The Docks at Dawn and Dusk
The night was an adventurous one in many ways and Maggie did not spend much of it sleeping. Rather, she roamed the city alone, spending quite a bit of time flitting from coffee house to park to the docks and back again. As a result, she is now seated on the wooden planking of the main dock, leaning against a piling with one leg dangling over the water. If she had a bottle of rum rather than a thermos she might pass as a pirate. If she held a lute rather than a sheet of parchment, she might be a minstrel. As it is, she is merely Maggie. When the sun breaks over the horizon, sending lances of yellow light over the curve of the ocean, she blinks and looks up. Drawing her leg back onto the dock proper, she sighs and leans back. Slowly, her eyes drift out over the docked ships though it is more by habit than expectation.
"Picked out the one you fancy, yet?" Kerf's voice comes from the other side of the piling. He'd been strolling along the piers himself, though probably not for as long, or they'd have run into each other sooner. His habitual care over giving a lady advance warning of his approach is belayed this time, by the ambient noise of crying gulls, lapping waves, and dock workers beginning their morning shifts after a good breakfast at the local cook shack. Propping his arm atop the piling, he leans out over the edge enough to let her see him, smiling wanly but clean, and clean-shaven too, in honour of the glamour of the red waistcoat he once more wears. "Ready when you are." He turns his regard back up over the dark waters to the slowly bobbing vessels.
Lost in her thoughts and the soothing sounds of the sea, Maggie is not forewarned by tramp or cough. Startled, she jumps only a little for the voice is familiar. Looking up from where she sits, she is once more struck by the familiarity of the man's face. Especially not when he is all clean shaven and decked out in that glorious red waistcoat. "I do believe so, yes." In answer to the question, presumably about which ship at the docks suites her, "I was thinking of something small and maneuverable, fast but with enough cargo space to make the journey profitable and enough weaponry to defend what is claimed." For a moment more, she remains looking up, her hair a soft fall of red staining the piling and pooling on the dock. "You?" Her attention drops then, scanning the ships docked nearby, then farther, "Maybe that sloop yonder."
Why, what else could he have meant? Kerf is far too good to indulge in double-speak. He nods to the practicality of her reply, gaze squarely on hers, then lingering as the angle changes, the light moving to ignite the top of her hair like a fiery coronet. Whatever thought comes to him at that point, he wears a frown as he straightens up to give the quay another slow scan. "For me? No.. no.. well? No.." he starts by striking each one off the shopping list, and presently sighs, "No. I'm afraid they all have the same fundamental problem."
Unaware of the scrutiny, Maggie nods, then glances up once more, "That being?" She is seated on the dock, back leaning against a piling. Her legs are stretched out along the wood and she holds a thermos of something in one hand and a sheef of paper in the other. Kerfuffle, clean shaven and bedecked once more in his glorious red waistcoat, leans against the other side of the same piling. The two are speaking loudly enough to be heard by each other over the lap of the ocean, the cries of sea birds and the rumble of morning activity but not much louder. The sun has just come up, sparking color from banners, pennants, Ker'f coat and Maggie's hair.
Mordecai makes his way down the docks, apparently looking for a ship.
"They've weighed anchor here," Kerf replies with a half-chuckle, like what does that even mean? Maybe he was doublespeaking after all. "Did you sleep well..? Or.. at all?"
Mordecai stops by something that seems to stand out. The lines and forms...and lack of sails...suggest Begman. It looks like it can't make up its mind between being a large pleasure cruiser and a small warship, what with the odd armaments along the edges that once again suggest Begman. "Ah. She does exist."
Maggie laughs, then sighs, "That is a problem, yes. But, perhaps one could be convinced to take a different direction." She glances across the docks to survey the people rather than the ships. A familiar voice drawing her attention for a moment. The question, however, begs an answer, "Sadly, no. What with one thing and another yesterday, I had too much on my mind. You?" Once more her gaze lifts to be caught by the sun-touched crimson waistcoat and the man's face above it.
"Wrugh," he emits the non-word in commiseration, as when suspicions are confirmed. What gave it away though.. too pale.. dark circles.. SPRAWLED on the WHARF..? Nope, he'll never say. "Oh some. Had to knock myself out after a while.. or I'd be useless and grouchy and.. well," he picks up one edge of the coat and shakes it at her. "Just wouldn't do. Not when today could be... The Day." He looks at her a little more, then abruptly, "What is that..?" Why hadn't he spotted that weird ship the first two times around? The man come to stand before it gets a curious look as well.
Mordecai takes out a pad of paper with a stiff cardboard back and starts sketching the boat.
Laughter lightens Maggie's mood, though she nods in agreement, "Oh, that is so true. Grouchy with such a bright waistcoat? Not at all the done thing." His further is noted with a more sober smile, "Today could be. I will try not to be grouchy if I am lucky enough to be there." His query is a bit startling, so Maggie sort of uncurls from the deck by drawing her legs up and leveraging. Peering around, her gaze lands on that one, oddly unique ship and she whistles, "Now... That is something." The man stopped in fron of it sparks a grin and Maggie motions Kerfuffle that way as she calls, "Doc! I've been meaning to track you down." Leaving the piling, she takes two strides before she turns back, "I've been hoping to introduce you to Mordecai, Kerf. And vice versa."
Kerf cracks a smile at Maggie's quip, turning back towards the piling as he hears shuffling, but she's already up and about. "Oh.. I see, yes," he nods, taking her meaning. "Is he with us, then?" He leans into forward motion, trodding over solid planking at her heels.
Mordecai looks up from his drawing, charcol freezing as if he's been caught. Then he relaxes and waves. "Oy!"
Maggie shrugs to Kerr's question, "No idea, yet. I hope so. We can certainly use his skills." When she nears, she slows, then pauses within comfortable conversational range, "Hey, Mordecai. Good to see you..." She does chuckle a little at the 'deer in the headlights' look that crosses the man's face, but it is a kindly sound for she has felt exactly like that several times in the last few days, "I'd like you to meet my friend, Kerf, here. Kerf, this is Mordecai. He is a barber-surgeon. Mortecai? What are you doing in the near future? Would you have time and the inclination to help us recover my ship? I know where she is and am putting together an expidition, but we need someone with medical skills."
