestured nebulously with a cut-crystal tumbler as he considered the decanter half-full of amber Tyrisian whiskey. "Seems like every time I get the wherewithal to ask a question, I never get a straight answer. In the best of times, it seems like I only get more questions."

Aleta's old vacuum feed from the induction coils still left him with a steady flow of ice, bless the girl by the Throne. He selected three chunks that were fairly cube-shaped and set them to tinkling in his glass before he measured a stiff bit of liquor out of the dacanter.

"If you're sure," he said turning and gesturing with the glass, "then that'll be all. And thank you again."

The Guide smiles faintly, murmurs an apology for not being more helpful, and leaves. "Thank you, sir."

Returning from a long meeting with the captain on evening as they near the coast of Kerria, Andy calls Barasa to his quarters, apparently rather frustrated. He tents his fingers and reclines against the wall, eyeing Barasa Agunda.

Barasa may have noticed many things in his time spent with the guide: that he prefers to leave his shoes at the door and regularly requests Barasa to do the same, that he seems sometimes sad and lost in thought, and finally that Barasa's lessons seem to be rather...practiced, rehearsed. Barasa has learned the finer details of biology and such, enough to allow him to begin practicing with more complex objects, likely mastering basic manipulation of inanimate objects and plant life. Andy takes special care to teach Barasa human anatomy and the basics of how the brain works--a subject he smiles fondly at while teaching, even delving into some specifics regarding Innate and elven brains, even going into a tangent about chemicals Barasa's never heard of.

As they've been nearing the coast of Kerria, Andy has seemed more on edge, irritated, nervous. No one but Barasa seems to have noticed; in fact, rarely does anyone at all seem to notice the old man. Even the elves seem almost oblivious to his presence, most of the time. While he makes every effort to show Barasa this trick, he admits to it being one of the more difficult ones and grows more worried by their increased amount of attention on him.

On the matter which led to his irritation, Andy finally speaks. "Agunda, our captain has acquired some sort of old writing. Of mine, I am led to believe. It has...sentimental value, among other things. I've taught you many things, and asked little in return. Will you ask him about this subject, for me? His parchment? It is a small thing, and if anyone would ask, it would be you..."

Cas' lower jaw worked itself up and down a few times before settling tight against the upper with a nearly inaudible click. Nostrils flared, vein might have popped if Cas' veins did that sort of thing, lids widened and thin brows crinkled.

The other elf's insinuation was unwelcome, to say the least. Might've struck a chord, hard, but it was the sort of chord even Deryn herself wasn't admitting to. It wasn't true, exactly, but it was the sort of half-truth, almost-truth, the kind that made Cas wonder what in the seven Bursian hells was wrong with her.

Her jaw clicked, reset itself. She glanced, a little shamefully, back to the two she'd just walked away from. Hoping, of course, that they hadn't heard. Or anyone else for that matter. It was a fucking shameful insinuation for Deryn to toss about so idly, and she wouldn't forgive her so easily for it. She was still trying to regain the small bit of reputation she'd lost after someone--she had her very obvious suspicions, but then again elves were never known for their brilliance--had spiked her drink the first night.

Lifting her chin with what she hoped was a dignified air, the little elf smoothed out the folds of her shirt and wrappings. "You," she began in a most delicate voice, "can go fuck yourself."

She had been spending her time occasionally avoiding Cas and Deryn and occasionally pulling pranks on them with Cain, when he wasn't asleep or fantasizing about whatever it was he fantasized about. Alcy had managed to stay mostly out of trouble, having yet to cross swords with Cas in any sort of meaningful manner, though she still smirked to herself in glee when she recalled the night where she'd gotten Cas drunk. Alcy had never told her, but every time she saw her in amused her.

Today, however, Alcy had been spending much time away from Topside, taking a bit of time to herself. She finally made her way up on deck, and saw the amusing sight of Cas offering a small girl drugs. Of course she would. Cas was clearly an all around awful person. But, Alcy had a bit of sympathy for her as she saw the dejected way the elf walked off. Not to mention Enris had apparently gotten on to her. Alcy liked Enris, he was a bit quiet but he seemed to respect her, at least more than the elves did. Quite a scene really.

