tristranthorn | [015] OOM - Finding Port, Last Night on Perdita

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[015] OOM - Finding Port, Last Night on Perdita

Life on the Perdita, Tristran finds, is very different from anything he's ever experienced in his life. For one, they are above the ground, many miles up, where the only thing they see is cloud. This is nothing like his stable-life in Wall, where everything is very much grounded -- literally.

The folk aboard the Perdita is also another thing. Every last one of Alberic's crew has their own unique quality or quirk. He's never met a bunch of men (and woman: Meggot) more colourful than them. Each one of them has a story to tell and throughout the two weeks of their journey with them, he's learned a lot -- about things he never could have imagined, about places he's never even dreamed of, and people he could never hope to meet.

Wall, Tristran decides, is a very closed, rather self-indulgent little place in comparison (not to say he doesn't love his home). Even with the likes of the fair as some pathetic attempt at being open-minded, it couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of the worlds upon worlds surrounding it.

In any case, Tristran has been enjoying his time on the pirate ship, but as a fortnight quickly passes (bar-time included), he expects this part of the journey is about to come to a close.

That evening during dinner, Alberic announces to his crew and the couple, that in less than twelve hours, they should be near a harbour tree -- a convenient enough landing port for Tristran and Yvaine to get off and continue their travels on foot back to Wall.

"We'll be needin' to replenish our supplies," Alberic booms, swishing his glass of wine around. "So we can let you off at the same time."

"Thank you," Tristran responds, politely. "We are very grateful for all you've done for us."

"Not to worry m'boy." Alberic grins. "You've but one thing to promise me though."

"What's that?"

"Keep practicin' with that sword of yours. You've a lot to learn yet, but you'll do fine."

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Someone -- a feminine someone -- breathes a dreamy sigh. Several heads turn to see Meggot leaning forward, elbows upon the table's surface, watching the star intently with a faint smile upon her lips.

"Well, that's poetry," she says, voice soft.

"Are there characters to this story?" another voice takes the opportunity to ask -- while there's an interruption.

Tristran swallows uneasily, from his spot, picking his drink up and taking a much needed sip.

He tears his gaze away from the star's, face feeling uncomfortably hot, and slowly (and silently) nods.

The star's gaze flickers almost gratefully in her direction, fingers knotting together in front of her, then glances further down the table.

"Well, that is where we're going, of course," she replies, voice bright with ~~forced~~ cheer. "Off to impress a beautiful, wonderful girl. There are always characters to every story - one true love and all that."

"So is that what it is for you, i-is that what you see? Forever in someone else?" she doesn't quite glance back at him. "Though I could be wrong, it is just what I have been told."

The pirate asking for characters nods.

"'At's good. I always like characters," another says. "Makes the stories more interestin'."

In another whirlwind of movement, many heads turn their attention on Tristran.

"It's --" Tristran starts, a little self-conscious, with all the attention focused on him now. "Something like that, yes," he concedes.

He'd been hoping for all of that and more with the fair Miss Victoria Forester. He dreamed of it at night and thought about it during the day.

...However, it isn't exactly what he feels, though. Odd, that.

"'Course it is," the chef adds, arms folding lazily behind his head with a grin. "If'n you're doing it properly, that is."

There's a series of groans - they've heard that all before - leers and exceedinly bawdy comments before Tobias is up and out of his chair, silverware clenched in his hand once more.

"Now don't you talk about my wife that way!"

The star jerks down harshly on his arm, glaring in a rather displeased manner at the table at large before clearing her throat and pasting on the sort of overly pleasant smile that silences them once more.

"Now," she chimes. "We were being civilized. I would sincerely appreciate it if we could continue."

She shrugs mildly, "Otherwise I've got a full set of silverware here for tossing and rather good aim if you'd like to ask Tristran."

Tristran shrugs easily in response to that.

"It's true," he says, and one of the pirates to his right slaps him on the back, laughing heartily.

"Go on, then!" Alberic prompts the star once more. "Tell us the rest, Lady Star."

He turns to his crew.

"And the lot of ye -- shut up."

"Well, there isn't really much of a rest to it," she admits. "Unless you want our story and I'm somehow certain that you've all weaseled most of that out of someone already."

