Interception

[rassafraggin]

It is a beach, sand is golden and sea is hardly moving, the storm has passed and stars are bright both above and beneath. At the end of the bay there is a small white painted beach house with a porch and all of the windows letting the ever so slight breeze play with the curtains. Jazz blurrs in and out of near perfect silence, people's voices and flashes of flickering lights, color and movement as if there is a party here and not at the same time. Or as if a party slips through dimensions. Raphaela is sitting with a cup of something multicolored, and quite possibly vile on the stairs, her toes in sand, watching the night sky blend into the soundless sea. If there is something behind the horizon, it does not show.

A clear night means not one giant fog machine in sight, and so it's one of those pleasant and peaceful dreams. This is a good thing. Why ruin it?

The End.

Or. Is it?

Raphaela always sees something in the darkness. Or knows something is there. Kraken looks prettier in dark cloak filled with stars. But she knows that when light comes he is there. If anything, this peace of the dream is probably making her more anxious than storms and chaotic normal ones.

The hazy horizon blurs and swells, a distant bowing distorts the line between blue and bluer, as though the sun would rise by burning its way through from behind a photo backdrop. No ball of fire appears, but a hunched shape which takes on the gleam of the moon and stars. The tides on the beach rush and lap more urgently, running away from the brassy craft approaching.

Raphaela perks up and head tilts. She puts her drink aside and walks to the surf. She wears a simple sleeveles, black dotted summer dress below her knees. She stops midcalf deep, watching as the sea wraps around her legs.

The krakenesque vessel jets a plume of fog in a rolling stream, not forward to mask her approach, but behind her like a means of heat exhaust. It lends her no noticeable propulsion, however, but spreads a purpled wash across the rest of the horizon. In the next moment, the craft groans and tilts as a stabilizer seems to blow. The peripheral fans adjust to make up the difference and the ship rights itself and resumes its approach. The surf breaks and leaps higher on the beach, spotting Raphaela's hemline further while grasping futilely at her ankles.

The fog screen is marred by a darker stain that grows tall and then a set of sails slice through its insubstance. The tallship pushes into the bay to draw alongside the cruising giant.

Raphaela blinks, twice, hardly missing the other ship. She does shout out to the sound of mechanics failing in the closer ship "Oy, do you need help there, are you alright?" she runs further into the surf, they might be in trouble "I am a mechanic, I can help!" better than the party!!

Raphaela mayheps does not recognize them!

Gamely, the machineship limps along, its lights winking an erratic pattern at Raph. The broken bridge viewport, set high over its blunt nose towers higher than the beach house as it draws nearer, yet not at full power. The swells it creates could overwhelm the wading woman, and the watching pilot appears to be adjusting speed accordingly. The interior glow behind him glows a warning red then, but too late.

A different sort of smoke puffs from the port side of the Corsair and two gesyers come up from the sea beneath the Kraken, disrupting the surface tension upon which it floats. The brass vessel falters and takes a shallow dunk past the waves. Meanwhile, the pirate ship tacks for shore and pulls ahead full sail.

Over the crash and roar, a voice is barely heard, coming over the waves from one or the other. "...un! Run, Raph!"

Raphaela blinks and tries to move out of the way running a bit, she is worried for those inside though with the alarm, then looks at the sailboat, she blinks and looking back and running through water....well yeah, there is a splash among all the other noises and she is soon sitting up rubbing her nose. "FOR FUCKS SAKE, WHAT KIND OF AN ENGINEERE ARE YOU TO LET THAT ANALOGUE BOAT DAMAGE THIS BEAUTY SO." she points a finger at the 'boat' in question and says "AND YOU!!!" she waves a hand to side and out of the sand and surf a wonderful contraption starts rising up. My my, it is a gleaming Sigma covered in...err... drifwood and sand. "YOU ATTACKED AT ME YOU...PRICK!" her voice booms as from all over the sand, cogs and wheels start to erupt and swirl and cog and whirr. One should be careful which dream you mess up.

