tristranthorn | [014] OOM - Aboard the Free Ship, Perdita

Current Location: The Free Ship, Perdita

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[014] OOM - Aboard the Free Ship, Perdita

Tristran finds himself thinking of everything at the top of the spire of cloud he sits upon. There is a sense of perspective, sitting here. Everything is so simple, so...straight-forward, so...small from up here.

His stomach growls and he can't help but think that while adventures are well and good, there is certainly a lot to be said for regular meals and freedom from pain, like the pain he feels right now. He wishes he had his rucksack, or somehow they could open some mysterious door to Milliways again, if only so he could get something to eat. He doesn't need anything elaborate. He'll even take a plain loaf of bread. His hand throbs with heat and pain, and he wishes there were something he could do to stop it, but it's useless, no matter what he thinks.

Still, he is grateful to be alive with the wind in his hair and the fantastic view spread out before him, so wide he could never fully take it all in. The sky is so blue, so different from the way he might have viewed it from earth, and everything felt different to him from all the way up here. There is a sense of nowness.

Most of all, it is terribly quiet in a peaceful sort of way and it makes him want to ... disturb it. Just because. Standing upon the cloud spire, he calls out, "Halloo!" several times, belting it out as loudly as he can. It feels strangely exhilerating.

He wants to laugh. He wants to feel that pulse of adrenaline run through him and act like a fool. And when he does, he feels ... free. It's a nice sort of feeling, even if he does it by himself (not that he isn't used to doing things by himself, as that was what his childhood mostly consisted of). As he clambers down the length of the spire to return to the 'ground', his footing slips and he falls at least ten feet, landing shortly after into the misty softness of the cloud.

And then he laughs quietly to himself.

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The star had been enjoying the view rather entirely and despite the sun warming her skin it really is the closest thing she's been to home in quite some time. (Also ignoring the fact that her home didn't come with the added worry that it might disappear from under her feet.)

She's smiling though, softly as she glances over at him, one eyebrow arcing, "What were you shouting about?"

"To let people know we were here," he says matter-of-factly, sitting up, still laughing a bit.

The smile tugs up a bit more and she tilts her chin imperiously, glancing at him down her nose.

"What people?"

She doesn't see any people.

"You never know," he says airily, then works to stand up, grinning as he bounces a little on cloud. It feels like sponge, or like he's stepping on a mattress. It really is kind of cool.

"Better I should call to people who aren't there than that people who are there should miss us because I didn't say anything."

Yvaine doesn't say a word, just splays her hands out behind her and leans back.

This, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he's right - or that he's starting to make sense to her. Because that would be terrifying.

He takes several steps forward, then stops when he is standing across from where Yvaine is.

"I've been thinking," he says, "and what I've been thinking is this." He settles himself down for a moment. This is better communicated when he is at the same level as she. "After we're done with what I need -- got you back to Wall, given you to Victoria Forester -- perhaps we could do what you need."

After all, she's made it clear, time and time again that she was not a gift and did not want to be owned or situated on anyone's mantle.

The star blinks back at him, eyes wide and impossibly blue, and her heart thumps rather painfully in her chest for a twisting, breathless sort of moment.

A hand raises to press lightly over the spot.

"What I need?"

Tristran nods quite knowledgeably. He has a feeling this will cheer her up, and he wants to cheer her up.

He is feeling content; there is no reason why Yvaine should not try to find something to be happy about, too.

"Well, you want to go back don't you? Up into the sky." He points upward. "To shine again at night. So we can sort that out."

He gets to his knees. For some reason, he can't sit still.

"That doesn't happen."

The edges of her dim and her eyes darken and drop back to her lap practically as soon as they make their way up to meet his.

He'll be happy and he won't need her anymore and it's somehow completely horrible to think that she doesn't have anywhere else to go. She can't go back and she doesn't know what she would do on her own.

"Stars fall," she continues factually. "They don't go back up again."

Oh, but his feelings of happiness are so strong, he is determined to rub some of that off on her.

"You could be the first," he encourages her, and is even half-tempted to take her hands. But he refrains. "You have to believe. Otherwise it will never happen."

Positivity is the key!