There's the barest of held breaths as Maggie makes the introductions, and no, she does not use the full form of Kerf's moniker. "A pleasure, Mordecai." He gives Mordecai a brief, inexplicably relieved grin, and offers out his hand, the one that would be good for the other man, who is burdened by drawing tools at the moment. "Barber.. surgeon..?" he echoes more quietly while Maggie doesn't waste time getting to the meat of their meeting.
Mordecai says, "Field doctor. Medic. I was a Leftennant in the Amber Marines in another life. And sure, Maggie. How you getting there?"
Maggie smiles a bit of a relieved smile herself, "Excellent. By ship if I can find one willing to make the journey. It is a little complicated. My ship is stuck... either mired or anchored, outside a Gate. Walter Karm is coming to close the Gate, or do whatever it is that Walters do with Gates. I am going into Shadow this... I think this afternoon with a cousin of mine to find folk and equipment to repair my ship, so that piece of the puzzle will be settled. But... Neither Kerf nor I were comfortable going without a medic." As though that answers all questions.
Kerf wasn't left hanging, was he? He'll give it another few seconds to make be sure. Medics are like that.. fussy where they put their hands! He looks aside at Maggie, then. "A.. nother.. cousin?" he wonders casually.
Mordecai juggles and shakes the hand. "Not unless you're a Mordecai or a Lethem. Or Mandrake or Feldane, I suppose."
Maggie slips a glance Kerf's way and shakes her head, "Oh... No. Doc here isn't a relative. At least, not that I know of, but I don't know my mom's kin so who knows?" She might be half teasing about that, but might not be. Hard to say with Maggies. Still, she seems to relax a little, "I am really glad you can come, Doc." She, Mordecai and Kerf; bedecked in his glorious crimson waistcoat, are standing near a bizzarely configured Begman ship that is all bristling armaments and no sails. Wacky ship. The sun is inching its way up the arch of the horizon, casting glittering sparkles on the waves, the waterline, as much metal as it can reach, while dock workers go about their tasks and sea birds squabble over what food they can find.
Kerf is properly fuffled once more, wearing his red waistcoat instead of that dull brown thing, even if it would have been the better choice in this winter morning chill. The price one pays for fabulousness. He's gotten rid of his beard grizzle too. "I mean while you're in Shadow.." he stage-mumbles to Maggie. Giving Mordecai's hand a friendly shake, he withdraws to let the man handle his sketching supplies more easily.. chancing a discrete peek at the drawing pad if possible, and then flickering his gaze to the unique ship. His brows go slightly off-kilter and his lips purse over the frankenstein-ish mystery of the vessel's workings.
It's barely an outline of the ship on the pad. "That's the Bassilisk. Bit of a Begman legend, it used to belong to the old Duke Lovelace," Mordecai offers. "He sort of went mad and attacked the rightful government with machines galore."
Liya has come down to the docks, with Mayhem at her side. The cat might even have gained a pound or two, but that's not easily seen. His ears perk as he spies the water and the boats, and he heads that way without needing any additional tug. "Mrowl," he calls out, tail swishing as he nears the water. Liya frowns at him. "You are not allowed to climb the rigging of Prince Gerard's boat, Mayhem," she says, preemtively. His reply "Mrowl" sounds a bit mournful.
Maggie does not try to steal a glance at the drawing, but does gesture to the juggled pad and impliments of imagery. "I didn't know you are an artist, Mordecai. Multitalented. Nice." Her gaze drifts up and over the ship as the doc details some of its history, "Ah. Wow. She is a beast, isn't she?" More softly, in answer to Kerf's question, she nods, "Uh-huh. Quinlan. Remember? Martin mentioned him last night." She pauses and looks up at the red-waistcoated man, "You should come. He could look into that other issue." The mrowl is heard and actually recognized. Glancing over, she winces to realize that she was sprawled out on the dock next to that very self-same ship. A sigh and she offers both Liyandra and Mayhem a wave. If it is a brighter thing for the woman than the cat, maybe she can be forgiven.
"Don't say..?" Kerfuffle remarks faintly, upon hearing of the history of the ship. "Was he one of those bomb-throwing Anarchists?" Turning his gaze away for a few moments to attend Maggie, he mmmhs consideringly. "Oh.. Quinlan.. that would also be the same law officer fellow who sealed us into the Noodle House, then assigned charges?" he brow-raises coolly. He then follow's Maggie's gaze over to the two other familiar faces, and acknowledges them with a pleased lift of his chin.. even for Mayhem. Especially for Mayhem?
Mordecai says, "Hmmm? No, he was fighting for the Royalists. Got thrown out for his trouble. His daughter runs the show now. She makes those practicval coreset thingies. I think this is her ship now."
Liya angles her feet towards the others, as she catches the waves aimed her way. Or Mayhem's. Either way, Liya heads over towards the group. She pauses to look at the Begman ship, eyes widening slightly, and then she shakes her head. "That is entirely something else," she says, as she arrives. "And the topic of discussion I see. Good day to you all. How are you doing?" Mayhem promptly steps forward to sniff at everyone and even tries to bat a paw at Kerf's waistcoat. It has ribbons in there somewhere.
Maggie can't help the smile at Kerf's coolness, "That's the one. But, he wasn't sealing us in so much as sealing others out. And the charges were only levied at those who did not leave when he first told us to." She shrugs, "He's a good sort, Kerf. Honest." Though her definition of 'good sort' and his might not be in alignment. Her gaze lingers for a moment, then returns to the ship in question or the woman under discussion, "A practical corset? I don't think I want to know..." She takes a half step toward the ship, her concentration on the angles and lines of the hull more than those of the armaments, "Interesting design." Mayhem? Well, Maggie is not entirely lost to contemplation. She steps carefully over the cat, even missing his tail as she goes.
Somewhere between his last encounter with the large tame(ish) feline, and now, Kerf must have decided that Mayhem was A-OK in his books. "Good day, Liya, I certainly have few complaints," he replies to the lady, then fishes into one of his outer pockets to drag out the very same strip of scarlet satin that had been nabbed originally by the cat. Has it only been a couple of weeks now? Leaving it to dangle enticingly, he turns back to the humans again. "Ah, so that's how it was.." he says to Mordecai, still quite interested it seems, because of reasons. "And who is the daughter?" Because of Corsets?