As the medic, her daughter, and the elves wandered off to do their own things, Alcy took the opportunity to talk to Enris for a bit. At least with him she could expect polite conversations with very few slights to her age (A growing problem with he others really, she was getting quite tired of it). She couldn't help it if she was young and skilled, and Alcy had never expected it to be such a problem. The fiery gunner really couldn't wait to get old enough for people to just take her seriously.

Putting those frustrating thoughts aside, Alcy strolled over to Enris, her normal hop in her step and the average grin on her face.

"Offering drugs to children? Elves are interesting creatures, aren't they?" She chuckled softly, casting him a sidelong grin "Other than saving children from addictions, how has your day been?"

Rynn sighed, knowing she'd lost the battle. They were stopping for the day and there was nothing she could do about it. She rested her against the tree, closing her eyes. She couldn't deny the fact that she was thankful for it. After a few more moments, she rolled her head up and opened her eyes, looking at Boj.

"We won't lose too much time?" Rynn asked, a bit of a sad attempt at convincing him she was perfectly all right. To be honest, she was fairly tired, and it was making her worry. She was started to question whether or not it was the world making her weak, and it concerned her that she might become so weak she couldn't function. Trying to fend off the damage, Rynn did her best to think very positively of Boj and very realistically of herself. But a small concern crept into her mind- was Boj keeping up his end of the bargain and protecting her as well as she was protecting him?

Shoving that though aside as it did no good, Rynn instead focused her attention on the world's fattest and most ineffective owl. She couldn't help but grin and giggle lightly as it fell over, and she felt a bit more awake as her mood brightened. "Hopefully we don't." She sighed, taking the dried meat from him.

After eating and relaxing for a little while, Rynn found herself falling asleep much more quickly than she'd intended too, though she could feel her body thanking her for it as she faded off into rest.

When Rynn awakes, Boj and the bird are nowhere in sight. There are some ruins nearby, perhaps he has gone inside. If Rynn explores, she will find mostly just overgrown stone walls. There is an especially large building. Does she step inside?

http://dl.dropbox.com/u/4190910/forg...rt-d3jkcvy.jpg

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.

He should have spoken to the Captain the moment he was asked. Should have found time after one of meals. But no, instead, there he was, standing in the open doorway, forced by the old man to seek him out Topisde. He stepped out onto the deck, having to clench his eyes briefly to adjust to the glare of the sun. He looked around, almost squinting, catching sight of Enris, the young woman he now knew as Alcy, Thana; the Medic, a few other crew members and... the elves. He cursed the old man, for all the wonder that he was, he'd just shoved him into the very situation he was told to avoid. Worse yet, the Captain appeared to be no where in sight.

Slinking back, hopefully out of sight, he dropped onto a crate in the shade of the ship, not quite adjusted to the heat and the glare. He hadn't been Topside in days and wouldn't have been had he not been shoved up the stairs and further blocked from going back down. It wasn't easy to anger the man, but with the frustration and the lack of sleep, he'd grown a little unhinged, even with the elder man. He rubbed his face, further contemplating whether he would be able to shave later or not while juggling the thought of where he would find the Captain. Though he was sure if he tried to go back down now, he'd be forced up again without being able to get a word in.

Both hands now, covered his face, releasing a heavy breath. Perhaps being outside would do some good. He'd spent far too much time inside, below deck and in the confines of his... disaster of a makeshift study. At the very least, now that he was out, he could breathe. Recollect himself now that he wasn't distracted and spent in research and... reinvented theories. For the last day or so, it had all been about links, connections, physical properties even so much as chemical properties. What made what real, what didn't. What could be formed simply, what couldn't. How everything was virtually connected and interlinked. Fastened together.

Too much, he needed to relax. He forced himself to drop his shoulders, leaning back on his hands, peering skyward, wincing in the sun's gaze.

