Cassie rubs at the eye-liner mustache absently; "Thanks, I thought it would be pretty nifty, especially for getting through the club..." then the words sink in.
"The Baron...." Cassie squeaks; "Yes we should leave, hang-on I'll follow you." she rushes after Rashida quickly catching up with her. "Does this mean no Opera? Or is that where the Duchess has her contacts." Cassie asks covering her smudged mouth with her hand.
"The Duchess wanted to meet with friends in the Opera business," Rashida murmurs quietly, "And don't worry... none of the Baron's forces survived the encounter. Our new friend ensured that. She was injured and is aboard the ship now. It might be good if your doctor examined her. As for the Opera..." she grins at Cassie, "... how daring are you, Mademoiselle DuSollier? For now, get some food and get checked out. I'll be back shortly. Ament is in that hangar, number fifteen." She points to the southeast through the field of airship masts and hovering craft of all designs and colors. "I'll be right back."
Cassie flashes a huge grin at the question.
"I have something for you....later." she says as quickly she moves off towards the Hanger. Climbing up the gangplank and inside; she meets with the navigator. "We are leaving in The Phantom, if you could just help me for a second." Cassie heads down to the engine room with the trainee mechanic.
The French-woman looks with awe at the power cylinder filled with mists as it swirls the thing seems to react to her prescence. Carefully she approaches, caressing the cold glass. The mists palour subtly changes; "We are leaving, I know it's a beautiful ship but we'll return." she tells the object whilst unhooking it.
The power-source is reverentially placed in a leather bag and Cassie nips to her assigned cabin to pick up some of the borrowed clothes. These fill out the rest of the bag tightly packing it. "Adeiu" Cassie bids the navigator with a small hug, then bounces back across to The Phantom - leather bag in hand.
Coming up the gang-way she comments; "Sorry, a Lady needs her frocks." Then turns to Drake, "You mentioned something about a examination." the Minx asks.
Rashida climbs aboard the Ament, wandering the ship for a few moments and trailing her fingers along some of its surfaces, obviously pondering something. After a few minutes, the captain approaches and she shakes herself from her reverie.
"Captain, we will be moving to another ship, the Phantom, while Ament is repaired. It needs a crew. Please have the men secure the ship, pack their things, and move to the new ship."
"Yes, Lady Massri, but we should leave a crewman or two here on the ship, in case there are repair questions or issues, and to keep it secure," the captain replies crisply.
"Of course, Captain. You may personally stay, if you wish. We have a Captain for the Phantom already. I will be packing some things from my cabin. The men can take them when they go. Uh... dismissed?" The golden heiress watches the white-garbed captain salute and move away to relay her orders, then meanders to the main cabin, where she closes the door behind her.
After a half-hour or so, she emerges, instructing a passing crewman to have the stuffed bags there taken to the Phantom. Carrying only her new pack, she stops by the bridge and leaves a note with the Captain.
Rashida descends from the ship carefully, looking around the hangar to be sure nobody is overtly watching or following, then slips out a small door on the side away from the airfield's docking masts. She blends in with the stream of foot traffic exiting the airfield and heads into the city proper, disappearing into its winding alleyways with the alacrity of someone comfortable in the place.
A group of sailors carrying duffels straggles along the airfield towards the Phantom. The lead sailor stops at the foot of the gangplank and salutes, then proceeds aboard and, with some hesitation, presents a letter to Mittens. Realizing from the level stare of the helmetcats that they cannot open it, he pulls out the enclosed note and holds it for their perusal.
Dear Captain Mittens,
I present for your approval the crew of the Ament. Please assign as many as needed to crew the Phantom; the rest may return to Ament in its berth.
Please tell your mother that I have been detained on business and will return later tonight. I look forward to seeing you all then.
Highest Regards,
Lady Rashida Massri
Drake smiles at Mittens and nods to the Duchess, giving her a bawdy wink and smile as if he knew something or didn't or he was just quite the flirty man. Any which way he seems to like the cats.
Then there is a swirl of activity with Cassie and Lady Massri which leaves him confused and standing still in one spot pointing towards the woman as she moves. Finally he just stops and looks at the cats with a sigh.
"Let us find a quiet spot to look at those stitches. If anyone else has any injuries that they need taking care of I will be willing to do so."
"Thanks Drake, I think there's a sun-lounger on the foredeck?" Cassie says to him as she walks away, the britches being quite complimentary to her posterior.
There's a long wooden bench and Cassie lays down upon it after taking off her waist-coat and over-coat. Slowly she pulls up her shirt, exposing her soft mid-riff then the start of her ribs. Despite having seen more of her earlier the way she moves is more suggestive.
However in her side is a long slick sided wound, at least one of the stitches has broken and there's a thin trickle of blood. Cassie closes here eyes. "Is it bad? Somebody stuck a knife in me."
Mittens allows the crew to board, and then reads the message left by Rashida. "This note...!" The feline pauses for a few moments, "It's not encoded, there's no rhyme scheme, the meter is..." The tuxedo cat pauses for a moment, "No, there's nothing there. Wow, you people are really utilitarian about your notes. No funny business here. Going for the ol' reader comprehension bit, huh? Weird. Anyways... looks like Rashida's got errands, mom. She'll be back. Now, where to assign this new crew! We'll need cooks. Seafood chefs, in particular..."
Ysillith puts the well lathered bar of soap back upon the little shelf cleverly molded into the edge/side of the bath in which she lounges contentedly. Slowly settling back as checking the height of the back rest which forms the 'top' end of the bath.
With a deft tilting of her head she manages to 'hook' the tips of her horns up and over said rise and thence simple allow the rest of herself to 'float' and completely relax within the soothingly warm waters.
Darkness deepens in Friedrichshafen as the sun sets. The gaslights lining the streets begin to glow, shedding light enough for travelers to see their steps, but making shadows seem even darker. In one of those shadows, a figure moves quietly, shinnying up a heavy metal downspout on the side of a tall stone church. It hauls itself up over the guttering at the top and onto the canted slate roof where the scent of a thread of Turkish tobacco leads it to the perch where another waits, seated on the slate and leaning back comfortably against the bell tower. The newcomer slides into place beside the other, looking out over the sparkling city and the deep black of the Bodensee. The other hands the newcomer a slender brown cigarra, already lit. They sit a moment in silence.
"I gave Cassie hell a while ago for smoking these," Rashida says quietly, and the other chuckles, "And climbing up the drainpipe? Showoff."
"I doubt you smoke very often. I don't. This is a childish prank in rememberance of times past. And why shouldn't I climb? I always wanted to. I suppose you clambered out of the bell tower like we used to."
"Of course. I always loved coming up here, though the bodyguards hated it. It seemed the perfect place to meet."
"The guards hated it when they found out. And yes, I remember this well, and fondly. It's not like we did any harm."
"No. I just had to get away sometimes, to feel free."
"I've come to the conclusion that none of us are ever free."
"That's a depressing thought. I don't buy it. We're as free as we want to be."
"Such an optimist. It's because of him, isn't it? Personally, I don't see the attraction."
"Just as well," Rashida growls through clenched teeth.
The other chuckles again. "I'll leave it alone, not caring to try to learn to fly on the way down to the cobblestones tonight." They sit another while in silence, orange dots glowing as they draw on the dwindling lengths of tobacco.
"Why won't you tell me where they are? I can't believe you don't trust me."
"You're one of them now. All ascended and apotheosized. How can I trust you? You've been fundamentally corrupted. And taking up with a Rorenson? Oh, that earns some trust points! Well done!"
"Scheiße, that was the plan," Rashida hisses in frustration, "You know it as well as I! Somebody had to get to the inside. I've finally done it, found out what the plan is from that idiot brother, and now you don't trust me! As for Taraz, that was... an accident. I needed his help. Von Ryuko was trying to kill us and I knew he could help protect me. Then it... became something more. Much more."
"Did it," the other asks softly, "I wasn't certain until just now. Must sting that he's run off with that sexy little repli--" There's a soft cry as the other finds Rashida's fist gripping the back of their jacket, their weight now shifted from their seat to the bottoms of their feet as Rashida hauls up and out with all her might.