Mordecai says, "Means there's tools built into it. One for engineers, one for cooks, etc etc. Duchess Lovelace. The title doesn't mean anything in the modern government, of course."
Ooh, ribbon! Mayhem's paw promptly bats at the thing. And with him being a 40lb or so cat, it's quite the sight. He is remarkably gentle, keeping claws and paws away from people, at least as much as he can. He is apparently totally enthralled with Kerf's new game. Liya on the other hand flashes a grin at the tactic, and then glances over to Mordecai. "Duchess Lovelace - that sounds quite a lovely title," she says. "Even if it has less meaning than it once did. But I think I agree with Maggie - I don't believe I want to know about the practical corsets. They sound somewhat frightening."
Maggie darts a grin Liya's way and nods, "They do, yes. I'm okay." Tired. "You?" Tucking her hands in her pockets, she watches Kerf with the red ribbon and the ginormous kitten. There is a song in there somewhere, but it isn't for Maggie to write. Her attention returns to Mordecai, then back to Liya, "Oh. Right. Doc, here is going to come with us when we hunt down my ship, Liya. Thought it would be a good idea to have a medic with us. Have you had the chance to talk to Uncle Benedict about it, yet?"
Uncle - "Do you know how strange that sounds?" Liya asks, with a shake of her head. "But hey, he promoted me from undergroom, so I guess I shouldn't complain." She smiles at Maggie of the august relatives, and then she says, "I did mention it to him. He in general has no objections to what I do in my spare time. I think he might appreciate some notice if possible if we're going to for a long time. And would it be okay if I bring Mayhem?" she asks, after a moment. "I mean, I know he's not big enough to help much, but I don't want to leave him behind for too long." She pauses to smile at Mordecai, a bright sunshiney smile. "And I agree a Healer with us is probably a good thing."
Maggie laughs, "It is weird to say. And, I won't say it to his face. He has said that he prefers Highness, so... fine. It that makes him happy." She raises both brows and her laugh softens to a smile, "Oh? Congratulations. That is great. And, good. I am glad he is okay with you going. I... Do not know how long it will take, honestly. Maybe a day or two? I don't think longer, but don't know what Walter Karm needs to do to seal the Gate." She looks down at Mayhem, then shrugs, "It is fine with me if Mayhem comes. But, it isn't entirely up to me, really. I still need to find a ship that will take us at a price I can afford to pay." As Mordecai has to head out, she waves after him, then tucks her hands back into her pockets, "But, this is shaping up to be a fun trip, all things considered."
"Walter?" Liya asks, and then she chuckles. "I think this should be a wonderful trip. And what gate?" A pause as she thinks that through, a hand raising to wave absently to the departing Mordecai. "A ship too? Quinlan didn't volunteer his or is it not big enough?" she asks, arching a brow. "Or is he not coming?" Liya does shrug a bit. "It seems I've missed a few bits of information somewhere in there." She considers about the boat, and then she nods. "If we're going on a boat that we can't bring Mayhem, I'll leave him with someone. That seems fair. But if we can bring him, I want him to get used to travelling." And hopefully not getting eaten.
Not getting eaten seems like an excellent idea. "Oh... Right. Okay. See..." She lifts a hand and scratches the back of her head a little, gaze lowered. "I..." Oddly, unconsciously or not, her hand rubs just where she used to sport a large goose egg. "This may take a while. So, in short. Yes. Quin is coming, but his ship isn't big enough. My ship is mired or anchored in the sea in a near Shadow of Minos. We were caught unawared by a ship coming out of an open Gate. It attacked, so we defended. Just as we drove the ship back through the Gate, something hit me in the back of the head. Next thing I knew I was found in Arden. My ship is still there and the Gate is still open, but I don't know if I have crew or not. So, we have to take all of us and workers with supplies to repair my ship. And... Hopefully, the crew is still belowdecks, but when I was there, I did not find anyone."
"Ahh," Liya says as she gets more of an explanation. "Well, that's good that you found it, and hopefully the crew is there, trying to figure out what happened to their captain." She smiles a bit, as she thinks about it. "You do have other relatives you could ask, I guess, if you are comfortable. And as for affording it, that I thought would be something I'd have trouble with, not necessarily the rest of you lot. I mean, can't you just go get stuff or something?" She thinks it's a fair question given what she's seen so far. "I still think it sounds like fun. But I don't know who all has ships - well, His Highness Prince Benedict, the Brown, Dour and Depressing does. And Prince Gerard. But - I don't know about asking them for anything, if you can avoid it."
Maggie nods, "It is good that I found it, yes. And... I guess I could go looking for the funds, but first I have to find a captain willing to make the journey for cash or barter that does not include things I'm not willing to part with." She flickers an eye toward Liya, then lets the look slip back to Kerf before dropping like a stone. "I'll talk to Quin about adding funds to my list of things to look for." She nibbles her lower lip slightly, then chuckles, "Oh... No... I don't think I'll ask either of them for ships unless it is absolutely necessary. I already own one of the Elders a favor and would relly prefer not to owe anyone else. That is dangerous, as I understand it." Still, she looks at the ships here at the dock and shakes her head, "Well. If the worst happens and I have to borrow a ship from one of them, I'll probably ask dad first. He might know someone who would not mind taking us."
Liya thinks about that for a long time. "I don't - " she pauses and then says, "I think it probably is dangerous, in a lot of ways." She leaves that concept there, as she isn't sure about some being safer than others. She reaches a hand to rub at her own head for a moment, and then she says, "I would think there must be someone around with a boat. Who is trustworthy. I just don't know - honestly, I've not been paying that much attention, since I don't usually pilot those big boats. Small and free, that's my motto." Mayhem finally wins the ribbon free from Kerf, and he chirrups happily as he proceeds to kill it.
Maggie nods, sobering a bit, "Well... I am sure I will find one. If not, I'll... Think of something else. Maybe... Maybe just pay the price asked." She looks vaguely wry and not at all convinced that is the best course of action, "Ah well. Anyway. Onward..." That is when Mayhem wins and works on killing the ribbon. Maggie laughs, eyes sparkling at the kitten's antics. "He really is a charming fellow, isn't he?" She flickers Kerf a grin, seeking agreement. Turning a bit, she finds another piling to lean against and kind of oofs. "I'm tired. I might beg off and go find a place to nap for a bit. Although there is so much to do still."
"Kerfuffle or the kitten?" Liya asks, teasing. "Or both." She takes a breath and then she says, "Well, if you're tired, you should go have a rest. Maybe something to eat? A drink?" She reaches a foot to nudge Mayhem gently and he promptly wraps around her foot, though LIya doesn't seem to be hurt at all by it. "So what is the price and who wants you to pay, if I might ask?"
Maggie lowers her gaze at Liya's question and half laughs, though there is just the faintest touch of a blush coloring her cheeks. Either that or it is in reaction to the brush of a breeze from the sea. "Oh, well. Both, actually. But I was refering to Mayhem." She looks up at Liya, though her glance sidles over toward Kerf just a little, "The owner of several ships for one and a captain of an independent concern for another." She could name names, but seems a bit reluctant to do so. "They both wanted the same thing for payment, oddly enough. I am just not willing to be quite that grateful just yet."
Liya tilts her head at that, and then she shakes her head. "Think highly of themselves, don't they?" A toss of her head, those blue eyes agleam. "Bet they don't even have a hot tub either." She laughs lightly, and then says, "That's okay. I wouldn't pay that price either. I guess - well, the other thing would be to get as close as we can, without a boat, and then maybe send a small boat, and use a trump to get everyone else through?" She's perfectly willing to think outside the box, and has learned quite a bit since her arrival to Amber. Scarily so. She laughs at Mayhem curled around her foot, just laughing. "What? You are too heavy to be a boot, Mayhem."
Kerf.. Kerf.. Amber to Kerf.. stop staring at the S.S. Corset..
"Hmmh? Beg pardon?" He looks around a few beats later, having heard his name in conjunction with Mayhem's, and gives Liyandra and Maggie an expectant look, a hint of a smile curling upwards. Then he looks to Mayhem and.. oh that scoundrel! "Well, you've earned it, squirt.." he relents, adjusting his trouser thighs to drop into a crouch before the Ribbon Mauler. No, don't hiss.. he's not going to grab it back. "In more ways than one." He gets back to his feet after the cat has meandered away to plot its next criminal venture. "Is there a problem with payment of suppliers? Could I help with that?" he wonders, snatching a nearby topic out of the air to make up for his earlier space-out.
Maggie remains leaning against her piling while Kerf reorients. The S. S. Corset has long since fallen from Maggie's attention, unusual ship though she is. She will never be as beautiful in the woman's eyes as her own ship. Kerf's offer is met with a deepening blush and a quick shake of Maggie's head, hair shimmering in waves down her back, "Nope. Not suppliers, Kerf and... Ummm. I am not going to ask you to assist with payment for the ship. At all. But thanks for being willing." She tilts her head slightly to one side, eyeing Liyandra, "We can do that? Oh, fab. I'll just walk the Pattern again and have dad send folk through. If he's willing and if we can't find a more conventional way to get there."
Liya sort of pauses, not sure that will quite work, but - it's an interesting thought. "Well, I don't know if I could do that, but those things are quite - interesting." She pauses, and then thinks of something, her lips curving in a smile. "Oh," she says. "Well, if you have it covered, that's a good thing." Her brow furrows as she keeps quiet after that. Mayhem mrowls, and she laughs. Kerfuffle gets an amused look, as he crouches down to pay the cat some proper attention. Mayhem finally lets go of Liya's foot, and sprawls out, looking for more attention. Did his head grow again?
Clip-clop; clip-clop. A white mare and her Bashar appeared, riding in from out of the sunset... Bashar always did manage to get things mixed up; which probably would indicate that he's liable to leave just in the nick of time. Equine-Maggie walked her way through the docks, navigating the piers until arriving coming upon Human-Maggie and copmany. "Greetings!" Bashar hailed, raising a hand greeting. "And well met." The horse turned to close the distance between the two parties. "I trust I find you well, Lady Maggie, Miss Liyandra." A nod was spared to Kerfuffle. "And, of course, Master Mayhem." Another nod, this time to the feline.
"You don't have to ask. At all," Kerf's smile widens, staring at Maggie's colouring, not so much mystified as, well, ensnared. Stop it, Maggie. Stop changing colours and shimmering right this instant! "But I, uhh. Of course.. I shall not insist." He wrenches his gaze over to Liyandra suddenly, when Maggie goes back to speaking to her... cousin, was it now? Mercy, he's surrounded by MaggieKin. Hearing the clipped thunder of hooves on the wharf, he studies Bashar's approach curiously. He looks the mounted man over attentively and returns the nod, before pausing expectantly for an introduction.
Oh, that could get funny, that. Ahem. Liya tends to assume that everyone knows everyone, alas. She does give a bright smile and a wave, along with a, "Good day, Bashar. And Maggie-the-Horse." Mayhem even mrowls as someone else he knows arrives, getting to his feet so he can investigate. Hopefully Maggie the horse doesn't mind being sniffed up by a big cat too much. Liya glances his way but expects him to behave. Which mostly he does. "I am doing well, thank you. Though it is still too cold for my liking. I will be quite pleased when winter ends. And you? How are you doing, Sir Kerfuffle?" She's taking a little leeway with the Sir instead of Master or whatever, but it gets the idea across, no doubt.
Being as cats tend to be more afraid of horses than horses of cats, Mayhem's investigation or horse and rider serves as a magnifier of Equine-Maggie's super-duper bravery. The mare nickered and looked lazily away. Bashar, taking his cue, or rather the lack thereof, from Maggie, brought his hand to his chest and bowed to Kerfuffle. "Sir Bashar mal ce Taegar. Knight errant." he identified himself. To Liya he said, "Perhaps we shall get you a great, grand cloak like my own, by which to keep you warm!"
