A World Without End (Inactive)

Game Master pinvendor

The rough stone mars the smooth skin of the dark woman's hands, but she ignores it as she crouches next to the bench, uneasy in the silence of the deserted and dark quadrangle. The University's denizens had all gone to see the excitement, of one sort or another, down at the waterfront. Rashida ponders her message. If she left nothing, it might appear she had forgotten. Better something. But what? Her eyes flick around in the near pitch-dark, then settle on the gravel path she had eschewed in favor of the soft, dewy grass.

Long fingers stretch to test the size and shape of various stone chips, until they grasp one that seems suitable, small but sharp. Setting the edge against the inside face of the stone panel, she hesitates a moment, then begins to carve quarter-inch deep scratches into the stone, the gravel stylus crumbling after the first figure is completed. She finds another, then continues -- a pintail duck, a vulture, a seated person, legs, another vulture. Not exactly standard, but she knew that she would understand what she meant.

The stone makes barely a sound as it seats back into its old socket, nestling so securely it seems part of a solid structure. Black in black, her leather-clad form blending into the night, Rashida slips from the University and back toward the docking pylons of the airfield, skulking in dark alleys and shadows to avoid being seen. Most of the city's attention is on the fire ships, floating near the Grand Hotel and directing streams of water onto the conflagration atop the structure, long intake hoses trailing across the lakeside drive into the lake proper.

She breathes a sigh of relief as Phantom looms out of the darkness, several portholes ablaze. The guards challenge as she approaches the base of the gangplank, subsiding when she sweeps off the concealing cap to reveal her beaded braids and heavily made-up visage. Gliding past them with a murmured 'well done', she enters the gondola and quietly paces the plush-carpeted floors to her cabin.

"Yes, pick anyone you want. There's some free on the third level port side, near me." Cassie adds softly; "I can show you?"

The question of Ritter, produces a small grimace that Cassie tries to blink away. "I don't think he's injured, he went straight to his room though." her voice tinged with a slight rebuke, that she has been concentrating upon Squirrel and Rahida rather than the proud gentleman.

Alyce nods at Cassie with a shy smile, then turns to Drake. "Doctor, is it safe for Herr Squirrel to return to his cabin, or does he need to stay here in the infirmary for tonight? We can help him to his own bunk on the way to ours."

Cassie smiles to Alyce; "I'm sure he'd like that." before he helps the young man to his feet and positioning him between the pair of beauties.

'He smells really nice.' she puts one arm around his shoulders whilst the younger lady takes his other side. Thus with his make-shift crutches the trio move down towards the cabins. "Might see you later doctor." Cassie calls back, with a little shimmy.

"I do not believe either of us have received quarters yet. Maybe, if it is possible we can find state rooms with doors between them? That would help if I am required to do some healing."

Drake had listened to the women, allowing them to talk for once with each other and dropped in beside Cassie, "With your wounded leg this will hurt you. I can take Squirrel to his room and we can have it beside yours if you wish, if there is an open cabin there."

"We can all find rooms, I guess. Better than going out in the streets." Alyce steps aside, relinquishing her spot at Squirrel's side to let Drake prop up the wounded man. "I will go ahead and open doors. Direct me, Lady DuSollier."

The young girl leads the way, at Cassie's direction, opening any doors needed so the trio can progress unhindered to the passenger cabins. She tries a few of the cabin doors to see which ones might be unlocked and therefore free, exclaiming happily when she finds two adjoining with a door between, directly across from Cassie's cabin. "Will this do?"

A door down the hall pops open and a dark head peeks out. "Ah, you're all here and well. Good. What about the Duchess and Lord Ritter and Ysillith Mittens? Are they all secure here?" Rashida queries with some concern.

Relieved that Alyce has offered to help, Cassie moves circumspectly down the corridor trying not too put too much weight on her hurt hip. 'Such a nice girl, so helpful. I wish I didn't have to involve her, or the men, however if the explosions any indication then we need all the help I can muster.'

The ornate corridors give Cassie a false sense of security, allaying her fears in their opulence. Before she realises it they are nearing her berth; she nods gratefully at Alyce question. In the back of her mind she's happy that she can at least try to keep the Masonic girl safe....

Then her heart stops, Rashida's divine visage. 'She's fine...oh my... Thank God.' Her first instinct is to run forward throw the door open and give the Lady a hug and a telling off for running away, then spotting an imagined caution and rebuke across the Goddesses features.

