From Feast to Flounder
A note... is delivered to the palace by a very pleasent sailor dressed in the Wave Dancer's uniform. He does linger a few minutes in the hope of catching sight of the recipient, but is shooed off by the guards before long. No loitering, apparently.
The note is written on very fine parchment, cream in color and scented lightly with roses and lavender. The ink used is a green so deep that it is almost black. It is tri-folded and sealed by a wax that matches the ink. The impression in the wax is of a twin-masted ship sailing to dexter. There is a single flame dancing above the foredeck. When opened it reads:
Dearest Aunt Fiona: Greetings.
First of all, I wanted to thank you for taking the time to share tea with my crew and myself. As always, it was a delight to see you. Your grace and beauty made the day far more pleasent than it would otherwise have been. We look forward to the next time we meet.
I wanted to personally thank you for your generosity and kindness in allowing me to obscond with the delicacies from tea. The crew thoroughly enjoyed them and will be talking about your kindness for months to come. Such consideration for the common person is rare in our family and highly valued by myself and my crew.
Again, thank you for everything.
-Margaret Elizabeth Lasair
Captain Flame
With tea over with, the three slipped free of the confining expanses of the palace. With the sky above them, Maggie seems to stand straighter, her stride shifting from an 'indoors' walk to something with more freedom of movement that sets her skirt swaying gently. A breeze teases the soft curls about her forehead and tugs at the blousey bodice of her dress. As she passes the gates of the palace and turns to start down toward the docks, she offers an arm to each of her friends, "You know? Even with being flirtatious, that was less uncomfortable than the first time she and I met."
It's a long walk across the city, and the care package will likely pass them on the way in a delivery buggy, but Merrisol is of course up to it. Almost linking arms, they emerge from the grounds like a poster ad for an Anchors Away stage production. But even snazzier. Merri has got the cloaks hooked in one hand and tossed over the outside shoulder, cape-like, while he keeps his other arm crooked for Maggie. He lifts his chin into the same breeze, inhaling Spring in the royal quadrant, which is quite a different thing entirely than Spring on the harbour. More flowery than fishy. "I wonder what the difference is.." he smirks in reply. "Aside from not having to hide on Quinlan's boat."
Shao accepts his Captain's arm, something he would not for most people he knows. The weather is lovely and the breeze brings all the lively smells from town activities. "Meeting at the palace takes everything closer to state affairs," Shao offers, not exactly certain. "And food helps." That he is certain of. He slows down to let a carriage pass.
As the walk continues, Maggie eases into a comfortable pace. One arm rests at Merri's elbow, the other on Shao's. "Well." She lowers her voice and her gaze, trusting the gentlemen with her to keep her from running into anything or anyone. "For one thing, we were not asked to change out of our clothing and into lingerie." A slow blush begins to creep up her cheeks as a memory begins to torment her, "For another, it was only the three of us with our discomfort for entertainment. The first time I met her, there were... Oh... probably fifteen or twenty half naked women lounging around half dressed on chaise with refreshments, alcohol. There were two women dressed in a vaguely gladitorial style settling some petty dispute via pillow fight on a stage."
Merri's smile tugs a bit more lopsidedly at Shao's innocent suggestion, although he himself is only slightly more well-informed with regards to the night in question. His own pace is a sedate half-stride, but a few months' experience walking around with mostly shorter companions has helped make it look a rather casual saunter. Of course, saying that, now he kind of forgets how that works, when he half-halts, then shuffle-strides to correct the misstep. "Wh...?" he starts to query after the first statement, as surely he'd misheard. But that's not all he's going to surely mishear. After listening in silence, and another few beats of speechless consideration, he draws in a deeper breath and lets out, "Hedonistic and prefers women.. that's what you told me. Uh. -Understatement-." There's no way he can not be picturing the visual Maggie has so kindly detailed. Since it's Merri, though, he darn well tries not to. Look.. flock of pigeons! Look, rainbow slick in that melted snow puddle!