Sorensen's bucket of bolts is lurching in a vague circle as she bilges and works her fan engines alternately in order to eventually rock upright. His yelling is lost in all the rest of the dream's new chaos, but it's likely his desperate concern had faded away once Raphaela unearthed her secret weapon on the beach.

Lirre's ship would pirouette and scud across the waves for purchase if it could, however only some physical concessions are possible in his particular dreamspace. The Eclipse only turns hard to starboard, parallel with the broken beach. The pirate himself has taken the helm, although without the red coat he is more identifiable by his hair. His gaze blazes with incomprehension at the gleaming metal being climbing out of the earth, his battery of cannons not even springing to mind at the moment. A new glance over at Raphaela determines that she is no longer a candidate either for absconding or rescue, as the case may be.

Raphaela IS not, a damsel in distress, you idiotic pair of brothers. Although it is quite easy to forget that beneath the slight eccentricity of Baroness is a complete, utter lunatic. The whole coast whirrs and clicks as from the invisible night gleam of metal phases in and a curtain of chain is whirred as if by clockwork up towards the stars. Abominations spawned out of orgy of ballistas, cannons and death rays. When spotlights pierce the night, one on the pirate ship, one on the metal scra...I mean ship, and one on Mecha, Sigma is already half kneeling to offer Raph climb onto the armored hand and lifts her above the surf. She has her arms on hips and glares at them "I declare cease in hostilities."

Raphaela adds "LEt's be civilized and have a drink." or else. SHe kinda gleams in, please please let it be or else. But only kind of. She is diplomatic you see.

Lirre, being the closest to the beach and therefore the Sigma and its reinforcements, reins in his jaw but not his ship, only reducing speed to half-sails in order to linger just beyond the shallows of the bay while he assesses the situation. Head turning, he eyes the chains, the artillery, and the source of the incandescent beams. "Well, clearly this is all some sort of elaborate mechanical trap," he susses, summoning up a grin for the rising Baroness. "I /thought/ the little brother turned tail a touch /too/ hastily to get to you, Silver. And I too eagerly followed," he admits. Shrug. "How about... you keep him busy with drinks, and I," he waves negligently at the mouth of the bay, "just slip away?" It's win-win-win!

Bearded jaw. He's gone full-on grizzled sea dog!

Raphaela says, from her little perch "My name is Raphaela, Lirre, and it is not a trap it is what I work on. It is genious display of what I can...." she blinks "Not use in Amber damnit." she sags "Ah well. You never visit, might as well stay. I am neutral in this...spat of yours."

A flash of pique over being denied a fitting moniker for her. He watches her, leaned back and head craned, squinting from the spotlight. "Neutral? Oh, grand. Here I thought Sorry had somehow gained an ally," he remarks archly. "Yet you /will/ act if we clash, and so you have some stake in this after all. Uhh, Raphaela, what is that, Montevalno?" he asks idly, while he gauges the bay for his next maneuver, the ship's sails creeping down.

Off midway across the bay, the Begman craft wobbles, rights, and careens slowly towards them. On the flight deck, Sorensen stares at the Sigma through the viewport, full of flabbergasted questions.

Water drips off the gorgeous steel and curves and angles, and steams a bit as sea dries from its body. She adds, lazily "There mmight be underwater mines. Of course I have my stake, it just is my own, and not what might suit either of you. I might want just to test my weapons system." she folds arms, wind dramatically blowing her skirt waaay up, but hair flutters nicely too. "And I am Raphaela de Sorgo. Of Amber."

As if on signal, Sigma takes a bolt pose keeping all the while mistress safe, eyes blazing electric blue.

Lirre doesn't go looking away or anything when Raphaela's skirt flees revealingly upwards. But he's too cross to grin at her leggy legs. As the mecha assumes a threatening stance, the pirate bares clenched teeth in a calculating grin. "This isn't Amber," he calls up through the whipping breezes, "but this land is obviously your holding, Raphaela de Sorgo. Your mines and monstrosities are distinctly unwelcoming. I'll be going -- if you want parlay, come meet me on open waters." Bluff called? The shadowy shipmates ripple across his ship as she turns her nose to the mouth of the bay.