"It will never happen," she insists rather vehemently. "No more than your shouting is going to attract anyone up here where there isn't anyone."

He can't just leave her alone to sulk, can he?

Her arms cross stubbornly and she frowns in a manner that is decidedly uncondusive to his 'sharing the joy' plan, "It doesn't matter if I believe it or not, that's just the way things are."

And it is.

Doesn't matter how much he grins at her like that, it's not going to change anything. He wants to get rid of her and settle down with his perfect pastry-wife and she can't go home. (Not that her sisters wouldn't laugh at her if she did.) So there.

A quiet mumble, changing the subject, "How's your hand?"

Truthfully, he's a little dismayed by her lack of enthusiasm. He had really hoped to cheer her up. He really thought she would ... smile or something at the suggestion, and things could be happy for a moment. Sort of like when they were last at Milliways, making snow-angels outside...

"Hurts," he answers with a shrug. He gestures to her broken leg. "How's your leg?"

Yes, of course. Before he caught a violent case of death and she ran away and nearly got them both (and others not so nearly) killed.

They don't really have the best track record so far.

"Hurts," she echoes, and it really only started to once she began paying attention to it again. "But not as badly as it did before."

Tristran is about to say something further, when --

"Ahoy!"

There is a voice coming from somewhere far above them (and Tristran can now notice that a light shadow appears to have cast itself over him and the star).

"Ahoy down there! Parties in need of assistance?"

The ship -- as it is a ship -- glints gold in the sunlight, its sails billowing in the wind in a lively sort of manner. It lowers itself slightly and a man's face appears over the side.

"Was that you, young feller-me-lad, a-leaping and cavorting just now?" His face is rough, and he sports a moustache.

Tristran looks up, shielding his eyes with his unburnt hand. He hadn't really thought that someone would actually come around these parts, but he is relieved nevertheless.

The cloud is beginning to be temperamental -- who knows how much longer they will be able to stay atop it before it dissipates?

"It was," he answers loudly. "And I think we are in need of assistance, yes."

And that?

That just figures in some grand, cosmic sense of irony where the world really does enjoy laughing at her far too much.

Tristran's going to be insufferable.

There's a flurry of motion as people mill about on the deck behind him and the man's face disappears briefly before returning once more.

"Right-ho," he calls. "Get ready to grab the ladder, then."

He waves (with his good hand) and grins, turning once to glance behind him at Yvaine, then back up to the ship and the man.

It is then that he realizes that there is probably going to be a problem with the climbing of ladders...

"I'm afraid my friend has a broken leg," he calls out, "and I've hurt my hand. I don't think either of us can climb a ladder."

Useless bunch, aren't they?

"Not a problem!" the man shouts back. "We can pull you up."

A short moment later, there is the sound of a command being shouted to someone, and then a long rope ladder suddenly spills over the side of the ship, reaching the two travelers.

The look that crosses her face might, on any other person, be rather contrite. They were, after all, picked up by someone who was obviously listening to Tristran shouting like an imbecile.

The star, on the other hand, rewards him with a wry grin and sits up, holding out her hands expectantly.

You know, kind of like they've done this before.

Tristran takes her hands and helps her up, then with his good hand, catches one of the rungs of the ladder, holding it steady.

"You go first," he tells her. "And hold on tight."

"You too," she quips, pulling herself onto the rope ladder and smiling rather brightly. "It would please me if you did not fall to your untimely demise, seeing as I am rather obligated to follow you."

She quirks an eyebrow and very nearly yelps as the wind picks up and sends the ladder spinning slowly, fingers catching at his sleeve and attempting to retain some semblance of dignity.

"Now haul!" several voices shout all at once and the rope jerks upward several feet.

The call continues - "Haul! Haul! Haul! Haul!" - each shout signaling another upward pull and a fresh set of spinning.

Tristran spares a glance below him and notices that they've made quite a bit of progress -- the cloud which they had just been settled upon is no longer below them. It must be a mile or more down from where they are now...dropping would not be fun.

He hooks the elbow of his burned hand into one of the rungs while the other hand holds tightly to the rope and closes his eyes.

A moment later, Yvaine is helped aboard. Tristran, on the other hand, helps himself, stumbling over the railing and into the wooden deck.

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