Andy had temporarily left them to their own devices. Lia had long since given up on scolding him about his unhealthy lifestyle, hers weren't so pretty these days either; but she was still relieved to know he was getting something resembling rest. The small team working on the intricate system of veins and arteries was largely silent. By this time everyone had fallen into a sort of rhythm, and Lia was content to let them do their jobs as she hunched over a particularly challenging area.

Saying she was completely exhausted would be a gross understatement. She had lost all sense of time in the last month or so. Quite honestly she couldn't even remember what date it should be today... or maybe it was night? Lia felt sleep deprived all over; a deep, hollow ache that went straight through to her bones. But everything would be worth it... She finished up her own work and cast a critical eye over the details. Not a single capillary out of place. Lia straightened, her joints making nasty crackling sounds from being in one position too long. Grimacing, she stretched and looked around for the others only to find them staring back at her blankly. Her stomach twisted with anxiety. Had something gone wrong?

Andy would kill her.

"What happened?" Stress and lack of sleep brought out a waspish tone in her words. Not getting an answer fast enough, she shoved through the others to inspect the damage. She blinked once. There was none? And she couldn't help gaping and blinking some more. It actually looked like they had finished... Lia backed away and stared at the doll with a hollow look in her eyes, not really comprehending everything in her exhausted state. The others were beginning to chatter together in excitement and the growing noise brought her out of her trance.

"Get Andy."

Silence fell once more as one of the chief librarians scurried off to the corner where Andy had tucked himself away. Lia half-stumbled, half-walked to the desk where she'd been piling up her own notes on the project into little towers. She didn't trust herself to sit down, but began furiously scribbling observations and techniques from the procedure where she stood.

"Lia, get over here. And I swear to your people's silly little gods, if I so much as see a shoe..."

She rolled her eyes and dropped her quill back into its stand. She was already starting to shake off the intense state of concentration that she had worn for the last few hours. "You hid my shoes four days ago, don't you remember?" She stood at his elbow and stared the doll down with a serious expression. There had been lots of gossip about naming the clay-being. Lia didn't care for any of it. She shot Andy a sidelong glance. He'd been unusually silent on the topic. Certainly he must have something already in mind. She snorted at her own private joke. No doubt it was an old flame.

She placed her attention back on the doll. "What now?" She already knew, but she was seeking his approval to assist. She still wasn't sure that he'd let her in on this final pinnacle of science. It would be emotionally devastating to have come this far only to be denied a part in the climactic finish.

For all the time that he spent with Andy, he was starting to see beyond what the man presented of himself. He could guess fairly well what he was feeling when he was more vulnerable. But he never made an attempt to voice it. Some lines, he knew better than to cross, if only for the sake of keeping up his lessons with the elder man. So when he was called into the Guide's Room, like many times before, he refrained from saying anything first. Seating himself in the chair he'd always taken to occupying during their late night lessons, after respectfully dismissing his shoes, taking after the other man.

Andy was clearly unsettled, for all his years, however many there were, he was still very human and Barasa has no choice but to see him as one. While his teaching methods are different from what he was used to, he took to it well enough after he'd gotten used to the flow of information. It had been a lot to take in. However then, he could tell, was not about another lesson. Andy was bothered by something and it made him look off from his usual perplexity, and as of late, he seemed to be incredibly off his game. Barasa wasn't sure whether he liked seeing him on edge. Because it usually entailed something that made Barasa himself, uncomfortable.

Still, he made no attempt to back out or flee. He owed Andy that much. Though he knew Andy needed his help and his teachings are certainly not out of simple generosity, he still felt the need to meet him half way. So to speak. Especially as he wanted to be able to ask the questions he all to often bit back.

When it comes to the elves, Barasa failed to understand how Andy managed to remain completely out of their line of sight and continues to struggle with it but persists his efforts all the same.

However, where more important matters are concerned, Barasa felt unsure, nodding as Andy explained what was bothering him... to some extent.

After a moment, he nodded again, “Of course. But... I have a feeling I can't simply ask him, specifically if he asks how I know about it... unless it really is that simple?” He hadn't heard about it prior to now. So as far as he knew it was confidential however small of a task it was. Then again, for the amount that he actually left his room, he couldn't be entirely sure.