Maggie blinks a little and looks up as Bashar approaches on her name-sake the horse. A hand is lifted in a lazy wave and she pauses to listen to the introductions. "Liya isn't a cousin, Kerf. Nor is Bashar." So much for the theory that Maggie is related to everyone under the sun. She does not go into detail about what it was that turned her such a shade, but as the conversation shifts away from that topic, her coloring begins to return to something closer to normal. "Kerf, Bashar traveled with Martin's group for a while. Great guy." She lifts the hand to tug absently at her hair, a little distractedly, "Bashar, Kerf's a good friend." Just so everything is clear as mud. Right? Right. Perhaps her long night is catching up with the woman for she seems a hair flagged.
The fact that Kerfuffle was talking with Maggie in such a conversational manner was good enough for Bashar, the woman's highlighting of the man's status as 'friend' was just a bonus. "A pleasure to have made your actaintance, Sir Kerfuffle." Bashar mentally wondered if he could contract that to SerFuffle, but decided quickly against. To Human-Maggie he extended his palms upward in a gesture of confusion. "What do you mean we're not related? How am I supposed to get offended and defend your honour whenever somebody looks at my 'sister' the wrong way." Yeah, because the two could pass as siblings. Riiiight. "Really, sometimes I think you just want to take all the fun out of life." The knight errant grinned. Then, reaching back into his saddle pack, he drew forth a container. "Anyway, I just stopped by to deliver this. Mushroom soup. Still warm! A little salty, though, and I was all out of thyme."
Well, it has been established that Mayhem is perhaps not the average cat. Certainly he's at least doubel the size of an average housecat. And growing. He moves to greet Bashar as well, and then comes back to lean against Liya, rubbing up against her leg. Liya watches the container come out, for Maggie, and she smiles. Maggie in fact gets a bit of a worried look, and then Liya says, "Perhaps keep it somewhere out of the cold for a bit?" Since Maggie appears to be out of it somewhat.
Kerfuffle looks back at Maggie with surprise as she seems to read his thoughts, but then it's clearly such a running gag by now he should be surprised when she -doesn't- introduce someone to him with a footnote as to their blood ties. Luckily for Bashar, there don't seem to be any rules about shaking hands with a man on horseback, so that saves him from a handful of Mayhem dander. "With Martin?" he repeats with a half-smile. "I suppose that qualifies as 'errant', Sir. Don't get attached to the Kerfuffle, I expect that will change soon enough, once I get my hands on a certain document." When Liya makes the strange suggestion of putting the soup away again, he looks at her, then Maggie, and ahhs. "Lack of sleep and rushing about on errands.. soup won't fix that, no matter how mushroomy," he points out. "Shall I walk you back to the Golden Goose, Maggie?" Was that a 'yeah'? A 'no'? A 'bbzzzzzz'?
"Indeed." said Bashar, dovetailing the others sentiments as he looked to the ailing Human-Maggie. In a fluid motion and with a swirl of his black cloak, Bashar dismounted from the horse. Passing the container of soup to Kerfuffle, he said with a chuckle, "Quite. Lord Martin's exploits are... interesting, to say the least. Anyway, if you'll take this with you, I'm sure the Lady Maggie would like to enjoy it in the safety of her cabin." Two's company and three's a crowd. Besides, Bashar didn't know the way to the ship in question to serve as escort, himself.
"No, it won't, alas," Liya says, shaking her head. She looks over at Kerf for a moment, thoughtfully. "But perhaps you should relocate her to somewhere more comfortable to nap? I mean, if you can? And you don't mind? Do you need help, maybe? In the meantime, I was considering heading for coffee." She glances over at the errant knight, and quirks a brow at him, before she recalls something and snaps her fingers. "And about that cloak - what is wrong with the one I've already got?" she asks, sounding a little bit put out.
"Ahh! But can you do this!?" Bashar said, whereupon he pioretted, raising the edge of his cloak to shroud himself. At the end of the piorette, when he was again facing Liyandra, he had it raised to the level of his face, in imitation of a vampire. "Mwahahahaha!"
Kerfuffle perhaps thinks maybe he should have never stopped staring at that Begman vessel. Oh my god, what just happened? Bashar's giving soup and capering like some kind of.. of.. Food Pixie? He glances at Maggie and offers her his other arm so they can back away.. slowly.. and take a seat over on those crab traps.
Oh sorry.. Kerf recalls there was a mention of coffee at some point, and looks at Liya. "Will you be going to Surya's? Certainly a much more relaxing atmosphere, with a warm hearth, even. What do you think, Maggie?" Why does he even keep trying to ask her wishes on things? She's practically face down in the soup tureen..
Liya blinks at Bashar, watching him with a little bit of a stunned look on her face. "Uhm, well, I don't think so," she opines eventually. Her own gloak is perhaps heavier than Bashar's, and certainly warm, as it appears she might well be wearing a wolf. She looks over at Kerf and then nods. "That is what I was thinking, yes. It's warmer there, and I still don't like this cold." She pauses, and then says, "And it would probably be better for Maggie to nap there by the hearth than here on the cold ground." Seems all good to her. "Unless you know where she was going, other than here?"
"Isn't her vessel near by?" Bashar asked, looking about the bustling harbour. "I mean, assuming either of you know where it's berthed, I suppose she would be most comfortable in her own bed."
Kerfuffle says thoughtfully, "I confess I didn't pay great attention to the schedule today, though I ought to have. I know she and her cousin Quinlan were off on a quick jaunt out of the realm.. perhaps by that Pattern route." He shakes his head. "Doesn't sound like an activity to attempt without a good deal rest beforehand. I don't know, Sir Bashar, I think she has yet to properly secure a boat," he adds to the Knight distractedly. Right, the only thing for it is to see the lady home, although they might end up at the coffeehouse after all.
Liya inclines her head. "Maggie has found her boat, but it is trapped and appears crewless. So she's needing to figure out how to secure it." There is a moment, and then she says, "So, uhm, Kerfuffle? If I head for the coffee shop, where are you going?"
Kerfuffle ahs, "I meant, the boat that will take us to her boat, of course!" He attempts to consider distances and the possibility of renting a carriage. "Well, I'll meet you there, Liya. Just as soon as I can."
