The Truth Untold

[rassafraggin]

--[ Surya's Coffeehouse ]-----------------------------------[ Amber City ]----

Night. That is when people sleep, right? Right. And yet, this night finds Bunty wandering the streets of Amber swathed in a cloak of chocolate brown, a muffler of neon orange, gloves of peacock blue and boots of fire-engine red. Why? Well, when one is a willowy slip of a thing, one can take refuge in the strange and rainbow-hued. Works like a charm. Usually. Tonight, walking beneath the high arch of black, star-spangled sky, she moves with purpose though her eyes flicker here and there, seeing images in her own thoughts. At one point, she stops, one foot raised as though to take a step. without effort or apparent intent, she swings into a side street. The foot is lowered and off she goes again. Now, rather than somewhat aimless meandering, she has spotted or claimed a goal. The coffee shop. Ah, yes. Caffeine, warmth and; if all goes well, conversation to round out a perfect evening.

There is this Jade type guy, outside the Coffeehouse entrance, trying to open the door with only his foot. Now his butt. Back to foot. What a stubborn man.

Merrisol can't skim, pixie-like, through the streets, or pull off a sad but inspiring panache with two out of four limbs crippled. Even with the coat. No, it's his lot tonight to be the normal person of the bunch, who takes the regular route into the heart of the city, doesn't have any narrow misses with falling vases or sewer holes, and isn't followed by a winterlude choral group for blocks like a hero with his very own theme music. On the other side of the coffee house door, for he very sensibly arrived a little earlier than the agreed-upon time, the man loosens his voluminous grey muffler and hangs it up on a hook by the faintly bumping door. Then unfastens the catches of his coat, while the chime dings once without any entry. He turns to glance at the door for a long moment, sensing something weird perhaps. Tempting.. but. No. He'll just go to the usual spot on the settee, and make the usual order, and everything will be completely fine.

Outside, Bunty comes up behind the fellow from Jade and pauses. She watches the man dance the butt-foot boogie with the door for a few moments before her attention is caught by the flash of red within. Is she late? Time is so difficult to pin down at night when the movement of the stars in their orbs is unfamiliar to her. Oh, sure, she could look at a watch or maybe follow the moon's progress but... Her musings are cut short by the sound of the door chiming plaintively withing. Clearing her throat, she steps forward to offer, "'Scues me. Lemme get that for you, okay?" Edging forward, she catches the door's handle between one butt bump and a lifted foot and pops it open. "There. See?" She will hold the door open for the man, then slip in after him.

Shao sidesteps, flashing a smile to the helpful woman. "Thank you," he says, bowing for her in the rigid style of Penglai before entering. He extends his leg all across the door horizontally, staying in equilibrium on the other, like someone would turn a doorknob, all this time keeping his arms loose by his sides. "Please, Lady," he offers.

The glorified cafe is warm with light and body heat and the crackling hearth, but unlike a tavern with all the same characteristics, loud bouts of impromptu singing is frowned upon. Poetry or the occasional Spoken Word jam session is okay. That's what seems to be going on by the fireplace, with a sizable group of regulars gathered around to listen to a playwright of minor fame give a reading from his newest collection of verse. A lot of chairs have been appropriated from the various tables, but the settee remains cozily off in the corner, able to seat two, three, maybe four normal people in a pinch. This of course means there's room for Merrisol on one side, and two skinny minnies on the other. His coat has come off due to the warmth and underneath is a soft fawn doublet over buff-toned shirt and trousers. The low-slung table carries a small assortment of tea cakes and cookies, Merri's coffee, black, and is joined by a dark leather journal as he presently looks up at the full jingle of bells. "Ah.. Shao!" he utters, staring as the Penglai shuffles through, and wincing, "Should've known.." He offers a wave, gaze tilting a little to see who else might be coming in.

It takes Bunty a moment or two to realize that the leg slung across the door is intended to be holding it open for her. The door. Not the leg. Were the leg open she would have to call for her brother the surgeon because that would mean blood everywhere and ew. Giving away none of that little macabre thought sequence, she smiles brightly at the Penglai man and ducks in, "Thanks." Turning at the familiar voice uttering the unfamiliar word, the woman offers a quick almost abortive wave, "Hey, Mr. Merrisol. Be there inna sec, okay? I must have coffee. Or hot chocolate. Or..." Dropping the steamed milk with cookies option before uttering it, she whirls in a flash of multicolored fabric. Sidling up to the counter to place her order, she tilts her head toward the man from the door, "Oh, say, do you want something, Mister?"