An unexpectedly wintry wind strolls across the deck, a sign that the Ardent drifts ever closer to Kerria's north.

To be realistic, the old man was out of line and not being all that fair expecting his apprentice to be able to hide much of his new nature from the doll-women. Andy knew it, too, but didn't care all that much. At least it kept the elves guessing, and being as young as they were, they were not well attuned to what one of their kind really felt like. So, it worked out in the end.

Andy thought this idly as he stretched out his legs and wiggled his old, lanky toes. Distracted one moment, intensely focused the next. As was his nature.

"Hm?" he glanced up, remembering Barasa had asked him something. He furrowed his brows, briefly shuffling through his memories before smiling thinly. "Just ask him. Tell him I mentioned it, if you really want. If he gets angry, it's my problem. And I've got nothing to fear."

He tilted his head a little, chewing on a toothpick he'd lodged between his lower teeth. "Tell me, apprentice, have you ever...?" The wizard sighed and idly tossed the pick into a nearby dustbin. "Nevermind. Get on with you," he finished, shooing the boy away with one withered hand.

There used to be a little song he'd sung as a child, learning about the brain. Always'd taken a liking to it. How did it go? It had the catchiest tune...

Use your dendrites,
Use your dendrites,
To connect throughout your brain.
Take in info, analyze it,
Grow some new ones.

Andy hummed the bouncy tune, having forgotten for the moment that Lia had found her way to his side. Instead, the cheery look on his face translated into a little back and forth, up and down sway to the rhythm of the silly, ancient tune.

"Hm? What now?" he stopped his humming momentarily, though not the tiny dance, and glanced down and sideways at the apprentice. "Oh, right. Scalpel, please. No, wrong word. Knife, yes, give it here--oh, I've got it." He waved her off, forgetting for the moment why he'd beckoned her over as he carefully cut an opening into what would soon be the inside of the brain. They'd left part of the skull clay, still, but when he was finished he'd simply smooth it on back over. Andy chuckled at how simple this was all turning out to be. Miranda really had made it look so easy, he hadn't believed it was so.

Fuck you, Miranda. I can do it too.

"Mh, that's right. I'll form the brain matter, here, see? You keep it intact. Remember the dendrites. If you forget, I've got this catchy little tune you should hear..." And so Andy sung his dendrites song under his breath, cheerily moving clay from the empty brainspace, and went to work.

---

He'd forgotten about Lia by the end of it. Couldn't be sure how many days had passed. Andy had vague memories of being tugged away by one of the others in the room--wasn't sure whether it was Lia or one of the male apprentices--and having food and drink just about forced down his throat. He was focused. Though with the young-faced wizard, it was always hard to tell the difference between when he was focused and distracted.

It was the same thing, really.

Knuckle-deep in little Lia's skull, so many hours and hours from when he'd began, Andy stepped back and collapsed into his chair. He let the apprentices--Lia, as well, if she wished, his lips tiredly going crooked at the thought that she might shove them out of the way--close up her skull.

The little Lia blinked and smiled dumbly, apparently oblivious to the pain of her head being closed in and finished. He'd deal with the pain receptors another day. Not that it would do her much good, brain flooded with as much serotonin and dopamine as it was. Her mind was still half-finished, even if they'd taken painstaking measures to finish the body. Oh, the body.

Miranda stared blankly at her fingers.

Andy leaned his cheek lazily onto the palm of his hand, regarding his--oh, he would think of it as his and only his, wouldn't he?--creation with the deepest sort of grin. "Someone get Miranda some clothes." He'd finish later, he thought, as he started to doze off...

Speak of the Devil, and by the Throne, he appears.

Fort stepped out of his cabin under the aftcastle, a look of grim confusion coloring his features. He'd intended to step out for a smoke, a little nip of the lho-seed and tabac blend he kept in a small black leather pouch on the old Carlyle war-harness. In truth, all he could do was ponder and smoke. Every bit of what he'd been told equated to a lot of vagaries and half-answers.