She remembers all that has passed between them, halting the half-step she had taken. A tightness slips over her mask; "Are you fine.... the explosion?" her words nervous, leaving so many unspoken - so many emotions unshed.

Rashida eyes the group rather coolly, but with concern. "Ah, that. Somebody blew the top off the Grand Hotel. I really don't know what that was all about. The area was a mess, so I avoided it."

She emerges wearing her white everyday dress, vivid against her mocha skin even in the dim hallway, to peer critically at Ralph. "I suggest you all stay on board Phantom tonight, if our captain allows. The streets are rather chaotic and you do not look very ambulatory." The briefest flicker of emotion crosses her face before it settles back into her usual regal mask, then she nods decisively. "Yes. Cabins, then sleep. You look like something the leopard dragged in. Do you require food? I can order the kitchen to bring something to your cabins."

For an instant Cassie's face drops in despair, though she quickly slips on the mask of court - courteous, beautiful but unchanging. Despair lies deep in her heart, Rashida's perfunctory manner and curt words cut her to the quick.

"Good idea, we were just about to do that." her voice filled with forced lightnes; "Mittens and the Duchess are around, I believe they went for an early night. Unfortunately, Ysillith is still missing - I believe she may have gone after the Scientist and her Mech."

"The Mech..." Rashida breathes, eyes wide. "That was one strong, fierce woman.. creature... whose goals were unfathomable to me. Who knows what she will do when the Mech is retrieved? And she wanted us to go there but we were busy with other things, remember? Do you think she will be vindictive about it?" She pauses a beat, then laughs, a short, sharp exhalation. "Of course she will, if she is angry with us. Listen, get to your cabins and get comfortable. I will have food brought so you need not disturb your healing." And she turns on her heel and strides rapidly away towards the galley, strides muffled by the deep red and gold carpeting of the passageway.

Two crewmen arrive within ten minutes, pushing a cart filled with steaming trays. They stop in the various passenger cabins, ensuring that each receives reviving nutrition. They rap several times on Vorian Ritter's door.

Taking comfort in the fact that her friend is well, she watches the gorgeous woman move purposefully away. 'I need to be at my peak if I am to protect her. Whatever that green colour did to me, it helped with the pain.'

After helping Squirrel into his cabin and showing Alyce to hers, Cassie turns to Drake. "Just got a couple of broken fingers that need a splint." she says matter-of-factly; "And got stabbed in the hip, it didn't hit the bone; just muscle - but it could do with a couple of stitches."

The French-noble, used to the injuries from her daring burglaries and raids upon tombs, heads back to the sick-bay to rest for the night.

Alyce sighs softly as she closes the door of the little cabin behind her, glad to be able to relax. She gently removes the warm weight of the sleeping helmetcat from the sling she made of her jacket, where the Duchess had been stashed since Alyce retrieved her from the cushion of the little launch. Amazed at how hard the helmetcat could sleep, Alyce pulls the pillow from the bed and sets it on a comfortable chair, settling the noble cat upon it for the night.

She pulls all the covers from the bunk and wads them into a ball, resting on the soft mass as she curls up on a corner of the bunk in her clothing, unwilling to undress in a strange place with no nightclothes, and oddly reluctant to be seen by the helmetcat should she wake. She reaches up to turn the gaslight down low and is asleep by the time her hand hits the pillow.

As the ship quiets, Rashida returns to the hallway. She hesitates at her own door for a moment, then glides to Cassie's, sandaled feet making no noise. Her hand rises, knuckles set to tap at the door, but hesitates as she listens for any sound within the cabin. Finally, she raps very gently, once, and waits for a minute. When no response is forthcoming, she returns to her own cabin, door closing softly behind her with a tiny snick as the lock engages.

Even the prospect of a hot meal does not rouse Vorian from his slumber. The patient, steady rapping on his door goes on for a few moments longer, unheard by the unconscious noble. Only once does the crewman call for him through the door, to no avail. Simply assuming that he has already fallen asleep, they continue on to deliver the rest of the meals. Perhaps they would ensure that Lord Ritter's meal does not go to waste.

As the night goes on, Vorian's body curls up on the floor, moving from unconsciousness to slumber.