"You said you'd leave it alone," she hisses, "I may not be strong, but I don't need to be to send you to the pavement!"
"I'm sorry, sorry. I'll stop. Think this through. You need me. I know where they are. I know where he is. I can help you. If you're still true to the cause. If you're not just another Massri." There's a sigh of relief as Rashida relaxes and releases the jacket.
"I'm true. I'm also a daughter of Ma'at. She... I wish you could feel her presence. She is committed to justice. What the Massris plan is unjust and she is very much opposed to it. When you find them, tell them so. She needs help. She cannot take on the whole pantheon by herself. Some will stand with her, but now that they believe they can identify whose body each mummy is, well... they're not going to bring back any more who might oppose them. And if what Gahiji said is true, the one they have found now - the one Vorian found - will show no mercy to the people of this planet. It will become a charnel house. Do you think they will stop at that? Once they have all the resources in their possession, this will be the capital of their empire. No planet will be safe. Tell them that. The revivification must be stopped. Once he reaches apotheosis, we are doomed."
The other sits in stunned silence for a moment. "Fantastischer. Worse than we thought. I will tell them. But... what if they no longer have anybody inside the labs? The Massris still need to be fought. It may take a direct assault. How long do we have? Six months? A year, maybe? We'll need to gather enough support to take on the Massri revivification facility. I... can we do it?"
"That's not all," Rashida continues, "Vorian Ritter's soul was... shredded somehow by the touch of one of the mummies. It was not revivified. But it was active, somehow. What if they don't need time to revivify?"
The eventual reply is in a rather shaky voice. "Then we are all doomed. Still, you were revivified. I have to believe they must do the full process for the apotheosis to work. I wish we knew more about this tinkering around with bodies and souls that seems to be everywhere. Massris, helmetcats, replicants... why, I heard that even Serv-Bots can become sentient! Something is going on, some tinkering with nature that I don't like one bit."
"Neither does Ma'at. She... I... wish to find a remedy for the defilement of Ritter's soul, for that is another injustice. If one of our group is still inside a Massri lab, we must get them to figure out what happened, before it spreads. As for replicants, I have examined one - Mimi, the one with Taraz - and she has a soul, a full, real soul. She is not just a machine. Neither was Gahiji's bot."
"It's getting late. I have to go." The other's clipped reply cuts off the conversation abruptly, finality clear in the tone of voice. Rashida's lips part to reply, but close again as a metallic stomping noise becomes audible and grows louder. "Can those things smell?" one whispers urgently, and the other shrugs. Both conspirators quickly flick the butts of their cigarras over the edge of the roof then freeze as the mech walker enters the street directly below.
"Litterer. Show yourself. Litterer. You are in violation of section 13.8 of the municipal code. Show yourself," the peace-mech intones flatly auf Deutsch. There's a soft sound of metal scraping on cobbles as it picks up the discarded butts. It repeats itself in French, Italian, and English, mechanical voice booming, before it creaks into motion again, clanking down the street in search of the malefactor.
The two figures on the roof stay still for many minutes, until the sound of the peace-mech has dwindled to nothingness. Then Rashida sighs and opens her bag, pulling out a long object sheathed in velvet. "Here. This is what you wanted, right?"
The other slips the velvet sheath off part of the golden length of the staff inside and nods. "This is it. Thank you. You've acted in good faith."
"We both have the same goals. It's easier to trust you now that I know more."
"Same here. I'll expect the information at the drop?"
They both nod and rise, standing rather precariously balanced on the sloped roof regarding one another warily.
"Are you sure you want to do this? It seems rather reckless."
"With no real trust between us, I don't see any other way."
"Take care of yourself, and good luck. If anything happens, at least one of us should survive to keep the cause going."
"Exactly. I wish you luck with your endeavor as well."
They nod in unison again, then one dark figure pulls itself through the bell tower window while the other drops lightly over the edge of the guttering to grasp the downspout and descends silently from the roof to the street below, vanishing into the shadows.
Ralph actually looks like he could fit in with a noble sort of crowd with his now clean face, and stolen clothes, but that doesn't make him feel like he fits in any better. He goes over to the Mittens, the young helmet cat being the only one to offer her name when Cassied did introductions. "Y'are quite da pretty kitty. Mind if I petcha?" Cassie was right, it was probably hard to mistake Ralph as a noble as soon as he opened his mouth. He reaches out to pet Mittens if she'll let him. "I'm not really sure whut we's doin here, but tanks fer lettin us on. I guess yer da cat in charge?"
He hears talk of food, which sounds pretty good to him, and watches Cassie running around, then going off with Drake as he's more or less forgotten. He finds somewhere to sit and pats his lap, it's probably an invitation for Mittens since she was the one he was just talking to, but if the Duchess came she wouldn't be turned down. "C'mere if ya want summore pets. Minx din't mention dat we were goin t'an op'ra, I ain't never been ta one before, it wasn't part o' da deal. I ain't likely ta turn down a date from Minx 'r dat classy lookin dame in da ledder fer dat matter. She's a pretty smokin doll, din' seem too friendly dough. But she's shure ta warm up ta me right?" He gives the helmet cat a cheeky grin. "'specially if we getta date. An' some'in tells me Charlie ain't gonna let Minx outta his sight. Ain't much ov'a date if ya can't get a lil time alone wit da dame, if ya know whut I mean."
In the dark of the hotel, Taraz lay on the cool sheets of the soft bed. Sleep eluded him as he watched several Serv-Bots doing their nocturnal duties almost soundlessly. So incredibly useful, they were. If they had been actually been made to be the servants they appeared to be, Taraz would have been willing to acknowledge the brilliance of his sister. But he knew for what they had really been designed. How many times did his memories show the Serv-Bots had been invented? 210? 213? Or was it more? Taraz sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as his mind automatically began to sort the memories by cycle and year. He stopped it and changed his thoughts so the mitochondria would stay passive. His thoughts drifted to the nights he had spent with his personal goddess Rashida Massri, and he smiled. The mitos liked this and began to stir slightly. He whispered, "No." They reluctantly calmed.
Mimi murmured in her sleep. She lay next to him on the bed, one dancer-curved leg sticking out of the sheets like a pale lightning bolt of sex and temptation. It lay atop his own pajama-ed limb as he was outside the sheet which covered her slender frame. One of her hands was draped on his chest. She always seemed to end up this way. Quite the cuddler she was once the Sandman had visited her. Their cover necessitated they only have one bed, and since Mimi always seemed to end up laying pressed up against him regardless of where he chose to sleep, the bed was much more comfortable than the divan or the floor.
He was Taraz Rorenson, and that was cover in and of itself. The gorgeous young "bed" companion was expected and no one even questioned it. At the first town registration office they had come to, Taraz had simply walked in and loudly declared Mimi von Sollier had lost her papers when her handbag fell out of the ornithopter they were flying. When all the Serv-Bots in their office had instantly rushed to his feet, no further verification was done. No confirmation messenger requested. Taraz couldn't be bothered and simply dictated the information. The clerk had been only too happy to comply, and Mimi had left the town of Campanos del Montaña a legitimate citizen of Les Alliance Chaleureux des États Suisse.
Mimi's cute drunken snore interrupted the memory of the office clerks scrambling to get the right seals and inks. Taraz chuckled as he remembered introducing her to the Spanish wine at dinner. Sure, Mimi had Cassie's memories of drinking and dancing, but she herself hadn't actually done them. Once they had arrived at Barcelona, Taraz had taken her out, bought her more clothes, dancing, and a fine restaurant for dinner. She had consumed quite a bit of wine and become very forward. He could tell she would have been surprised if he accepted, but it seemed the "Cassie" in her compelled the action. For the sake of appearances, he had kissed her deeply in the restaurant, and at various stages on the way to the room, so everyone would see what they were expecting. He had no doubt that Rorenson spies, von Ryuko's cronies, and all the other factions' agents were watching him after his sudden reappearance. Better von Ryuko believe Taraz had already forgotten about the young Massri.
Mimi had certainly taken advantage and made sure the kisses were as authentic as she could manage. Arms wrapped around him and hands in his hair, she had definitely given the watchers a show of a woman drunk with wine and lust reeling in her catch. Once in the room, she had proceeded to continue the smooches while easily disrobing herself from the beautiful red cocktail dress Taraz had selected to match her new golden tresses. Clever trick that. Cassie was definitely a nimble girl. Mimi was just as much if not more so with her enhanced replicant musculature. Taraz had planned for this and drank an exorbitant amount, but even so the mitochondria had begun clamoring for a more base approach to Mimi's affectionate embrace. With a willpower born of memories of another woman, Taraz had managed to gently disentangle himself from the striking replicant and catch his breath. Mimi had given him many pouting looks as he held the lingeried woman at arm's length. Then she had smiled mysteriously and given him one last kiss on the tip of his nose.
She hadn't bothered to dress and simply snuggled right up to him once he lied down on the bed. Then she had promptly passed out leaving him with his thoughts. And his memories. So many memories...
Once again sighing, Taraz changed his thoughts. He hadn't chosen Mimi at random for this trip. He had realized that he had to leave the band of desperate nobles for a time in order to get answers he could never get if he visibly associated with them. Ulrikke Rorenson was reclusive enough that she would never deal with Taraz, her own brother, if accompanied by such a wild group. Cassie alone would give her fits. "Cassie" would give her fits. Ulrikke had never approved of Cassie...
Memories, memories. The weight of years finally took their toll and pressed Taraz's eyelids closed. Sleep came with troubled dreams. Disturbing portents that were half memories and half fears of the future. But Taraz did not allow himself to wake. For Rashida was in all of them...
In one such dream, she stood at the prow of The Ament, the sun shining on her golden brown skin...She turned and smiled at him...Hope was there in her smile, hope for their future together...Then the smile turned black, the sun to blood, and a terrible darkness came for him...
Down, down, down...the darkness had been waiting...
Ysillith relaxes and enjoys her bathing. With her immediate concerns dealt with, she drifts off into a light nap, head cleverly supported above the waters of the bah by her own natural accoutrements.
The darkness whispered and laughed. It sounded like panicked villagers. It sounded like a werewolf's howl. It sounded like Death.
The darkness began to recede. More and more light filtered through and soon he could see the dream clearly.
Taraz was standing behind Andrezi holding a hypodermic syringe. The noble's eyes had just rolled back into his head as the chemical went to work garbling the man's last few hours of memory. Taraz laid him gently on the floor and looked around at the replicants in their alcoves. This was new. There was no memory of this anywhere. That shouldn't have surprised him of course. They were already beyond the date the last cycle was triggered. This was untouched future, and Taraz had been loving the feel of it...until he had seen that vat. The notes on the workstation had been written in his uncle's handwriting dated recently...that should not have been possible...since he was dead.
Taraz growled. Even as he knew it was impossible, he also knew his family. They had been making the impossible happen for the same damned generation. But the vat...the notes...it implied something the helmetcats would never have allowed...or shouldn't have allowed. His jaw clenched in frustration.
Standing he looks around the laboratory until he spots it. A ventilation grate. As if on cue, a Serv-Bot opens the grate. It holds a cloak turned sack which it has improved by binding it closed with a strong twine from somewhere.
"Perfect. The Gertrahr snake's venom is exactly what I need. The venom disrupts robotic electronic signal almost effectively as an EM pulse," Taraz says to the Serv-Bot absently. The Serv-Bot hops down and runs over to Taraz offering him the cloak. Taking it, Taraz hears the animal hiss. He turns and surveys the figures in the recesses, and his eyes narrow.
"Now. Time to make sure this part of the castle is destroyed. Utterly."
Taraz began assessing the different chemicals on the table. As expected many were very unstable and creating a crude but effective mixture for explosive and incendiary purposes would not be difficult. He separated them from the others and moved them and Andrezi to a safe place. Removing his clothing, Taraz goes to stand in the middle of the room in his small clothes. Then he allowed his mitochondria to awaken.
The Serv-Bot has already hopped back into the vent and moves into the darkness. Behind it are the sounds of its master. Sounds that no one except Serv-Bots have heard in many, many years...
Time slowed as his senses and awareness became precise and perfect. The mitochondria emit strange sounds as they compete to produce the results needed for Taraz's shift to a hyperhuman state. He walked casually to the first alcove. He snaps the twine easily and reaches into the cloak. Removing the Gertrahr snake which seems to be responding to Taraz much too slowly, Taraz grasped its body while it is in mid strike pose and held it up to the inert replica of Andrezi. The fangs take forever to connect to the replicant's flesh but they do eventually. The snake begins to rear back, and Taraz moves to the next alcove. Skipping one, he does this with all the remaining replicants at which point, the snake's venom is quite drained. He casually snaps his hand holding the snake's tail, and it goes limp as its vertebra snap.
Tossing the carcass aside, Taraz begins to destroy the vat. Any organic matter he can find inside is piled with the notes and research records. Messy, disgusting fluid spills on the floor, and pieces of glass and fly everywhere. Taraz checks to make sure Andrezi is tucked in the corner with the unstable chemicals. All is well on that front. Now for the hard part.
Methodically, Taraz uses his enhanced strength to tear the replicants to pieces. He is soon covered in gore. He allows his mind to drift, not wanting to allow the sight of his fellow party-goers dismembered to find a secure place to lodge in his memories. Even so, the task is horrendous. He falters and almost stops when he must twist the head off the replicant of Duchess Kittington. It is then he realizes that tears are streaming down his face and have been for some time. When he is done, he begins to pile the research equipment atop the bloody viscera and metal of the replicants' bodies. But there is still one more alcove...
Taraz finds a laboratory safety shower in the corner. He hoses down, washing the remains and detritus of the terrible deed necessity drove him to accomplish. Once finished, he redresses and smooths down his hair. After a moment he moves to face her. Serene in inaction, beautiful as the basis of her design, the replica of Rashida remains untouched in her alcove. The thought of having to damage her sends waves of pain through the mitos. Despite the knowledge of his brain, the mitos simply sense Rashida, so well has von Ryuko captured her. As Taraz delays, he gazes at her. He can't decide the best way to handle this...necessary thing. However as time stretches, something unusual becomes apparent.
The cabling that was attached to all the replicants had been plugged into nigh imperceptible ports, but had clearly still been attached to the main frames. Taraz could see that the cables here were not attached at all. In fact they were simply tied to her limbs or pinned to her clothing. None seemed to be connected at all. Taraz felt alarm increasing in him. But if she's not connected...! He moved closer to examine the cords and cables.
Once he was no more than a foot away, a loud beep echoed through the room. The light on the panel by the Rashida replicant turned to green, and suddenly there was a noise Taraz had not expected to hear. The replicant took a deep ragged breath. And her eyes opened.
Drake followed Cassie to her chosen location and watches her slip onto the bench, suggestively moving with a provocative manner which makes the man's eyes twinkle and a half grin form on his face.
He puts the bag down that he has carried with himself all the way along as if it had actually been attached to his arm. It is interesting how that man-bag has never left his side and how he acts almost as if it was part of himself. Who knew if it were something he had never taken away from himself or if he'd grown so used to it as to not notice that he always had it with him.
"Whew," He whistles as he looks over the wound then opens the bag to take out a small medical cloth and dabbed the blood from her side, "Cassie, sweet one, you have a nastier life than I had suspected." He takes out some gear, sets up a small needle with some form of liquid from a bottle and looks at her face, "This will hurt a little bit but not much. It is to numb the wound and is also an antibiotic. I am afraid that whoever did this stitching was either unused to how active you are or was not all that good at it."
The doctor turns back to the wound and even though he said it would hurt his needle is actually hardly even felt as he pokes in one spot to the next to numb the wound. After numbing the edges he works a bit deeper until the whole area feels cool with no pain. He gets into his work without seeing the whole but the wound in front of him, calmly cleaning blood and secretions and stitching with an air of complete diffidence.
Once he is done the wound is clean and tingling gently but not painfully as the skin starts to waken. There are stitches which are thinner but stronger than the previous that were there and more of them. They look like little "x"s across the line of the wound.
"These will help as you move a lot, dear lady. It will minimize scaring and they won't snap. However, there is a trade off." Drake smiles teasingly at her, "They need to be removed when you have fully healed and as your new doctor, self prescribed because I'm damn better than the one who did the previous mess, I will be making sure that they are removed properly."
His bag is now closed up, the used supplies set in a small package within in a tidy set up. He puts out his hand, "Now, if I may direct the pretty lady to her meal so that she does not fall over famished and dying of starvation?"
The man stands elegantly and will help Cassie to her feet and set his arm to hers, waiting for her to ready herself and lead him to where they needed to go. He was quite easy to deal with eye candy and seemed to know it yet not mind it one bit.
Cassie smiles under the attention, few men had such light fingers. A soft but firm touch. Her mind drifts away to the clouds, as it is wont as she is in pain. Her eyes flick to Drakes as he is rapt in concentration upon her body. 'Such thick lashes, such a handsome man.'
As his work quickly progresses, she looks down at the wound. Observing it in a detached manner; 'That probably wont scar, he's good. I wonder what he is doing here, not in some Harley Street practise.'
She takes his arm as he finishes, standing with a soft stretch. "I am afraid when I did the stitching, I made a slight mess of it. Next time I be sure to get stabbed on the other side." she jokes, but there is an undercurrent of sadness and acceptance to her voice.
She moves across the deck with the doctor at her side; "I guess I'll have to keep you within arms reach day or night." she flirts. Then the pair approach Ralph and Meows, Cassie notes the doctors bag whilst she slightly untangles from Drake.
Retrieving something from her clutch subtly, she smiles at the others. "We are going to get some food, join us." Cassie hand pats 'Squirrels' posterior encouragingly; leaving a pair of Mark Notes in his back pocket.
Stirring slightly the tingle where there bodies meet has receded slightly. Unconsciously Mimi moves in trying to maximise the sensation of Lord Taraz's body, the soft pulses where she touches his runs through her system. They had been getting stronger of late, but the causes no distress to the replicant.
"Yeah, I'm the cat in charge, and don't you forget about it!" says Mittens to Ralph, more cheerily than in any kind of hostile manner. "Wow, so many new people onboard this ship, I'm kind of shocked and awed by this kind of hustle and bustle! You know, they'd never ever be able to fit in my hot air balloon, so maybe that's not the best idea as a mass vehicle. I wish it is, because it's my favorite! And yea, I know what you mean, you want to get her alone so you can rub up to her and purr in her ears. Gross! But whatever."
Ysillith rises from the waters eventually, letting the plug go and the teppid fluids drain away.
With practiced, practical ease she flips and rolls her hair into one great fluffy towel pulled from the room's cupboard, before wrapping a second about herself and moving back into the main cabin's space. There she again manipulates the controls on her box and hence soon pulls various items from it to arranging about the large desk.
Only seeming a few moments after she's finished this and arraigning some small technical looking devices about does she pull the towel from her head, her sable hair falling free in a great, shimmering flow down her back. The whole mane again moving as if one fluid mass.
She dresses simply, tucking but a few items into place about herself. She stalks from the cabin, barely noticing any of the new 'crew' who might be moving about.
She closes the rooms door and thence lifts a large black cloth up. One end she tacks to the wall and then drapes the other corner across to the other side of the door. Stepping back she's more satisfied her jury rigged wall hanging will remain in place until she returns.
Those of the crew who pass blink, both at the tall, amazonian stature of the woman. The solid, curved horns curling from her brow as well as the black flag draped across the door-way's entrance. The design is of a face, half alluring female, half skull. Form which horns are depicted. Bracing either side of the features are raised pistols, while crossed sabres rest beneath.
Ysillith saunters casually back the way she'd come to where the 'general' large central rooms of the air-ship are located. She walks in, dressed in a simple white silk shirt. Black suede pant which look more to be a second skin, so tightly do they mold to the woman's legs, the sides of which -from where the tops of the pants disappear under a wide belt down into the black leather, mid thigh, high heeled boots- are cleverly held together with lacings intricately cross woven through silver fittings.
The hilts of two blades poke out jut over either hip from whence their scabbards are secured under the small of her back by the wide belt of fabric. From one boot top the butt of some pistol is evident.
She steps up to Mistress Kittintion and politely nods, the effect accentuated by added motion of her large, slightly curling horns. Ysillith then steps slightly away and watches the coming and goings of the crew.
"I've a question, Ma'am." She asks Kittington, "Where be th' mess? I've not settled in enough t'be orderin' things brought t'me cabin, as yet." She informs Kittington.
Ralph shrugs his shoulders when neither of the helmet cats come to be petted. "A hot air B'lloon does sound like fun, I ain't never been on one." He blinks and nods at Mittens as she talks about rubbing and purring "Err yeah sometin like dat." He assumes that's more or less the helmet cat's version of necking "Gross ya say" Looking over his shoulder Ralph spots Cassie and Drake coming back and pokes a thumb out towards the doctor "Prolly wouldn't tink it wuz so gross if it were wit Chuck dere would ya?" He's mostly teasing Drake, but also Mittens to a lesser extent.
He jumps a bit when Cassie touches his backside "Whoa dere sweethart, ya gots to pay ta touch da merchandise." He puts his hand over the pocket where she patted him and finds the Marks taking them out to look at them. "Oh ya did!" He gives her a sly grin "Well darlin fer dat much ya gets da whole deal. Looks like yer a little tied up wit dis Charlie fer da moment dough. So I'll take care of ya later." He gives Cassie an exaggerated wink. So much for Cassie's subtlety. "Yeah I'll come for some chow; I shure could use some 'fore we gets ta dis Op'ra." With a glance towards Mittens he adds "Are ya comin too chief? And of course I won't leave ya out darlin, come wit us." His last bit is directed towards the Duchess.
He blinks towards the tall horned woman, then smiles apparently he accepts her as easily as the talking cats "Well if yer lookin fer somethin ta eat we's just on 'r way there 'rselves, an' as far as I'm concerned da more purdy girls along da better. Why don'cha come wit us?" He nods towards Drake "Chuck seems ta have gotten my Minx on his arm 'fore me, so I gots an arm tha's a bit lonely if ya like." He offers his arm to the taller woman.
Ysillith turns her head just enough that one deep, amber eye watches the small fellow who's suddenly decided to chatter,
"And....you might be...." She drawls slowly.
So many new faces… The thought alone was disconcerting to the German noble. Just nights before, he had risked everything by placing his trust in almost complete strangers. Their mettle was tested by forces beyond their control and in the end, they had prevailed. For the first time in years, he had found allies he could trust with his life. In lieu of all etiquette, he dared to think of them as friends, even. He once had even fewer of those than allies. These four… can I afford to trust them the same way?
Yet again, Vorian found himself clouded by doubt. What if they were spies? Saboteurs? Assassins? How prudent would it truly be to sleep on the same ship as them? The possibilities were endless. And with all his power and wealth, Von Ryuko could make any one of them a reality. What they had accomplished at the party could all be reduced to naught. As he quietly contemplates, he abruptly chuckles, shaking his head at himself for perhaps the umpteenth time. "No, you old fool, you're not afraid of them..." he murmurs with a smile, leaning against the railing on the deck.
Reaching over, Vorian then pulls back one of his sleeves and looks down at his forearm. The relatively severe plasma and steam burns he had sustained were almost completely gone, with nothing more than a large patch of just discolored skin to show for it. The sauna had proven to be a most convenient location to discuss matters whilst unclothed; Cassie had not noticed that his injuries had all but vanished. And yet... It should have healed completely by now... could I be building resistance to the Ichor? Or perhaps I...
"Your luggage, Lord Ritter."