Shao nods to Merrisol, "Kerf," he answers in equal terse terms, although his smile is quite friendly. He returns his leg to a bipedal function, letting the door close by itself, like all good commerce doors do. "Yes, please," he answers Bunty, "Coffee and a straw. You can call me Shao." The same bow, only less formal, this time. He signals he is going this way with his head, to rejoin Merrisol. "How are you doing, Kerf? I cannot sleep, I miss the rocking," he says to the man with a red jacket.

Merrisol observes Bunty's punctual arrival with a fresh batch of smile, although he does give that door another glance, and then Shao again. Oof, hello, feeling bad. Not crimes-against-Jade bad, but still. Enough so that instead of any number of alternate suggestions he might have offered his friend in terms of the evening's activities, he merely gestures to the empty space on the settee. "Please," he prompts, and then stands from his own side to greet Bunty. "Elizabetta, it's my honour to introduce Satoshi Shao.. though yes, we call him Shao.. or Shao-san. I believe that means Master. He serves on the Wave Dancer with me. Shao-san, this is Lady Elizabetta of Karm." With that out of the way, he focuses on Bunty, with some apology in his tone. "I hope you don't mind if Shao joins us. He's a trusted friend, and there are some things he should hear as well." He steps back if her reaction is favourable, to let her take her choice of remaining seats.. in the middle betwixt them, or on the side Merrisol had been occupying.

"Oh! You are the Shao. I mean... Shao. That makes more sense. I thought it was some obscure greeting." The bow is returned, though she is careful to maintain sufficient distance to avoid cracking his head with hers. As she rises, she observes the Penglai man with a quick almost bird-like glance. "You should see my brother. He'll fix you right up." Turning as Merrisol rises, Bunty angles away from the counter after placing the double order with straw and no frenchfries. In honor of the formality of the introduction, she turns back to Shao, "Mr. Shao? Would you rather I use that? Or can we stay friendlier?" Less formal. Drifting to the setee, Bunty studies Merrisol as he speaks. Once close enough, she looks between the two men, completely ignoring the playwright with his poetry and entourage by the fire. "Really, Mr. Merrisol... that is up to you. If you are comfortable telling your tale with your friend here? I'm perfectly oaky wit that." And so she must choose. Bracketed by these two strangers or claim the end. She looks one to the other again. Deciding that she is likely stranger than either of them, she claims the middle seat, "They'll bring our coffee over here. If they forget the straw, I've got a substitute in mind." Which can't be good, can it?
Shao looks over Lady Karm, to find the one who opened the door for him. Full scarlet blush. "Shao means 'bastard', Lady Karm," he mutters shyly, averting his eyes, "You call me what you want. So sorry, so sorry, I never... Maybe I leave, now." He shuffles uneasily by the setee, just once, torn between obedience and shame.

"Substitute," repeats Merrisol, blinking, as though the concept had brought a surreal visual image to mind. He just takes another look around as Bunty scoots into the middle, but all the loose chairs have indeed been vultured up. He turns for the edge of the settee with a slight head shake for the odd series of happenstance that leads to being seated so closely their knees might have to touch occasionally. I know.. gasp. But then, he turns to finds The Shao demonstrating his peculiar ability to both define and defy fate. "Shao..? What's wrong?" he wonders, mystified. He glances at Bunty for explanation briefly, then back. "This is about House Karm, isn't it.. when Maggie wanted to go there for the artillery order.. you.." There he stops, clearing his throat faintly. Must have sworn on a holy book somewhere that he'd never point out when someone is or was blushing.

Now, typically, Bunty's mind goes rather quickly, skipping merrily form one topic to another, idea to idea and back again. Typically, she picks up bits here and pieces there and somehow they come together in a whole that; while not always cohesive is at least entertaining. Shao's reaction to finding out that she is a Lady of Karm is so unexpected that all the little stray thoughts in her bizzare brain come to a screetching halt. She blinks three or four times in rapid succession in an attempt to kick start thoughts but it does not work exactly. Perched there in teh middle of the settee she folds her hands in her lap and really tries to work through things. Finally, head again tilted bird-like, she makes an attempt, "Okay... Okay..okayokay, wait. It's the category thing again, right?" Her attention spears Merrisol for a second, as the only other one in the room who might know what that means. Back to Shao, "First of all, I don't know why people keep insisting that I'm gonna be a certain way just because I'm Gil's sister. Has he been a twit of late? Do I need to release the sneeches in his room again? I will you know. Just watch me. If that isn't it? I'm really at a loss. Did someone do something mean to you /too/, Shao? I can say Shao, right? You can call me Bunty if you want. Or Betta. That's gaining in popularity." She flivkers a helpless glance Merrisol's way, then adds, "You too, if you want. Elizabetta is kinda long and the syllables trip over each other."

Shao swallows, hard enough to almost dislodge his adam's apple. "...never give you my order again," he promises, finding back his voice. He sits down, careful not to bend any arm. "Honored to meet you," he says quietly. He glances tentatively to Merrisol. "Cyndre-sama was pleased to have us," he says. He takes a deep breath. That inflates him a little and the flush recedes a bit.

Merrisol looks gravely at the young woman after her rapid-fire spiel closes with an offer to truncate her delightful name for his sake. "You're speaking to a fellow who once answered to 'Professor Kerfuffle Von Chaos'... as a nickname." Meaning... he'll keep using Elizabetta, probably? Stay tuned. As for the rest of her attempt to reassure Shao, definitely a problem following all that, but it results in keeping the Penglai from bolting out into the night, possibly after creating a Shao-shaped hole in the door. There was a pertinent name dropped in there as well, which he will certainly make a mental note to look up later. Sneetches. "So you did get in there with the Captain, then," he remarks to Shao, nodding, and maneuvering into his end of the curved and cushioned chaise with a quick adjust of trousers at the thigh. "I received a note mentioning this Cyndre, and an order for special cutlasses Is she a Karm?"

Bunty blinks again. Twice. "Um. Okay. Up to you. But, I do know how to place them. So, it isn't like it's going to get lost. Your order." Then, a smile begins, "Honored to meet you too." She parts her lips, then giggles with delight, "Professor Kerfuffle Von Chaos? Oh, but that is wonderful." She looks up at Merrisol, then back to Shao, "You know Cyndre?" Scooting back a hair, she adds for Merrisol's benefit, "She is wonderful. I'm part of her crew on her new ship. It's a dream! Oh, not a real dream. I mean it is a real ship and could be in a real dream, but..." Drawing in a breath, she finishes that with, "Never mind. She's Karm, yes. My brother's Seneschal and just about the very best smith /ever/. Really. A fire giantess." As if that makes all the difference in the world. "If she is making you guys stuff? It'll be the best anywhere. Even her apprentices are master smiths. I'm serious!" And that is when the coffee (+ one straw) is delivered.

Shao smiles politely for Elizabetta, listening closely. "Ah yes, shadow travel," he agrees and "yes, the biggest fire woman of all." He glances to Baron Von Chaos, a bit at loss. "Oh, coffee, thank you!" he says to the waitress. He takes a little sip through his straw. "Your family is many and so much talented," Shao compliments Elizabetta, that oughta buy his previous mistake back. He gets this odd feeling it is time to shut up and listen to Merrisol, so that's what he does: shut up and listen to Merrisol.

Merri inclines his head to glance sidelong at Shao, brows-lifting, say whaaat? This is really very fancy stuff for a couple of regular non-royal-or-noble chaps to be taking in. "I foresee clear-sailing for the Dancer from now on," is his only comment with regards to the prestigious connections to House Karm. It's not all about being impressed and anticipating pleasure, however, for frown lines at his brow mitigate that singular summary. "The Kerfuffle thing was really meant to be a temporary name of course, Elizabetta, a place-holder of the mischievous sort. It was just a bit over a month back, I had no name at all, or sense of identity, as I woke in Arden." Merrisol settles back as he expounds on the purpose behind the weird and wonderful moniker. "I was not an unusual case. It does seem like some force is at work in Amber and elsewhere, plucking people from their lives and hurling them into the forest to satiate some unfathomable whim."

Bunty lifts her coffee and takes a soothing sip, because caffeine is so relaxing, right? Of course it is. "My... Cyndre isn't..." But that will need to wait as Shao is looking to Merrisol. Bunty obilges and turns the weight of her attention that way as well. The cup is lowered to a saucer she holds, then the entirety is rested against one knee. "Ah. I see." She does want to chatter, really she does. It is almost a force within her striving to fly free. But, she keeps the impulse controlled, nodding for Merrisol to continue.

Shao frowns, intensely. If his head was swimming in too much blood earlier, now he is missing some, turning white by a notch under his normal hue. He waits a moment to be really certain he is not interrupting Lady Bunty Elizabetta Karm. "Sorry, Kerf? Do you mean this is not normal? What is plucked? I was dead," he says. He turns to Bunty. "Under my hat, I have a line of white hair. Sword in my head," he explains. "Maybe I am wrong. This is mixing me up."

"Right." Merri looks at them both, feeling the burden of storyteller settling across his shoulders abruptly, segueing into the topic through the passing mention of that ridiculous name.. well, why not? As good a jumping-off point as any. He's about to jump, when Shao speaks up again. Merri's frame jerks a little as though the jump-off were something just as physical as figurative, and he also frowns. "Uh.. I was certain you shared the same general characteristics as Maggie and I," he falters. "Why would you say you were dead.. did someone tell you so? Woke up on the coroner's slab..? Blades to the head are not necessarily fatal."

