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Reference: http://begma.roadtoamber.com/geography
The iceberg island is fading into the mist of its own evaporation, but the trail of chemicals and scrap goes on, leading travelers towards and away, as the path requires. Soon enough, even that will vanish, and they will be upon the third and center node, the middle of the Begma Shadowpath. If Martin's ramping preoccupation is anything to go by, they may be nearing their goal, the place of ancient undersea power to which at least one tearstone is linked.
Merrisol has stepped down from the forecastle to leave the prince alone with his thoughts for a while. He leans at the drinking water cask to fill a tin cup and splash his windburned face. Rubbing his bearded jaw to press moisture out in rivulets, he straightens and looks around for the captain, his spouse.
Ruby ventures forth from wherever she was. She wasn't much help with the last node after all that cacophonous noise from earlier, striking some paradoxal seductive and repulsive tones. Very confusing and unsettling to her inner mental hamsterwheel. She brings with her some leather garments of different sizes and styles. The gem-folk are on her radar and she zeroes in on the visible ones to make her way over.
Now that the melty iceberg has passed, Maggie has turned the ship back to Mr. Anderson's capable hands. She is leaning against the railing at the prow of the ship, her hands holding the wood at wither side of her body. She is leaning against the railing, a faint hint of a frown lingering on her brow. The Dancer is currently in the lead by about half a ship's length, but that distance ebbs and flows like the tides though with less regularity. She notes Merrisol leaving Martin up there and her gaze follows her husband, the look not at all absent, though without intent to intrude. When he turns her way, she lifts a hand to wave, inviting him to join her. Movement other than the norm takes her attention and the wave broadens to include Ruby.
Accepting the wave with a nod, Merri slips across the aisle to join Maggie by the rail. "Making good time, looks like. Apologies if that was confusing back there... I thought..." He shakes his head, "I should have explained the path in depth to everyone on the way out of Rebma." Seeing Ruby on the approach with her spare sets of garments, he turns a little to look them over while drawling a wary greeting, "Ruby.." Checking her out for signs of mounting Begma Fatigue.
Ruby offers nods and grunts and selects different pieces of leather to underhand throw to Maggie and then Merrisol. She looks frazzled from the state visit or the last Node. The look might be due to her bent over a table with leatherworking paraphenalia though. The garments from her bundle are wristband/gauntlet type of things for a fencer or falconer. Soft leather from different available pieces of material. Perhaps whatever she was able to lay to hand easily. "You loose them stones this trip get more complicated I bet. I seen so many playing pocket-pool..." She sucks in air through her teeth. "If you want 'ands free, you can use these wristbands or knuckle-protectors...and still feel their smooth surface against yer flesh. There a wee place tah 'old them stones snug." She displays her own with her precious gem thing on the inside of her wrist. "This trip 'as made it painfully aware tah me I ain't as familiar with all the paths as I prolly should."
Maggie shrugs, though she smiles a bit up at Merrisol as he offers his apology. "It's okay. I should have spent more time in the library reading up on the route. I have to watch my inner Amberite and squelch the arrogant belief that it will all come to me in transit. Like... magic." There might be hints of self directed irrotation in her tone. Looking over to Ruby again, she lifts a hand to catch the thrown clothing piece aimed at her. Listening, she unfolds the leather softness, smoothing it out gently, "Thank you, Ruby. This is a great idea." Slipping the wristband on, she tucks the glove into a pocket, then takes her own stone out from its hiding place. Tucking it into the wristband, she draws in a slow, nearly relieved breath. "A really good idea."
Merri plucks the gauntlet from the air and studies it in bemusement. "That's..." He glances between Maggie and Ruby, their own accessory, realizing they are piecemeal and improvised. Shame on him for thinking Ruby might be up to something creepy and ritualistic again, outfitting everyone with matching Sweatbands o' Powah. "Yes.. Thank you, Ruby," he echoes his mate, favouring the forgemistress with a smile. "This will certainly keep them secure." He starts to fit the garment to his right wrist, then holds it out in silent request for Maggie to help fasten it.
Maggie turns to Merrisol when he offers her his arm. Nodding, she runs her fingertips along his wrist, seeking the fastenings. Her touch is gentle, fingers deft and quick. Tying the laces, she makes sure that they are secure without being too tight. Her touch lingers for an instant before falling away. Considering her own slap-dash attempt to attach the leather to her own wrist, she purses her lips in silent self-consternation and extends her arm to Merrisol, a silent entreaty to 'fix it' lighting her eyes.
Unsurprisingly, Merrisol gets distracted from the discussion by Maggie's careful handiwork on the fastenings. Gazing down at her fingers, his attention slips after a few moments to the shiny woven pleats of her hair, then back once she's done. "Feels good, Hotstuff.. thanks." Smiling, he stretches his arm outward to inspect the tethers, and grins at her wanting the favour returned, which he of course obliges with equal concentration over fit and comfort. And then they'll all be ready for Homecoming! Just when Raphaela drops in, time speeds back to normal pace. "There you are.. was wondering if you stayed behind on the island.." Merri has his mirror stone in hand now, frowning as he slides it into the holding spot on his inner wrist.