The evocation in public of a topic of this nature has Shao follow the trend and entre spring himself, blooming with a healthy red flush at the cheeks. He chuckles nervously, looking down under his own feeling of awkwardness. "It would be damaging..." he begins, then changes his mind, "Such things happen all the time, right? If the Princess decides to expose her private life, what can we do. It is very embarassing, indeed."
Maggie does note her friend's reactions to the initial description of the 'event', "Right. Though maybe she doesn't actually prefer women. Maybe she is an equal opportunity hedonist." Kindly, perhaps, or out of a sense of quiet discomfort, she stops there. The rest of the walk is taken in silence that begins a bit more isolationist than it might have with each occupied by their own thoughts. Or their own purposeful and willful thrusting away of thoughts. But, gradually, at least for Maggie, it becomes more companionable. By the time the ship is reached, the main deck attained and the way down to see to the distribution of the goodies, things are almost semi-normal for her. So, of course that is when she speaks again, "When things started getting... Um... Intimate... I started announcing the pillow fight as though it was a professional boxing match. That got people laughing instead of... Um... Well. It put off... Er... Advances." Such a good word, right? "When it was intimated that I was ruining the mood, I fled."
Merrisol certainly doesn't press for more details, or make any leading commentary that might oblige Maggie to describe her lingerie. Nope. And since her silence extends, he's content enough to feed it, resuming an easy pace as moods begin to normalize. Amber in Springtime is vibrant, and yes, lively, and there are plenty of other things to look at and smile over, sometimes with mild scorn. But he just might be 'becoming accustomed to her face', as the musical number goes.
All righty, so. Home sweet home, and the shipmates are all a-buzz over the number of Palace-Kitchen boxes that have arrived several minutes before. Shao's assistants bustle them down to the galley to open them and begin to lay out platters of delicacies and concoctions, all well-suited to High Tea in a Royal way. Cold potted meat in jelly, and sumptuous cuts of roast bird, chunked ham in salad, tea biscuits, cookies, cakes, fruit custards... and such.
Merri stands back with the Captain and Shao, watching as the men and ladies of the crew fall into the buffet line with many an eager huzzah and words of thanks to Prince Flora, by way of Captain Flame. Hip hip, hip of lamb! But Merri stops grinning with amusement over their enjoyment of Shhhh Stolen Comestibles, and eyes Maggie warily while she all of the sudden concludes her tale (of tail?) of noble hijinks.
Shao's last intervention was not much more than a dismayed look for Maggie and then he fell into glooming for the rest of the trip, his mind elswhere. Back aboard the Wave Dancer, he helps with the placement of the royal treats, nodding or shaking his head when appropriate and otherwise, avoids to serve others the angry look in his eye. Once everyone is set, Shao retires to his small quarters, leaving Mouse with the task of cattering.
Maggie is still ewaring her tea-going clothing which consists of a deep green silk dress with a high, Penglai-style collar. This closes with a pearl button at the base of her throat. The blouse is sort of softly flowing with long sleeves. Pearl buttons close the wrists of the sleeves. The bodice folds nicely into a waistband and a longish skirt decends from there to just above mid-calf. She wears hose or stockings and matching high-heeled pumps. The look she wears is both a little horrified at her memory and slightly amused, "It was funny, though. Announcing it as a prize fight. With the paisley print of doom." A nod and she lets it go. Finally. Other than, "Kerf? You are not in any way obligated to wear what she privides. For dancing lessons..." She flickers him a look, "I'll go, if you want. Private does not have to be one on one."
