Igraine

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

Luc took the bowl with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you sir," he said quietly as he settled easily onto the chair his Tante 'Tonia abandoned, waving him over to take what had been her seat. He wasn't hungry, not truly, but he nibbled at the hardtack anyway, washing it down with the fresh water because Captain Lightfoot was right of course. A full belly was a comfort, even now, even after all he had seen, and Luc bit off a large bite of jerky as his aunt's gentle fingers ran lovingly, soothingly, over his own ebony curls.

Antonia did not have even a moment to reply to Thomas' words before Jax had arrived with Luc in tow, and she kept her peace now as well, as the captain and the helmsman spoke of dreams and nightmares. She busied herself while Thomas prepared Luc's makeshift meal, hiding as best she could the blood-stained evidence of the merciful brutality from the boy's eyes. Luc had seen enough this day. More than enough. Far too much, and if Antonia were not so sure that whatever the Commander had planned for Luc would be similarly as dire, just as deadly, the guilt of knowing all those dark, amber-lit eyes had seen this night, would have weighed with a shame as great as any anchor.

The rogue sighed softly, and did not speak until Luc had managed some bites of his makeshift dinner at the least. "You are right Thomas. The numbers are low - far too low." She kept her words deliberately vague, her one concern adding a single other burden to the boy sharing the warmth of the fire with them now. She would have dearly loved to revisit the more tender words spoken only moments before, to tease and laugh about the consequences of the elder Lightfoot's rejection of Thomas' own Home Star, to savor the light in Thomas' copper gaze as his eyes roamed over her face as he lovingly washed her clean as well. But the moment for levity had passed, and all Antonia had left was the trust more such times still lay ahead of them.

"Depending on where we have been blown, there might yet be the chance to increase... Those... "

Antonia's voice trailed off slowly as she listened to the wind howling and laughing just beyond these wooden planks, still as stone for several long moments.

'De golden woman been tossed to de waves, little sister. De smiling man be gone after her - you tink you might want to retrieve dem, yes? Dere's no lifting dem - you gots to haul dem out yourself if you want dem... At least before Broder Sogba strike down de smiling man to a little speck of ash. He is not taking a liking to de way de golden woman looks at de tiny mortal. Not when he work so mightily to catch her eye tonight... '

The laughter on the wind whistled away through the galley, back up the stairs to the deck and the night. Rogue and boy looked quickly to one another, eyes wide with surprise, and not a little genuine fear.

"Thomas, something has happened to Nicolette, to Jax. We have to get up top - now... " She never once thought to explain herself, or her strange, near incomprehensible words to Thomas. There was not time and, in all likelihood, there was no need. This was the very man who trusted his beloved rogue enough to battle sirens, and keep them at bay at her word alone. She never had to be told, that Thomas' trust in her was complete.

Luc did not wait to be told to wait for his aunt yet again, setting the bowl and cup aside swiftly and at her heels in a moment as she dashed out the galley, heedless for the dark and wet as she made her way up top.

Antonia might never be a sailor born, but her sight was matchless, and she sprinted over the Skate's deck, shouting their names into the ebbing winds. "Jax! JAX! Nicolette!" The rogue did not stop to turn as she caught sight of the pair on the waves, even in the inky darkness of the waning storm. "Thomas! Luc - a rope! Bring rope!"

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

"Da."

Yury did not say another word to the man who threatened his sister's life. He did not have to. It was not as if there was even the least question that he had a choice in the matter. There was no lie in this man's voice. He would - and could - kill Galina long before Yury could do a damned thing to stop him.

The only relief he knew in these moments was the split-second he took to follow the enormous man's gesture, toward two more blue-clad bodies that, it seemed were the remnants of their mutual enemy. Yury nodded, once, as he turned back to Souma's guardian and released the hammer on the pistol with his thumb. Slowly, so very slowly, he tucked the Colt into his belt as he moved, sheathing the shashka as well as he paced warily to his sister's side and knelt beside her.