Raphaela says "And miss all the vomit inducing cuteness? "Her face is -_-. "Never." She bites into the cookie. "Sup." She eyes the wrist fastenings. "What did I miss."
Maggie blinks at Raphaela, her smile warm. Slowly, however, her attention is drawn to Merrisol's touch as he fixes the mess she made of keeping the leather on her wrist. Her smile turns slightly wistful, warm. When he finishes, she looks up to whisper, "thanks, beloved". Looking back to Raphaela in time to witness the cookie, she considers swiping it briefly. Instead, she lifts her wrist to adjust the mirror stone in its holder. Feeling the smoothness against her skin is a different sort of distraction. But it is one she isn't ready to commit to yet. Lowering her hand, she refocuses on Raphaela, "We are going to the center Node, Raph. It might be the one Martin is looking for. And Ruby provided a solution to our problem of possibly losing our stones."
Raphaela nodnods solemnly "Ruby is awesome." It is known.
Maggie says, "Ruby is awesome." She tries to find the forgemistress on deck, but is not successful, "She is around somewhere and will hopefully be back in a few." Returning her gaze, she adds, "Um. May I please have a cookie, Raph? Do you have enough still to share?"
Raphaela arches a brow. "You have a big cookie there, I can have comfort food!" she grins and hands over a pouch of cookies.
Maggie leans slightly toward Merrisol, but accepts the bag, "Yes, but..." After a second, she adds, "Thank you." Carefully opening the bag, she draws out one of the amazing circles. Rather than taking a bite, she offers it to her husband. Sharing! "So, it turns out that collecting the mechanical items from the sea was both useful and not a good idea. We needed to provide ome to get through the node, but need to leave some for other ships. Much as I hate thet pollution..."
Raphaela squints. She didn't say HE can get one, or that she can take the whole pouch. Seriously, she should wean them off the cookies this is too far.
"Any time," murmurs Merri, with his other hand still clasped over the hidden stone, even though it is now in no danger of skittering away. At the mention of the Rebman prince, Merrisol glances away to check on Martin. Seems he, and others, are a leetle concerned about the rockstar's mental health since... wait, COOKIE? "Mmm, thought they'd all been 'ete," he grins, nabbing the offering. He takes a bite even while staring at Raphaela squinting. "...Still good..." He looks from Raph to Maggie to pouch to Raph. Whut?
Maggie has not noticed Raphaela's objection. She takes one for herself from the pouch, then offers it back. That is when she notices the squint. A blush begins and she looks from the pouch in her hand to Merrisol, then back to Raph. It is a round robin of looks, for sure. Lifting the cookie to her mouth, she takes a slow-motion bite, crumbs trying to escape as her lips close on them, denying their bid for freedom. Chewing, she takes her time with it, still holding the pouch out to Raphaela. Merris's comment is seconded silently. So good. Swallowing, she tilts her head a bit, "You okay?"
Raphaela snaps pouch away. "Next time I bring pickle sandwiches."
Merri does catch on, in the next moment, side-eyeing Maggie's ever so meticulous mouthful.. something about that image almost choking him into spraying crumbs at Raphaela. Since that would be almost as bad as Quinlan slapping Martin up the back of his head not too long ago, he manages to cover with the palm of his hand in time, and slams the rest of the cookie into his mouth for safe keeping. Cough. "Beg pardon..." He turns and points vaguely to the prow, mumbling, "Need to check on Marty.. Thanks for the.. Thank you."
Raphaela tchs "Run, cookie snatcher, run."
Maggie watches Merrisol sidelong for an instant as he keeps from showering Raphaela with deliscious, if newly gross, crumbs. Clearing her throat, she nods, "See you in a bit, darling." Looking back to Raphaela, she sighs, "First. I like pickle sandwiches, so bring 'em along." She does not stipulate which kind of pickles, mind you. "Second... I am sorry, Raphaela. I did not think to ask if Kerf could have one. I should have, but figured that you would not mind... since you all are friends." Even though she took a bite, she offers the cookie back, "If you want, I can owe you a bite of my next cookie. Recognizing that no cookie I make will be as good as these..."
Raphaela grins "Also these are not mine. My cook made the entire batch."
Maggie blinks then lifts the cookie Raphaela did not take up again. Taking another bite, she concentrates on the flavor, the texture, the... bite is swallowed, "If so, your cook is learning your secrets, Raph." She smiles at her friend, "I should ask Mouse to give them a try. Or, make us some pickle sandwiches to celebrate your cook's acomplishments."