Looking alarmed at Shao's assertion, Bunty lifts a finger to her lips, "Shhhh." The hiss is less an admonition than... fear. She looks around furtively, then peers at the playwrite's group. Leaning back, she lowers that hand to Shao's shoulder, the touch not falling though the weight of intent is heavy enough to be felt, "Hush. Don't even say that even if its true. Especially if its true. Not in public anyway and not around a Begman. Seriously." Lowering her voice even more she motions for the two of you to each lean closer conspiritorially. Looking around once more, she adds in a hushed tone, "There's an Inspector in town" As if that added to her shudder explains it all. Brightening considerably at Merrisol's comment, she nods, "Oh. Right... Right. Not necessarily fatal. Right." Her smile then is filled with relief and gratitude for Merrisol, "Go on?"

The hand on his shoulder pulls Shao back to ground. He presses his lips together and nods. "Thank you, Lady Karm," he says softly to Bunty. "You are right, it is no good I put myself before others," he concedes, including Merrisol in the 'you'. He nods to Merrisol and busy his mouth with his coffee straw.

The playwright has turned mentor it seems, and is fielding submissions from the audience so he may critique their own works. At the moment a young man is reading a poem from his notebook, and it's like every third word is "Alas".

Bunty's dogged hushings and warnings and secretive reveals just get a -look- from Merrisol.. who could have sworn she'd only the other day assured him that not all Begmans were crazy. Or was that nasty? Any rate, she -has- said there's an Inspector in town at least three times.. and using those very words each time. While the focus is off him, Merri picks up his coffee mug and swipes an almond wafer from biscuit plate... not that he gets the chance to see to either; Bunty chooses now to redirect all eyes to him. He tosses the wafer to his saucer and props the mug on his knee for now, studying its depths to find his place.. and ah right, it is, ironically: "Memory-loss. Shao-san, Maggie, and I.. we were the newest influx. But what did.. and does.. appear to be an annoyingly, often.. frustratingly.. unique feature in my case, is the duration of that total blankness, with none of the breakthroughs or even gradual returns, of my amnesiac peers. Nothing solid, not even a name." His head tilts as he uses his chin to point at Shao, who still may not identify himself as a member of that unfortunate club. "The only evidence I had of a former life at all, for oh, probably the better part of three weeks, was this coat in which I'd woken." He twists at the waist a bit to indicate the eye-catching crimson and cardinal red of the garment currently draped over the arm of the settee.

Bunty looks distressed at Shao's interpretation of what she has said as that was not at all what she meant. At all. The distress is almost palpable and could very easily lead to disaster or tears. Probably tears. Or misguided attempts at joviality. Tears are safer. Thank goodness Merrisol takes up the tale and she can leave behind the moment's miscommunication. Listening, she lifts her mug but then does not take a sip. The cup and saucer are lowered once more, the beverage untasted. She does glance down at the coat, then back up to the man. Down to the coat. Up to the man. Each pass of her gaze deepens the furrow between her brows so that when she finally stops that ping-ponging shift in attention her frown is fully established, "Go on...?"
The poet's tragic rambling on top of all the stress going around is not easing Shao's frown, at all. He glances into Bunty's cup, finding nothing wrong in there. He nods for Merrisol, sustaining his air of laborious concentration.

Merri mulls something over to himself for a moment, then glances at Bunty to see her already looking troubled. Well, that bodes ill, doesn't it. Alas! concludes the budding poet near the fire, and Merri contemplates chucking his mug that way. Then he slides his gaze away somewhere neutral, takes a new breath, and resumes: "So... you might imagine my relief and excitement when - after a few more setbacks that don't really need to be mentioned - the coat itself finally yielded a concise answer.. a hidden pocket sewn into the lining, with documentation so clearly suggestive as to risk no mistake to it's meaning. My name was and is now Captain Merrisol.. and I was.. and am.. a Sea King of Minos." A good 'Alas' might have been better placed for punctuation at this point, but it appears a quota has been reached, the playwright currently marking the novice's book liberally with red ink, and dead silence instead reigns. But Merri has no intention of leaving the statement cliff-hanging and amusing himself with Bunty's reaction.. it is decidedly not his idea of a campfire tale. Moving right along: "Now, before and since, there have been other theories which attempt to fly in the face of this revelation.. but they are theories only. For the purpose of this account I'm presenting to you," he includes both of them in a sweep of his gaze, but stops on Bunty in particular, "We need only the physical evidence, including those memories freed by viewing the document, for both myself and Maggie, who was with me as I read."