Galina heard Daisuke's words, but her weary, half-lidded gaze was entirely for Souma. She did not miss his mute protest to his Fist's threat. There was nothing, of course, he could have done to stop the man, but Galina found even this futile effort strangely comforting.

"It is... All... Right... " she whispered, and in this moment Galina could not possibly express all she meant in those simple words. Stay or go, live or die, there was a peace that settled over her like a warm summer rain, a rest she had not known in over a year. "Sayonara,... Souma."

She felt strong yet gentle hands on her face, her shoulder, tenderly yet insistently pulling her gaze from Souma to look up into her brother's face. "Yury... " A faint ghost of a smile greeted him, her beloved big littlest brother, though the worry in those amber eyes hurt her to see.

"I'm here, 'Lina," he said softly in Russian, smiling to hide the wince when he saw the angry purple bruise that was spreading across one eye socket, down her cheek and into her temple. Beneath that, the tell-tale red welts about her slender throat, fingers and thumb had wrapped so tightly, sent a rage snarling through his heart.

Yury only smiled wider.

"I'm going to patch you up 'Lina... Here... Let me have this now... " His gaze returned to Souma's guardian, deliberately, to flag his intent as he carefully, slowly, pulled the kindjal from Galina's white-knuckled grasp.

"Don't... Don't lose... Gift... Papa's... Gift... "

"No 'Lina, no," he reassured his sister with all the tender patience one might have for a very sick child. "I will not lose your kindjal. Hush now, I only need it for a moment and I will keep it safe. I promise."

Swiftly he cut the pale green cord that bound her ivory obi, tucking his sister's blade into his belt beside the pistol before unwrapping, as swiftly as he could, the lengths of the obi from about her waist. The soft white cloth of the nagajuban beneath her rose-colored kimono had been near saturated to crimson across her torso, front and back, and this was no place for Yury to try to assess the extent of her wounds. He had not been the least bit idle while Galina had been in Japan, and he knew where they must go - but they must go now, if it was not too late already.

Yury's jaw set grimly at that thought, and he knew he must attend to more than simply wrapping his sister's gunshot wound. His hands worked swiftly as he spoke, intoning the Lord's Prayer over his sister, contented to see her lips move even if there was no sound, matching his own voice word-for-word.

"Would you like to make confession, 'Lina?" His stomach turned, his throat thick and tight, the words damn near choking him. He was no priest - hell, there could not possibly be anyone further than. But Yury simply could not take the chance...

Galina nodded, just the faintest of movements as she forced her eyelids open once more. "Was... Not... Good daughter... Disobey... Father... " Her breathless voice went on for some moments longer, recalling all her trespasses, great and small that came to her in pieces, wind-blown leave on the currents of a dying mind until her whispers came no more.

"And what of him?" Yury asked gently, his gaze flickering meaningfully toward Souma for a moment. There was no judgment in his question, no condemnation, only the desire to see sister unburdened entirely if she must leave this world.

Galina let her eyes close, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she shook her head almost imperceptibly. "That... Is no... Sin... "

"As you will, 'Lina," Yury said tenderly as he tied off the makeshift bandages about her chest, both hands reaching beneath her body as he lifted her, cradling her to him as if she were not much more than a babe as a pained whimper escaped her throat. For all his loving care, he knew she was slipping further from him with every passing second.

"I... Want... To go... Go... Home, Yury... " she whispered as a single tear wound its slow, torturous way down her ruined cheek, soaking into the cloth of his bloodstained shirt. "I... Want... Want... My Papa... Want Papa... Yury... "

The gentle, heartfelt cry of a lost, hurting little girl tore at her brother, and he grimaced as he bent to kiss her forehead. "Shhhhh... Hush now. I have you 'Lina... "

Yury stood, slowly, obviously of no possible danger to Souma's watchful guardian, his hands full entirely with his dying sister. "I have mine," the Cossack replied, taking a single step back though not yet ready to turn his back on the other warrior. "And we are leaving... "

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

So glad the evening was made! And I do have a good idea, for what Ethan could do that no one else possibly could!