Raphaela nods "It just lacks all the stress. I will share the recipe gladly!"
Maggie is standing with Raphaela at the port railing, about a third of the way down the ship from the prow. Merrisol is headed forward as Martin is on the forecastle. Where he can be seen. Ruby is around and Amy is snoozing in dragon form. Dirk might still be curled up purring in her ear all cat-like and furry.
Maggie nods, grinning, "Oh, the recipe would be amazing. Please. THank you..." She leans against the railing, most of a cookie still in her hand. She takes another bite, because they are wonderful.
Raphaela sighs "I swear, sometimes I think I am just a cookie dealer to you all." she doesnt. but drama is strong.
Quinlan is, for the time being, keeping to the edges of things. Apparently the mageling has a lot to think about, and has a preference for feeling the wind on his face. If observed, it's not hard to tell he's keeping an eye on Martin whenever he can.
Maggie chuckles, "Oh, no. YOu aren't. You are part of the family, Raph. That you make the best cookies ever is a bonus but not even the center of why you are one of us." She has taken note of Quinlan andn given him a quiet nod of recognition.
Raphaela was, usually, on rafters, watching everyone, but quips with Mags quite happily. "Repairs then?" she grins. She looks up to Quin, one of her oldest adventure buddies and waves a greeting.
Quinlan gives Raphaela a smile and return wave. "When did you drop in?"
Raphaela leans back ono the rail, "A bit ago. Brough some rum and cookies. Gave my last to Mags if you missed out. How is?"
Maggie chuckles, "Sure. If you like." The cookie is finally consumed and she sighs happily, "Regardless, I am glad that you are here." Looking up to Quuinlan, she chuckles, letting Raphaela answer.
Quinlan shrugs with a little smile, coming to join them. "I still have a stash of cookies and milk in my bag, it's fine," he says. "As to how I am? Currently, pondering where I can get my hands on an interesting alcoholic drink. And I do mean *interesting*."
Miriam has connected.
Raphaela headtilts "Oh sounds like a challenge." She perches on the rail locking her ankles and leans in "Do specify."
Maggie chuckles at Quinlan, though there is a rueful air to it. THen she brightens when Raphaela gets interested. For a moment, she considers, then offers, "You could talk to Justin. Though Raphaela may have equally interesting contacts."
Raphaela leans in at Quin more "Hide cookies from Maggie and Merri." Friendly advice.
Quinlan smiles. "I have my bag, that seems to hide things well enough. And...interesting. Not necessarily 'kick to knock you on your ass' or 'burns blue' or anything simple. Just...interesting. Unique. I've got *one* bottle that fits that bill, but it's the wrong kind of interesting for what I want to do."
Maggie looks up at Quinlan, "Wait. You've had Raphaela's cookies in your bag and you didn't mention it?" By the look she shadows Raphaela and the merriment in her eyes, she is teasing. Mostly.
Raphaela pulls out her flask and offers. It is Sorgo cherry brandy (TM).
Miriam has mostly been quiet, watching the others as she rests. She smiles, but has seemed content to leave the conversation to them for the time being.
"I said I had cookies in my bag, and I do," Quinlan corrects. "I never said Raph made them." He accepts the flask, sniffing curiously. Small sip.
Raphaela adds "And I warn all cookies no matter the providence, of the horrible danger looming aboard."
Maggie eases, then folds her arms over her chest, "Oh, right. That makes all the difference." The mirth is still there though she perks up at the appeaance of the flask. Once Quinlan has taken a sip, she unhooks one hand to take it. She sniffs it, then claims a sip in turn. Offering it back to Raphaela, she chuckles, "A terrible fate. To be eaten without mercy. No cookie will survive..." Miriam is given a nod when spotted as Maggie's gaze travels up toward the forecastle where Martin and Merrisol are. It is a calculating look, intended to discern whatever magics swirl around the two.
Quinlan's amusement fades as he follows Maggie's glance. "Any change?" he asks, much more softly and seriously.
Off note to Mags, apparently, Raph has many flasks in many pockets, and none of it is water. "Ha! You learn." Raph grins at the careful sniff. Then waves at Miri with a smile. "No cookie is safe." She watches them all "What should I be looking for?"
Maggie's nod earns a fond smile from Miriam, though she still seems fine where she is, watching the group. There's the occasional glance towards Martin and Merrisol, but she also doesn't seem inclined to disturb them.
Maggie chuckles, "Yes. I have learned that the scent of alcoholic beverages can be ust as interesting as the taste." Raph is offered a wink and a grin. Cheeky Maggie is silly. Sobering as her attention is returned to Martin and Merrisol, she inhales, "I am not sure, Quinlan. Sometimes I think that I see something different, but it could be the angle, I suppose." Lowering her gaze to Raphaela, she purses her lips slightly, considering before replying.. When she does, it is spoken quietly so the words do not carry, "Well... There is a lot of magic around. Mostly around Martin, but sometimes? I am not sure. More so than usual though. But as this is a magic-focused adventure, I am not sure what level is appropriate." Magically focused adventures in Begma. Riiight...
Quinlan smiles a little. "Well. Thank you for that. I think," he murmurs. "But this is more a matter of effect, really. You can haul a hold full of strong whiskey and be fine, but when you start *drinking* it, you don't get far before it's pretty badly messed you up. 'Magic adventure' is fine. It's how much of the 'magic adventure' is sloshing around the inside of Martin's head I'm more concerned with." His lip quirks a little. "There should be a rule about questing with your brain sloshed on enchantments, but if there were, half the quests out there would never get finished."
Raphaela chuckles at the description. She got it. "Hm. Best stuff happens when things aren't entirely under control, though." she hops off her perch. "I'll be up there if anyone needs me."
The ships have sailed apace at this point, and by the look of the sea waves there has been a seamless transition into the shadow location of the third node. No more oxygen-deprived toxic water, however the relatively shallow depths of this new expanse make it easy to spot the resting hulks of mast-less vessels and other junk beneath the surface, at least half of them overtaken with barnacle and coral systems.
Merrisol is up with Martin, talking quietly and showing him the stone-holding leather bracer, one of several Ruby has been fashioning and passing around to the current holders of mirror tearstones. The Rebman royal appears to be paying attention at first, then becomes preoccupied with the distant horizon once more.
Maggie has a bracer on her wrist, the tearstone tucked into a specially designed frame that lets the smooth surface rest against her skin. She watches the two male 'M's up on the forecastle for a few moments before drawing in a sharper breath and turning back. By then Raphaela has ascended the rigging and is lost against the sail and sky. Probably in the crow's nest. Releasing the breath, she nods to Quinlan, "By the way. Find Ruby when you can. She has a... Well, glove and wristguard for you. I think one of each, but it might be that you choose one... I am not sure."
Quinlan looks down at Maggie's set. "...I see," he says. "Sure. I guess it's time I stopped my sleeves from flapping all around, anyway."
Maggie chuckles, "Why? You can wear the breacer beneath your sleeve, I expect." Her gaze flickers around again, quietly, as though seeking Ruby on Quinlan's behalf. THen she looks back to her cousin, "Oh, Quin? How much do you know about trumps? By the way?"
Quinlan mmms, waggling his hand back and forth. "More than some, not as much as I'd like. They're kind of Brand's wheelhouse. I do remember that he went on record once saying that if the Pattern were destroyed, the universe would be held together by the Trumps. Not sure how much stock to put in that, though."
Maggie nods, "Hrm. Okay. I have been working on learning more about them. I suspect that there is a way to pull items from trumps. Rather than just pull people through. I mean... It makes sense. I just can't quite wrap my head around it. What do you think?"
Quinlan blinks. "Oh. Yes, you can do that. I mean, I do understand the theory, I just never really sat down to ...you know, *do* the thing, work out the process. I think it ties to a basic question - why can you only draw Trumps of people you've met? Why can't a description do just as well? And the same goes for places, doesn't it? You can only draw a trump of somewhere you've personally been? I think the answer to that, is also the answer to how you'd traw a trump of a thing."
Maggie listens intently, then nods, "I... agree with you. I think. But, now that you have said that, I believe that I know what I've been doing wrong. I mean... When you draw a trump of a person, you have to draw it as though it was real, right? Including their essence... So, it must be similar with things." Her hands begin to move as she speaks, describing in motion what she is saying, though sometimes her words and apparent actions are not quite the same. "So... I should begin with something that I know well. Maybe something that I made. Maybe that will be easier."
Quinlan nods. "Trumps are about connections. Specific connections, not general ones. If you want to draw a trump of a thing it needs to be a thing you *know*, in specific. Something that has a history and meaning."
Maggie nods slowly, "Good... Thank you. That makes sense." She lowers her hands, then and sighs deeply, "I have been beating my head against a wall trying to figure it out. And really, if this works, it should have been easy. I guess that's how it goes. I'll let you know if it works."
Quinlan smiles. "I'll look forward to hearing about your results. But really, if you hit a wall...you *know* who you'd have to ask."
Maggie's lips twitch up into a wry smile, "Oh, I know. I'll need to talk to dad. He's been kind of incommunicado though. So, I will have to broach the subject carefully. I don't want him to feel as though I only seek him out when I want him to teach me something."
Quinlan shrugs. "It would be the kind of familial interaction he's probably very, very used to by now," he points out. "Most of the elders live like that."
Maggie shrugs, "Probably. And that may be safer for all of us, really. The elders are not exactly stable. Dad in particular." She sighs, leaning back against the railing again, "Dang it. All the good feelings from Raphaela's cookies are gone. Talking about the elders is always exhausting."