Ralph blinked a moment after being called acting captain, he'd forgotten about that, and supposed that meant Ysillith was never found. The answer to the question he really had no idea, he hadn't really explored the ship or talked to the chief to see what rooms were free. "Umm sure Kit, ya cin have 'ny room ya like, take da cap'n corders if ya wants em. I ain't really know much 'bout stayin inna Hotel, but it shure beats da pants offa sleepin inna dumpster." He's pleased to find this is in fact not a hospital.

The young street rat was pleased to have the assistance getting out of the bed, though he didn't have an overabundance of difficulty doing so. Of course any excuse to get his arms around such lovely ladies is a good one. He looked towards Drake curiously "Hey Charlie... yer a great Joe, a good fr'en an all, an' I'm greatful ya fix'd me up an' all." He lets out a long sigh as the doctor takes the place of the pretty women "But didja hafta chase da dames away? Dis walk woulda been much more fun."

Despite the complaint young Ralph finds his legs to be wobbly and unsteady, they're not very cooperative as he tries to take a step. Without someone to support him he would have some difficulty getting to the room. Drake, knowing how much blood the young man lost, would probably note that the fact he can even stand on his own is miraculous. "'m 'ssumin dat if yer callin me actin cap'n da cap'n ne'er showed up. 'm gonna hafta chat wit da chief... I ain't know much 'bout runnin a ship." The young street rat enters into the room Alyce found for him, and sits on the bed. Looking at the remnants of his only set of clothing he lets out a sigh then gets out of the shirt, relishing the time to rest and recover also rather pleased to have a nice soft bed, rather than a smelly gutter to sleep in.

Waking up to a soft gasp, the pale gown clings to her. The sheen of her sweat, caused by the returning nightmares, glistens in the artificial light of the infirmary. Cassie groans and starts to turn over, the sharp pain in her hip turns to a dull ache.

Remembering the doctors treatment, she is glad she bothered to turn up. Her hand splinted up, with the broken fingers, the French dancer looks to the clock. It's monotone ticking annoying, but in the pre-dawn atmosphere Cassie drifts back off - hoping for less disturbed sleep.

Rolling from the padded leather 'bed' in the infirmary, the dancer just about catches herself before she reaches the floor. Last night's pain-killers having worn off, wincing at the shock of the landing Cassie tries to put it aside.

In bare feet she gently tip-toes across the floor, picking up a fur collared dressing gown from behind the door. Her eyes glance around the artificially illuminated room.

The door to the room swings open before Cassie's eyes, revealing nothing but yawning blackness. As she stares, she becomes aware of a tiny gold speck in the midst of the dark door frame. It slowly grows larger, gradually resolving itself into the form of a woman in a gold dress facing away from Cassie, dark hair braided and beaded to her shoulders.

Cassie steps forward, knowing this is Rashida waiting for her. Stepping through the doorway is like stepping into an oven, and she finds herself standing atop a tall structure, one side sloping down and away just past her toes. Rashida does not look away from the landscape she surveys, a green channel through a desert, laced with palms and reeds, dhow-like boats plying the waters, nets spread.

Rashida's hand reaches blindly to take hers as her other arm sweeps wide, indicating the point where the river flows into the distance. Two tall figures stand there, garbed in gold kilts, one with the head of an ibis. Cassie cannot tell their size at this distance, but suddenly knows they must be enormous.

Finally, the Egyptian turns to face Cassie. She mouths words, but the sounds that emerge are muddled and indistinct, unintelligble. Frustrated, Rashida tries to speak more urgently, with no success.

Rashida shakes her head sadly, then leans forward to press warm lips against Cassie's own. Suddenly, she pulls back and strikes Cassie violently on the sternum. Cassie looks down, seeing the jewelled handle of a dagger protruding from her chest. Rashida grabs her shoulders and shoves hard, and Cassie falls back, back, back...

Sitting bolt upright, the sheen of the nightmare clear upon her body. Without thought she touches her sternum where the blade sank. The incautious probe bends her injured fingers; "Baiser, Merde." she gasps, tears coming to her eyes.

The memory of the dream still fresh in her mind, she reaches up tentatively to her plump lips. It seems like she can still feel the Egyptian's spicy breath upon them, slowly they bow.

Trying to sort the jumble of thoughts in her head, her long dancers legs swing around upon the leather couch. 'What does it mean? Am I too close to her, or too far? A prophetic dream, like I was taught? Or merely my émoi running wild?' Her breathing slowly settles down, taking longer breaths than the short fearful pants.