Merrisol hums? out of a kind of starey haze, glancing down again as Maggie says his 'name'-name. You were doing it, weren't you, Merri, you were mentally picturing Maggie surrounded by twenty-odd strumpets, a cloud of strategically placed goose feathers, and Flora looking pleased as punch over the new addition to her collection of lingerie models. And then.. everyone into the centrifuge! That's about the extent of a Kerfantasy, surely. "Oh, Rebma ware.." he catches up and nods upon recollection of the planned outfits mentioned. "I don't.." he pauses thoughtfully, "..believe your Aunt Flora is up to anything, except perhaps seeing to it that her niece remains in close contact. She's already got you for scheduling discussions, which is bad enough, knowing our movements at any given time. Attending the dance lesson as well..? Likely plays right into her hidden intentions. That former party is evidence enough that I am merely a pawn in her grand scheme," he points out with an off-kilter 'ugh' of his brows and eyelids, focus crossing zombie-minion-like for effect. Dork. He probably -was- daydreaming about Maggie holding a hairbrush like a microphone, and yelling into it: 'It's gonna be a real slobber-knocker, folks! Paisley Pillow-Biter just bit off more than she could chew!'. Mmm.. dorkdreams..
Shao reapears, still sporting his gloom and doom air. He summons Mouse and the teenager aid cook is melting with every step getting him closer. Some private words are exchanged, Shao stern, Mouse fighting not to cringe. Mouse shakes his head. Shao points a finger at Mouse. Mouse shakes his head, growing livid. Shao leaves, all tensed, steaming with rage.
Where there is food, there is eventually a Fang. She'd been swimming (as her sodden clothing and dripping hair would attest) but word had gotten out about the buffet, and she wasn't going to miss that! Entering the galley, it is the feast that catches her eye first, with Maggie and Merrisol's finery a close second and the stern Shao bringing up the rear. It's all enough to make her blink and emit a low, appreciative whistle. "Wow! Um, what's the occasion?"
The points Merrisol brings up spark another blush to Maggie's cheeks and she clears her throat, "Uh. Maybe. I hadn't thought of it that way." She glances up at him, seeing the scenario in her mind's eye. Flora providing 'appropriate garb' and what that might mean. The blush deepens and she looks quickly away, "Okay." Reluctant. "Just... Yeah. You know." She follows Shao's progress from his cabin out to summon Mouse. The exchange is noted in a sort of frowny fog of contemplating Aunt Flora and dance lessons. Finally as Shao starts their way, her expression begins to clear so that when Fang comes in all a-dripping with sea water, Maggie is in better spirits. Fang is offered a wave, "Do you want a towel? The occasion? Oh, well... We had tea with one of my Aunt's up at the palace and thought it would be a shame to waste the left overs. Since there was so much and it was so good. Everyone deserved a treat. I'm sure she won't mind." Which does mean that the goods are perloined. Then she perks up, "Oh. I have something for you, Fang. Just a moment."
Privately, to Merrisol, Maggie does keep whisper-shadowing glances your way.
Merri subsides against the bulkhead with a vague nod. "I know, Captain," he sages, "but if I'm right, and she sees you didn't take the bait when I show up without you, she'll come up with a convenient excuse to send me on my way." And if you're not right, Kerf? Nevermind, it's just not possible. His gaze moves with many others, then, zeroing in on the cook's conflict with his junior. Monitoring its progression, Merri unleans and starts across the mess hall, grabbing up a bacon-wrapped baked chestnut speared with a steamed asparagus. "Li-Fang, incoming," he calls, pitching it side-hand at the woman like a caltrop.. and no, he doesn't really know how to throw a caltrop. Then he moves to intercept Shao, wherever he's going. "A moment of your time, please, Shao-san?"
"Yes, Mister Merrisol?" Shao asks, his tone sharp. He twists his lips in confusion. "I am upset, sorry. I was hoping for a spar but someone said no." Probably wise of Mouse, even Shao should agree with that, if he were not on some quest to pass his nerves. He darts his one-eye to Mouse's back, over there. "What is it, please. I will help you the best I can." He averts his gaze, so to not pierce a hole with it through Merrisol's skull by accident.
Fang snatches the chestnut neatly out of the air, one-handed. "Waste not, want not." she starts, already biting the top off asparagus, "Holy mother of heaven this is good. Not as good as Shao's cooking, but..." Before she can grab a plate though, Maggie's towel comment seems to sink in and Fang looks down at the pool of water forming about her feet. "Oh, right. Should probably go dry off first. Forgive me, I'll be right back." She can't help but dart over to the buffet though, grabbing a handful of fancy cubed cheeses and a skewer of glazed meat before she goes. Oh, and maybe some of those itty bitty fruit tarts. Just to tide her over.
Watching the loft of food toward Li Fang and the woman's deft catch, Maggie laughs. It might be the first outright laugh that she's given in days. The sound is warm and whole, rising above the galley in a sparkle of mirth. She swipes one of the cream cheese filled fried cookie pocket things, pops it into her mouth and walks out. Angling down the hall, she waves to Li Fang as she ducks off to get dry. However, something in Shao's tone catches her attention and she turns to walk backwards. Swallowing she nods, "I'll spar with you, Shao-san. On deck in ten minutes. I need to change." So not sparing in high heels and a skirt. Nope.
Merri stares at Shao a moment, then blinks as he straightens up, glancing back into the mess hall. Some of the sailors, inspired by Fang's food juggling skills, have begun tossing delectable bite-sized goods at each other, attempting to snatch of chomp them out of the air with limited success. The First Mate considers putting an end to the mischief and food waste, but ends up saying more quietly to the cook, "Chasing Mouse around the deck won't satisfy honour. When it comes to the offenses of the Princes and Princesses of.." He cuts off his assumptions as Maggie comes by to challenge Shao, and says no more, shrugging slightly at the cook. Irony Chef? Then again, maybe he read the situation completely wrong. He is often wrong, it's true, it's true.
Shao nods to Maggie, twice to Merrisol. "Thank you, Captain. We will use wasters only?" He takes a deep breath and sighs. "You know me well, Mister Merrisol. No, Mouse is not exactly honourable practice target but so are the thoughts going through my head. This is my father's temper, not mine, and I hate it."
Maggie glances between Merrisol and Shao. Having misread the situation, she nods more slowly. Gotta learn how to think first and talk later, Mags, geez. Still... "Right. Wasters only." Walking more sedately back toward her cabin, she pauses, "It'll be more than ten minutes, Shao-san. I need to make a trump call. I forgot that mom expects an update and I really don't want her deciding to just... show up." With that, she waves and ducks into her cabin. Which, incidently, gives the First Mate and the Master Chef a chance to talk without the Captain.
From above, a woman bellows from the deck, "HALLOOOOO! Permission to come aboard!!!"
Maggie strides up from below as she hears that mighty shout. Looking over to the watch, she calls, "Who is it?" Though, really, who else could it be? The watch looks a little incredulous at being asked, then follows protocol, "Dame Cyndre requesting permission to come aboard, Captain." Maggie nods, then grins, "Welcome her aboard, please." The watch salutes, then leans over the railing next to the gangplank, "Come aboard, Ma'am. With the compliments of Captain Flame."
Cyndre strides aboard deck, her smiths behind her with a box that likely contains some kind of contraption. She is in her Captain whites, with her brightly flaming sword exposed at her side. Seriously, the thing /radiates/ heat that can be felt when approaching her. She also has a smaller box. "Cap'n Hell at your service, Cap'n." she says with a bright and merry grin to Maggie. "And by the by, I have a delivery for you. And something I want your opinion on."
Merrisol wanders up at his leisure apparently, since his Captain had gone up ahead and it's pointless to inform the deck crew of her presence now. "Good evening, Seneschal," he nods courteously, and stands by to see if he can be of service.
Maggie is sort of an inconsiderate Captain apparently. Stealing her First Mate's thunder. Sort of a shame as he weilds that thunder really well and looks dashing doing it, too. Walking forward, Maggie reaches Cyndre and her smiths in short order. "Welcome, Captain Hell." Stepping to one side, she motions farther onto the deck, "You remember Mr. Merrisol?" There is excitement in her tone, like a kid expecting a visit from the Jolly Old Midwinter Elf. "Where would you like to be?" In otherwords does it need to be installed or delivered...