The iceberg island is fading into the mist of its own evaporation, but the trail of chemicals and scrap goes on, leading travelers towards and away, as the path requires. Soon enough, even that will vanish, and they will be upon the third and center node, the middle of the Begma Shadowpath. If Martin's ramping preoccupation is anything to go by, they may be nearing their goal, the place of ancient undersea power to which at least one tearstone is linked.
Merrisol has stepped down from the forecastle to leave the prince alone with his thoughts for a while. He leans at the drinking water cask to fill a tin cup and splash his windburned face. Rubbing his bearded jaw to press moisture out in rivulets, he straightens and looks around for the captain, his spouse.
Ruby ventures forth from wherever she was. She wasn't much help with the last node after all that cacophonous noise from earlier, striking some paradoxal seductive and repulsive tones. Very confusing and unsettling to her inner mental hamsterwheel. She brings with her some leather garments of different sizes and styles. The gem-folk are on her radar and she zeroes in on the visible ones to make her way over.
Now that the melty iceberg has passed, Maggie has turned the ship back to Mr. Anderson's capable hands. She is leaning against the railing at the prow of the ship, her hands holding the wood at wither side of her body. She is leaning against the railing, a faint hint of a frown lingering on her brow. The Dancer is currently in the lead by about half a ship's length, but that distance ebbs and flows like the tides though with less regularity. She notes Merrisol leaving Martin up there and her gaze follows her husband, the look not at all absent, though without intent to intrude. When he turns her way, she lifts a hand to wave, inviting him to join her. Movement other than the norm takes her attention and the wave broadens to include Ruby.
Accepting the wave with a nod, Merri slips across the aisle to join Maggie by the rail. "Making good time, looks like. Apologies if that was confusing back there... I thought..." He shakes his head, "I should have explained the path in depth to everyone on the way out of Rebma." Seeing Ruby on the approach with her spare sets of garments, he turns a little to look them over while drawling a wary greeting, "Ruby.." Checking her out for signs of mounting Begma Fatigue.
Ruby offers nods and grunts and selects different pieces of leather to underhand throw to Maggie and then Merrisol. She looks frazzled from the state visit or the last Node. The look might be due to her bent over a table with leatherworking paraphenalia though. The garments from her bundle are wristband/gauntlet type of things for a fencer or falconer. Soft leather from different available pieces of material. Perhaps whatever she was able to lay to hand easily. "You loose them stones this trip get more complicated I bet. I seen so many playing pocket-pool..." She sucks in air through her teeth. "If you want 'ands free, you can use these wristbands or knuckle-protectors...and still feel their smooth surface against yer flesh. There a wee place tah 'old them stones snug." She displays her own with her precious gem thing on the inside of her wrist. "This trip 'as made it painfully aware tah me I ain't as familiar with all the paths as I prolly should."
Maggie shrugs, though she smiles a bit up at Merrisol as he offers his apology. "It's okay. I should have spent more time in the library reading up on the route. I have to watch my inner Amberite and squelch the arrogant belief that it will all come to me in transit. Like... magic." There might be hints of self directed irrotation in her tone. Looking over to Ruby again, she lifts a hand to catch the thrown clothing piece aimed at her. Listening, she unfolds the leather softness, smoothing it out gently, "Thank you, Ruby. This is a great idea." Slipping the wristband on, she tucks the glove into a pocket, then takes her own stone out from its hiding place. Tucking it into the wristband, she draws in a slow, nearly relieved breath. "A really good idea."
Merri plucks the gauntlet from the air and studies it in bemusement. "That's..." He glances between Maggie and Ruby, their own accessory, realizing they are piecemeal and improvised. Shame on him for thinking Ruby might be up to something creepy and ritualistic again, outfitting everyone with matching Sweatbands o' Powah. "Yes.. Thank you, Ruby," he echoes his mate, favouring the forgemistress with a smile. "This will certainly keep them secure." He starts to fit the garment to his right wrist, then holds it out in silent request for Maggie to help fasten it.
Maggie turns to Merrisol when he offers her his arm. Nodding, she runs her fingertips along his wrist, seeking the fastenings. Her touch is gentle, fingers deft and quick. Tying the laces, she makes sure that they are secure without being too tight. Her touch lingers for an instant before falling away. Considering her own slap-dash attempt to attach the leather to her own wrist, she purses her lips in silent self-consternation and extends her arm to Merrisol, a silent entreaty to 'fix it' lighting her eyes.
Unsurprisingly, Merrisol gets distracted from the discussion by Maggie's careful handiwork on the fastenings. Gazing down at her fingers, his attention slips after a few moments to the shiny woven pleats of her hair, then back once she's done. "Feels good, Hotstuff.. thanks." Smiling, he stretches his arm outward to inspect the tethers, and grins at her wanting the favour returned, which he of course obliges with equal concentration over fit and comfort. And then they'll all be ready for Homecoming! Just when Raphaela drops in, time speeds back to normal pace. "There you are.. was wondering if you stayed behind on the island.." Merri has his mirror stone in hand now, frowning as he slides it into the holding spot on his inner wrist.