Perhaps it is a good thing for the budding poet and the more adept talespinner "That would be hard," muses the troubled Bunty in a voice soft with sympathy and an unwillingness to interrupt the flow of things. Sitting up a bit, she smiles when hearing that the coat had been found, then tucks a curled fist against her lips when the tale turns to what the coat contained. Like a treasure map slowly unfolding with the blond man's identity the rare and wonderful nugget hidden away. She flickers a glance to Shao to see how this is hitting him then looks back, "Excuse me. Maggie? You've mentioned her a few times. Is she the redhead from the other day?" Or the week before or longer. Time has little meaning to her apparently. "Or, is she not that important to this story? Cause you can leave her on the sidelines if that's better."

Shao sips in some more coffee, crossing gaze with Bunty. The Jadean shows no sign of surprise from Merriol's story, only shyness for Lady Karm herself. "Maggie-san is important, I promise," he says. "Kerf, the letter, when did you find it?"

It looks like Merri is also trying to recall if he'd already sufficiently explained who exactly this 'Maggie' is, and Bunty's prompt answers that question, rather conveniently. He starts to nod to her initial assumptions, then shakes his head slowly to the latest of them. "No, Elizabetta, I cannot," he replies to her, his baritone more hushed and intimate now, although that might be due to the relative silence in the coffee house. Apparently the no one in the playwright's entourage is in any hurry to be next in line after that last poem. Kerf looks at Shao, blinking. "Just after the coat was recovered at the Rebman Embassy.. by Maggie, yes, the red-haired woman," he confirms again to Bunty, "also known as Lady Margaret Lasair. Also, Captain Flame. She is a Sea Queen of Minos, herself.. a legitimate one." That last bit, Merri notes especially, although... there's the tiniest 'ahem' sound from his throat after he says it. He concludes, to Shao, "It was Maggie who saw the hidden seam, and therein discovered the secret'd envelope. But what does it matter when it was found, Shao? We found it, we read it, and we knew it was real when..." He hesitates, lifts his free hand, and touches two fingertips gingerly to his forehead, almost between the brows. "When we both at the same time, recalled just -why- we have always felt, since meeting -here- in our mentally disadvantaged state.. that we knew each other somehow. From -before-."

The pause between bad performances allows Shao a bit of relief; he sighs through his nose. "Yes, it is what matters, Kerf," he agrees in his pusillanimous, Jadean form of politeness. He eyes the thespian troop with an unusual glance of spite, repressing a moan.

There is a rustle toward the back of the poet's entourage as one or another of a group nearer the settee than the poet himself begin urging a third to try her luck with a recitation. She demurs prettily though clearly eager to have the 'great man' give her a critique; which is to say praise.

Drawing in a breath, Bunty nods to both Shao's assertion and then more slowly to Merrisol's explanation, "Okay. Got it." And she seems to despite the inherent convolutions in the behind-the-scenes bits only partially expressed, hinted at or implied. "Okay. And... Why was that? Or is that coming later?" She lifts her coffee mug once more and takes a slow sip. Of the cold brew. But, it is caffeine, so one makes due. "Wait. Sea King? Sea Queen? Or is that not terribly important?" She did catch the 'ahem' there and her attention focuses a bit more sharply though that might be a detail to be pursued another time. "Please feel free to tell me to sideline unimportant tangents, k? I really am listening. There is just so much here that I don't know and that is a bit unexpected. And kinda exciting from a data collection point of view."

Merrisol gives Shao an exasperated look at the man's oblique statement, but it's really just as well they don't continue to get bogged down in the minutiae of the story. He focuses on Bunty again, with what amounts to the same sort of look. "They are both important and unimportant, Elizabetta, for it would be difficult to mention one without mentioning the other as well. And... let's be clear, Betta," - ooooh, he slipped, he truncated! - "..I'm not telling you all this merely to satisfy your craving for puzzles and knowledge. I -owe- you this, for what was in your imagination otherwise, was something I could not bear to leave there, even if we never met again. It's not a matter of scope, one misdeed versus the other.. but of character. One, I have done. The other," he makes himself look at her directly, despite the complete inappropriateness of even -alluding- to the cryptic misunderstanding. "I would never do."

Shao smiles for Lady Karm around his straw when Merrisol allows a diminutive to slip. A king can do that, a Lady should be flattered, right? The actors are measuring their egos over there; Shao reduces his eyes into wily slits, keeping his smile. He sips. He nods for Merrisol, finding back his concentration.