'I've failed her so far. Letting her run off, then being too clngy when she is around. Like a Parisian mistress.' she chides herself; 'So foolish, though we do need to talk.' There's a tinge of fear to her mental voice, the Goddess has already looked into Cassie's heart. She had already been judged. A chill runs down her spine and her body tightens.

Hugging herself against the cool air, the antiseptic smell of the infirmary brings back memories. The cool mountain and the soft sobs of her younger self, of loss and family. Calmly she stands slowly for the first time looking around the room. "Drake?" she says softly. 'It would be embarrassing if he was here.'

Fast forward 24 hours...

Taraz's heartbeat calmed, and the mitochondria began to recede from their instinctive increase in activity from his dream-caused agitation. Listening to the steady breathing of the golden-haired replicant lying pressed against him, he felt his eyes begin to close...Rashida was there again...and this time he controlled his dreaming and let the dream he had of his love the night before replay once again in his mind...

Cautiously she totter towards the door, uncertain of her step. Stopping in front of the portal, hesitant eyes caress it like a new lover. Then with some trepidation she pushes upon the slick surface and it swings open, revealing just a plane corridor.

The cool air hits her skin causing a sigh to escape her lips, refreshed she looks down at the slip she is wearing and heads quickly to her room. Passing a young ensign who tells her of breakfast then averts his gaze, though she can feel his hungry eyes as she walks away. Finally she returns to her cabin, the guilt as she looks to the cloudy cylinder and recounts her tale to the unemotional mechanism.

Soon after she is in the shower, trying to wash away her worries.

Arriving in the mess of the Opera ship, though it's not so much a mess as a grandiose tidy, the soft swish of the light fabric of her summer dress against her bare legs. With a cursary sweep on her hazel eyes, the dancer looks for the others - hoping that their dreams were not as magnificently vivid as her own.

The tingle of her skin, maybe a remnant of the colourstream in her blood, makes everything have a dreamy-quality. A blur at the edge of her vision, the soft lines of her flesh against the silken material, producing a languid visage. Picking up a small cracker and smearing it with soft fromage, she takes a small nibble with a crack.

At the edge of her hearing, there's the small whisper of a pair of crewmen; "...Grand hotel, in pieces.... Said fire weren't out until morning.... Some radicals is what I heard, anarchists or the like." "No, I heard it was an errant noble house, claiming vendetta."

Cassie stains to hear more, though she puts on an aloof air. Stood near a fluted speckled marble column, the dancer appears an elegant but lonely vista.

Striding briskly into the mess, Rashida spots Cassie and looks around for others. Seeing nobody else up and about, she approaches the lorn dancer, fiddling with her bracelets.

"Good morning. Glad to see somebody else up. I've been waiting for hours. So, are you ready to go? I think we need to get moving, and quickly. We're the only ones who can stop them, I think. As long as the Duchess and Mittens are well, we should be on our way."

Languidly Cassie looks up as Rashida nears, her eyes drift to the other womans soft lips strangely drawn to them. Suddenly she feels a cold knot in her gut, looking down at her sternum there's nothing amiss. Blinking away the shock, the French Lady tries to focus on Rashida's words.

"Yes." the words come out strained and she coughs; "Sorry, a tickle in the throat. I am ready, but who are we to stop? Yesterday was so confusing, you vanished and were back. The assassins..." her voice trails off, trying not to think about how close they may have been to attacking Rashida.

"Let's hope today is more peaceful." she adds softly.

"It will be much more peaceful if we get airborn and on our way. Do we know where they went? If not, we can simply seek news of carnage." Dark eyes search Cassie intently. "Is something wrong? Are you ill, Lady DuSollier?"

Realizing that she had not answered Cassie's question, Rashida adds, "The Duchess' mother and my brother, of course. They must be stopped. Who else can do it?"

"I think they went south..." she says slowly. "However, Von Ryuko I believe is to the North, in the Rheinland." Softly biting her lip, believing that her friend rushes headlong into danger. "Can we even stop them, Vorians' warship....?" she leaves the query hanging.

"If we cannot, who can? Should we simply let them rampage through the world, knowing their nature and predilictions, Cassie? Can you live with that?" Rashida presses her lips together an stares out the window for a moment. "Well... we can go where you like, so long as we go. Once word reaches home that Ament is here, I expect somebody may come to see what is going on. We do not want to be here if that happens." She shivers, light goosebumps rising on her bare arms.