-----
Their task at hand in returning the sleep-induced, soup-lated pirate queen to the safety of a comfortable bed, the unlikely trio made their way to the coffee house. Bashar, by nature of his not drinking coffee, ordered tea, which had just arrived within a lovely brass pot. "So then the string says: nope, I'm afraid not!" the knight errant concluded the joke as he poured hot water into his cup. His eyes darted to hi two companions, gaguing their degree of amusement.
Liya has been known to drink coffee. Or tea. Today, she's got coffee, and settles in contently by the hearth. Mayhem promptly flops, all asprawl as he gets the warmth of the fire. In fact, he starts to purring. Liya's cloak hangs over her chair, and she holds the coffee mug in both hands. At Bashar's joke, she thinks for a moment, and then she groans, laughing just a bit. "Bashar, that was - I'm not sure what to call it."
Kerf is already holding his temples gingerly with his fingertips, because puns make his brain swell uncomfortably. His other hand steals over to his left breast, delving into the inner pocket of his waistcoat there to check on something or other. His straight black coffee sits before him, steaming gently. Perhaps it needs to be 'laced' with something, aw haw haw.
"Perhaps it's best you didn't!" Bashar suggested with a guffaw and then he grinned. "Frankly I'm happy if that one gets even a little laugh." That was to say, happy with Liya, Kerfuffle got a menacingly arched eyebrow. Having set the pot down, Bashar leaned forward over his tea cup and blew upon the contents to help cool it down. He then inhaled deeply to savour the aroma of the mixture. "Ahhh, nothing finer than a nice cup of warm herbal tea on a cold day; a fine beverage amidst equally fine company! To your health, Miss Liyandra, Ser Kerfuffle!" He raised his cup to the others before sipping.
Tessa strides in, a grim set to her expression. It's clear by the way she focuses on Liyandra that she has found who she is looking for, and she covers ground with a stride that is almost violent.
Something glints in her right hand.
Liya sips her coffee, one foot keeping track of Mayhem, simply by touching the silly kitten. She looks at Kerf and his expression actually makes Liya smile a bit more than Bashar's joke. Alas. She shifts in her seat, setting her cup down, and moving her cloak so that she's not quite sitting on it. Then she shoves her braid over her shoulder, before picking up her coffee cup once more. "To all our health," she joins in the toast, raising her mug.
Liya gets an uneasy feeling, even as she's toasting. It builds in a heartbeat into something that she just can't ignore, and she moves to get to her feet and step to the side, her gaze sharpening as she looks around. It might look like she's just wanting to move her chair nearer to the fire. Maybe.
Kerf's gaze angles back upwards to peer over the arc of his forefinger. Toasting with coffee mugs? and not just coffee.. tea and coffee! Ser Bashar has brought chaos and ruin upon civilized sensibilities... his pinky probably isn't even raised, is it! However... he takes up his own mug after Liyandra goes along with it readily. "Oh fine. May we all live a full and happy day," he proposes with a straightish face. When Liya gets up, he rises too; it's what he does. His back is to the door, however, so it really is just out of courtesy and not tingling Kerfuffle Sense.
Bashar doesn't get an uneasy feeling. That is, until Liyandra has her said uneasy feeling and started looking around. That he picked up on as the warm liquid coursed down his throat. Odd expression, he thought to himself, after toasting one's health. His eyebrows furrowed and he set the cup dow upon its saucer. "Are you alright?" he inquired softly.
Tessa is not a particularly powerfully built woman, certainly no Cyndre, but she's fast. Liyandra movement takes her away from the table, but as it turns out, it seems that the woman wasn't actually looking to harm her at all. Instead, with one sharp movement, something is slapped on the table and pierced with a knife.
The blade is still quivering from the sheer force of the stroke when Tessa turns to stalk away, the black cloak of a Gull officer snapping with the movement.
The object in question appears to be a golden pin of a shield, an expensive looking token.
Something slapped on the table? How odd. Liya pauses, glances back at the now departing Tessa. "What the - " she starts, her gaze on Tessa, and then back to the table with a really, totally confused look on her face. "Tessa?" Blink.
"Goodness gracious me!" Bashar exclaimed, his tea spilling in to the air as he recoiled with the impact of the dagger impacting against the table. The force of the movement shifted his back in his chair a few inches and the knight errant looked between Tessa, Liyandra, Tessa, and then back to Liyandra whereupon he asked with a dumbfounded expression, "Do you know this woman?"
Liya turns to the table, moving to reach her hand forward, to the knife. "What is this?" she asks, as she reaches to touch the knife, assuming her danger sense doesn't twinge. A glance to Bashar and Liya nods. "Yes. That's Tessa. I don't quite know what is going on though."
Kerf just manages to glance over as the shaven headed woman arrives at the table, and BAM! The table is foully stabbed. The man in the red waistcoat, pivots away, sputtering his coffee a bit and becoming alert finally. Taking in the pin, the cape, and the apparent confusion of everyone /but/ Tessa, he decides it best to pipe down and listen for now.
"Oh." Bashar pondered that one to himself a moment. Liyandra knew who she was, so whatever was going on he presumed it was between the two of them and there wasn're really a whole lot he could do when the only person with real answers made their retreat apparent. "Well, I presume that the proprietor may want to know where to find Miss Tessa. That gouge will have to be repaired." He motioned to where the dagger was stuck into the table.
Tessa doesn't explain, and if she is concerned about the bill that is sure to land on her door in the next few days, it's clearly given as much thought as the bells that sing out her departure.
Liya takes the knife, and then the pin, and she stands there for a moment. Shield pin. Golden pin. Golden shield. Her eyes widen, and she collects both the knife and the pin, a really thoughtful look on her face. "I should maybe find out what that means," she says after a long moment. There is still confusion on her face, but there is also a thoughtful look beginning to form. "I think if nothing else, that means I need to talk to Tessa."
Bashar patted his sword. "You want me to go with you?" he inquired, arching an eyebrow.
Kerfuffle considers them both. "If she had wanted to talk to you, Liya.. wouldn't she have stayed long enough to do so?" he points out, sensibly. "And Ser Bashar... you do realize you contrived to get us to pick up our drinks just in time to save them being jostled by that thump?" Just saying.