The abrupt interruption jerks Vorian out of his thoughts, making him aware of his surroundings once more. Pulling his sleeve back down, he slowly turns to find two of his crewmen standing before him, holding his suitcase in between them. Looking to them, he grins wryly and nods.
"Ah yes, thank you. Lady Massri had mentioned that we were using this ship from now on. Please ask the captain for proper direction... I can only presume that we are all being provided with living quarters."
The two follow his order without delay, marching off towards the young helmetcat. Only now does he consider the Duchess' plan. Yes... the night is still young. And yet I am running out of time. He casts one final glance at the Bodensee. It was a mystery that would be solved later. Cane in hand, Vorian approaches the Duchess and her daughter, offering them a sincere bow.
"Yes... let us go to this opera that you speak of. We will need all of the help that we can muster. Do not worry about Von Ryuko's men - if it comes down to that, then I will protect you."
You're afraid of death again. Well... it's a start.
"No tying up, Squirrel. The dear doctor did have me in stitches though." she says to Ralph whilst the group start to move towards the food area.
Cassie looks around, with a profound respect and awe at the tastefully decorated ship. "Mittens and Duchess this is so astounding, as befitting a helmet-cat of style and taste, like your-selves."
With a glance at Vorian, who seems slightly out of sorts, she winks and mouths. 'Later'. Mind rushing away from her; 'Poor gent, there seems to be something wrong. I hope he doesn't feel left out since these two men came along...what is she.' The French-woman is so taken aback she almost drops the her clutch bag.
"We were just, heading that way ourselves." Cassie states keeping her voice calm. Her eyes glance of the horned woman and her body tenses, obviously the lady could be dangerous as the demon she looks like.
However, the French noble leads on into a dining area where a small buffet has quickly been arranged.
Gently picking up a glass from a side table, she pours a full-bodied, rich red. Swirling it, the nose is a touch fruity but perfect with accompaniment with the bread, cheese and ham that has been laid out.
*Subject probability 40% in REM-cycle sleep pattern - Initiating termination of dream cycle...*
Mimi's eyes flutter then open just a crack. The warmth of the hotel against the skin of her exposed leg, pale in the darkness of the room. Soft sounds of the wild-life gently drift through the half-open window, protected undoubtably with some of Taraz's Servo-bots.
She watches the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips half hidden in shadows. So masculine, but so capable of dealing such delight. Mimi has to stop herself from embracing them, a thrill of anticipation runs through her body. "Tomorrow..." she whispers a promise.
"He makes me feel like a woman; not a robot." her hips open out as she softly leans further into him, there's a flicker of vermillion lace as the sheet slips. The rounded curve of her thighs, drawing the eye into the alluring arch of her posterior - a spill of red silk covers it; shimmering in the soft moonlight.
Though the thoughts of the last day draws comparison to a previous life. Remembering Von Ryuko's first fumblings, treating her as a surrogate for the unobtainable Cassie. Mimi's her dismissal and revulsion of his propositions. A shadow of the Protos Cassies' emotions, for the lecherous insane man. That was part of the reason why Mimi hated her, though that had changed and she was still getting used to the thought that Cassie was not the perfection Master Baron made her out to be. And that it wasn't Cassie's fault for his obsession.
Her stream of thoughts are shattered.
"Rashida." Taraz murmurs devoutly and she can feel through the thick sheet, which he kept between them at all times. 'Gods, I know this is just a cover...a deception...' she repeats the mantra, uncognisantly snuggling closer. 'Am I betraying her? Undoubtably, I am....' her eyes glisten in guilt even as the illicit thrill rolls through her.
Ralph raises an eyebrow at the sideways look Ysillith gives him, she arrived in the midst of his conversation with the others, but he gets the feeling that she believes he is the one interrupting; maybe he's just imagining it. "Ya can actually look at me ya'know. I maybe ain't no Han'some Harry, but I ain't gonna turn ya to stone nor nothin." His face looks young, probably not more than 20, but he actually is fairly handsome. "If ya wants ta know who I am, ask me prop'ly and maybe I'll tell ya. If not" he shrugs his shoulders "No skin off my teeth."
He looks towards Cassie as she leads towards the dining area, and moves to walk beside her "Ya try ta help a dame out... So whut's dis talk about dates an' de op'ra? Will ya be my date?"
Cassie bites her lip, pleased by the boldness but not wanting to disappoint the doctor. She blushes slightly knowing the problems this can lead to.
Quickly making a decision, she looks to the smartly dressed youth. "It will be a pleasure I am sure. I do like a fine opera, of course I'll have to fine a different attire." she winks, still suited in mens apparel.
Nibbling softly upon the soft pale bread she appears slightly distracted. 'I wonder what Rashida meant about boldness.'
The perfect copy of Rashida Massri speaks.
"Wha..? Where am I?" Her eyes shift erratically and quickly settle on Taraz's face. They widen, not in recognition...but in fear.
"Who...who are you?" A bronzed hand lifts and partially shields her mouth. A golden serpent glistens on her bare upper arm, and its head shifts briefly to eye Taraz. Its twin doesn't appear to move.
Before Taraz can respond, the Rashida replicant notices the cables tied loosely to her arm with surprise. She then looks herself over with a stricken expression discovering the various other wires and cables attached by string and pins. She gasps in alarm.
"What is this? What are you doing to me?"
About to introduce himself, Taraz paused for a second. This is not going at all like I expected.
"I am Taraz Rorenson, replicant, Lord of Serv-Bots," he says with a flourishing bow. "Apparently, I have triggered your awakening by accident...or someone's clever design. I regret...however...our time will be brief." Taraz's voice falter slightly at this.
The woman before him once again shields her face and looks at him in horror. "I don't understand! I came here with Gahiji, my brother. We arrived, had dinner, and...and...then I am waking up here! What have you done? Where is Gahiji?" Her voice is filled with fear. Both of the golden serpents turn their heads and hiss angrily in Taraz's direction.
Taraz's heart skips a beat. What? A brother? Arrived...and had dinner? Taraz looks at the replicant intently trying to ascertain her truthfulness. She was emitting the smell of fear. He could hear her breathing speed up, and heart start racing. Her pupils were dilating. She was very much afraid. No play acting was evident at all.
Uncertainty and doubt began to fill him. Is it possible...? Taraz's many conversations with Eichorn von Ryuko filled his mind. It is possible, Taraz, you fool. Von Ryuko would absolutely do exactly what you are thinking might be the case here. All of a sudden Taraz did not know what to do.
Rashida was cowering from him in fear.
Cassie rips up some of the fine ham and placing it carefully before Mittens and the Duchess for them to eat. Her heart melts to watch the beautiful helmet-cats consume food. 'I wonder how when humans eat it's slightly grotesque, whereas with helmet-cats it's so cute. Must be the lack of thumbs.'
The bronze man, shaved bald and wearing only a linen kilt and wide, heavy gold neckpiece and armbands, looked down reassuringly. "We're ready to start. After this, you will either be here with me or someplace safe with somebody who is helping you. I am told it is disconcerting, but do not worry. Remember, you are safe. It will be an eyeblink, no more."
......
A white linen cloth laid with fine silver and china stretched before her. Across was a cruelly handsome bronze man... Gahiji. Yes, it was her 'brother' Gahiji. She knew him from seeing him at home among the ascended, sneering at the lesser beings like herself. I am safe. Safe. She was here with him and... Baron Von Ryuko. Of course. They had been sent here for... for... a party. "...so glad you could make it. Your quarters are prepared, of course. You must be tired after your journey. Drink up, Lady Massri, you are slow..." She obediently picked up the heavy goblet and sipped. Yes, it was nice to be early after the long journey, to rest up before the big party and see the island, so humid, so unlike her homeland. The rich wine burned brightly in her throat. She saw the long, bronze hand clasping the goblet. Is that me? She raised the goblet to eye level, the stranger's face reflected there distorted by the curvature, but nonetheless... I'm beautiful!
......