Raphaela bahs, chain there not moving "And why do you reckon I would parlay on /your ground/ then? You so weak you can't handle odd where you don't have a certain win?" she then mutters and pets her baby mecha, polishing a spot with her sleeve. She is pouting "I know fully well this isn't Amber, cause I can't have these babies at home."

The kraken craft weebles closer, and Sorensen has to lean into his controls and crane his head in order to gaze up the full height of the Sigma. His voice crackles through on of the external grammaphone cones. "What on earth, Raph? How did you...? How does it...?" He won't accuse her of being secretly Begman. That thing is far too sleek and polished for Begma. He spares Lirre's retreat a glowering glance. "It's like something out of the graphic novels back home!"

Raphaela is half begman. Naturally, it doesn't stop her from REAL science. She blinks "You guys have never been in my factory have you. I have more." she ponders "If your brother leaves, I might even fix your ship." if he stayes, well, she'll be busy getting to know them.

Lirre's grumble likely won't be heard. "Open waters are neutral, Silver." Then he turns, looking between Sorensen's sorry ship and the scary bot. "I won't be baited," he shouts back up Raphaela. "But if you fire on me /then/ we'll have a problem!"

Raphaela points "Still turf you are used to. Won't be baited either." she sighs "I won't fire on you. You're holding half a man I care for hostage." the chain opens. "But you are mean, and the beard looks shitty on you." she shouts his way.

Sorensen is intrigued by MORE, certainly. Merrisol has seen the facilities, but the memories don't seem to transfer to the untethered soul. "If he leaves, he might try another run on the Tower while he knows I am occupied," he megaphones. Then he surreptitiously feels at his own neglected stubble. Raph is the meany!

The chain halts, lowered in only one suspiciously free of traps spot.

Raphaela mutters at Sorensen, through her boomvoice levels "Not you, you kinda look good with that." total meanie. "He needs to groom, you need to be ruffled up."

Lirre hollers, "Give it time -- it'll grow on you!" Ahahahaaa. He studies the shifting blockade. "Make up your mind.." The waters around the Eclipse's hull grow restless, as though seeking to break free of the bay itself, along with the ship.

Sorensen drops his hand from his chin. Ahem. He eyes the action with the chain and nods. "That's good. It'll buy me time to make some repairs myself." And he ducks away from the viewport.

Raphaela makes a cute Japanese schoolgirl pose (not that anyone knows what that would be, but pose is kewt) with mecha's fists on its cheeks and one leg up "Promise to behave?" she sighs "I suppose you would both die to stop for 5 minutes... I don't care about your stupid war." the mechanisations whirr away. "I don't know how Maggie can stand both of you choosing war with eachother over her. Idiots." she hops and takes a seat on the Mecha's shoulder as defences go down. "Go away both of you if you are going to be like that."

"Silver, I promise you I am likewise mystified, why she won't just /choose/!" shouts Lirre, staring up at Raph. His ship noses only slowly ahead as the wind and waves seem to die around her momentarily. "Seems she prefers having it both ways. Keep fighting, she said. You ask her," he says, his own voice fading. "And let me know if she's changed her mind.. for I am tired." The last is just a mutter. The wind picks up in the sails and the waves sally forth from the bay.

Raphaela says "So stop." she sighs and watches him go, elbows on knees. "NEither of you deserve her."

Raphaela adds "And if this keeps on going you will just force her to denounce both."

Sorensen only rattles around a bit, then comes back to peer up at Raph himself. He silently studies the moonlit form through the rising mist from the mecha's seams, glancing after the Eclipse's retreat for a moment, then back. "We're dead men, you know, Raph," he says through the mic, his voice gone flat. "We're ghosts. But Maggie says we will all be alive and together again." He tilts his head. "Do you think that's true?"

Raphaela says "Nothing can happen if there is no faith." she looks down "I refuse to believe you dead. And I want you back."

Raphaela's dream crumbles around, a lingering voice remaining.