tristranthorn | [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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Tristran grins.

"I think being happy is the most important thing of all."

Yvaine hums out a quiet noise of consideration, smiling softly again.

There are just some things that you don't argue against.

"Perhaps," the star replies after a few moments of silence. "There are worse things in all the world than you, Tristran Thorn."

Tristran lets the smile on his face linger for a moment before a sudden bout of very strange Awkward overcomes him. (And he does not notice, but his heart is beating a little quicker.)

He clears his throat, expression becoming neutral once more, and straightens.

"Well, I suppose I should leave you to your rest," he says, standing.

Yvaine's cheeks color abruptly and she frowns, resisting the very tempting urge to slap a palm over her face and groan miserably.

She's going to go to bed and she's going to wake up normal. None of this lazing about socializing and being friendly stuff. This whole liking business will not be effecting her anymore than she can help.

"I suppose," she replies neutrally. "Yes."

And Tristran is going to go to bed and ... think of Victoria. Right. That is what he's going to do; think about his true love. Because that is what dashing young heroes do when they are on a quest for their lady. They think and dream about them whenever they get a spare moment.

"So -- um..." He begins to cross towards the door before turning and glancing in her direction. "Good night, then. I'll see you in the morning."

"Of course you will."

Her head tilts back a bit and she spares him a glance of his own before settling comfortably once more.

"I'm not running anywhere, Tristran," she quips with a wry twist of her lips, sighing lightly to herself. "In case you have not noticed, we are rather high in the air."

"I know," he says, nodding. "I know that. I was just --"

Shaking his head, he turns back to the door. "Never mind. Good night."

He reaches for the latch and pulls it towards him, opening the door. He doesn't recognize anything that should belong in the ship.

"Um...Yvaine?"

"Yes, Tristran?"

One eye blinks open slowly, followed by the other.

"Fine. That was rude, yes," she allows, propping herself on her elbow and turning toward him with a slightly exasperated roll of her eyes. "Good night to you too, of cour-- oh."

Well then. Different story entirely.

"It's the bar," he explains, gesturing her to come and see for herself. "The bar is in the ship."

"Well, it has been in an abandoned shack - and near a tree," she reasons, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed a bit stiffly. "I see little reason why it should not be in the ship."

After a slight stumble when she stands her chin tilts determinedly and she limps over to join him, peering through the doorway and looking rather impressed.

"It is rather good at being wherever it pleases."

While that is true that the bar tends to show up everywhere, they are high up in the air. It still seems all too unrealistic for a bar to be in a flying pirate ship.

"I wonder if the pirates might have seen it," he says, passing a hand through the door, then slowly withdrawing it. "But -- well, we cannot possibly go now. There is a lot to do."

He begins to close the door, hoping the bar will disappear once it is shut.

Her arm reaches out - hand closing over his for a moment and halting the motion before she withdraws it hastily, fingers still tingling. Mission accomplished though, she reasons, the door is still open.

"Maybe you cannot possibly go," she says reasonably enough, stepping in front of him the slightest bit. "I find myself to be an entirely different story."

The rules of here shouldn't really apply to there.

"Perhaps you will freeze while I am gone," she grins over at him. "The sun did, after all."

"But you said that where I go, you will go too," he argues, hand frozen, still clutching the door.

The tingling is gone, now.

"And we really must get to Wall. You understand. We're almost there, I'm sure."

"I did not say that you would not get there," she replies. "Nor did I say that I would not follow you."

She flexes her fingers and shrugs mildly.

"But there is nothing to follow if you are not moving."

He looks at her.

Stares, in fact.

"Yvaine, we really can't," he says, even though his argument falls flat. He can already tell that he is going to be the loser in this argument.

He lets out a sigh.

She just looks back.

Blinks lazily and raises one highly unimpressed eyebrow. That argument was rather pathetic, that's what it was.

"Really?"

And then she grins again. Triumphantly.

Yes, well. There isn't really much he can do about it, so why bother arguing at all?

"This is the last time we take a break in the bar," he says firmly. "Okay?"

He means it!

Honestly, he should know better than to argue with her by now.

He doesn't seem to have the best track record for winning.

She does her best to school her expression into a very serious and solemn and believing one, really she does. "Last time, of course."

He doesn't exactly believe her, but what other choice does he have but to accept it anyway?

"Good."

With a sigh, he steps through it, knowing that Yvaine won't be far behind. After all, it was her idea to go in.

She waves him past, fingers brushing his shoulder as he goes and looking decidedly pleased with herself.

Life can't be too terrible when she's getting her way.

"Whither thou goest," she grins, stepping through after him and letting the door shut behind her.

[014] OOM - Aboard the Free Ship, Perdita

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