Cold, it was cold, the metal burning frigid against her skin as she shrank back into the alcove. The young man stood before her, fit and handsome, but.. who was he? Rorenson? Yes, that was right. He was who he claimed to be. She remembered his face, his description from other family members, warning her away from him at the coming party. A lusty lout, as she recalled the tale, but... the serpents were hissing with alarm. She looked past him at the chaotic mess in the laboratory, the pile of equipment, dark fluid puddling and oozing from beneath. Blood? It reeked in here, chemicals and cold stone and rusty iron. She covered her mouth and swallowed hard, tears of nausea leaking unbidden from her eyes.
Rorenson was not a killer, not by reputation, so what... why was he here? She could feel her limbs trembling, the hairs raised all along her skin as her body screamed danger! Shakily, she ventured a guess. "What do you want? Money? My family will pay." Her voice juddered uncontrollably and she mentally cursed her lack of self-control.
Ysillith does look fully at Ralph, though she moves to stand beside the mechanika-cats.
"Actually, luv, no ye din't introduce ye self t'me." Her large, dark amber eyes seems to stare soullessly into his own, even as Ysillith then moves to accompany the others into the main dining hall.
"As fer who I am? Ye can call me Captain Ysillith Mearlleux." She simply hooks a chair out a little with a long boot heel before slipping fluidly into place on the other side of where the mechanika-cats are perched at their own setting upon the table.
As people are seated Ysillith watches their actions -though mainly from the corners of her vision. The large, fathomless pools of smoky amber seeming instinctively flicking to tracking motions. Always drawn to quick, furtive movements -Or the arc and curve of anything sharp.
At noting the woman on the other side of the pair of the mechanika-cats actions, Ysillith like wise deftly, quickly, efficiently sets her table placing up for both herself and to add food down in front of Mittens, the mechanika-cat who perches imperiously by Ysillith's left elbow.
As she leans closer to move the filleted morsels into plcae for Mittens otehr might catch the subtle motion of her lips as she uses the motion to quietly ask the mechanika-cat possible questions or pass other words of conversation.
For herself, Ysillith samples everything brought from the kitchen and offered for consumption. What mainly is order to her plate, in seeming great quantities, are the many different cuts of meat available. With masterful strokes of a wickedly sharp looking knife which has appeared from some where upon her person. Ysillith uses the blade to slice, dissect and sort said morsels into bite sized chunks before picking them up with the tip, lifting them to her full lips where perfect white teeth silently snap shut upon the pieces which are swallowed quickly.
The amount of food which disappears from Ysillith's plate might be considered 'gorging' in other company. Though the horned woman eats with a predators delicate efficiency, as quick and clean as the mechanika-cats beside her, she shows none of the table wear knowledge of the finer quests.
With the largest drinking vessel that can be had she quaffs with one hand while whipping her blade almost magically about to feed, only occasionally using the blade to punctuate a point of any of the other guests who work up the courage to speak to her.
It is as she haphazardly leans forwards to serve Mittens it is noticed her silk shirt is unbuttoned, allowing many a glimpse of the curves of her perfectly curved, ample accoutrements to be exposed by the motions of her movements.
"Money?" The word comes out sharp, blurted without any thought. Taraz finds it impossible to think. The mitochondria seems to be responding to this crea...this woman as if she is Rashida. And Taraz was no longer certain that she isn't. But that would mean, the feelings he had were for...
Taraz shivered despite the nervous sweat that now seemed to be forming on his brow. The memories of the "replicants" he had just casually murdered began to surge forward. He swayed at the implications of what he may have done.
"I...I am not here for your money...R-Rashida," Taraz stutters. His mind was racing. His memory brought forth an image of him tearing the arm off the Dame Devries. The replicants had not been all flesh....but had any of the ones he destroyed been only flesh? He had been trying not to pay attention. Was it possible...? If she was the real Rashida, maybe someone else...?
Taraz shook his head and tried to get a grip on himself. The mitos were screaming loudly. Surely the Rashida, replicant or real, could hear them. He steeled himself, his jaw clenching.
"Listen to me and answer carefully. What do you see? What do you see when you look at my soul?"
Assassin! Rashida's brain screams, racing in an adrenaline-fueled overdrive. We've been discovered. No, no. That's impossible. A Rorenson would not work for the Massris as an assassin. Would he? What was that he said? 'Taraz Rorenson, replicant?' What is a replicant?
She watches the man as he stammers, obviously shaken, and she begins to relax. He's no assassin. Then what...? He knows me. Knows my name? How? We've never met. Oh! The thought comes in a blinding flash. An exercise, a test... no wonder we are never told what happens after we awaken. This is a test. If we fail, we die. They must use replicas of real people somehow... but why tell me that?
She stares at him, still panting with fear. "Your... soul? Do you think I can simply do that in a heartbeat?" Stall for time, think, think. This must be something you can do or they wouldn't be asking you to do it.
She stammers, "You... you are not a killer. You don't want to kill me." Too obvious. He believes you can see his soul. A soul is a thing of faith, not of logic. You must have faith. You know the gods are real. You know you can touch one. Let go. You must let go. She cringes, knowing her answer is not sufficient.
Ralph raises an eyebrow when Ysillith says he didn't introduce himself "Yer right, I din't, never claimed ta. Like I said ya never ask me prop'ly." He listens to Ysillith looking to her amber eyes, she was facing him now, and did introduce herself although she put a little too much emphasis on captain. He furrows his brow, that didn't add up "Cap'n?" he looks towards Mittens knowing her to be the one in charge "Ain't you da cap'n Chief?"
He supposes her introduction at least deserves one of his own "Well most o' da Joes 'round here call me Squirrel, but if ya wanna be form'l 'bout it ya can call me Admiral Squirrelonius Van Reddenbaucker da fort. At yer service ma'm'selle."
Ralph eats quite a healthy portion of pretty much whatever he can get his hands on, it seems like he hasn't had a really good meal in a while.
At the boy's out pouring of a reply Ysillith's mouth forms a simple mu, though of thought, distaste or simply mild amusement it is hard to tell.
"Agin, I warn ye...T'is Captain Mearlleux." She reminds young Ralph.
During the varied conversations which scatter and flit around the table Ysillith leans forwards casually as she makes a point, punctuated with a knife jab in Ralph's direct,
"I can see we have here, young Master Ralph, be a failure t' communicate." She drawls, gulping more of the alcohol from her large glass, which she has indicated the attendants should do their best to keep full,
"While I admit t'being new about th' place?" The bright, curved dagger twirls to spin in an encompassing circle, "Don't think I'll curb me nature when it comes t'those who're thinking they can set themselves about in the order of things." She leans towards Mittens,
"Where be Miss Rashida?" She asks the mechanika-cat.
In a flash, Taraz calmed and began to clamp down the mitos impulses trying to make him react. That's right! Rashida's power took almost an hour to "see" the truth of a person's soul. That test isn't going to work.
Taraz takes a deep breath. "Forgive me. I responded hastily. This is a delicate situation. I suppose I should explain a little." Little by little Taraz forces his tense muscles to relax and regain control of his breathing and heart rate.
He raises a hand and points to the ceiling. "We are currently deep beneath the island castle of Baron Eichorn von Ryuko. The island's name is Ritiro del Gigante. It is located west of the Italian peninsula. The fortress' name is Enigma Perfetto." Taraz shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "Which describes this situation exactly." The last comes out so quiet the Rashida can only just hear him.
"The good Baron has seen fit to throw a party filled with deceptively useless nobles and notably unlucky assassins. The whole time, he had planned to switch the nobles out with replicants...like you possibly. I have already encountered one such, and upon realizing his purpose, he promptly exploded." Taraz falls silent while the Rashida stares at him mouth agape. As the brief silence stretches, Taraz raises an eyebrow and then nods contemplatively.
"As you didn't explode, I can only assume you may be what you say or are not programmed the same. However, I hope you can see the position I find myself. Having met a woman claiming to be Rashida Massri already..." An unreadable expression passes across Taraz's face as his voice trails off slightly. "And now I meet you...As I said uno enigma perfetto."
