Both Sides Now

[rassafraggin]

The Eclipse, a piratical ship with the build and sail formation of a Corsair, darkly stained but with sail cloth as light and colourless as the dome of the dreamsky, cuts the surface of the pearly ocean as it makes for the furthest horizon. There would appear to be an active crew, but they are insubstantial shadows, unless the dream guide choses to breathe solidity to their existence.

The dream guide would rather focus on other details. Drawing on her memories of sailing with her friends, she brings the experience of the movement of the ship and the wind as they sail more into focus. What she doesn't do though, is try to affect where they are going. He knows that better than she, after all. There was the temptation to change into what she usually wears aboard ship, but it seems more appropriate to stay as she would dress in Tir.

Martin is dressed in his adventuring outfit with the typical jeans and white shirt, black combat boots and black jacket made for him a long time ago. He looks a little bemused as if he's not entirely sure what is going on. As long as there is distractions and no one is dying, that's fine.

Lirre is unused to being accompanied by a dreamguide. He takes charge as usual, applying his will to the aspects of his environment most important to his own tastes and ego. Definitely the ship, the sea, and the sun, are all doing their damnedest to be both constant and pliable to his sense of intrepid drama. The pirate begins to notice the additional effects Miriam's attentions bring to the atmosphere, and he casts her a quick, sparkling grin from the forecastle that even the dark golden beard can't conceal. "Four points to larboard," he calls to the invisi-crew, and the Eclipse leans with the helpful turn of the breeze to make towards a ripple of brassy colour on the horizon. "Looks like Junior's gone cloud-gazing again while the Tower's befogged to all."

Leaping down to the deck, red waistcoat fluttering jauntily, he intently studies the new arrival to the communal dreamspace. To Martin, the man Lirre bears a striking resemblance to Merrisol, although there are enough differences that a friend such as the Rebman Prince would know instantly that it isn't really him.

Miriam returns that smile when he appreciates the effort, but is soon distracted by Martin's arrival. He gets her attention then, and there's a brighter smile. "Martin! We're going to try t'talk to Sorensen."

Martin gives Lirre a friendly smile, "Ah, well it appears that I am just in time." A thing his bloodline is noted for, of course. "Good Tide," he greets Lirre as he kisses his wife's fingers. "I'm Martin, but you know that, I'm sure."

Lirre nods slowly to that, smirking behind the full beard. "Sure I do. Martin. Who doesn't know that," he chuckles, and sketches a brief salute to the man. He notes the intimacy shown between the prince and princess, and smirks. "Honoured to have you aboard, then.. I'll try to get us close to that steel monstrocity so you can work your mumbo-jumbo on things," he notes to Miriam. "But I'm sure I won't go aboard with you. Not if you want a nice quiet chat with that... uh, with Sorensen."

Miriam chuckles quietly as she squeezes her husband's hand, and explains to Martin "Lirre doesn't have access to his brain right now, so his memory isn't great. But, I think he's still got access to his heart. We'll trust that t'lead him." There's a nod to Lirre then, and she says "I think that's best, yes. At least for th'first meeting. No need t'have you both too distracted t'talk."

"The honor is all mine," Martin assures him. He certainly recognizes Merrisol in the man of course but he does not draw attention to it. "As you say," he agrees with Miriam. "That must not be pleasant." He sympathizes. "I had that happen once in Deep Shadow, I was trapped for quite a while.

Lirre attends Martin's words curiously, head inclined to the shorter fellow, and he lifts a hand to his jaw, scratching an itch pensively. "Lost your head and your way, hm? Suppose that near enough describes this predicament. I'm told that not even a year has gone round for the waking world, in the decade we've been waging war over the Tower, my brother and I. Seems like time slips away when there's nothing to anchor a mind," he muses in a mutter, one hand gone to another to restlessly fiddle with an artful ring of woven red metallic strands.

Miriam frowns at the mention of Martin's captivity, but then nods about time in dream. "It's very hard t'tell how much time's passed here." she agrees. "Hopefully it's some solace that you haven't really lost all that time." she adds, still holding Martin's hand.