Liya has the golden shield pin in hand, her drink set down on the table. Mayhem doesn't even seem to have moved, really, warming his fur by the fire. "Thank you, Bashar, but I think if she wanted to harm me, she probably would have. And I am not so sure I should have company for this. Whatever it is." She does glance at Kerf and laughs. "That is true - he did. Nicely done, Bashar."
"I didn't contrive so well by -my- drink!" Bashar said, noting to where the tea had spilled; mostly on the table but he plotted some of the liquid off of his cloak with a napkin. To Liya he noted, "It may be a warningo of some kind. Really all quite curious. I don't know what to make of it, myself. THough..." his forehead creased in deep thought, "maybe there's someone who looks very much like you, Miss Liyandra, and this person angered Miss Tessa very much, to the point that when Miss Tessa saw you in the coffee shop window, she accidentally mistook you for the other woman, the one who -looks- like you, and all of this is just a case of mistaken identity." Self satisfied by his answer, Bashar nodded his head. It all fit together.
Kerf can't tell whether Bashar is serious, but just to be safe: "You've been reading too many Pembrokes, I think, friend Knight." He turns to Liya, wondering next: "Correct me if I'm mistaken.. but this Tessa.. is she associated somehow with that dread black knight who fought the palace champion in the street two weeks past?"
Liya blinks, and then she tilts her head, giving Kerf a look. "No, not that I am aware of," she says. "She's one of Prince Benedict's knights." She comes to a conclusion, whistling for Mayhem, who finally deigns to move. "I'm going to go find out what is going on, because I am really confused." She drops some coins for the coffee, and then says, "Thank you both for the company. I'll talk to you both later." And with that, she makes her exit, stage whichever way the door is.
-----
Having finished her soup and gotten in a cat nap, Maggie looks considerably better than she did the last time she was out here. By this time, the sun has set and the full moon hovers just below the horizon, casting a silvery shimmer in a soft arch just where the water meets the sky. Soon enough the rays will flicker out over water and land, but for now the main lights are provided by torches and multi-colored magic spheres floating and bobbing along with the vessels moored nearby.
He's returned to the water as well, moving in and out and between the tinted shadows, creaking wood underfoot and dark narwhale-like hulls groaning cryptically along the piers as overhead, first-watch guards pace and murmur to companions on their decks, that all's well in Amber tonight. If only that were true. Kerf passes them by, retracing his steps to the same section of docks from this morning. Seeing the lower-in-the-water hulk of the Begman ship close by, he pauses and changes course, getting close enough now that he can almost lean out and brush his fingertips along a geodesic bulb poking farther out over the water.
Not far away, Maggie leans against a piling, though not quite the one she claimed earlier as her personal support system. Now, she is watching the docks for familiar faces, or shapes. Maybe she is hoping to catch her cousin returning to his boat or; just maybe, she is waiting for a certain gentleman with a bright red waistcoat. Either way, when she catches a flicker of that particular shade slipping into a pool of light, she pushes from the piling and navigates an intersecting course. "Evening, Kerf." Her tone is pitched to carry over the sounds of creaking wood and straining rope but under the murmered conversations aboard the nearby ships. "I was hoping to find you here."
Taking in a long chest-filling breath, Kerf angles his head so he's looking down his shoulder at her approach, the high collar of his coat brushing at his jawline. "Good evening," he offers, not needing to put much force into his deeper voice for it to both carry and blend with the watery echoes coming up through the cracks in the planking. "Are you well? I thought you might have gone over to Shadow by now." If he was going to try anything with the Lovelace ship's hull, he abandons the thought and steps back to a more stable spot along the wharf, and turns to face her.
"Me? Not without someone better at walking than I am. I don't want to get stuck or lost. Though I really don't know if that is even possible. I suppose it is." Maggie reaches his side soon enough and for a moment, her gaze lingers. A twitch of her lips ghosts a smile before she turns back to the Begman ship, "Strange thing, this ship. I can't quite decide if I like it or not. It seems oddly wrong, somehow. But, that might be because I am more used to a conventional design." That is about when she realizes she is rambling on. "You don't like magic very much, do you..." It is less a question than a statement. As the words leave her lips, she lifts her gaze to seek his.
Never one to avert his eyes when they are sought, particularly by some, specifically by one, he looks at her for as long as stillness requires, and then a moment longer when she switches to the ship. The exhale through his nostrils is almost verbal, expressing bemusement over her critique. One shoulder flexes into a shrug, turning him to face the vessel as well, and he replies... or tries to, when the less academic question is put to him, making him look quickly back at her, interest and confusion crowding into his eyes, narrowing them. "Perhaps not," he reluctantly admits, pausing to consider it again. "I don't disdain it, but I don't trust it, is how I would put it." He stops, trying to frame his thoughts more solidly, hands coming up to gesture broadly. "Magic.. is behind what happened to us, to others like us.. it's clear from the strangeness and coincidence that no human means took the memories of ourselves out of our heads and woke us up in a forest of Amber." He looks at her fixedly at that, hoping to see understanding, if not agreement, in her eyes.
Maggie's gaze lingers a while though not beyond her turn, certainly. Listening, she moves a pace or two toward the Begman ship, perhaps drawn by the strangeness there. When he begins speaking, she turns to face him rather than the ship, framing her form unconsciously against that bulb as the moon's rays finally slip past the confines of the ocean's swells. Silvery light dances across the waters, touching soft gleams here and there. Nodding slowly, her gaze once more meets his and she nods twice, slowly. Her hands lift, then tuck into her front pockets, "That makes sense. You are right though I had not thought about it that way. For me it 'feels' as though I am incomplete. As though I should be able to easily summon some sort of power or other. Magical, I ... think." Her voice softens as an evening breeze kicks up and swirls about the docks. It pushes dust, fish bones and the detritus of the day before it.