Drake gives Cassie a surprised stare, one brow lifting only slightly to show his attention to this note, "Then the stitching was better than most could do but let us not get ahead of ourselves and request another rending of the flesh. Your creamy skin is much too pleasant to be marred by such distasteful things."
The walk is not far and Drake is pleased when he does see the helmet cats again, and puts out a hand to see if either lady would let him pet them. He certainly seems to like cats a fair amount, "Wouldn't think what was gross from 'Charlie' here?"
There is a chuckle from Cassie's side as Ralph gets a pat on his derrier and says that would cost. The doctor grins and shakes his head, "Now that's a switch." He jokes lightly, "Dis merchandise does not come at a cost." He winks bawdily at Cassie.
As the horned lady shows up and Ralph talks with her Drake gives her a good looking over before bowing stolidly at the hip, taking note of her swords and then standing back up, "Captain Mearlleux? It is a pleasure. Our offer stands for you to join us for dinner."
He strides along as if nothing were any different then any other time and looks about calmly while taking little bits of this and that from the plates. With each bit of meal he seems to look at it for a few moments before putting it upon his plate and sets his plate down. He leaves for a moment to come back with two small bowls each of which he gives to the helmet cats, "Sturgeon a la sword fish a la caviare. I noticed it and thought of you lovely ladies."
Drake then goes and sits down to eat in a dignified manner until the suggestion of opera comes up once again. He almost chokes on his meal then smiles at Cassie, "It sounds like a wonderful idea for you both to see the opera; however, please see to me for any ills."
The doctor then avoids talk of opera by turning to the captain, "So Captain, from what shores do you come from? Such a strong lady like yourself must have been trained young in the ways of the ship to become a captain of renown."
The news does not seem to relax the frightened woman one bit. "Y-y-yes, the party. I came with my brother. We were invited to arrive a day or two early, as I had never been here before. I went to my quarters after dinner and woke up here, just now. So this isn't a test? And there are replicants? What is a replicant? Another Rashida? That's..." Her voice scales up a bit and she pauses to take a deep breath. "So... are you really Taraz Rorenson? Would you know if you were not?" The man's calmness was somehow more frightening than his previous tension. There was a great deal of the stalking leopard in his eye and manner.
Then it hit. "Wait, you wanted me to look at your soul? Can she... the other... do that? I... I don't understand. Maybe I can..." She pushes away from the back wall of the niche, but the cords and tubes resist. They are easily untied and she examines them in some confusion, then raises her hands to gently touch her face. "The other, does she look like me? Exactly like me? If she can see souls, perhaps I can too. Will you let me try?" She takes a shaky step towards Taraz, stretching out one hand as if to touch him.
Ysillith turns her head to the question from across the table, offering a smile which is polite, though there is a lacking 'warmth' in Ysillith's features.
"Ah..were is that I come from? That does seem t'be a question, don't it?" She twirls her glass in thought.
"The general name be 'Immoren'. This great amount of land be bordered on the West and South by the Meredues Ocean. Frozen forever ice to the North and a great desert to its East. That be th' extent of the known world, though many a folk have tried to stretch th' knowing of said map's borders. Through looking for more trade to sell, or more land to claim.." She sips from her goblet.
"Th' biggest real difference t'tween here and there is, I notice, ye've only got one Moon? Seems a tad lonely a thing floatin' up there." She tilts her glass to indicate the sky.
"Back home, we've three...and a right bloody nightmare does it make with seas and tides. Even our mightiest engineers still haven't made a vessel which can match the tide tempests which are thrown up by them. Our ships, both sail and steamer, while being good? They still sail well close to th' coast fer fear of the ocean's storms." Her eyes gaze lose focus as she remembers her home. Though just as quick she stares again at Drake Khoth.
"As fer the upbringing of me an' mine?" And she pauses in thought...eyes shifting to the left and right,
"The Satyxii are a...private people. Our island home not visited, nor seen by those beyond our shores." She chuckles,
"O' course, the more superstitious claim ye can't find it lest ye already now where it is." She grins at the joke, "We say t'is 'cause most of the sailors can't find their...um..particulars with both their hands." She seems to catch her train of thought and shift it into a subtly different track.
"Times past? Things were different but then, we were seen more as the same as most every one else. Then....well...something terrible and wonderful befell our home and we've been livin' with the...effects," And she shifts her head such to indicate the great horns curving from her brow. "I think the deeper whys and where fores of that are fer a...later time." She sips again, before a quick deft couple of slices has a square of meat being popped between perfect white teeth and pouting lips to be simply swallowed seeming whole.
"Now! As fer m'self?" And she grins, again showing plenty of white enamel, looking at all around the table to maybe judge people's reactions as she settle back against her chair -her white shirt shifting around her torso as she does so, full round breasts swelling against the silk.
"As I introduced m'self t'Lady Meowselsworth," And she offers a polite tilt of the head to the elder mechanika-cat. "I am but a humble Captain, who owned and commanded her own ship and sailed her under a legal letter of mark against the enemies of a recognized nation." She sips her drink and the obvious pride of what her 'profession' was is evident upon her features.
"I kept m'crew well provisioned and well supplied. Found profit and pay all along the coasts of the Five Kingdoms. From wintery Khador to the North down to Menas-Sull and her deserts to the South." Her eyes are alight as her memories of her journeys play across her mind's eye. She chuckles,
"Even led a raid deep in't the heart of the country of Cygnar, whose tally of gain brought me to the position of shifting up from 'Swift Dutches'." She closes her eyes and puts a hand to one breast,
"And a finer twenty gun sloop no Captain could wish for..." And she holds her talk for a few seconds silence to show respect for the command,
"Before I could muster the funds t'take the Bonny D fer m'self and refit her as I liked." And Ysillith again sighs as the pain of said most recent event again comes to the fore of her thinking. She blinks and turns to Mittens and The Dutches,
"As I said afore, there be chance fer salvage of some of the Bonny's cargo, should ye be wantin' t' engage in th' endeavor..." She reminds the mechaniak-cats of her previous offer.
"I left some things in such a state that retrieving them from th' Bonny's wreck will be a snap." She smiles before returning to chat with Drake.
"So..while I be a Captain, t'is true, I've never been one t'seek such renown as might be hailed by such a grandiose title as 'Queen of the broken coast'." She chuckles ruefully, finding some dark humor in saying the term,
"That honor goes to one 'Queen Skarre Ravenmane'." And while Ysillith does offer an 'honorary' toast to the name she gives out, there is clear evidence upon her features that she finds something disagreeable in doing so, but whether it comes form politics or something else remains a mystery for now. Her eyes move to look across the table directly at Ralph.
"Now...should some one impute me honor as said Captain...?" And her voice trails off, even as the glittering blade with which she's been eating and gesturing with spins absently between deft, elegant fingers. "As a Captain I'd feel inclined to make a point of defendin' said besmirched honor."[[b] An eyebrow arches as her gaze continues to alight upon Ralph for a small while. Ysillith blinks languidly, turning back towards Drake,
[b]"Now, good Sir...?" And she indicates to Drake with the same blade she'd just a moment ago been twirling, "We've not been introduced more than ye knowin' I be a Captain and yerself is just a fine gentleman before those others of us here at the grand setting." And Ysillith smiles, this time with obvious warmth and....affection towards the fellow who has engaged her in conversation.
Taraz feels his nerves trying to unsettle as the mitos "feel" the Rashida's presence draw closer. He allows them to begin increasing his perception and reactions.
Eyes narrowing, Taraz carefully holds out his hand. "Let us find out what you can see."
As he looks at the golden brown skin and wondrous beauty that Rashida has, he remembers how adamantly Cassie had stated she would pursue correcting the wrong done to the Baron von Zombi. He had a growing fear that he was about to make a decision based on those same feelings.
Rashida flinches as he holds out his hand, then advances warily, hand tremblingly outstretched to his. I need to do this. I need to know for myself. How can there be another?
The tips of her fingers barely graze the his hand before she jerks it back, startled by a near-electric buzzing in her fingertips. Acutely conscious that she is within grabbing range, she tries again, setting her hand firmly atop his. What do I do now?