He supposed he could drink as well, though a sloppy Captain generally failed to evoke much confidence. No, better to have a small draw and be among the crew...doing what he knew best, as it were.

Fort produced a small brown rolling paper and portioned out a small bit of the mild narco-stimulant mixture. He squinted into the sun, ascertaining that they were not in fact going the wrong damn way (CAIN), and nodded approvingly as he licked the roll-up and set it between his lips.

He patted his right hip once, plucked the roll-up from his lips, swore, set the lho-stick back between his lips, patted his left pocket, nodded vaguely, plucked a box of matches from his pocket, and lit his bit of curdled cancer. He inhaled heavily and exhaled through his nose like a restive dragon.

This small ritual brought satisfactorily to a close, he glanced about the deck. Everything seemed to be going well enough. A well-oiled machine, and all. Sure, Cas and Deryn were conspiring as the little harpies often did. The newest addition to their crew was standing at the bow, the slightest ghost of disapproval coloring her features...time to worry about that later. Enris and the new gun were conversing not far from the medic. And Barasa was...

Barasa. The Scholar. Lights began to flash as concepts connected. Fortinbras Carlyle knew an awful lot about ships and sailing, bargains and bloodshed. He was not a wealth of esoteric knowledge. Knots? Yes. Swords? You betcha. The Bursian robbing you blind? You better believe it. Wizard's cant, odd ciphers, and geography? Not so much, sparky. Try the bookworm.

Fort drew another long slow breath of lho as he sidled up to the scholar. "Barasa," Fort spoke the man's name as he exhaled politely over the gunwhale, "have a moment to cease your sun-worshipping and have a word?"

The scholar was surprised, to say the least. With all the secretive undertones and precautionary overtones he hadn't been expecting the freedom to elaborate on their relationship, if only a little. Thus far he'd done everything he could to remain well away from suspicion, so the liberty, though appreciated, was entirely unorthodox. Something was wrong, and if it had bothered Andy to such an extent, it was a cause for concern.

He watched him, teething a toothpick the way Barasa would thumb the pages of his notebook when he was nervous or perturbed. Still, Andy had always managed to make such simple actions look abnormal. There was something in the way he moved, despite his age that made it look almost too fluid. If it was only for that, he'd taken to observing the elder man whenever he could, with respects to time and place, trying to find something, a key, a hint, anything that would piece the puzzle of the man before him, together.

The change in the man's tone caught his attention fairly quickly, hope peeking up, for some chance at an answer or... something. But Andy backed out, as could only be expected. His jaw locked at the following order, rising to his feet all to obediently, frustration boiling up the way it always did when Andy took to brushing aside even the small inquisitions.

He turned away, walking towards the door if only to mask just how tense his jaw was. He stopped however as he went to opening it, hand settling on the doorknob, “You know, I'm fairly good at keeping quiet and seeking out answers for myself. I'm trained for that, job description or not,” His voice had risen only an octave, but the irritation in it was clear. He bit his tongue for a moment, a reflex perhaps, reminding him to keep his mouth shut. Be he fought back, turning the doorknob, “But given the ridiculous amount of time we have, opening up, filling in the blanks, whatever it is you seem to want to hide, just might speed up the process...”

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him. It was only when he let go, that he realized just how much his hands were shaking.

If it was one thing he'd gotten used to, it was the movement of the ship. He was consciously aware of it, no doubt, but after a couple days, so long as the ship was sailing steady and not exclusively managed by the one he'd come to know as Cain, the physical awareness of it, had so much as ceased. The only thing now, that told him the Ardent was a-sail was the pressed breeze it obtained. It was replenishing in part; fresh air available to under-worked lungs and taxed skin.

The sun on the other hand in all it's pompous glory was about as domineering and invading as ever, if only because he'd avoided it a little too much. On land, it had always been easy to duck out of, but Topside and airborne where only clouds and sails were available to weed out the heat, it was about as easy to avoid as the elves were.