Raphaela says "And miss all the vomit inducing cuteness? "Her face is -_-. "Never." She bites into the cookie. "Sup." She eyes the wrist fastenings. "What did I miss."
Maggie blinks at Raphaela, her smile warm. Slowly, however, her attention is drawn to Merrisol's touch as he fixes the mess she made of keeping the leather on her wrist. Her smile turns slightly wistful, warm. When he finishes, she looks up to whisper, "thanks, beloved". Looking back to Raphaela in time to witness the cookie, she considers swiping it briefly. Instead, she lifts her wrist to adjust the mirror stone in its holder. Feeling the smoothness against her skin is a different sort of distraction. But it is one she isn't ready to commit to yet. Lowering her hand, she refocuses on Raphaela, "We are going to the center Node, Raph. It might be the one Martin is looking for. And Ruby provided a solution to our problem of possibly losing our stones."
Raphaela nodnods solemnly "Ruby is awesome." It is known.
Maggie says, "Ruby is awesome." She tries to find the forgemistress on deck, but is not successful, "She is around somewhere and will hopefully be back in a few." Returning her gaze, she adds, "Um. May I please have a cookie, Raph? Do you have enough still to share?"
Raphaela arches a brow. "You have a big cookie there, I can have comfort food!" she grins and hands over a pouch of cookies.
Maggie leans slightly toward Merrisol, but accepts the bag, "Yes, but..." After a second, she adds, "Thank you." Carefully opening the bag, she draws out one of the amazing circles. Rather than taking a bite, she offers it to her husband. Sharing! "So, it turns out that collecting the mechanical items from the sea was both useful and not a good idea. We needed to provide ome to get through the node, but need to leave some for other ships. Much as I hate thet pollution..."
Raphaela squints. She didn't say HE can get one, or that she can take the whole pouch. Seriously, she should wean them off the cookies this is too far.
"Any time," murmurs Merri, with his other hand still clasped over the hidden stone, even though it is now in no danger of skittering away. At the mention of the Rebman prince, Merrisol glances away to check on Martin. Seems he, and others, are a leetle concerned about the rockstar's mental health since... wait, COOKIE? "Mmm, thought they'd all been 'ete," he grins, nabbing the offering. He takes a bite even while staring at Raphaela squinting. "...Still good..." He looks from Raph to Maggie to pouch to Raph. Whut?
Maggie has not noticed Raphaela's objection. She takes one for herself from the pouch, then offers it back. That is when she notices the squint. A blush begins and she looks from the pouch in her hand to Merrisol, then back to Raph. It is a round robin of looks, for sure. Lifting the cookie to her mouth, she takes a slow-motion bite, crumbs trying to escape as her lips close on them, denying their bid for freedom. Chewing, she takes her time with it, still holding the pouch out to Raphaela. Merris's comment is seconded silently. So good. Swallowing, she tilts her head a bit, "You okay?"
Raphaela snaps pouch away. "Next time I bring pickle sandwiches."
Merri does catch on, in the next moment, side-eyeing Maggie's ever so meticulous mouthful.. something about that image almost choking him into spraying crumbs at Raphaela. Since that would be almost as bad as Quinlan slapping Martin up the back of his head not too long ago, he manages to cover with the palm of his hand in time, and slams the rest of the cookie into his mouth for safe keeping. Cough. "Beg pardon..." He turns and points vaguely to the prow, mumbling, "Need to check on Marty.. Thanks for the.. Thank you."
Raphaela tchs "Run, cookie snatcher, run."
Maggie watches Merrisol sidelong for an instant as he keeps from showering Raphaela with deliscious, if newly gross, crumbs. Clearing her throat, she nods, "See you in a bit, darling." Looking back to Raphaela, she sighs, "First. I like pickle sandwiches, so bring 'em along." She does not stipulate which kind of pickles, mind you. "Second... I am sorry, Raphaela. I did not think to ask if Kerf could have one. I should have, but figured that you would not mind... since you all are friends." Even though she took a bite, she offers the cookie back, "If you want, I can owe you a bite of my next cookie. Recognizing that no cookie I make will be as good as these..."
Raphaela grins "Also these are not mine. My cook made the entire batch."
Maggie blinks then lifts the cookie Raphaela did not take up again. Taking another bite, she concentrates on the flavor, the texture, the... bite is swallowed, "If so, your cook is learning your secrets, Raph." She smiles at her friend, "I should ask Mouse to give them a try. Or, make us some pickle sandwiches to celebrate your cook's acomplishments."