"True we let them go... we must stop them. No matter how much you don't wish to see him." Cassie's thoughts slip to the beach and Gahiji's rough tongue, maybe that was what the dream was prophesying? 'Like a cats', I wonder..' she looks to Rashida an enigmatic look across her sensual features.

"I have a couple of contacts in Zanzibar? If they went as far as that? Or we could try to the west?" the Frenchwoman thinks.

"Is there something more urgent that must be done? I admit, I may not be thinking quite as clearly as usual. Disturbing developments have, well, disturbed me. And where are the rest of the slugabeds? If they do not rise soon, I will cast off and take the helm myself!" The divine visage does not appear quite so divine with a glower painted across it.

A final, glistening drop of gold ichor forms on the lip of the battered bronze flask, and falls right into Vorian's open mouth. The familiar ritual had an sense of finality for the German noble, more so now than ever. He glances at the bronze vessel wistfully before placing it back on his belt. It would not do any favors for him empty, but there was an odd sentiment there. Besides, he thinks smugly, a defiant grin tugging at his lips, I will have to refill it eventually.

The long night's slumber on the hard wooden floor had not been an ideal prospect. With the whirlpool of dreams and memories (all too hard to tell apart, at times), perhaps rest should have been impossible. And yet, Vorian felt positively rejuvenated. All the exhaustion, all the pain, all the worry - gone. All that remained were questions without answers, confusion that Vorian had familiarized himself with over the past several weeks. The hardest part had been accepting that in the grand scheme of things, he was so incredibly tiny.

But after the previous night...

Vorian shakes his head, dismissing the troublesome thoughts. The voices, the emptiness, the phantom pains, the dreams... and above all, the very possibility that it had been there, watching. He could feel it in his bones, and - he dared to assume - his very soul. There was only one person who could give him the answers he desired. Unless of course...

Cane in hand, Vorian steps out of his cabin, refreshed and dressed in the now-clean clothing he had left at Elodin's. It was nigh impossible to tell that the nobleman had spent the night on the floor of his cabin. Nodding to a nearby crewman, he makes his way across the deck, searching for his travel companions.

They had an awful lot to talk about.

"Ah, Vorian. Excellent. Cassie and I were just discussing where to go next. I'm for catching up with your old ship and taking it back from those who stole it. Is there anything more important you can think of, Lord Ritter?" Rashida eyes the dapper gentleman approvingly as he strolls into the mess, cane in hand.

For a moment Vorian freezes on the spot, his eyes widening with surprise.

"Go after Virago? Surely you can't be serious," he finally forces himself to say, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I thought that we were going to go after Von Ryuko, what with all that nonsense that happened yesterday. We can't let him get away with it, after all."

In spite of his words, his tone held equal parts relief and anticipation. It was a selfish desire, but he had wanted nothing more than to make the Duchess' mother pay for what she had done to his crew. To think that the night before, he had stood just feet away from the man who had helped her do it. The idea alone made him sick. But the helmetcat - or Virago herself now, he supposed - was far worse.

And asides from that, Vorian very much needed to keep his condition in mind. Having consumed the rest of his draught as one dosage, he could not hope to last long - especially if every night turned out to be as eventful as the one before.

Rashida's proposal provided an opportunity for both vengeance and respite.

"But on the other hand..."

"I am perfectly serious, Lord Ritter. We are uniquely qualified to do it. We currently have two helmetcats to combat the ghostcat in the machine. The rest of us will be required to try to contain Gahiji. With any luck, they will not have the means to use whatever weapons Virago may have. My brother's bloodlust has doubtless eliminated all on board who are capable of aiding them." Rashida's face is cold and impassive, oblivious to the pain her words might cause the owner of the ship and the father of its crew.

The Egyptian ticks off her points with her long, gilded fingernails, which have apparently been repaired after the chaos of the previous night. "Besides, it may be premature to strike at Von Ryuko. Unless I am mistaken, Rorenson -- I mean, dear Taraz -- has an angle of his own to pursue. Acting against Von Ryuko before Taraz has completed preparations could guarantee failure. I have no doubt he will signal when ready - probably a rather spectacular signal. Did you think he had deserted you? Us? You do not understand him, then, nor the lengths to which he will go... but anyway, yes. I propose retaking Virago."