He stays where he is on the boardwalk, only turning slightly as needed when she moves, adjusting the angle of his head or eyes. A sociable, humorous man by nature, it might be imagined or felt by outside observers that Kerf must necessarily also be talkative. What isn't as readily apparent except perhaps during these moments of contained interaction, is that he doesn't say much at all, at least, not with his voice. His eyes, however, hold many conversations, taking in the way an errant shine of light settles on the upward slope of brow here or a skein of hair there or resides in a flecked pool of green iris; and then in turn speaking out with quiet gladness of these things. Alternately, expressing concern or unease at the change in posture that removes these things from view. It's after all those bits of dialogue are done, that he says something she can hear again. "Power.. it's not a thing that comes easily, is it, though? Or should come easily?" He wrinkles his nose as the sea air brings them clarity.. and distraction. "You have a lot of pieces missing still, it looks like.. your ship.. your crew.. your power. Our.." He puts his hand out, halfway to her, then further, not waiting this time, to rest on the curve of one shoulder. "..us. It can't be filled all at once, right? But by pieces, bit by bit. I have this feeling it will work out better that way, Maggie."
There was a thought there somewhere though it came unbidden and remained unspoken. Her gaze answers the words unspoken, taking in the brush of silver on crimson as the waistcoat catches a fall of light, the awareness of his gaze even when the moonlight casts shadows over the fall of hair across a brow. She stands quietly for a time, half smiling as that breeze causes his nose to wrinkle. The smile is lost as she lowers her gaze, "Power. I suspect that it is not something I used to think about much. I could call it easily enough to hand. But... I do not remember if it was easily won or not. Now?" She pauses as his hand rests on her shoulder and she takes a step toward him. The hand opposite that shoulder lifts almost of its own accord. It rises to rest very lightly, curled against a bicep. "I hope so. That things will work out better taht way. Though it is maddening. I guess I am an impatient sort of person." As her hand lifted, so too did her eyes, though this time, as they seek his, there is less hesitation in them than there was in her hand's touch.
His features crease again briefly as if he could stop her self-criticism with a look, however it clears as he takes it into consideration himself, and smiles at whatever truth there may be to it. Light pressure is met with a languid flex as though the muscle independently willed its flesh upwards to make more of that shy contact than intended, even through layers and textures of fabric. The closer she gets the more his chin drops so he can keep her within the scope of his watchful observation. His hand engulfing her lithe shoulder, granted further access, slides lower and slips to the narrowing of waist where it comes to a natural sort of groove. "Maddening? That is an apt word to describe, oh, everything, right now." His smile grows wider, sidewards dents deepening to dimples. He's finding something too amusing to stay serious much longer. "Though I realize -I- have the luxury of taking things slowly, with so little with which to work. You, with the pressures of duty, family, even lives perhaps depending upon your return to form?" He sobers again. "Yes.. you have a right to your impatience. You know I will do all I can to help.. or failing that, at least get out of your way when there's a goal in reach." He's teasing still... isn't he.
As his hand drifts downward, hers rises, palm and fingers gliding in a near non-touch softened by layers of fabric until the hand, drawing her arm behind it, comes to rest softly at the base of his neck. Her arm lies easily against a broad, brocade covered shoulder. As she moves a bit closer, her head tilts upward, gaze remaining focused upon his eyes. For a time she lingers thus, the corner of her lips twitching into a faint smile, "Taking things slowly is the safe route, I guess. When there are no pressures to do otherwise. I sort of envy you that luxury. In some ways, things make more sense if you have time to examine exactly how they fit and acknowlege only those that make a logical whole." She nibbles her lower lip a moment, then nods, "I do know. At a bone-deep level. That you will be there if I need you. I hope that you know the reverse is true? I will do all I can to help you. Or..." A hint of laughter touches her tone, "Or get out of the way if I can't." The teasing tone intended to answer his has fallen a bit by the wayside, lost to the sound of the sea.
"Right.. exactly. So, we're agreed." And he kisses her. Get out of the way of that? Not going to happen. The pressure at her waist goes to the small of the back, providing support while it coaxes an arch to her back to facilitate the height difference. His other hand, position unknown until now, perhaps having been hovering patiently an inch from her person, now makes itself known across her upper back, completing the framework just as their lips meet, no further hesitation felt from him for the duration of that one kiss, just one. For however long it lasts.
She does not acknowledge the agreement verbally for there is no need. As the kiss begins, her hand curls very softly up from the base of his head into his hair, fingers toying gently with the silken strands. Her other hand slips lower to his waist, gliding up and in until it comes to rest just beneath his shoulderblade. As the pressure of their lips continues, her lashes drift a bit downward, helf masking the spark flickering within her eyes. Then they lower further as the single kiss lingers before slowly and for her part, reluctantly, begins to fade.
Could have been longer. Could have been a lot more. Drawing back in almost mutual decision, opening his eyes with a couple of hazy blinks, his lips parting to release breath and draw it in audible steamy huffs, he knows, looking at her, it could have been. The one hand, lost in loops and bunches of red hair at the nape of her neck, slowly extricates. The other stays where it is for now, keeping them pressed snugly together for a second more, more than that maybe. He's not done..? His head drops again, but only to rest his forehead against hers gently, gathering the resolve to say, "If there's to be another.." he whispers into the scant space between them, "it will be when we know who I am. It's not fair otherwise.. it's dangerous. Do you feel that too, Maggie?"
It could have been longer. Maybe should have been. As she draws back, her lips do tend to linger just a bit before release is complete. She does not immediately open her eyes, though when she does they still flame with that inner spark. Swallowing, she lets her hand ease from his head to trail back to his shoulder. Her breathing is heightened, fetching up against his skin in washes of warmth. Her other hand drifts lower, but only a little, helping to hold him close against her. She almost lifts her head when his lowers once more, then doesn't to allow his forehead to meet hers. She inhales, then releases it in a long, shuddering sigh. Speaking in a whisper that answers his tone for tone, she nods, "I do feel that, Kerf. And almost don't care. Life is dangerous but is still worth living." That said, she tightens her hold on him for a fraction of a moment then adds, "But, I agree. If there is to be another... It will be when we know who you are to your satisfaction. But, understand this. I already know what is important. You are kind, honorable and intelligent. I have your back."
OOC Kerfuffle says, "Aww.. they're so sweet. *u* And so doooooomed."
OOC Maggie smiles, "They are. And they are."