Raphaela nods "It just lacks all the stress. I will share the recipe gladly!"
Maggie is standing with Raphaela at the port railing, about a third of the way down the ship from the prow. Merrisol is headed forward as Martin is on the forecastle. Where he can be seen. Ruby is around and Amy is snoozing in dragon form. Dirk might still be curled up purring in her ear all cat-like and furry.
Maggie nods, grinning, "Oh, the recipe would be amazing. Please. THank you..." She leans against the railing, most of a cookie still in her hand. She takes another bite, because they are wonderful.
Raphaela sighs "I swear, sometimes I think I am just a cookie dealer to you all." she doesnt. but drama is strong.
Quinlan is, for the time being, keeping to the edges of things. Apparently the mageling has a lot to think about, and has a preference for feeling the wind on his face. If observed, it's not hard to tell he's keeping an eye on Martin whenever he can.
Maggie chuckles, "Oh, no. YOu aren't. You are part of the family, Raph. That you make the best cookies ever is a bonus but not even the center of why you are one of us." She has taken note of Quinlan andn given him a quiet nod of recognition.
Raphaela was, usually, on rafters, watching everyone, but quips with Mags quite happily. "Repairs then?" she grins. She looks up to Quin, one of her oldest adventure buddies and waves a greeting.
Quinlan gives Raphaela a smile and return wave. "When did you drop in?"
Raphaela leans back ono the rail, "A bit ago. Brough some rum and cookies. Gave my last to Mags if you missed out. How is?"
Maggie chuckles, "Sure. If you like." The cookie is finally consumed and she sighs happily, "Regardless, I am glad that you are here." Looking up to Quuinlan, she chuckles, letting Raphaela answer.
Quinlan shrugs with a little smile, coming to join them. "I still have a stash of cookies and milk in my bag, it's fine," he says. "As to how I am? Currently, pondering where I can get my hands on an interesting alcoholic drink. And I do mean *interesting*."
Miriam has connected.
Raphaela headtilts "Oh sounds like a challenge." She perches on the rail locking her ankles and leans in "Do specify."
Maggie chuckles at Quinlan, though there is a rueful air to it. THen she brightens when Raphaela gets interested. For a moment, she considers, then offers, "You could talk to Justin. Though Raphaela may have equally interesting contacts."
Raphaela leans in at Quin more "Hide cookies from Maggie and Merri." Friendly advice.
Quinlan smiles. "I have my bag, that seems to hide things well enough. And...interesting. Not necessarily 'kick to knock you on your ass' or 'burns blue' or anything simple. Just...interesting. Unique. I've got *one* bottle that fits that bill, but it's the wrong kind of interesting for what I want to do."
Maggie looks up at Quinlan, "Wait. You've had Raphaela's cookies in your bag and you didn't mention it?" By the look she shadows Raphaela and the merriment in her eyes, she is teasing. Mostly.
Raphaela pulls out her flask and offers. It is Sorgo cherry brandy (TM).
Miriam has mostly been quiet, watching the others as she rests. She smiles, but has seemed content to leave the conversation to them for the time being.
"I said I had cookies in my bag, and I do," Quinlan corrects. "I never said Raph made them." He accepts the flask, sniffing curiously. Small sip.
Raphaela adds "And I warn all cookies no matter the providence, of the horrible danger looming aboard."
Maggie eases, then folds her arms over her chest, "Oh, right. That makes all the difference." The mirth is still there though she perks up at the appeaance of the flask. Once Quinlan has taken a sip, she unhooks one hand to take it. She sniffs it, then claims a sip in turn. Offering it back to Raphaela, she chuckles, "A terrible fate. To be eaten without mercy. No cookie will survive..." Miriam is given a nod when spotted as Maggie's gaze travels up toward the forecastle where Martin and Merrisol are. It is a calculating look, intended to discern whatever magics swirl around the two.
Quinlan's amusement fades as he follows Maggie's glance. "Any change?" he asks, much more softly and seriously.
Off note to Mags, apparently, Raph has many flasks in many pockets, and none of it is water. "Ha! You learn." Raph grins at the careful sniff. Then waves at Miri with a smile. "No cookie is safe." She watches them all "What should I be looking for?"
Maggie's nod earns a fond smile from Miriam, though she still seems fine where she is, watching the group. There's the occasional glance towards Martin and Merrisol, but she also doesn't seem inclined to disturb them.
Maggie chuckles, "Yes. I have learned that the scent of alcoholic beverages can be ust as interesting as the taste." Raph is offered a wink and a grin. Cheeky Maggie is silly. Sobering as her attention is returned to Martin and Merrisol, she inhales, "I am not sure, Quinlan. Sometimes I think that I see something different, but it could be the angle, I suppose." Lowering her gaze to Raphaela, she purses her lips slightly, considering before replying.. When she does, it is spoken quietly so the words do not carry, "Well... There is a lot of magic around. Mostly around Martin, but sometimes? I am not sure. More so than usual though. But as this is a magic-focused adventure, I am not sure what level is appropriate." Magically focused adventures in Begma. Riiight...