And I think it's been really, really close to a year - at least a good part of a year, and then maybe the two of them have been recollecting what they could of their lives in the intervening months? I can fix that if it doesn't work.

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

Well I'm trying to post something, but for whatever reason it's just not showing up? : / Absolutely no idea why >< Hopefully it'll show up in a few minutes or so... ?

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

(( Sorry double post ))

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

The world was... It was a little quieter now, on the other side of Ethan Sampson. No, not a little actually. No, that wasn't entirely true. A lot actually. As if someone had all the speakers in her world amped up to ten, the bass thumping loud enough to make her bones quake, and then suddenly - nothing. Silence, absolute.

It had taken some getting used to, living without the constant, nagging incessant doubt about her professionalism, her sanity - well, her entire world in truth - but Bree was beginning to realize just how quiet (and good) her life had once been, over a year ago. Before what should have been a simple illegal casino bust and scooping up a wayward informant, turned everything all so damned... Weird.

Bree could have never imagined, there would come a time when she would be almost nostalgic for weird.

It was a new day. A beautiful and bright day, a magnificent autumn day morning a sky overhead so pristine blue, it made the eyes ache just to look upon its brilliance. Just cool enough to be sweater weather, with a breeze that kissed the cheeks briskly, and did not chill. The scent of autumn leaves mixed headily with last night's rain as Bree jogged on the packed dirt trail, four miles already behind her and the fifth coming up with that welcome sense of unwinding in her stride. And though Freddie Mercury was lilting through her phone and her ear buds, about thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening me, she really was not expecting a bolt from the blue.

Bree winced as her phone's 'work ringer' went off, a wailing alarm that sang through her ear buds way too loud as she pulled up short, slapping at the phone screen bound to her arm with sweaty fingers.

"Agent... Agent Walsh... " Bree slowed, catching her breath. This was her day off - she wasn't even on duty - but the long habit of professionalism pulled her up short on her run, no matter who was on the other side of this line.

"Yes sir." Her brow furrowed as the sweat began to form a sheen on her face, walking quickly now, blowing out slowly.

"Yes sir, that's my case - one of my cases... Yes, that's the family... " Even though there was probably not another person around for at least another mile or two, it was the long, careful habit of years that kept her cagey about speaking too much aloud. "The family." Two otherwise innocuous words that, in this instance carried the weight of damn near a century of corruption, notorious villainy and ruthless, detestable deeds. This was the family that Victor had fled. This was the family that found him and blew his head off for his troubles.

And it seemed this new generation of the family intended to ratchet things up about a thousand notches, biting off a brazen mouthful that, to this moment, no one ever saw coming.

"Wait... Sir, wait... What!?" Bree's grey eyes widened as she stopped cold, as she listened several moments longer, shaking her head slowly. "No... No sir I'll... Half an hour. Yes sir, on my way now."

The Last Kings of Orion

Yup Kuro, they were were both an awful lot awesome! But it's hard to find fault with Antoine or Mowzer or Reece at any time, so... And SO good to see you about again Idle - you've been very missed, and hope all is going something like an even keel for you again.

Catch up with you all this evening-ish or so.

Loki's Laugh

"It" belongs on either my arm, or in my bed - I'm a touch torn on the matter...

The Last Kings of Orion

OK, now that is just so cool - thank you for linking that Justric! I love when there can actually be a bit of "history" attached to a story too, all for the authenticity (and frankly, that's just fascinating as all get out )

And I wanted to leave here too - not that anyone is waiting on me I don't think - that I'm not going to be about until, at best, tomorrow night. Studying's just gotten the best of me, and I'm pretty much not in the best place at the moment for writing until the tests are over... ;)

The Last Kings of Orion

Awwww... I hereby declare that Corgi puppies made it aboard the Copernicus. Dr. Albright, make it so... *grins*