His intense stare discomfits her and she drops her eyes to break it. "Please, give me a minute. I..."
If I get this wrong, will he kill me? The thought drowns out her ability to concentrate, to think. Her pulse throbs in her fingertips - or is it his? Wait, this is a soul. You know about souls. They are not of the intellect. Let go. Close your eyes. Feel it.
Swallowing hard, she decides. If he kills me, he kills me. So be it. She closes her eyes to block out the overwhelming vision of the horrible room and the man before her. She relaxes, opening herself to the feel of the moment. The words come slowly as sensations emerge from the whirling chaos in her mind. "You... you don't want to kill me. I can feel that. Pain. You're in pain. But why? There is something about you. You're different. And..."
Her eyes pop open but don't seem to see him. "You don't hate me. You want to... help me. To... to love me?" Suddenly, her focus on him is knifelike. "You love me? No. Her!" She snatches her hand back, eyes big and mouth in a O of surprise.
"Certainly Drake, if I need to cure my ills, I would love to see more of you." Cassie says whilst watching the horny Captain out of the corner of her eye.
"The boating I have done Captain has mainly been upon the placid lakes or in the skies." she says trying to side-track any questions of honour or potential problems amongst the group.
"To clear things up, I was the captain of this ship, but I find it tiring, so now I'd say that I'm the boss of this ship, Captain Ysillith can take the title of Captain, and Admiral Squirrelonious can be First Mate and High Chieftain. So that makes you Captain Captain Ysillith and First Mate High Chieftain Admiral Squirrelonious Van Reddenbaucker The Fourth, for those who are keeping track," explains Mittens, glad for all of the attention that it paid to her in the form of meats.
"Ah, thank you very much Drake..." says the Duchess, nodding courteously. They seem nice enough, these newcomers, I do not have the bond forged by blood of my fellow partgoers, and the only one I know who I can trust of them is Mittens by virtue of knowing her since she was a kitten. And even then... She looks towards her daughter who is enthusiastically passing out titles to other aboard the ship.
Mittens continues. "I do need help running this ship, though. I mean, I really would rather be sleeping most of the time. But remember: I am Head Boss. Only maybe my mom can tell me what to do, 'cause she's Duchess Head Boss, and I'm not really sure what the title you get when you're a Duchess's daughter it. But even then...
The words of both the Duchess's thought and Mittens's speech match up, "There is nobody in the world who can control or predict the force of nature that is Mittens von Meowselsworth."
Ysillith nods her head as the younger mechanika-cat makes it's will be known to every one at the table. About people's titles and ranks Ysillith seems not to care too much about at all, though obviously her own. She looks over/around the mechanika-cats at the woman who has spoken about boating,
"Oh luv?" And Ysillith leans forwards just a small amount, "More fer th' pleasure of the experience, I dare say?" And Ysillith even goes so far as to languidly wink at the other woman, even as a possibly suggestive smile plays upon the Satyxis lips.
"Well...once I be up to speed on th' handling of this craft, I promise t'make yer trips as safe and enjoyable as can be." Ysillith does turn and nod in acknowledgment to Admiral Squirrel's new rank and titles. (^_~)
"Well we know what you are Mittens...." Cassie strokes the side of her face, avoiding the whiskers (and resultant potential biting);"Amazing."
She then sips on the wine and looks to the be-horned woman with a quick glance down at the generous cleavage upon show. She quirks an eyebrow; "My dear Captain, I don't mind a bit of risk."
She pauses her soft lips smile; "Although, I would hate to see this beauty damaged." the French woman replies ambiguously.
"Warn all ya want want dame, and git dat knife outta ma face, I ain't gotta show no respect ta nobody who don' respect me. All I did was invite ya ta join us fer somethin ta eat, an' ya immediately started actin like yer better'n me. Ya tell me not ta expect ya to curb yer nature, yet ya seem ta 'spect me ta curb mine, well sorry, ain't gonna happen." Since Ralph told her his name was Squirrel he's not sure who she's talking to, unless maybe she knows more than she's putting on.
He raises his eyebrows when the captain gives Drake her life story at his question of where she's from. Then smiles towards Mittens when the helmet cat clears up the title issues pleased to have them dealt with, and also to have gotten an especially long title. "A'right Chief tanks fer sortin dat out, always tough comein onta a new ship." He says this as if he's experienced it before.
"Cap'n I guess we gots off onna wrong foot. Ya should come to da op'ra wit us hmmm... I already gots me a date." He moves to put an arm around Cassie's shoulders not really caring that she's still dressed like a man with a fake moustache. "Hey maybe Charlie will take ya!" He nods towards Drake "Take da nice cap'n onna date Chuck." He apparently has no issue both pushing the date on Drake and also inviting Ysillith to an event he has no business inviting anyone to.
Drake listens to Ysillith's words with the air of someone who was quite used to listening and welcomes being told information. His brow quirks at the right times as he eats but he says nothing as she talks, letting her go on at her leisure while he does not interrupt or try to bring anything more out of her than she would like.
He grins then winks at the helmet-cats when Mittens gives her consideration of titles upon the ship and smirks behind a hand while holding some champagne in the other when Squirrel's title comes up. He finds it amusing as he takes a handkerchief and wipes his lips on it.
His eyes drop to the same area that Cassie's does when she mentions risk and the brow lifts as he turns to her in amusement at her concept, a grin upon his face until Ralph cuts in that he should take the captain to the opera with them.
Suddenly Drake goes stiff and he takes a deep breath while giving the other man a quick glare before smiling and sighing, "If the lovely lady would like to go to the opera then I would be willing to escort her if she were invited by our hostess. It is not my knowledge as to how many tickets we have for this event and if we were short any I would not wish to impose."
Drake smiles politely then turns quickly to the topic the captain asked about, "Are you sure you would truly wish to hear the boring tale of the likes of myself, Captain?"
With a flutter of her eyelashes and a wicked smile crosses her face; her hand flicks down before producing a black lace fan at odds with her current attire. Although the juxtaposition adds a touch of femininity that along with the curve of the cloth.
She flicks open the fan with a impressive clack and poking from above the lacy arc is a number of tickets. "The opera will be fun. And I have tickets for all."
Thinking for a second about whether to demand a 'price' for them from the handsome crew, she decides that it would be too gauche.
Ysilith nods her head to Cassie DuSollier,
"Aye luv. There'd be many a shame t'see any thing get ruffled or marred." Her eyes turn to take in the great ship around them, "And I'll not be letting any such thing happening, ye can be sure." As Ralph retorts Ysillith arches an eyebrow, her demeanor not changing beyond that. She does, however, find amusement in something he says or does which looks like it brightens her mood to no end. At Ralph's comment about 'The Opera' all she does is nod,
"Ah well, as a working Captain, twill not be my position t'be seekin' tickets t'sit upon me laurels -but t'be doin' that which I've been signed on t'do." She points ot to Admiral Squirrel, the knife again twirling in counterpoint. She smiles warmly to Drake at his comment,
"Not at all fine Sir. T'would give me pleasure an', perhaps, also help as a groundin' in this...bright new world I find m'self such a stranger cast adrift upon." And she gives a deeper bow of her head towards Drake, the action also moving her physique and clothes about in...interesting ways.
Ysillith straightens still smiling, resuming her partaking of food and drinking while awaiting Drake's, or any one elses, engaging dialogue.
Looking over the top of her fan, eyes shining. "Sometimes a bit of ruffling can be fun." she pats Ralphs arm. There's a sigh of lace as she fans herself.
Ralph looks curiously at the glare Drake gave him he finds it a bit odd that after all the things he's said to the man it's when he tries to get him a date with a pretty girl that he gets glared at. Then again maybe it's because he now has his arm around Cassie. He shrugs when Ysillith turns down the invitation "Suit yerself sweethart, ya just seemed ta be hittin it off wit Charlie tought ya might have sum fun."
He looks towards Cassie and gives her shoulders a little squeeze when she pats his arm "Oh don' worry we'll have lotsa fun tonight." He says with a wink "So my Minx, when are we off to the Op'ra?"