Martin nods, "I'm sure it's disconcerting but will figure out a way to make things right. That's what we are here for. "You haven't, not entirely." He leans against the edge of the ship. "What can we expect to find in this tower other than your brother?"

Lirre concedes Miriam's point with a nod. "Perception's a fickle mistress, and these experience could haunt us still, whatever happens." He examines Martin again. "There's no getting inside the Tower.. not without knocking it down first," he drawls, raising a boyscout hand afterward to add, "which I will not be aiming to do, anymore, promise. My half-blood brother plays Defender of the Crown from his own ship, such as it is.."

The nautical miles compress in the meantime, sending the Eclipse across the waves to intercept what looks like a giant cathedral's brass-piped organ, wrapped around a dirigible, until it resembles a tentacled kraken risen from the deeps. Four enormous cheesewheel-shaped cages are tilted towards the ocean, droning as their copious wind bends the surface tension of the water, keeping the whole contraption aloft. Bits of purple mist flow from vents on the undercarriage, but not enough to mask the shape of the craft at the moment. A stairway platform suspended above the sea leads up into its backend, where a large hangar interior, blinking with operational lights, can be viewed from the much lower deck of the Eclipse.

"Well... here we are," grumbles the pirate, staring scornfully at the Begmanly vessel. "Asleep at the wheel, Sorry is. A volley of cannon fire should bring him round," he half-jokes, darkly.

Miriam smiles to Lirre, when he repeats his promise not to attack the Tower. "It really is appreciated. And it'll help us get you out've all this and back into th'waking world." Then they're arriving, and Miriam doesn't seem to know what to make of the Begman weirdness. Even having seen a fair amount of that oddity with Merrisol, it all still kind of puzzles her. Lirre suggests a volley, and she chuckles. "Why don't we just try knocking, first..."

"Miriam is correct. Conversation and Diplomacy might yield better efforts." Martin suggests. He's barely knows the men in their separate forms and if talking to his best friend's halves is upsetting him he doesn't let on. "Perhaps a Parlay?"

Lirre has his red waistcoat back, somehow. And still with that beard. His derision has dwindled a little by the time his dreaming passengers have expressed their need for peaceful talks. With a blink and a scoff, he looks over at Miriam again. "I can bring her closer alongside that blighted staircase thing he's got stuck out there. I mean, who sticks stairs out of a ship's backside?" The Eclipse's sails fluff out in a diffident manner, as the ship manages to close in without getting clipped by the huge rear turbines. "Don't expect me to go over with you, though."

The idling behemoth lurches away suddenly like she'd been goosed, and starts to turn about. The brassy protrusions over its domed upper hull reach and bloom, seeking targets blindly for the moment, though one might imagine from the gusting sounds, the mad organ pipes are tuning up.

"Hey... HEY! Stand down, ya Begman brat!" the pirate captain hollers, outrage already ramping up.

Miriam nods to Lirre. Her own manner of dress remains her silver Tirian gown. "Thank you." To the question, she smiles and says "A Begman? And we just appreciate you bringing us t'his ship. Maybe someday we'll be able t'speak with y'both, together." She's not going to push it right now, though. When said behemoth starts to turn, she holds up her hands in that direction. "Parlay! Prince Martin of Rebma and Princess Miriam of Tir request Parlay!"

Martin squints, watching the ship change it's direction, "Ahoy!" He greets from Miriam's side with a charming smile that no one is close enough to see. Well, unless they're using a spy glass.

Dressed in a gown of Begman design; all tight bodice laced up the back, feathery pleats, full skirt complete with a flounder, lace, boots, a hair up-do with curls and a cute, matching wee little hat of deep rose and gold, Maggie stands at an observation deck. Spotting the Eclipse with her precious cargo, she blows a kiss to the red-waistcoated pirate captain and turns to duck within. Her movements are hurried, her words of insistent calm no doubt lost to those without.