Thankfully they hadn't seemed to notice, or were alternatively occupied which made the whole hiding out on open deck a heck less of an issue. Their increasing habits of eyeing him or standing outside his quarter's had already made him paranoid. He wouldn't have been surprised if they'd managed to peek in on him either for all their curiosity and his severe lack of awareness when surrounded by a wall of books and archives. Heading warnings, had needless to say, been difficult and frustrating. He'd taken care to eat his meals where he could avoid them, or when Enris was around, often opting to sit with him on account of their visible disdain towards the Innate.

He forced a breath, he should have been astonished by them, enthralled, studying them to no end, and instead, he was avoiding them and bordering on the verge of being fearful towards them. All for distinctly covert purposes.

Clouds passed overhead, uncloaking the sun to the point where he was forced to block it out with his hand, only to find the silhouette of a man standing before him, calling to his attention. He blinked the blur from his eyes, the voice of the very man he'd been assigned to look for promoting him to sit up straight. Figures. Either the old man was a seer of some sort, or his intuition was spot on. Though the image of him booting the Captain up topside and blocking his way down also briefly crossed his mind, if only because he felt like a puppet on strings at that point.

It didn't knock the immediate malaise back any though. For the time that he'd been on board, he was no longer as frigid... or jumpy anyway. Albeit, the nervousness was still present, particularly since it was the Captain, but the fact that speaking to him likely entailed something work related, he managed to remain visibly void of unease. It probably helped that he was too mentally drained to pay much attention to the knot of panic in his gut.

“Actually,” He said, rising to his feet slowly, “I... I was hoping to have a word with you as well... Captain.” Still firmly unaware of how to be addressing superiors, and apparently unable to knock the awkward kick in his voice.

The freedoms of a renowned scholar had given him too many liberties and he'd been predominantly void of having to address those supposedly above him. Royalty and nobility aside (for as much as he actually had to deal with them personally).

The old man watches Barasa Agunda close the door, a frustrated twist to his lips, before turning and digging through his books before turning aside one to reveal a little hidden cache of wines. He laughs bitterly, uncorks one, and raises a glass to the boy before leans his head back and drinks his fill.

Enris watched as Cas sulked off the deck. The way she seemed so dejected made him almost feel bad for reprimanding her as tough as he did. . .almost. But really, an elf who had such a long life span should have learned a few things in their years. . .like Iho sticks were not for children. Really. She needed to use her head more and her instincts less (no matter how good intentioned they may be).

He nodded his head at the mother's thanks and took her hand firmly in his in a friendly handshake. He noticed her looking him straight in the eyes as if to judge his character. He did not back down until the handshake was done. It was only for a second or two but he saw in her eyes a strong woman, one who would do anything to protect her daughter. He admired that.

He was about to go wander off somewhere else when Alcy approached him.

He gave her a small smile at her remark. "It's been fine. I'm a little more tired than usual but other than that it's been about normal." He attributed his extra exhaustion to being woken up in the middle of his nap by a certain elf.

"How about you? How has your day been?" He asked in return politely. He noticed the bounce in her step. An attribute he figured most young people had. They still had hope and hadn't experienced as much hardship as most adults or hadn't been through experiences that stripped that hope away. He envied her in that regard. He wished he still had his youthful optimism but sadly, it had left him long ago.

It always seemed that Deryn knew exactly how to push the right button when it came to Cas. Ill intentioned, it was not… merely for some childish fun, but it did indeed get a harsh reaction. The way her short friend clenched up and stuck her nose in the air as she cursed, perked the older elfs eyes slightly. Something about that word, and mainly something about the way her friend spoke the word was a verbal jab to the stomach. Starting out strong with a hard “F” and ending it with an “uck” that approached her ears like daggers. Now that she thought about it, that was probably her favorite curse word in the whole sailors bible. Sure, there were more creative ways to speak slanderously, but that word was short, to the point but strong as well.