The mug is lowered and left to rest on the woman's knee. When dealing with Science, minutia can be where the difference between success or failure can be found. Angels and devils alike are in the details. But, this is not her experiment nor is it her story, so she focuses on Merrisol when his gaze turns to her. She inclines her head a bit, though the gesture carries interest and understanding. Her surprise at the diminutive or truncation holds a quick and bright delight, that slowly drains away. As her blush rises, her gaze lowers. "I apologize, Mr. Merrisol. Please, tell as much as you wish. I do love a good puzzle, it is true, but... This is more important than just any old puzzle." And more softly still, "I know. That you wouldn't." The coffee mug is shifted to a passing tray carried by a serving person and she quietly declines a refill. Her hands flutter a little with nothing to do so she folds them in her lap and she listens.

"O Freddled Gruntbuggly..." reads the next scholar over yonder. Heyyyy, that's plagiarism! But nobody seems to notice... or hemorrhage.

Merrisol talks over him determinedly, because... Ew? "Thank you. Here is where we come to that point that has strained our.." And he doesn't even know what to call 'their'.. thing.. at first. They cross paths, he demurs, retreats, she pursues, questions, suggests, supposes, he worries.. what would that be called? "..nascent friendship." That's what it is. He looks at her for another moment, sure in the realization that he would like it to be so. Futilely. Glancing at wizened Shao, he tilts his head slightly, trying to suss the other man's smile, or is that a grimace by now? That awful poetry... "What we, Maggie and I, mutually recalled, at least to a certain extent, was that I was Captain Merrisol, a pirate. And she, Captain Flame, had been pursuing me for a capital crime, specifically.. hijacking a sea vessel of Begman design.. and then, as she caught up with me.. another, more vicious deed. I cast the man whose sinking ship it was, into the open sea." He faces the Begman lady's direction while he speaks, but his gaze is slightly dilated while his mind's eye is occupied with what choppy visuals the memory offers. Presently though, his focus sharpens and wanders back over to her face. "That is it, Elizabetta. That is why."

Shao accepts the refill, his coffee getting colder faster than he can suck it. He flicks Merrisol a look of warriness for the revelations of piracy and one of powerlessness to Bunty. He scans the coffee house to show sudden change of mood: he smiles for the poet's new piece, for obscure reasons. Maybe it has to do with the other patrons, who look as unhappy with the performance as he was a moment ago. He sips happily from his straw.

The young woman in the poetry circle rolls her eyes at the fellow's offering. She also sort of flounces down in her seat, certain that hers is better. Since almost anything would be, that's a safe bet.

Ignoring the poetry people as much as possible, Bunty pays more attention to Merrisol's expression for there is much to be read there. During the pause between 'our' and 'nascent' she briefly reviews their prior encounters. Lowering her gaze as her color rises, she remains poised to hear the man's judgement of her deplorable behavior. Nascent friendship is a kinder interpretation then those her own imagination was providing. That wins the man a sheepish, almost shy smile and she looks up at him in agreement with the former if not entirely convinced of the latter as of yet. The poet spins his A-B-A into D-E-D toward the end and it seems a mercy, really. Bunty steals a look over to Shao, measureing, gauging. He is given a smile too. Then Merrisol continues and she returns her attention to him. Slowly as the words sink in and link up to form inexorable bands of event, meaning and consequence she stills. It is not the first time in her life that the young Begman engineer has been still and likely won't be the last. However, this stillness has a profound awefulness to it that has yet to be seen. Her complexion gradually fades to grey, then to white and finally to alabaster. It is the sort of paleness that heralds unconsciousness. But she does not slip into oblivion. Not yet. Her hands do slowly clench into delicate fists and still she does not speak. Blue-green eyes grow a bit too bright and spots of color appear high on her cheeks, "Um." The sound is ever so soft, ever so empty, almost a whisper, "Mr. Merrisol. Are... you certain of this memory?"

"Certain that I have this memory, yes.." And certainly he has given up trying to comprehend Shao's incongruous expressions in the face of grim news.. like every separate thing happening in the man's environment deserves a measure of emotional investment. Merri's gaze returns to Bunty in spite of the haunting expression on Betta's features that makes him wish he hadn't opened his mouth about anything ever, there is also a certain.. satisfaction.. in seeing it. She, of the rigid fingers, the glowing pallor, the tremulous hush of her voice, understands. Whether her next move is to bolt or faint, she understands, is in tune with his own bleak horror, and her grave reaction is fully merited. And so, thinking more deeply on her single question, for her sake, he more slowly adds, "Certain of the exact sequence of events and whether anything is missing throughout.. no. It's more a blur than a clearly numbered diagram. I know I was aboard the Eclipse - that's my ship, according to the document - and there was a thick fog around it. I was locked in a struggle with... someone. His eyes were ablaze with rage. Then I remember the Wave Dancer, breaking through the high mists as she came alongside. And Captain Flame stood upon the forecastle, looking my way, calling for my surrender. And yes, I also remember tumbling a man over the rail.. a Begman, it must have been. The Eclipse then made its escape when the Captain halted pursuit to make a rescue attempt. They didn't find him.." The trail of memory peters out. Merrisol has not seemed to take new breath as the account seems to leak out of him at halfway through, although the words are clear enough to the end. Then he draws air back into rather extraordinary lungs, becomes alert, and compresses his lips in a determination to be silent now, and let Bunty do what she must.

