Not The Destination, But the Journey

[rassafraggin]

--[ Wave Dancer - Main Deck ]--------------------------------[ Shipboard ]----

Long shadows slip slowly across the bay from the city proper. Fingers of darkness extend, stretch and thicken until a blanket of silvery grey has settled along the pier and out over the ships docked in Amber's bay. As the sky above eases from blue to velvet black, glittering stars waken above and somewhere to the east the faintest hint of moonrise begins. It should be a time of peace on the docks. A time when sailor and carter alike have settled in for the night. It would be but for the ruckus rising to shatter the calm from berth 68. Carpenters called in from some distant Shadow saw and plane and hammer. Shipwrights oversee and bustle about checking for 'true' and 'heft' and 'curvature'. A sculptor has set up near the prow eyeing the angle of his thumb against the ship to prepare the perfect figure head. Coming up on deck, Maggie narrowly avoids being smacked in the back of the head by a fellow carrying a plank. She manages to duck, then slips on a scattering of spilled ball bearings. Rather than falling, she scoots a few feet across the deck, then jumps to land almost safely in a cleared space near the gangplank. "I... Will be in town." Although she does not speak very loudly, there is a finality to her tone that speaks of a great need to be away.

Shao emerges from below, less his apron. He carries his pipe at the ready, in the hope of some mellow time to get away from kitchen stress. No luck here. Plenty of light but no way to get to any easily, no calm to be found. He stops a worker. "Chow in the galley, to be served on deck, get the word around. If something is out of place when I come back, fresh meat on the menu," he instructs. The worker makes a face but nods, then hurries to his post. Shao homes for the gangplank.

Burning the midnight oil for Captain Flame? Say it ain't so. Merrisol follows after a couple of Shao's assistants who have come up to prepare the chow line. The banging and sawing hasn't petered out yet, so he strides across the deck to the gangplank before speaking. His waistcoat has been ditched while he's been working on getting the crew quarters back in order so that the recruitment process may commence. "Captain, Shao-san.. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on things here," he promises, propping a hand on the railing.

When she reaches the clear of the gangplank Maggie places one booted foot on the top but does not descend. A breeze wakens as night gathers. It ruffles through hair and tugs on cloaks, coats and rigging. A flutter of sail stirs then fades as one of the workers draws it down. Maggie looks up at the movement, then down again as Shao comes up out of the hold. Lifting a wave, she tries to catch his eye and whether she does or not, she points down toward the dock. Invitation? Notification? Either way, she offers him a smile when he heads her way. Still she does not start down as her gaze flickers about the workers, seeking someone. She finds him coming up after Shao and her smile warms a bit more. When the three are together near the gangplank Maggie starts down, boots a soft shuffle of sound on the wood. A hush that stops as she turns back. Looking up, she speaks quietly, "Please come?"

Shao smiles, seeing Maggie headed to shore, like he is. "Hai, Captain," he confirms. He stalls, to answer Kerfuffle. "Do you believe they will notice, Mister Merrisol?" he asks. "This is not our crew." He opens the nearby lamp's window, to steal some fire with his pipe. He puffs out smoke.

Except for leaning more weight into the corner of the well-carved rail, shoulder hitching up to the level of his jawline, Merri doesn't move. It's not so surprising really. He worked like a madman when the Wave Dancer was mired by storm and the whatever-it-was-gateway, he worked after it was rescued from fog and slime men from the depths, and he's worked while it's in safe harbour, running the supply line and paperwork side of things. It's like he's taken this indentured servant thing to its extreme in the hopes of one day having nothing left to do and so be released... except won't work that way at all. The sooner everything gets done, the sooner he's bound for Minos, or Begma. Possibly he hasn't thought this through completely. Glancing between the two now, from Maggie, to Shao, back again, he grimaces but nods, slowly at first, then more determinedly. "Yes.. Alright, go ahead, I'll catch up." He pushes off the rail and backs up, inclining his head to encourage them to shoo along. Then he turns back for the cabins and moves swiftly down the stairs.

While Merri has been seeing to the refitting, Maggie has been walking Shadows in search of parts and supplies, money and workers. As time passed, a grim determination settled on her shoulders and as supplies ran low she would arrive with another load. As workers ran out of steam, she was there to pay them and take them home only to bring back another crew fresh and ready to go. As days passed to nights and back to days once more, she could be found down in her cabin pouring over the ledger that details her past transactions, her past decisions. Or, she was off the ship meeting with old contacts and establishing new ones. All the while the realization that each passing accomplishment was but one more step toward a specific trip to Minos or Begma. And with each passing day, Maggie became more and more silent. She spent more and more time alone. Now? Looking up at that grimace, she nods as though the reply was expected. A brow lifts at what follows and she nods once more, "Very well. See you shortly." Turning, she makes her way down the gangplank to the dock.

And as the Captain and her indentured first mate kept the ship ordered and fed, Shao has been feeding them and the workers, cooking cheap food into palatable meals or showing up at the right moment with fresh tea, else shopping for extras or playing messenger. He bangs his pipe at the railing, to have it spit out ash into the bay's wind. He follows Maggie onto the plank.

--[ Docks ]-------------------------------------------------[ Amber City ]----

Shortly afterwards, the plank bounces in its moorings as Kerf bounds down to join them, and maybe he had meant to go back for the waistcoat, but what he comes back with is the brown overcoat that had been transferred aboard recently along with a small crate of miscellany from his room somewhere in the city. In its own way, the drab thing has a rich sort of history itself, though short, representing an space in time when the man was at his very Kerfiest, romping carefree through the snow with Maggie, Shao, and Raph at Sorgo Gardens and padding out his awful nickname with fanciful Professorships and a Von Chaos lineage. Even his grin is a little different as he catches up with them on the wharf, chuffing steam. "Where again..? And just how can it possibly beat Shao's sausage surprise?" Oh my god.. that was awful, Kerf.

Maggie pauses at the bottom of the plank to wait for Shao to catch up as he did not shoo her off in order to do some mysterious thing below decks. Once he is beside her, she turns to start off toward town. Gradually, the purposeful intent in her stride bleeds away, her steps slow and a measure of tension drifts off of her shoulders like a bouy that has lost its mooring. "The workers like you, Shao-san. Did you know that? Even with your threats to add them to the menu..." She shadows the man a smile that lingers but does not ready up to touch her eyes. The hollow sound of boots on the plank is almost lost amid the sounds of hammering that carry down even this far below the ship's deck. It is that odd reverberation that is carried along by the bouncing plank that alerts Maggie to Merri's approach. Turning a glance over her shoulder, she might expect to see the red waistcoat moving jauntily along, Kerf in tow. When that is not the apparition, dread or otherwise, striding up behind her lips tug into a smile that holds less stress and more mirth than it has in a while. The breeze from the ocean picks up again, carrying puffs of breath off and away to blend together with steam from restaurants and smoke from chimneys. Hands tucked into her pockets, Maggie shrugs, "I did not have a plan to be honest. I just needed to be away for a while. Perhaps a drink somewhere?"

"Yes, they seem to. I have been hanging out with Quinlan, at the Rose and Crown. People see I have friends," Shao says, finding the need to explain a compliment. The burden of Penglai uprising could sink a ship, if you managed to herd up enough Shaos. He only has time to show a nascent smile to Maggie before he feels compelled to look back. Kerf gets the full smile. "Care for a drink, Mister Merrisol?" Shao asks.

"Who..?" Kerf smirks fleetingly. He looks ahead of them, panning between the great lift and the winding cliffside road, steely-eyed, like they are both new trails to blaze tonight. "Drinks, that's affirmative. Rose and Crown..? I suppose, but I hear there might be a brawl there tonight, if we go," he cryptics, though with a brief waggle of brow upwards. The boardwalk thuds with footsteps as they depart their individual pier to join the main thoroughfare leading to the district of warehouses, outfitters, and harbor customs offices.

Maggie says, "Ah hah. Kerf it is, then." Her voice is tossed back at her by a breeze turned a bit childish as it flits between ships and tries in vain to pick a bit of paper up to toss it over someone's shoulder. With a skuttle and a bounce the paper evades the breeze's intent. "Drinks. Good idea," Maggie offers. Her hands slip back out of her pockets then fall to swing gracefully at her sides, "Wait. There will be a brawl if we go? Or if we go we will see a brawl?" A light flashes in her eyes and she shadows the two a smile each, "Maybe we should go and see? If the brawl is contingent on our showing up and we don't, all of those brawlers will be disappointed. What do you think, Shao-san? Shall we disturb the calm of the Rose and Crown?"

Shao grins a very childish and wrong sort of smile. "I have yet to close my tab and even it with the baka tare rotgut drinkers," he states. "Time to raid and plunder, Captain." He flashes his dark smile to Kerfuffle. "But first, we drink from Prince Benedict's gold, drinks on me."

Kerf favours them both with an oblique downwards glance at first, chin lofted so he has to lower his eyes quite a bit just to put them in his sights. Whether he had laid down the premonition with the intent to encourage or dissuade their going to that tavern, when it looks like the vote is two 'for', he makes it a unanimous decision with a low "heh" from within his upper chest. It's Shao's somewhat suspect approval that tipped him in favour along with Maggie, as he sages, "Oh, goes without saying, Shao-san. Not only do the spirits dull the judgement enough to motivate one's fists, but I think once the tables start flipping, it'll be a little difficult to flag a waitress." Then, to Maggie, he shrugs a little. "Just something a little Moxie told me. It doesn't hinge on us, really, but these... bokka tar-eyes chaps."

Maggie walks a few steps in silence as the night and her confusion deepens by turns. Another few paces and she huffs softly, "I don't think they serve rotgut at the Rose and Crown." That at least is easier to fathom than Moxie motivations, tar-eyed rotgut addicts and why Prince Benedict's gold is potable. She eyes Shao first, then Kerf with his odd desire to put flags of flipped tables on reluctant waitresses. Shaking her head once in an attempt to clear it just as she steps into the light of a lantern toward the city side of the docks, she sends a ripple of red-touched shadow flickering and dancing in merry mockery of her mood. "Moxie? Oh, Moxon?" And that, of course, explains it all.

"Oh, Moxon," Shao echoes. "He found Liyandra when she was hurt by a wild cat," he recalls. "Good man." He walks for a little while in silent contemplation of Amber's docks at night. A stray cat in an alley flashes its citrines at them, quizzed at the human pride for a split second. "Will it snow?" he asks, sniffing the wind.

Kerf's gaze tips downwards again, keenly chasing that flicker and bounce of red hair like it is that as yet unseen cat. It.. is hair, right? And not a Pathi shadow-trick? "Moxon.. yes, good, I suppose," he hedges, "in a nasty goat's-milk-gone-off kind of way." That was oddly specific.

Maggie says, "That's what Liyandra said, yes. That he carried her to the hospital, or something." She glances back to look up at Kerf, gaze skimming past the cat's position. "Not a fan of cottage cheese, then?" Another shrug that sets her hair to dancing. It is just hair, promise, "He's a cousin. Which means he is probably decently intelligent with an agenda. He's... Oh, I can't remember which of my uncles is his father, but it hardly matters." The end of the dock leads to a winding path up to town and Maggie puts one booted foot on the road and smiles just a little in a forced sort of way, "I am sorry, you two. Maybe you should go on without me. I am feeling decidedly antagonistic this evening. While that might be just the thing for a brawl, I hate subjecting you both to it."

"What is the good mood for fight, Maggie-san?" Shao questions, using that open-ended tone that asks for wider reflection than simply looking inside onself. "Battle does not wait for anyone to be in the mood for it... unless you plan it." Thank you Shao, your vote is lost in the wind that goes out your mouth. The Jadean looks to Kerfuffle, curious.

"Prince Caine," supplies Kerf helpfully. He probably keeps a secret ledger of his own, with an extensively compiled list of all the people he has to fight in the future, and they're all related to Maggie. He returns Shao's glance then, brow-lifting again. "Well... yes. And in planning, we must win in our minds before we can win in our.. our.. I don't know, it's your peoples' saying, Shao, damn. And Moxon.. it's difficult not to like that one," he admits, rather reluctantly. Like he can't shake a certain prejudice. "Which reminds me.. do we want a scrawny cabin girl? I might have found a scrawny cabin girl."

That is because Maggie's family is just absolutely rife with people who need a good swift kick. However, that name wins a shudder and furtive glance, "Ah. Right. Really, I should have remembered that. He is his father's son." As she is her father's daughter, damnit. And there it is. Just ahead. A small tavern that caters to sailors and dockworkers. Though most of them have gone to their homes, it remains cheerfully open, golden light spilling out to light the road. Maggie glances at it, then attempts an explaination, "Oh... Well... I guess that is just a saying, Shao-san. It is probably not a good idea to get into a brawl when feeling like you should get into one. So, how about if we stop in here instead?" Her steps slow but do not stop until she hears from her companions. What she hears is a hair incongruous, "Moxon? He may be likable, in his way, but I don't think he qualifies as either scrawny or a cabin girl. So, who did you have in mind?"

Shao thanks Merrisol for the headsup on Moxon using a nod. That could lead to confusion, and also, "What does scrawny mean?" he asks. "And what is a cabin girl? I heard workers laughing about it, when Lady Raphaela visited the Wave Dancer." He looks up to Kerfuffle again for his answers, him being the safer of the two others, if he were to hit a taboo.

Merrisol frowns distractedly, fielding questions from two sides even while he's winning a round of whiskey in his mind. "Oh.. well he.. her mother.. unh, not now. Too gruesome. Scrawny is another word for slender, Shao... but -scrawnier-. So I thought we could ameliorate the damage with a ship board position, she could learn a good trade while doing minor odd jobs for the Captain - that's the cabin girl role, Shao.. or boy. Don't listen to those uncouths, it's a vicious lie. Don't know her name yet, now that I think of it." He was planning on calling her Scrawny Cabin Girl forever, maybe.

Maggie draws in a breath, "It's one of those words that teeters on the knife edge of being pejorative. Scrawny is. Which is a shame as it is such a descriptive word." Turning, she pulls open the bar's door. Light and laughter spill out haphazardly into the street. She winces, but does not shy away if the others wish to enter. "And if Moxon did anything to the Scrawny Cabin Girl's mother, he should be beaten. Sure. Ask her to come aboard and see if things mesh. We could use a cabin girl and gopher. Just find out her name, please? I don't want to shout for the SCG. Oh. Eh. I have a meeting with Taleyn later to talk about the exorcism."

"Thank you very much, Maggie and Kerf," Shao thanks. He cranes his neck a little to steal a glance from what's inside that place, from over Maggie's arm. He does not get enough to make a decision. "That little girl's luck just got better," he thinks aloud.

Merrisol nods to all, with a natural-sounding, "Yessir, Captain, Sir," thrown in, wandering closer to the door, then just loitering around until Maggie goes in herself. That's natural to him, too. Hmph.. there's a No Brawling sign here. Just as well, wouldn't want to mistakenly beat senseless the nice folks who've been working on Maggie's ship.