With a groan she threw her upper body forward so she sat hunched with her elbows on her knees, looking at the boards below her feet. “But… that nearly isn’t as fun when it’s a one woman show.” Deryn spoke with a light wine at the end of the sentence, pouting her lips to appeal her flustered friend who at the time was casting a small shadow over her, blocking out the sun which she didn’t mind at all.

It had seemed something was drawing the crew topside, since more and more of them kept pooping up. Perhaps the long days and nights being jammed on this ship were starting to get to them, but it was true… standing topside to take in the sky, the air and the sun was far more refreshing than breathing in the old scene of wood and preservatives that always seemed to travel through the cabins below. The familiar sense that someone uneasy was nearby made her smile, without even looking over her shoulder she knew Barasa had finally broken free of the confines of his “makeshift library”. A few moments passed until she was proved right by the captains voice calling out his name. Finally she turned her head out of curiosity, her eyes slim as they peered under the morning sun that set her skin a glow.

As she stared off, admiring the “old” mans proud and confident mannerisms beside Barasa and his squeamish demeanor it hit her. She should probably look busy. Abruptly standing up, her gloved hands took grasp of the wheel and stared forward, and now… she realized they were right on course and there really wasn’t much for her to do at this very moment. “Now, what to do…” It was a quiet morning, not much hooting and hollering from the rest of the crew, even the deckhands were content and barely a chatter. A shrug fell from her shoulders as her eyes caught the glance of Alcy and Enris appealing themselves with idle talk. Polite smiles, expected small talk, remarks that neither fall to the left or the right… everything was so safe with humans, it was boring. Sure, more people would say they enjoyed a humans company over and elves but to be honest, most human interaction seemed pointless.

Deryn would take the word of two good blokes who she could trust any day over the whole city of Cann saying she was “enjoyable company” or “a pleasure”. Because it would all be fake, this elf isn’t running for election, so so what if her popularity was in the dumps. She was content.

Stepping across topside to lean on the railing she looked down, faintly seeing the waters move below them. No boats were below, just deep blue sea. Still no sight of any over sized sea creatures though, which honestly saddened her. Hopefully at some point on the journey she would see something of interest like that, preferably not trying to kill her but perhaps just a quick glimpse above water would be nice. A story to tell the little ones if she ever did return to her home, at least to show her parents she was still in one piece. Shaking her head, she rubbed her neck. “Already thinking about when this is all threw, ey?” Where was her head? It must be the alignment of the planets or something, but today was surely sending her mind into space.

Barasa was looking to speak to him? Indeed? Now there was something to send to the gazetteer's back in Cann. The jumpy little bookworm had hardly offered him a "pass the salt" in his time on board. Ba'ator's Balls, the kid had seemed like he'd wanted nothing more than to squirrel himself away in his bolthole and read and write until they'd come upon their objective...Looking for him, then? Sure, why the hell not?

"That a fact?" Fort rubbed his maimed hand across his jaw, the soft leather rasping softly against the first stubborn stubble of the day, as the scholar gained his feet. With approval, the captain noted that the scholar had at least found his soar-legs. Not shaky like some of the other first-timers...

What, before the Throne, could the scribe want from him? Perhaps a star-chart or a schematic from the engine room? Access to the hold to stow some of the heavy leather volumes that comprised his collected scrawlings? Or perhaps he'd run dry of ink? Fort chuckled to himself as he took another drag of his lho-stick, drawing the heady perfume deep and exhaling luxuriantly.

He squinted in the glare of the sun as he beckoned him on. "Let's have it then, boy. Mine'll keep." He gestured with his free hand toward the prow, that they might walk and talk. Too much time cooped up and sitting wasn't good, by Fort's standard, and that holding true for all men, he figured the scholar could stand to wander a bit as well.

"Speak your piece."

The days begin to grow shorter and the nights longer, though it is not yet winter. However, the Ardent flies progressively north, overtaking a small peninsula and heading in the direction of An. The ship has already taken on extra fuel and maintenance crew while in Fort Rock, however, and time is of the essence as the ship races to reach the mountains before winter fully sets in. As such, the ship will only be stopping briefly in An--a massive, historically colonial port and the site of many past battles on the land, sea, and sky.