Lirre's dark golden beard flexes highlights with all the molar grinding going on. "One shot.. just one shot.. one shot's just being brotherly, after all..." The pirate ship is spinning in the water to show its broadside, but miraculously, the cannons aren't rolling out yet. He waits for their trio of shouts to have some effect first.. and promptly forgets everything once the craft has turned enough that he can spot the dressed-up figure on high. "Stand down," he mumbles, to himself and his ship.

The horns begin snaking in unison to point towards the Eclipse, but then... stop. And the wind turbines crank slowly the other way, reversing the spin of the outlandish hydrofoil, until the hangar mouth and the stairs to the sea are once again exposed. A little bit of heaving on the waves, for the Corsair to maneuver against, then the Begman vessel is steady in position once more. Accompanying Maggie down the stairway, about halfway, a tall blond in a casual gentleman's blue vest and trousers ensemble makes his appearance and stares icily across at the pirate ship. His short hair, pale gold, ruffles slightly, and if he's sporting a beard, it is similarly light and trim, blending against his skin. Eyeing Miriam and Martin both quickly, he settles the weight of his gaze upon his half-brother. If Maggie continues downwards to the platform, it's hard to guess whether he'll go with out of sheer gentlemanliness, or stay at the halfway mark in case he has to dash back up to his control center.

Privately, to Maggie, Sorensen was in a flightsuit when Maggie found him, but he changed to the suitness to coincide with her dress. Sorensen explained the Tower had receded sometime ago (probably due to Moire being awake) so he was doing some spot repairs and upgrades during downtime.

Miriam manages not to smile at Lirre's remark, but it's hard. "I think you're having a little trouble with th'definition of 'brotherly'." she says to him, then does smile as she sees Maggie there. There's a wave for her and then for Sorensen as he appears as well, and she asks "Can Martin'n I come abroad and speak with you? It's important."

Martin smiles, "Let's all just try to keep calm." He nods vigorously in Sorensen's direction. Trust us, we're Rebmans. Dolphin's like us, how can they be wrong? He slides a glance Maggie's way and looks back to Sorensen and grins like he's perfectly harmless.

Trust. A noble, if rare commodity. Maggie walks with Sorensen to the half-way mark, then continues on to the platform. She glances back once in an over-the-shoulder look that is both brief and understanding. She will not make him come down with her, though she hopes that he might. When she reaches the landing, she spends a moment looking at Lirre, then turns to offer hands to assist Miriam or Martin if there is need. If not, the hands are offered in greeting, "Welcome." Then she turns to Sorensen, her smile warm. He is the master of this ship and she will not usurp his right to allow or deny visitors.

Privately, to Merrisol, Maggie is both touched and pleased by his decision to change to match her style of dress. She also understands the need for downtime, repairs and upgrades. If there is time after the meeting she will offer to assist.

For his own part, Lirre hasn't taken his gaze off Maggie once she reappeared on the boarding stair, suddenly very glad for ridiculous stairways dropping from abomination craft. It's when Sorensen takes a few steps after the halfway point, trailing the redhead somewhat gamely, that the pirate abruptly scowls and fixes him with a stare of mirrored challenge, stopping the younger brother in a seething stand-off.

Sorensen is the first to drop his gaze, looking towards Maggie for a moment, then forcing his eyes to rest civilly on his imminent additional guests. "Indeed welcome... Your Highnesses. You are both welcome aboard my craft.. the Metasepia Pfefflere," he announces in his utterly Begman accent.

"Extend the gangway," relents Lirre after another moment. A flicker of shadows on board the pirate ship, and there is a wood-railed plank leading off her deck and down to the platform where Maggie waits. "Flame," he stares at her again, searing her appearance into his memory, such as it is, with a burning look. "Another time," he adds to the departing royalty.

Miriam looks relieved when Sorensen extends the invitation, and then walks down the gangplank towards the Begman craft. She reaches to take Maggie's hand once there, in both aide crossing over and welcome. There's a gentle squeeze, then she looks back towards Lirre. "I'm glad we got to talk. We'll do't again soon, I hope?" she says to him before turning her attention forward again. To Sorensen, "Thank you for th'welcome."