Shao tries to read the faces of Bunty, of Merrisol, the best he can. The dread is contagious, the stress like a negative charge that tickles the nose. He reseats himself at the edge of his seat, using this moment to remember to breathe. He makes a quick decision: he stares at Bunty, impassive, ready.

As Merrisol speaks of this anchoring memory in a sea of nebulous unknowns, Bunty listens and weighs and figures. Her hands remain tightly clenched, knuckles gradually shifting from pink to white. Her eyes hold echoes of pain and fear, though she keeps her head bowed now. Her lashes lower a bit to mask that expression. The words spoken are certainly damning with their solid detail and careful expression. She swallows then and a faint shudder slips through her, trailing icy fingertips down her spine. The fight, the fury, the fog and then the flame come to offer salvation to one and condemnation to the other. Both coming too late and therefore not at all. And then there is the uncertainty of it. The incompleteness of the memory. She latches onto that, but does not let it dissuade her from what now must be done. Again her voice is just barely over a whisper, "I... See. You have done foul murder on a countryman of mine. And stole his ship." She glances up at the man, suddenly aware of his nearness, his clear strength. "I... must do some research." The answer to all of life's ills. "And if I discover that you are, in fact, who you say you are, then I will send someone for you. If not... If there is some... uncertainty or detail that proves that you are innocent of murdering a Begman engineer, then I will let you know." And then Shao adds the weight of his attention and it has grown grim. And she is seated between them. Between a confessed murderer of Begman engineers and his friend. A measure of fear grips her then and she swallows convulsively before speaking once more, "It is a shame, Mr. Merrisol. I so wanted to like you."

When she makes her threat, though it is civil enough, Merrisol's head lowers a touch, and the angle from which he looks at her changes just enough to suggest a nuance of danger. An acknowledgement that he has gained, for now, an opponent who, in her own words, represents a threat to his continued freedom and survival. He doesn't make a move in her direction, and yes, he doesn't have to. They are too close for the presence of one to not to be felt by the other. Her nervy trepidation. His kinetic potential. And Shao? He's Penglai, his counsel is inscrutable by nature. For whatever it's worth, Captain Merrisol hears her out to the end, his hands resting just so on his knees. Around them, the world of the coffee house goes by in red ink slashes, clinking mugs, and another wannabe's dreams dashed, without a care for the confrontation in the corner. "Your decision is just, Elizabetta." The pirate's response is low but resonant. "Not what I expected from you.. but now that you've demonstrated moral courage as well as kindness - I cannot but respect it." Appropriately sea-green eyes flicker away from her to some middle-distance, before he voices one more consideration: "I neglected to conclude the original tale, however. Maggie and I, newly revealed to be foes instead of friends, were on the verge of crossing blades... when the new.." (nascent) "..friendship won out. I surrendered. The terms of which being that I would serve loyally under her command, until such time as she found her own lost ship, and then made ready to transport me back to the Golden Circle to face justice." Perhaps that last tidbit of info changes something?

Shao finds back an amicable smile. "What Kerf says is true, and so is what you say, Lady Karm. I am very happy with your decision and I must thank you, Lady Karm. Thank you very much to take the time to decide," he says, averting his gaze and bowing his head all the way down, in utter respect. "Of course, until the... Eclipse? ...yes. Until she is found, no one can really be certain without a doubt. I know I can not. A mist, could there be some magics at work?" he adds. He sips some coffee, smiling playfully from the act of it. "Do not think I doubt you, Kerf. I believe in who you truly are," he says to Merrisol.

Threat, perhaps. Or offer. Or promise. Whatever it was, the label given it is inconsequential for they all understand the reality of the meaning behind the words. She will not make a decision without certain knowledge, if such can be found. Slowly as he does hear her out without pressing the advantage of his greater strength upon her to detain her, as he listens and does not offer counter arguments, her hands unclench. Tiny specks of crimson glitter on her skirts and slip from her palms to her wrists to be lost between the fabric of her sleeves and her skin. She ignores the coffee shop with its denizens, caffiene consumers and purveyors, the poets, the hangers on. All of her attention is focused on the two men who bracket her. Her attention focuses sharply on Merrisol, "I am a lot of things, M... Captain Merrisol. An engineer, an artificer, a tinkerer. I am silly, annoying, carefree and frequently unintentionally obnoxious. But, I am not unjust if I can help it. I... badgered you into talking to me. Against your will. And, oh, I am sorry for that... But... I did and must take at least some of the consequences. So, I will find your answers, Captain. If they are there to be found." The color gradually returns to her cheeks, the high, bright spots of crimson fading into softer tones. "What did you expect?" Another question that insatiable curiosity asks before wiser caution can intervene. She does offer him a slight inclination of her head at his claims of respecting her dichotomy, but then she pauses to listen to the rest of it. When he finishes, her brows lift slowly and she nods, "That was honorably done, Captain. Thank you for letting me know." She seems about to rise, perhaps to hear his answer from a safer distance when Shao speaks. Turning to him, she listens through it all and her expression grows thoughtful, "Well. I am not a weather worker, but yes, a lot can be hidden in fog. I will keep that in mind. Thank you as well." The flippant life within struggles to reassert and the Panglai man is given a quick hint of a smile but the sparkle does not last. One phrase chases itself around and around in the back of her head, 'He killed a Begman Engineer.'

Merrisol looks right at her as she speaks up, within a second of her bringing her focus to bear on him. This has consistently been the case, that if she requests his eyes, he gives them to her without hesitation, though it does carry the necessary consequence that she must bear the weight of his own observation, and see to it that her own eyes guard the things she would keep secret. And also as usual, he does not interrupt the flow of her speech, even through the pregnant pauses in which she hunts an apt word or phrase. These are the unspoken details he offers of his own nature, in return for all her words.
Finally though, with a slight nod, he acknowledges receipt of her impulsive query, holding it while she and Shao converse. He doesn't venture a comment on Shao's words of steadfast optimism. It could be he's learned by now to let such things slow-cook like a Jadeaen riceball, simmering in the unconscious before the nugget of fishy wisdom within can be appreciated.
If Bunty makes to rise from the settee, so does Merrisol, and it's a tricky thing if she doesn't trust his consistently-shown nature by now. He only means to be standing when, before him, there is a lady standing. By then, the question of his expecting another reaction than what she gave, may have been forgotten... but he doubts it highly. So, as she looks for it, he gives it. "I.. think I rather expected you to... explode." Oh, that's so Begman of you to say, Merri. But that kind of doesn't make sense, so maybe the response is really a cryptic threat, offer, or promise.

Shao rises, a split second after Merrisol. A lot of things are going unsaid and maybe this is why he choses to keep silent, watching a neutral spot on the table, while having them both in his vision, if only at the edge of it. He is, after all, just a witness and a victim of happenstances.

And rise she does, though it is more a quick hop up, skirts and discarded, forgotten cloak swirling into place with the movement. She rises and turns though not to spy a secret assault before it can land for she realizes that she need not fear that from either of them. Rather, it is to give her a chance to see each of these two men, so different in appearance and history, so similar in nature once more. Creeping softly and altogether unbidden comes the realization that; for all the tale of violence on the high seas her opinion of the man's essential self has not changed. Certainly there is a part of her that rails against the notion that he is worthy of consideration. He killed a Begman Engineer. Still, She offers him a quick smile, a twitch of lips that whispers of regret, lost or postponed potential. Stepping out from between the two, she inclines her head to each, the gesture carrying different, yet similar meanings. Lifting her blue-green gaze to Shao, she seems about to speak, perhaps to offer a Begman equivalent of inscrutable Panglai wisdom. Merrisol's reply stops her. Both brows lift in surprise and a bright splash of laughter sparkles forth as the light rekindles in her eyes. Shaking her head then she corrects gently, "The Engineer does not explode, Captain. Her creations might, though. Or his. So be careful with your stolen ship. If you don't have the right..." Licking her lips a bit nervously, she halts, although perhaps a word or two too late. Without the right engineer to run maintenance... Well... Kerblooie-splash would be a terrible way to go. Sobering at either that notion or something else, she lifts her hood up and over her head. "Someone hurt you, Captain. Very badly. It is a shame, really 'cause I think you're a good person deep down where it counts. I do wish things were otherwise, 'cause I think that you and Mr. Shao'd be fun people to know." Gathering her cloak about her, she places enough coin to pay for all of their orders on the table, she turns heel to toe and angles for the door, "I'll be in touch."

It seems that the young woman in the poet's group has finally gotten a go. Her voice is decent, though it has been increasing in volume as the poem has progressed. Now, on the very last line her voice rings out in the near silence, "And I shall ever grieve."