Aw, thunder.. why didn't he ask for a thundersword, dangit.. Merri catches up with the details of the visit, the boxes and the murmurs of the evening's first watch. "Captain.. Hell?" he repeats, with a quick and fleeting grin. He reigns that in and just nods approval.
Cyndre says, "Now, I've made some temporary modifications; I can remove them easily and recycle the materials. If you keep them, they might should put a bit of extra punch in your first shot. It's extra, but like I said. Up to you." He has the thing taken to the spot where the canon was planned to be mounted, and the smiths get to work.
Maggie claps her hands together and turns to watch the smiths at work. After a gleeful few moments, she turns to Cyndre again, one brow lifting, "Um. Augmentations? What sort of modifications?" Though judging from her expression, she is not about to deny anything that the Master Smith is going to recommend. Every so often, she sneaks another glance over at the amazing piece of hardware her ship now possesses.
It doesn't take long to set the thing up, since it's already mostly assembled and Cyndre comes prepared. In addition to the normal works, there are glass tubes and a gold coil that increases the overall length, along with various wirings. "If it doesn't work, let me know and I'll try again. This is some experimental stuff I'm getting into, so I may not have it quite right yet."
Merrisol studies the cannon as it is hauled across the deck, curious and impressed by its sleek brassy design, though not yippee-skip with glee over it. He does seem to enjoy watching Maggie wriggle with anticipation though, breaking out another grin, which he transfers to Cyndre after a moment. A slight nod of thanks for heightening his Captain's happy-joy quotient.
Maggie does get gleeful when she gets to add coolness and badassery to her ship. She flashes Merri a grin, then almost skips forward to examine the cannon. Though she does try really hard not to get in the way. Kneeling, she peers at the base, then stands to look along the barrel. "Oh, this is beautiful."
Clasping her hands together, she walks backwards for three steps, then strides, beaming, back to Cyndre and Merri, "Okay. We'll let you know. Do we need to do anything different with it? Should I have my Master at Arms come see you? And what is the additional cost? Or do we get it at a discount because we are testing it for you?" Oh, glee. Yes... Glee.
Cyndre replies, "No discount, but no charge until it works for you. I'll send the figures over later so you can look at them." Then she looks over at Merrisol, "As for you, this blade here at my side is what I came up with when I was working on ideas for your blade. It's not quite it, and it's not exactly safe for you to wield. So, we're going to need reagents symbolic to the sun. Rituals, that kind of thing. It's working on some other theories of mine, too, so I won't be the only one making the effort."
Merrisol is watching Maggie bemusedly, but looks around sharply at Cyndre when he feels her focus shifting. He regards the golden sword with eyes narrowed down and crinkling at the edges, pinpointing its shape through the heat haze after a moment and nodding carefully to the fire giantess. He makes a measured approach, pacing closer to her with an appreciation for the rippling heat off the blade, then stops some feet away still. "I wondered why it looked different than the other sword I have seen you wield, Captain Hell. I take your meaning, though. Whatever effort you require, allow me to assist, however I can.. with my Captain's permission, of course."
Maggie nods to Cyndre, hands lifting, "Okay. It was worth a try, though." She pauses and steps closer, watching the two talk. Her gaze lowers to the sword and she does not seem bothered by the heat of it. "That is a beautiful blade, Captain Hell." As her eyes lift, she turns back to Merrisol, "Of course. I would be more than happy to help as well. What do you need?"
Cyndre nods, "First, I need you to keep your eyes and ears out for rumors and legends of concerning things symbolic to the sun. Relics, temples, artifacts of power... I shouldn't need to destroy anything, but if it's a suitable thing, using it as part of a creation ritual should help."
Cyndre says, "In the meantime, I'll think of magics that bear symbolic significance to the sun, and see if I can track down any crafters."
Merrisol listens, still and attentive, although it takes him a few moments to catch on to the what-all about relics and legends. "I'll.. all right, Dame Cyndre, I can certainly do that. I have a couple of ideas already, but I'll do some more research before I present them," he offers.
Cyndre then pops open the smaller box she's carrying. "Now, does any of this stuff make any sense to either of you? There was a dead carp with something funny hanging out of its grab eaten carcass, and this is what all I found in it. I dried out the paper, but otherwise haven't really done more than examine the bits to try and figure out why they were in the fish's belly."
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Author: Caine Held By: Cyndre
Date: Fri Mar 15 17:53:38 2013 Focus: 3
Title: Fish Surprise
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Created via personal resources.
Token Description
This is a large, dead fish. It is a saltwater carp, of a sort, a bottom-dwelling fish that pokes out food at the bottom of the ocean. It lacks color, thereby, being dark grey with black spots, though most of the markings and such have faded in death. It seems to have been dead in water for some weeks, perhaps longer, as it is crab eaten in large chunks and has no eyes left.
Visible between the ribs is... something. A water-resistant bag of waxed canvas making an imperfect seal around contents that are now drowned. The bag, when dug out of the fish, must have been its demise as well, for the guts have been removed to make room for it.
Within the bag is a slender length of fine wood, once polished and part of something, now stained and lacking in most of its varnish. It curves, broken from something at both ends, and has a tiny hole drilled in the center, closer to one of the curved ends than the other, and a small cavity on the underside around the hole. There is a needle stabbed through a bit of leather in the bag also, which might fit in the hole; the needle is hollow, of a sort for medical purposes, though whatever it was has been ripped off the blunt end of the needle. There is also a wicked knife hilt, the blade broken and the handle gone, and a sheet of paper folded four times but so waterlogged and moldy that it appears to be blank.
Curious.
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Moving to the railing, she jumps up and sits on the edge facing the ship's deck and her hair tugged this way and that by the breeze, "Well... Yeah. We should do some research. I know that there are symbols representing the sun in a lot of Shadows. Did you want us to collect them or the tales about them? We can probably bring you several. Though there is also what the sun represents to consider. New growth, energy, light." As she speaks, her gaze shifts to Merrisol and lingers there. "Strength. Hope."
Cyndre holds open the box for the two of them to examine the contents. She's easily able to split discussions, though, explaining, "Right now, the legends, rumors, tales... That way we can figure out what we should pursue."
Merrisol blinks slowly over the semi-topic switch, catching Maggie's eye a moment with an oblique smile, but then leans forward, and cranes his head to look into the box. Frowning over the sight of the decomposing fish, he nevertheless pulls his hands out from behind his back and extends his arms to borrow the box if Cyndre cares to release it to him. "Where did you come upon it, Dame Cyndre?"
Maggie nods and leaps off the railing to come forward to look into the box. "Whoosh. That's one sad lookin' fish, Captain Hell. Though... My cook's talented enough that... Well... He might be able to make it palitable." Then again, the fish is pretty far gone. A frown begins and she follows the box' progress, "No... Belay that." She nods to Merri's question, "And what is all that crap in the carp?"
Cyndre looks in the box, making a face, "What, they left some of the carp in the... ewww." She grabs the chunks out of there, and throws the abruptly flaming bits overboard to go sploosh into the water. "Okay, there, all the stuff, none of the carp."
Merrisol ducks back a little as Cyndre starts roasting and flinging fish guts, and stops trying to take the box, too. "Fine.. but the fish itself might have been significant," he notes critically. "Carp are fresh water species, almost exclusively, as I'm willing to bet one big enough to hold those contents, was. If you fished it out of the water here, then it was dumped here. Probably already dead. And I doubt it would have bothered to consume any of these things even if it had still been alive." Nice zoological deductions to make from just a cursory look, Merri.. Aquaman.. whatever your real name is!
Cyndre says, "When I found it, it was crab eaten and had the waxen cloth sticking out of its gut. We split it open, pulled the stuff out, and they were supposed to just put the stuff in here. I tried to see what was on the paper, but other than being wet and a bit moldy I didn't find anything on it so I dried it out. Everything else here is intact."
Maggie drops to the deck and scuttles to the safe side of the pair, away from the railing. Roasted fishy bits don't make good hair decorations. Popping back up again, she looks ascance at Merri, "Really? I had no idea. Didn't know you knew that much about fish either. But..." Once the fire giantess stops flinging roasty bits, she peers into the box again, "I'm putting my money on it being a plant. Or a dump. I didn't get more than a bit of a glance, but I didn't see any guts." Looking up, she nods, "The bag is interesting. Mind if we open it and see what is inside?" That is, unless it's all visible, out in front of everyone. In the box.
It is. All visible and out in the open....in the box.
Merrisol lifts his shoulders at Maggie. "I don't know why I say half the things I do, Captain. If it's not common knowledge, then I must have read it somewhere." Kerf's Guide to Netiquette? He goes back to looking into the box.
Maggie flickers a nod to Merri, though it includes a thoughtful sort of glance. Then she looks back at the bag and other stuff, "Okay. The wood is interesting. The needle? Have you asked a healer about any of this? That needle looks..." She pauses, her frown growing, "I... Medical? Maybe? Not my forte. This bit..." She points at the curved wooden bit, "looks like part of a navigation tool. Or the crossbar for some unfair weights. See how the hole is off center?" The rest... "Have you shown this stuff to anyone else? I wish the paper had been more use. It is always easier when it is written out for you." She eyes the paper, then closes her eyes and leans over to softly inhale... Though surely not for the roasted oldy moldy fish smell...
Merrisol says, "Okay. It's not technically a carp, it is just some big saltwater bottom-feeder nobody."
Cyndre says, "You're the first ones I've reached. I figured I'd see if you have any ideas, because I don't know the first thing about most of this stuff except the blade, which is interesting but..." She shrugs.
Now that there is no fish to lovingly oogle, Merri just looks blankly at the random paraphernalia. He settles back, glancing at them oddly like he's stumbled into a beachcombers' roadshow convention. Cyndre, your box of junk is actually worth five hundred coppers, but could have been worth five crowns had the broken stick retained its smooth finish!
Maggie says, "You found this here in the bay?" She turns to look out over the water, her expression going still. "A wax bag holding..." Darting a glance over at Cyndre she adds, "The stuff was all in the wax bag, right?" Pausing only long enough to let the woman answer, she continues, "A broken knife. A curved bit of wood with a hole off center and a... Cavity beneath. Like something that would hold a pulley, maybe. A broken medical needle... What else?" She looks into the box again, "A bit of leather that holds the needle and a quarter fold of moldy paper. Inside a bottom feeder that had to be dead before this stuff was put into it. So. Presumably whomever put it here wanted to retreave it later." Looking at Merri, she adds, "There is only one investigation that I know about that is lacking medical equipment." A brow lifts and she turns back to Cyndre, "Would you mind if we hold onto these for at least a little while? I would like to compare them with some other equipment.""
Cyndre arcs a brow. "Investigation? Is this something Tessa's involved in?"
Merrisol looks warily at Maggie as his Captain begins to build a case around the hollow needle. He meets her gaze with his brows slowly raising, but doesn't attempt to argue against the suggestion. He just looks back at the box and attempts to apply the pieces to.. whatever Maggie is referring to. "More like an unofficial inquiry," he suggests to Cyndre as a replacement phrase.
Maggie shrugs, "Right. Sort of following my own curiosity with Mr. Merrisol's kind assistance. Nothing official." She purses her lips slightly, then smiles at Cyndre, "I get a bit compulsive about things at times, I'm told." Like the glee she shows over storm cannons. "If Tessa's working on something real, then by all means. We don't want to hinder anything official."
Cyndre shakes her head. "I don't know of anything. I'll leave it for your inspection for the time being, but do let me know if you turn up anything. It's rather odd, if not outright suspicious so for now I'm inclined to be interested."
When Merri hears that Maggie will be speaking with her mother, he looks at Shao. "Your father's..." he repeats quizzically, then, "One moment." Pivoting, he goes to stand near the tabled area, making a slicing motion of his hand to stop the volley of projectile pastries before anyone gets any funny ideas. "There's a mother on board for the next ten minutes. I expect you all to be on your best behavior," he warns the suddenly quiet band of diners, "and clean up this floor, were you raised in a barn?" He goes back to Shao, gesturing to the stairs and the way up. "Have you already got everything for the match?"
Shao quirks and eyebrow at the mention of Maggie's mother, the rest of his face still frowning. "I have bokens, in my room. Is the Captain's mother really visiting us, Mister Merrisol?" He looks to the rowdy crewmen with his laser eye, ready too go zap zap on them. Mouse is crouching, picking up the spilled bits of lunch on the floor. "Mouse-san, stand up! And no slouching!" Shoa does not even check if his order is being followed, too intrigued by the idea of the Wave Dancer's mother-in-law. "Did you meet Mrs. Lassair yet, Mister Merrisol?"
Fiver would cheekily wonder how they are expected to clean the floor -and- stand up straight... except the other rule of motherhood is Don't You Sass Back, Mister! Merri pauses by Shao's cramped quarters so that the bokken can be retrieved. "I have not met her yet, no, Shao-san," he pokes his head through the doorway to keep the low-key communication going. "She has requested that we do meet, however, and in fact she wants to take me into custody. However Maggie has invoked her right to clear up some inconsistencies regarding identity before delivering me to Captain Amelia." He backs out again, adding, "There has been no official visit of which I'm aware.. however technically she will be on board, in the form of a trump."
Shao breaks out his key and unlocks his door. "I do not like the sound of this," he mutters. He looks down to his boots and decides screw it. "A moment, please." Through the door he goes, boots on, closing behind him. There is are muffled sounds of shuffling and something heavy being dropped, bom. Shao reapears with his oak swords, a little calmer it seems like. "I do not like Princess Flora," he states, "but I promise it will never show."
Merrisol ohs? as he makes it to the stairs. It is still nicely subdued in the dining room, one can almost picture the seamen now eating with their pinky-fingers lifted, and tucking serviettes into their collars. "That's probably wise. Some, like Prince Benedict, are sticklers for decorum. Others, such as Prince Gerard, don't seem to care at all. And for Princess Flora.. dislike seems to pique her interest." And, like Brand, you don't want Flora to be interested in you. Merri goes up ahead of Shao to see to a change of deck crew so that everyone can have some of the purloined pastries.
Time passed, as it is want to do. Neither slowly not quickly, but with deliberate steps each exactly the same length, each the same weight. For some that time will go by quickly while for others it crawls by. For Maggie, the time on trump call with her mother was interminable though finite. When she finished, she changed. If there are some minor thumps and bumps that is only to be expected, right? Exiting her cabin, she wears 'normal' clothing. Locking the door, she tucks the key away, then heads for the stairs.
"Is there no way out of /her/ attention..." Shao mutters, surely meaning Princess Flora. "I can cope with all the others." He stops his rambling, letting Merrisol see about his duty and meanwhile, scouts the deck for what should be a good spot to train. Against all odds, he chooses around the main mast, where he leaves his wasters by. He stretches and warms up, starting with his neck, rotating arms and does a couple of simpler acrobatics, like forward tumbles.
Aw, Merri misses all the good thumps, bumps, and intriguing mutters. He comes back around from the direction of the forecastle, after the men have filed off down the steps, before or after Maggie uses them. He pauses by the half-dismantled winch to make sure it hasn't been disturbed, then goes to the siderail across from the main mast, out of the way but with a direct line to the action.
Maggie uses the steps after the men file down, but tries not to use the men. Honestly. Rising up out of the lower deck area, Maggie glances around but more to check placement than to see if anything needs doing. Walking over toward the mast, she begins to stretch as well. Beginning with her neck, she closes her eyes and rolls forward into a long release. She does not try Shao's acrobatics but does take time to warm up completely.