Maggie sees the reflection of Lirre's look in Sorensen's pause. She turns to look up at Lirre, so misses Sorensen's lowered look. Her attention holds on Lirre, a softening around her lips and eyes clear, perhaps to him, "Merrisol." Her gaze and tone speak of his welcome, should he wish and Sorensen allow. A pipe dream, no doubt. Her hand tightens in Miriam's as the Tir princess squeezes gently.

Martin nods to Lirre, "It was a pleasure to talk to you. Thanks for the hospitality. You're welcome any time in Rebma." Well, Dreamland Rebma, anyway. It's hard really understand in dreams. Then again, maybe there are sentient jellyfish floating in the skies. A boy can dare to hope, a Prince must really be more practical. "Captain," He greets Sorensen. "Thank you for the Parlay. My apologies for such short notice."

Lirre shakes his head ever so slightly in reply to Maggie's wordless hope. Their ships are side to back without firing point blank into each other, the brothers are trading daggers but only the ocular sort; one cannot possibly expect more! Not today. "Prince Rebma. Princess Tir." He spares them another look, and his jeweled green gaze loses a touch of its hardness. "Once upon a time, acceptance in Rebma would have meant something to me," he says to Martin. "That ship has sunk." Final words, but the beard hides any quirk of his mouth that could betray wistfulness.

Sorensen stands tall and stiff on the steps, arms bent behind his back while the small group assembles on the platform. If he's listening to the exchange, his austere features do not let on, and he keeps his gaze lowered to the M's who are now technically on board his vessel. He nods to Miriam and Martin, turns, and walks back up the stairs to lead the way into the cavernous hangar, the bulkheads crawling with catwalks and gleaming pneumatic pipes.

Hey, the two ships being this close and not firing on each other is a win, in Miriam's book. She'll take it. Lirre's reply to Martin is heard and understood with a nod that shows regret for that, but then it's time to focus on Sorensen again. She waits for Martin, to walk with him up the stairs to follow the Begman brother.

Martin walks with Miriam to follow the Begman brother onto his ship. He looks around, appreciating the Begman marvels because cool stuff is cool. "Again, thank you for having us."

Belatedly, Maggie wonders where the pirate found that fabulous red coat. She tries to make a mental note to check her safe-o-doom to see if it remains on that side of the dream. Or... did she return it to him, as was her intent? While it is undoubtedly a win to have the two men this close together without actual bloodshed, a woman can hope. She nods slightly in understanding and turns to bring up the rear in this expedition. An over-the-shoulder glance is sent in a silent 'next time' to Lirre before she focuses front and enters the hanger after Miriam and Martin.

Once he's seeing the backs of his erstwhile companions, Lirre watches each of them with a little more care, before he himself is turning away from the rail. The Eclipse fades back on the waves as though letting the gusts from the Metasepia's turbines push her back and back until more favourable winds find her sails and take her away.

Sorensen gestures towards a modest dining table set up beside the base of another railed stairway which juts up into a half-enclosed command center, the most intricately detailed interior of the ship. The steel decking the tilts gently this way and that, the breeze more than the waves dictating these sways. "It's just a matter of putting in a couple more chairs," says the Begman-Rebman, and then, there they are. Four chairs around the dining table now, along with the place settings. His crew, like Lirre's are insubstantial shadows of jumpsuited figures, fading in and out along the catwalks on their 'duties' as imagined by the ever-dreaming soul. Sorensen pauses to watch Martin's wandering admiration with a small smile. "Won't you join us while I hear out your requests?" he prompts, pulling out Maggie's chair for her again.

Miriam is fascinated by the craft, looking all around them with great interest as they walk to the dining area. "This's an amazing ship." she says to Sorensen as the additional chairs appear. She takes one of them, then offers "I'd be pleased t'provide th'food, if you like? I've skill with Dream."