Put off by the woman's tone somewhat, he leans forward a bit, resting his elbow on the table. Now then, what is this all about?

"Nonsense," Vorian replies, waving away Rashida's words, "I have never doubted Lord Rorenson. Nor the Masons, for that matter. Not since that stunt they all pulled at the ball. But make no mistake, that is not to say that I understand the man. I would not be so quick to say that any of us do." Frowning, the nobleman smooths out his coat before seating himself.

"I am not sure what value an illegal weapon of mass destruction would have to our ideally covert pursuits, but I am sure something on board will be of use. There are more than just expensive baubles within her vaults." Assuming they haven't already been found. "Will it even be possible to kill your brother, Lady Massri? My understanding is that he is more than human. We had enough trouble with just one immortal, after all."

"It's been done before, Lord Ritter," Rashida says clinically, flushing slightly, "All of us have been killed before. Which brings me to the point: if what is on that ship is returned to the family, as I am certain Gahiji intends, we could have more avatars running around, and they might very well be unfriendly to us, as well as to the rest of humanity." Pouring herself a cup of hot, black coffee, she blows across the surface with ruby lips. "Of course, if we can figure a way to turn them against Von Ryuko or League, we may be able to use them. But I don't like that idea very much, do you? What good is a weapon you can't control, which very well may turn on you?"

She pauses to sip her coffee, musing, as her eyes search Cassie and Vorian's faces.

Cassie watches on her mind caught up in a dream, seemingly never-ending. Vorian's entrance doesn't seem to dissuade this especially with the line the conversation has taken. 'This might be slightly over my head?' she thinks trying to understand what is going on.

"Well, what did we discover from our stay here? Besides our new crewmates, that is. We've barely had a chance to chat. What did you find from local contacts - anything?"

Alyce drifts in, slinking to the buffet to pick up a pastry and stand uncertainly in the middle of the room. Rashida fixes her with a bright stare.

"Well, what's your part in all of this, girl? Are you part of whatever it was that happened in the theater last night?"

Alyce shakes her head uncertainly but says nothing, as her mouth is full of cranberry muffin.

"Not much I'm afraid, but something nonetheless. I believe I mentioned it briefly before we headed to the opera," Vorian starts, helping himself to a cup of coffee. He takes a sip before going on. "A trusted confidant has informed me that the League has become aware of the debacle on Ritiro del Gigante. Unfortunately, in the wake of that mess, they have no idea exactly what transpired. Apparently there is no evidence that Darkov and his men were deployed there, meaning that the entire operation was off the record. But more to the point..." The noble takes another sip of coffee, his expression souring. "The High Noble Margrave Donner Wolfkrone was the one who led the investigation - he found the Old Duke's body. As of yesterday, he called for an emergency meeting among the League's leadership. He is putting forth the claim that a terrorist organization was responsible for Leto's assassination."

"It's unlikely that Von Ryuko intended for the League to learn of what happened - we were supposed to die on that island. If things fare well, he will have made an enemy of the Aristocracy; we would have no shortage of allies. But if he truly has an ally among the High Nobles... we could be those terrorists."

Rashida paces nervously, nails clicking against her bracelets. "Absurd! We were victims, or to be victims, that is obvious. The fact that the Massris willingly sent me there makes me suspect they would be happy to have me out of the way... which is why I do not wish to remain in this place should they decide to send a family member to investigate. If there is something we can do about the League or Von Ryuko or the Assassins that you think would be time better spent than running down Virago, count on my support - as long as we move from this place. If you wish to stay here, I, at least, must leave. All I will do is bring trouble upon you."

She whirls and faces Ritter and DuSollier, urgency in every line of her body. "So let us decide quickly - I care not where: London, Paris, Reykjavik, Peking - and let us be gone!"

"Ha. No force in this world can stand between the League and their bureaucracy. For all we know it will take them weeks to act on mere suspicion. Seeing as two High Nobles afforded to see Don Giovanni instead of rushing off to answer Wolfkrone's call, it hardly seems like they're taking this seriously," Vorian suggests, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. "If getting out of here is all that counts, then we might as well go after Virago nonetheless. But ah, would you happen to know where that damned cat took my ship?"

Rashida looks at Vorian blankly. "Can't.... don't you know where your ship is? Can't you track it?" she stutters for a moment, then regains a bit of composure. "If not, our best choice is to plot a course from Ritiro del Gigante to the Massri stronghold at Thebes and try to intercept Virago along the way. If we get close enough, we can simply open the windows and follow the screams..." She shivers.