Quinlan smiles a little. "Well. Thank you for that. I think," he murmurs. "But this is more a matter of effect, really. You can haul a hold full of strong whiskey and be fine, but when you start *drinking* it, you don't get far before it's pretty badly messed you up. 'Magic adventure' is fine. It's how much of the 'magic adventure' is sloshing around the inside of Martin's head I'm more concerned with." His lip quirks a little. "There should be a rule about questing with your brain sloshed on enchantments, but if there were, half the quests out there would never get finished."
Raphaela chuckles at the description. She got it. "Hm. Best stuff happens when things aren't entirely under control, though." she hops off her perch. "I'll be up there if anyone needs me."
The ships have sailed apace at this point, and by the look of the sea waves there has been a seamless transition into the shadow location of the third node. No more oxygen-deprived toxic water, however the relatively shallow depths of this new expanse make it easy to spot the resting hulks of mast-less vessels and other junk beneath the surface, at least half of them overtaken with barnacle and coral systems.
Merrisol is up with Martin, talking quietly and showing him the stone-holding leather bracer, one of several Ruby has been fashioning and passing around to the current holders of mirror tearstones. The Rebman royal appears to be paying attention at first, then becomes preoccupied with the distant horizon once more.
Maggie has a bracer on her wrist, the tearstone tucked into a specially designed frame that lets the smooth surface rest against her skin. She watches the two male 'M's up on the forecastle for a few moments before drawing in a sharper breath and turning back. By then Raphaela has ascended the rigging and is lost against the sail and sky. Probably in the crow's nest. Releasing the breath, she nods to Quinlan, "By the way. Find Ruby when you can. She has a... Well, glove and wristguard for you. I think one of each, but it might be that you choose one... I am not sure."
Quinlan looks down at Maggie's set. "...I see," he says. "Sure. I guess it's time I stopped my sleeves from flapping all around, anyway."
Maggie chuckles, "Why? You can wear the breacer beneath your sleeve, I expect." Her gaze flickers around again, quietly, as though seeking Ruby on Quinlan's behalf. THen she looks back to her cousin, "Oh, Quin? How much do you know about trumps? By the way?"
Quinlan mmms, waggling his hand back and forth. "More than some, not as much as I'd like. They're kind of Brand's wheelhouse. I do remember that he went on record once saying that if the Pattern were destroyed, the universe would be held together by the Trumps. Not sure how much stock to put in that, though."
Maggie nods, "Hrm. Okay. I have been working on learning more about them. I suspect that there is a way to pull items from trumps. Rather than just pull people through. I mean... It makes sense. I just can't quite wrap my head around it. What do you think?"
Quinlan blinks. "Oh. Yes, you can do that. I mean, I do understand the theory, I just never really sat down to ...you know, *do* the thing, work out the process. I think it ties to a basic question - why can you only draw Trumps of people you've met? Why can't a description do just as well? And the same goes for places, doesn't it? You can only draw a trump of somewhere you've personally been? I think the answer to that, is also the answer to how you'd traw a trump of a thing."
Maggie listens intently, then nods, "I... agree with you. I think. But, now that you have said that, I believe that I know what I've been doing wrong. I mean... When you draw a trump of a person, you have to draw it as though it was real, right? Including their essence... So, it must be similar with things." Her hands begin to move as she speaks, describing in motion what she is saying, though sometimes her words and apparent actions are not quite the same. "So... I should begin with something that I know well. Maybe something that I made. Maybe that will be easier."
Quinlan nods. "Trumps are about connections. Specific connections, not general ones. If you want to draw a trump of a thing it needs to be a thing you *know*, in specific. Something that has a history and meaning."
Maggie nods slowly, "Good... Thank you. That makes sense." She lowers her hands, then and sighs deeply, "I have been beating my head against a wall trying to figure it out. And really, if this works, it should have been easy. I guess that's how it goes. I'll let you know if it works."
Quinlan smiles. "I'll look forward to hearing about your results. But really, if you hit a wall...you *know* who you'd have to ask."
Maggie's lips twitch up into a wry smile, "Oh, I know. I'll need to talk to dad. He's been kind of incommunicado though. So, I will have to broach the subject carefully. I don't want him to feel as though I only seek him out when I want him to teach me something."
Quinlan shrugs. "It would be the kind of familial interaction he's probably very, very used to by now," he points out. "Most of the elders live like that."
Maggie shrugs, "Probably. And that may be safer for all of us, really. The elders are not exactly stable. Dad in particular." She sighs, leaning back against the railing again, "Dang it. All the good feelings from Raphaela's cookies are gone. Talking about the elders is always exhausting."