She pauses for a moment and laughs when she receives no contradictions.

"In short, all we have so far is wandering and witches and silver chains - and if any one of you mentions bondage -" her eyes roll at the guilty cough from somewhere to her left. "I will challenge you personally. I may not be any good at it but I have no reservations about cheating, unlike Prince Charming over there."

"Well, that was a fine story, Lady," Meggot says, putting her hands together in light applause.

Several others follow.

"Aye, that it was," Alberic says with a knowing smile. A short moment later, Tobias stands and begins collecting plates, mugs and other utensils lying about the table.

"And now I say we dance," the captain continues, getting to his feet. "Come, lads, ladies, let us adjourn to the decks."

"D-dancing?" Tristran says, nervously looking up. Again? He remembers the last time he went a-dancing.

It was an embarrassing sort of event. Something he should have hoped never to repeat again. He had turned far too red, and became far too...fumbly.

He sneaks a glance in Yvaine's direction.

Yvaine meets his gaze and mouths a silent 'Again?' - rolling her eyes and pointedly ignoring the light flush that makes its way across her cheeks. Well, at least they can't be as awkward about it as they were last time.

One hopes.

There's several voices speaking at once again, comments flying and quips quick to answer, silverware disappearing and a flurry of motion toward the galley doors:

"We don't have enough ladies!"

"You're enough of a lady, you great arse!"

"Yer steppin' on me ye great lummox - get moving! Outside!"

Soon, the only ones left in the room are Tristran, Yvaine.

Slowly, he begins to stand, swallowing as he makes his way towards the doors, wishing something would strike him down. Not enough to kill him, but to perhaps...maim his leg to the point of ... not being able to dance! Right.

"Are you -- ready?" he asks her.

"Are you?" she asks with a laugh, pausing at the doorway for a moment and glancing up at him with an almost hopeful sort of wondering.

"I'm supposing they won't believe us if we both claim to be very suddenly and very violently ill?"

He shakes his head.

"I doubt they will," Tristran says, laughing too. "And they certainly wouldn't believe us if we told them we went to a midsummer's party at the end of the universe and had a dance already, either."

Yep. They're doomed.

"Ah, but then they might actually think that we were ill - it might not be the kind I was going for, but that's alright."

She hooks her arm through his and straightens her shoulders with all the solemnness of a soldier marching off to battle. Or certain doom. Whichever.

"Shall we then?"

"Yes." He nods, taking a deep breath. He pats her hand.

"Let us bravely face our doom, then."

"I warn you now that Tobias will likely tease you about my virtue," she quips - rather cheerfully, all things considered - before tugging him easily through the door and out onto the deck amid the renewed sound of voices and the light strains of music coming from Oddness and a rather strange looking instrument with far too many strings.

Tristran merely raises both eyebrows at that, letting her tug him along to the deck and the music.

Alberic and Meggot are already dancing, and a group of the crew are standing at the sidelines, clapping in time to the music.

It's overall a pleasant atmosphere; he's just not looking forward to the actual dancing part.

It's a bit more comfortable, all things considered. She knows them - has had her feathers snatched, has been carted around, has be teased, poked and prodded by them for the past two weeks - so she's more at ease with these particular eyes than any other ones.

"Okay," she replies, coming to a stop and turning herself around to face him. "At least we've had practice, yes?"

"If you want to call it that," Tristran mumbles, getting himself into position. This should not feel like torture. It really shouldn't.

As soon as his skin comes in contact with hers, there's that familiar not entirely unpleasant tingling, and then there's the closeness as he brings his arm around her waist again -- all of it adds up to the familiar feeling of stupid awkwardness.

Alberic laughs, as he turns his head mid-step, to see them.

"There you are!" he booms cheerfully. "We were beginning to wonder whether you'd run off!"

He jerks his head towards the 'band', and shouts, "Another song, Oddness! Something -- waltzy!"

"Rather wish we had run off," she mutters, low enough for only Tristran to hear, hand winding lightly behind his neck - closer this time and she's not precisely certain why.

A bit louder, head tilting slightly to glance over her shoulder at the Captain's wide grin.

"Don't try to get all fancy on us."

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