Cassie breaks out of her reverie; "You died?!?" she looks at Rashida with wide eyes of despair, with just a fleck of golden hope.

Subtly she positions her body between the duo and Alyce, with a half turn and a wink at the youth. 'She seems not wish to come under Rashida's gaze, well I guess Massri's is imposing." her eyes flick at the Egyptians impossible beauty.

"Not Reykjavik, for the Princess there may have some unfinished business with us." Cassie says softly remembering the enigmatic and hungry look upon the royal visage.

"I have some friends in Lyon, but Paris is too hot.... I believe that was one of the mason's strongholds. They'll be hunted there... the vaults under Notre Dame." her voice holds some melancholy at the thought.

"However you are correct we must go after Gahiji, he'll have travelled South. I've some contacts in Morrocco and Persia, though MiLady Rashida - yours might be more reliable." her soft lips quirk at the thought of Ahmard and his crazy sherbet inspired stories. "I could occupy Gahiji, at least for a few minutes... if we can find some way to stop him, or at least subvert his plans." the words slip out carefully, whilst she subconsciously slips into a fighting stance.

"We might have a chance then," Vorian says, contemplating their next course of action. "Virago is an old warship from before the Great War - she is not equipped to be driven by spirit power. Nothing more than crude fossil fuels power her engines, and she has not been refueled since before I departed from my vaults in the Alps. The Duchess' mother may be in control, but she cannot force it to fly without fuel. I don't know how, but she will have to replenish it somewhere. It is as you said, Lady Massri. Perhaps we can intercept them."

Rashida grimaces slighly. "Any contacts I might have are family contacts, which means that it may be dangerous to use them. There are factions within the family that I frankly do not know or understand, having been asleep for fifty years or so. But the goddess and I fear that the family has become skewed towards the side of chaos and destruction. She, of course, desires balance - not denying chaos, but not wishing to plunge the world into it, either. If the things in your ship become revenants of more beings of chaos, more powerful ones, the balance is in serious jeopardy."

Ivory teeth worry ruby lips for a moment. "I can always send a message to the Massris, letting them know that all is well here, the ship is being repaired, and that we are heading to... oh, I don't know... Istanbul?" She smiles.

Alyce sidles up to Cassie and murmurs softly, "I may be able to help with information wherever we go. After all, Masons are everywhere and willing to help on another. I... can I go with you, Lady DuSollier?" She looks almost adoringly at the chic Frenchwoman.

Drake comes into the room, his normal non-chalant walk marre by a limp and his holding onto an arm as if it had been hurt. His deep brown eyes survey the area before he limpw to the group. He gives them all a slight grin which is hampered by a new, purpling bruise under his right eye,

"Lady Rashida. I am glad you are doing welln I assume everyone has had a peaceful sleep? Though you seem determined about something. Am I late to a special meeting."

Gently she reaches over and puts an arm upon Alyces' velvet sleeve , with a warm smile as Cassie is strangely reassured by the girl not significantly her junior. "Of course you can come with us." her voice warm; "Why with your knowledge, taste and skills...."

"After all, the men would be disheartened if you left." she looks up, a small crease of quandary crosses her countenance. "Speaking of... what happened to you Drake?" there's genuine sympathy in her tone, the adrenaline of the night before made her unobservant of her companions wounds.

With a wince of a wink Drake tries to make Alyce amused but then Cassie turns her sights on him and he shrugs, "Sometimes being known as an actor comes at a price. Speaking to wives can be dangerous even when not flirting." He chuckles, "I have to say the ship's crew is fast to stop fights. He's all bundled off the ship ... with his wife."

Drake looks about and frowns, "Our squirrel isn't here? I thought I heard him go out."

Cassie tilts her head waggling a finger at Drake, "It's that naughty twinkle in your eye, full of.... mischief." she adds hardly keeping the smile from her face. "You should probably not promise so many physicals." she winks trying to lighten the serious mood.

Taking the beautiful Alyce's arm with her own, Lady DuSollier adds; "Fortunately, Alyce is to join us. We are heading South, there's some refuelling depots and places to check out." she looks to the wide windows at the end of the mess, which reveals the cities silhouette. "I expect Squirrel will be back soon, he hopefully just went to talk to his friends...." the dancer adds optimistically.