Tristran Thorn

"Great winds blew, mountains shook, the clouds of fire wept vast waves over the rocks and the creatures of the world - taken and trapped by some strange new emptiness - were scattered to all ends of every place."

The words come faster now, as if caught up in some spectacular storm - lost somewhere, frantic and searching.

"To the skies and to the seas, over tall hills and across the greatest of distances. Some grew tails, some grew wings, some swallowed magic like air, and some - some just simply were."

From:

The earlier smirk has eased - replaced by the same quiet fascination as the rest of the crew.

No one raises a voice to interrupt - there are no questions or the familiar remarks that the Captain's stories garner. Just silence and the slow shift of breathing.

From:

"It was then they say that love began and love was no sweet, soft thing. Love was a pain - a vast, hollow space that when filled is the sweetest, softest of things," her hand raises to her chest unconsciously, fingers pressing at the space. "It is finding the one you belong to. Finding what has been missing and trying to fit yourselves back together, as close as you can manage. To become one thing again."

Her cheeks flush mildly at the insinuation, eyes rising, sharp and caught when they meet Tristran's across the table.

"My mother says -" she swallows. "My mother says that you know love when your fingers fit like a reflection, when you look in someones eyes and you find yourself there - when you can see no parting from them."

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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."

From:

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.

From:

"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.

From:

"'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!"

From:

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."

From:

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.

From:

"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."

From:

"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."

From:

"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."

From:

"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.

From:

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.

From:

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!"

From:

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.

From:

"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?"

From:

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.

From:

"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?"

From:

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

"Let us bravely face our doom, then."

From:

"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.

From:

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.

From: