Tristran Thorn

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!

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"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?"

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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?"

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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."

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Tristran is about to say something further, when --

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"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.

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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."

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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.

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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."

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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?

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"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.

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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.

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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."

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"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.

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"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.

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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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Grinning, the man with the moustache holds his hand out and Tristran takes it, quickly getting to his feet.

"Welcome aboard," he says, glancing between Tristran, then Yvaine. "This is the Free Ship Perdita, bound on a lightning-hunting expedition." He takes a bow, then straightens before letting out a cough. "Captain Johannes Alberic, at your service."

He doesn't let either of them say a word before he takes in a breath and shouts: "Meggot! Meggot! Blast you, where are you? Over here! Passengers in need of attention. There lad, Meggot'll see to your hand." He gestures to Tristran's burnt hand, then glances in Yvaine's direction before looking back at Tristran. "We eat at six bells. You shall sit at my table."

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Soon after the shouting has ceased a rather nervous-looking woman with an explosive mop of red hair makes her way out onto the deck, introduces herself - Meggot, of course - and very promptly escorts Tristran below decks, leaving a rather bewildered star to blink rather uselessly at the remaining crew members.

He is pulled into a cabin where the woman spends a few minutes smearing a thick, green ointment onto his hand before sending him back on his way.

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Tristran eventually finds his way into the dining room, next to the kitchen (which he is enthusiastically delighted to hear them call the galley, as they did in many of the pirate stories he read as a kid) and is led to the captain's table -- even if there is no other table within the mess, anyway.

Still, the table quickly fills with Meggot, the captain and five other crew members sitting around it, all content with letting Captain Alberic do the talking with an ale-pot in one hand and a pipe in the other (when it isn't shoveling food into his mouth).

The food is wonderful. He eats as much as he can stomache, relishing the soup (full of scrumptious steamed vegetables), and the sweetest, chilled water he's ever had the pleasure of tasting.

Conversation goes by with neither of them asking questions about their personal lives (as Tristran would not feel comfortable to answer anything and so he did not volunteer).

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Yvaine doesn't eat much - well, to be completely honest, she doesn't eat at all - but it all does look rather lovely and the glass of water is cool and pleasant as she runs her fingers along the rim.

She listens eagerly to the hum of voices and the Captain's stories are far better than half of the ones that her sisters have told her. This might be because they are real, but that is of little matter. They are fascinating all the same.

She finds herself grinning rather widely as she is led to her cabin - borrowed from Meggot, who will be taking a hammock despite her urgings to the contrary (She can be polite on occasion, hard as it is to believe.) - and she lays back on the bed, even more pleased with her new clothes. (Also borrowed from Meggot.)

Things are looking pretty up at the moment. It's surprisingly nice.

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Similarly, Tristran is given a cabin, courtesy of a strange fellow who goes by the name Oddness, first mate of the ship. He is a quiet gentleman with large wings and a bad stammer, but he is interesting, and Tristran quite likes him.

Once Tristran is alone in his cabin, he finds himself growing bored quite quickly. He wonders whether Yvaine is all right -- he had barely spoken a single word to her throughout dinner -- and whether she's comfortable. After all, her leg must be bothering her still, and it will take a bit of effort to get into a comfortable position.

Perhaps...maybe it wouldn't be so bad just to check.

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There is a chance, perhaps, that if he is close enough to the door he may very well hear quiet humming coming from somewhere inside the room - and considering the little else that is inside the room guessing where it is coming from shouldn't be all that difficult, really.

The door, one might note, is also rather open.

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Tristran notices. And he pauses by the door for a moment just to listen.

But he is here for a reason, and before any of the crew members find him loitering by the star's cabin, he clears his throat and enters her room, standing close to the door frame.

"Hullo."

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