Martin smiles as Miriam displays her abilities in the dreamworld. He agrees wholeheartedly, he loves Begman things. "Any chance you can give me a tour later?" He looks hopefully at Sorensen. "It's wonderful!"

Although she has been in and out of Dream, with one brother or the other, this ship is still an alien wonder to Maggie. Sorensen's ingenuous engineering has really come into its own here... where his mind can create and his work made manifest.

She glides to her seat, curling into it when he pulls it out for her. Though this has happened before, she still blushes a bit at the courtly gesture. "Thank you," is murmured to him before she turns her attention to her cousins.

A smile for Maggie as she's settled into her seat and tucked in just right. For all his frosty formality and quiet watchfulness, Sorensen is definitely the younger of the brothers, and it's easier to read his pleasure when the nonsensical grandeur of his ship design meets with their approval if not their comprehension. His mouth is open before he decides how to respond to Martin, studying the Prince intently. "Oh yes.. I imagine there'll be time enough. When we lose the Empress's Tower it's always some days before I know how to reach it again." Still eying Martin sidelong, he adds, "Thank you. She's forever a work in progress.. been pulled apart and put back together more times than I can recall, over the years."

Lingering by his seat until everyone is settled, he gazes next at Miriam, concentrating on the peculiarity of her offer now, and responding with brows knit, "So.. it is your orchestration that brings so many dreams together so... harmoniously." He indicates the simple elegance of the covered steel trays arranged in the middle of the oval table, upon starchy white linens. "We've not yet peeked, but I could guess at the menu," he smiles again, slightly apologetic. He's a scientist and a soldier, not a chef.

Miriam considers the covered trays for a moment. "If you want t'guess at what's there, maybe I can make'm a little more real than's usual here." she says, then answers the other with "I'm helping t'do it, yes. T'keep th'dreams from conflicting too much t'fold together."

Martin looks pleased that he might get a tour. He loves Begma. "Thank you," He smiles warmly at Sorensen. However he's apparently there to look pretty and observe, because it's dreamland and someone has to have that job. He's very good at it but at least he's charming *and* sincere.

That smile. It never fails to melt Maggie's heart just a bit more. Every time. Looking from Miriam to Martin, then to the silver trays, she tries not to lean forward as she inhales. The intent is to try to smell whatever is in there without cheating too much. "What would you most like to have?" The question is asked softly, aimed at one and all. "I bet that Miriam can bring it to fruition. As long as it is something she knows how to make. Shall we talk over dinner? Or wait until after?" Her grasp of Begman dress is still better than her understanding of Begman manners. The clothing is far more simple and straightforward. Scary thought.

Sorensen drops his gaze to the covers and grin-winces, "Usually it's navy rations. Though with Maggie here, I really went all out: Ham and swiss on rye. Potato crisps. And iced cream." He does self-deprecating humour very well, naturally. But he really is abashed by his inability to juryrig a proper meal. He looks between Maggie and Miriam quickly, protesting, "Don't put yourself out for the sake of fancy, Ma'am, I beg you." He wavers, then sets down a decisive hand upon the tablecloth. "Best, really, to find out what has brought you here, by pirate ship no less, and let that decide what is set on our plates."

Proper meal? That, Miriam can do. Just as she did for Lirre. She says "It isn't putting myself out, at all. It's my pleasure. I know y'don't really remember, but you're half've one've my best friends. I like t'do for my friends." The sandwiches, crisps and iced cream then will all be much closer to real-tasting than the usual dream fare. "As to why we're here, we want t'know more about who's attacking th'Tower. Th'sooner we can stop them, th'sooner we can get back to getting th'Tower and her Majesty out've your body and free your mind." Better to just get to the point, right?

It Might not be the done thing, but Maggie reaches over to take Sorensen's hand when it meets the table. She smiles encouragement to Miriam and Martin, sobering when the topic focuses. Her attention turns to Sorensen, her smile encouraging and warm,"Start with what you told me. We can work from that, I imagine."