Ter'thelas is leaning against the railing, staring out at that grand horizon, the sea breeze whipping the Elf's long hair around his face. Fortunately, the Sin'dorei doesn't really seem to notice that, lost in though as he is. He blinks, snapping out of his reverie when he heard someone singing. He turns his head to one side, appraising Deuce quietly for a moment.
"Pachave tut," Deuce said, nodding to the... Well now.
Deuce had seen many strange things in his life -- demons, angels, gods, and men caught in-between -- but never had he seen something like the gentleman before him. Keeping in mind Ace's warning of the long-eared man called Erol, he smiled warmly but did not offer his hand. It never hurt to be cautious.
"My thanks," he repeated, this time in English. "It helps settle my thoughts."
Ter'thelas arches one extravagant eyebrow at the strange words, but smiles when the man speaks in a language he can understand. He replies in a like manner.
"You're quite welcome. I always preferred playing the viola, myself. Alas, there aren't any to be found here."
"None at all?" Deuce asked, frowning. He thought of the mountains of luggage outside of his room. "There must be at least one, surely. What of fiddles?" Deuce winced, sheepish; his question had been sharper than he intended.
"Apologies. I am being terribly rude." He gave his hat a perfunctory tip. "Deuce is my name. May I trouble you for yours?"
"To tell you the truth, I haven't actually looked." As his name is asked, he executes an extravagant bow, one hand tucked neatly at the small of his back as the other sweeps forward in front of him.
"I am Sir Ter'thelas Baelion, formerly of Silvermoon, now trapped about this cruise to hell. A pleasure to meet you."
Deuce canted his head. "Is it so bad here, then?" Those he had spoken to had seemed content enough. It was a guess, of course; a conclusion made having only heard their voices and the words they chose.
Deuce needed to see them, to touch them, only then would he know if the calm he had heard in their voices was truly genuine or an elaborate lie.
Ter'thelas actually laughed at that, a loud, boisterous sound that was quickly swept away by the breeze. Then, his mood changed, his face shifting into a dark frown and he glanced around as if being watched before sliding a bit closer, speaking more quietly.
"Well, the ship is captained by a madman with god-like powers and populated with psychopaths, so yes. I'd say it's quite bad, given that we've no choice but to go along with the little game." His face and voice do quite a good job of conveying his seriousness.
Deuce merely nodded; gods and psychopaths sounded a little too much like home for him to be impressed or worried. It being a game, however.
He had never had a taste for games where the pieces were people.
"Miro prala--" Deuce stopped, wiped the the words away with a lazy roll of fingers. "My brother," he corrected, tone a little flat, "he has told me some. He was killed and did not stay dead. Raising the dead, it is possible, but true resurrection..." Deuce shook his head and lifted his hands helplessly. He didn't have the words.
Ter grimaced. Poor bastard had no idea what he'd been hijacked into, did he? He merely shakes his head and turns to lean against the railing again, frowning deeply.
"I've seen it. A friend of mine died, got brought back. Others too. It's like they want to keep toying with us."
Deuce closed his eyes as if pained. The magic involved, the price--
"I have seen true resurrection only twice in my life," he said very softly. "Once by a goddess and once by a devil. Both required sacrifice. Selfless love. Forfeiture of soul."
He opened his eyes. "There is not so much love here."
"The captain, as they say, is a great man." He shuddered. He didn't like the captain. Or the crew. They were all too strange, too alien to him. They didn't behave the way he would expect them to, even with that power.
"He's also a Light-damned nut job straight from the Twisting Nether. And I have no idea what he takes from you when he brings you back. I never heard him ask a price."
Deuce threw back his head and laughed. It was a warm, amused sound. "Ah, my friend, mi perdoni." He drew in a breath. "It is only, magic, she demands payment. Always." He brought up his hand, turning it in a slow, methodical flourish. A blue glow suffused it. "Even this. It is small and I am willing to pay it, but it is there."
Deuce snapped his fingers, dispelling the show of light. "And asking-- ah, me. Why ask when you can simply take?"
He shook his head, sighed. "A great man, our captain?" he mused, humming. "My people call the sea 'the great water.' It is not a good thing."
"Ah, the arcane. I never had the head for it. My parents always wanted me to be a magistar, but I was destined to be a sailor." He chuckled softly, watching the show of light bemusedly.
"I call him 'great' only in the sense that his power is great, you must understand."
Deuce nodded, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. "Great and terrible," he said, sighing. His rosary and medallions were a welcome weight around his neck. They might not have done much against magic, but they certainly gave him peace of mind. Some days all one had was one's peace of mind.
Deuce smiled slightly at Sir Ter'thelas. "A sailor? Truly?"
"You sing very well."
Reply
Deuce had seen many strange things in his life -- demons, angels, gods, and men caught in-between -- but never had he seen something like the gentleman before him. Keeping in mind Ace's warning of the long-eared man called Erol, he smiled warmly but did not offer his hand. It never hurt to be cautious.
"My thanks," he repeated, this time in English. "It helps settle my thoughts."
Reply
"You're quite welcome. I always preferred playing the viola, myself. Alas, there aren't any to be found here."
Reply
"Apologies. I am being terribly rude." He gave his hat a perfunctory tip. "Deuce is my name. May I trouble you for yours?"
Reply
"To tell you the truth, I haven't actually looked." As his name is asked, he executes an extravagant bow, one hand tucked neatly at the small of his back as the other sweeps forward in front of him.
"I am Sir Ter'thelas Baelion, formerly of Silvermoon, now trapped about this cruise to hell. A pleasure to meet you."
Reply
Deuce needed to see them, to touch them, only then would he know if the calm he had heard in their voices was truly genuine or an elaborate lie.
He debated offering Sir Ter'thelas his hand.
Reply
"Well, the ship is captained by a madman with god-like powers and populated with psychopaths, so yes. I'd say it's quite bad, given that we've no choice but to go along with the little game." His face and voice do quite a good job of conveying his seriousness.
Reply
He had never had a taste for games where the pieces were people.
"Miro prala--" Deuce stopped, wiped the the words away with a lazy roll of fingers. "My brother," he corrected, tone a little flat, "he has told me some. He was killed and did not stay dead. Raising the dead, it is possible, but true resurrection..." Deuce shook his head and lifted his hands helplessly. He didn't have the words.
Reply
"I've seen it. A friend of mine died, got brought back. Others too. It's like they want to keep toying with us."
Reply
"I have seen true resurrection only twice in my life," he said very softly. "Once by a goddess and once by a devil. Both required sacrifice. Selfless love. Forfeiture of soul."
He opened his eyes. "There is not so much love here."
Reply
"He's also a Light-damned nut job straight from the Twisting Nether. And I have no idea what he takes from you when he brings you back. I never heard him ask a price."
Reply
Deuce snapped his fingers, dispelling the show of light. "And asking-- ah, me. Why ask when you can simply take?"
He shook his head, sighed. "A great man, our captain?" he mused, humming. "My people call the sea 'the great water.' It is not a good thing."
Reply
"I call him 'great' only in the sense that his power is great, you must understand."
Reply
Deuce smiled slightly at Sir Ter'thelas. "A sailor? Truly?"
Reply
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