Tenish the Mighty — Roleplayer Guild

A Boat, Adrift

The Rituals of Consumption

Remi frowned at Jyn as they took stock of their vittles. It wasn't very impressive. Remi's gaze turned back out the open door to the deck. He had heard only fragments of conversation, but it was enough. Their first battle had ended with the other side destroyed, their own intact. By any measure it would have to be considered a victory. But Remi wondered if they had really won at all. The air was heavy with the weight of words said and words unsaid, bearing down upon them. Bearing down on bodies and souls, so many of them weakened by vacuous uncertainties not so dissimilar to his own. He wanted to help them. To fix them. It was the purpose which he yearned to fulfill. But what could he do. He could hardly deal with the gnawing void of his own petty foibles. Hollow and hungry. The tremulous feel and audible sound of his stomach growling broke Remi's reverie. He looked back into the galley, still frowning. Hollow and hungry.

Thael meandered into the scene, looking much more solid than Remi is most every way. Remiel's frown deepened. An Atlas countenance, he looked like the entire weight of the universe bore down upon him at the mere consideration of what they were to eat. His breath was held, deep and strained, his eyes had hardened into gimlets, boring into the floorboards. Then, as if making a decision of monumental import he released the breath, breathing out a sigh, long and shallow. His eyes snapped up. He looked at Jyn and then at Thael, a small smile appeared on his lips, beautiful in it's rarity and clarity. "Alright," Remi said with as much gravitas as he could muster.

Advancing across the room, Remi vanished out of the door Thael had entered from, leaving the galley in silence for a moment to contemplate the implications of Remi's decision. He returned a moment later, rubberized aprons draped over his shoulder. They were the aprons of fishmongers, designed to protect dockworkers from the slick of the sea and the viscera of sea life. Remi tossed them to Jyn and Thael, hanging the rest over his own neck, tying one off in the back. A rarely seen vitality had filled Remi's air, his smile was still there, as if it came easily to his face. He moved with an almost excitable energy as he started pulling down cans of beans and Spagetti, his eyes scanned the labels, reading for ingredients and proportions. His lips pursed in thought. Without looking at them he spoke to his erstwhile undercooks. "Thael, I need you to go get your shield, I need to use it as a mashing bowl." He tore through the rest of the drawers and cabinets. Leaning over the sink, Remi worked his fingers around the edges of the screen inset into the portside window. Popping it free he examined the mesh. Satisfied he laid it over the sink after putting a small cooking pot underneath and turned the faucet on over it. Pointing at the makeshift strainer he spoke to Jyn, "I need you to start opening the spaghetti cans and washing the sauce off of the noodles. You can let the sauce run down but try to save as much of the meat as you can, alright? I'll be right back," without waiting for their response Remi ran back out of the galleys other door.

Emily was standing there, her batons tucked under her left arm. She was wearing her usual workout outfit, though her tank top was a little shorter and tighter than usual, Remi noticed. She must have seen the furor on Remi's face, because she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, though she did give him the barest hint of a smile.

"Emergency?" She asked. Remi grinned.

"Alchemy," he said, taking one of the aprons off his neck he threw it unceremoniously over hers. "Come on, you can help." Without a backwards glance, Remi vaulted up the stairs to the cabins, two at a time.

She followed him, tying the apron around her waist. "I'll never reveal the location of the Philosopher's Stone," she said. "Try and make me." Her statement brought Remi's charge to a sputtering halt. He reached the top of the stairs and looked back at her, his face screwed into a mask of incomprehension.

"I- what?" he blinked, blinked again. "Oh, right. Heh, that's funny." Turning back he continued down the hallway, tearing open the door to his cabin. It was small. All of them were small. It was also immaculate. Remi had spend some time before the ship departed sweeping his room for traps, bugs, and the sea crust and oil that always permeated these old vessels. He'd also picked the room on the far port and aft side. Ships coming from Nautilus would most likely appear from that direction, if they happened to cross paths with a patrol. Remi had planned out seven separate scenarios of how to deal with such an occurrence.

The room was also remarkably full. For a man who prided himself on lean efficiency, Remi sure seemed burdened with a great deal of luggage. Rooting through one of the bags, Remi gave a little cry of victory at his find. Pulling out a few small vials filled with ground powders of various coarsity, Remi tossed them to Emily.

She managed to catch them without dropping her batons. The room didn't seem to surprise her, but the spices were a little more unusual. It didn't seem like Remi to bring so many unnecessary accouterments. She inspected the bottles.

"Do these explode?" She said, only half-joking.

For a moment, Remi's whirlwind dissipated. He looked at her, then down at the spices in her hand, then back up at her. For just an instant he seemed very off-center.

"Um...no. No that is just ginger and garlic." He looked sheepishly at her, slowly pulling another little bottle from his bag. "And this is sesame oil. Could you, um, take that down to the galley. We'll need it." Remi scratched at the back of his head idly.

"Sure," Emily said. "As long as you promise to share... whatever this is gonna be."

She smiled at him, just wide enough to show the gap in her front teeth. Then she left the room, leaving the bulky door open. Remi could hear her steps receding back towards the galley.

Remi took a moment to collect himself. The frown had returned. Remi didn't like it when Emily smiled. Nothing was ever simple when Emily smiled. He sighed and took a moment to regain his bearings. He remembered what he was doing. He had a plan. He also had, fishing through another bag and retrieving another bottle, larger, and full of an amber liquid that caught the moonlight in a rather pleasing way, clarity.

The tumultuous had had taken its toll on Aaron as he clumsily made his way down towards the galley to see what concoction that Remi had come up with. With everything that has happened, the Raptors, Doral, Liv and Maggie, Aaron wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to hold up with these soap-operaesque conditions. The dimly lit galley lay before him and a few of the group was scattered about, although he didn't see Maggie or Liv there. 'Probably a good thing I suppose.' Aaron thought 'No need to make things more awkward than they have to be.'

Taking a seat propped up in a corner with his eyes looking at all of his friends walking to and from their destinations one figure instantly caught his attention. Emily's. A deep sickening feeling filled his being, not quite anger, but something close. As Aaron waited to see what 'grand masterpiece' Aaron pulled the hood closer to his face and lit another cigarette, opening a window to let the smoke billow out of it, Aaron eyed Emily carefully trying to ponder the things mulling around in his mind.

A heavy scraping sound intruded into the galley. Remi reappeared briefly out of the door to the fore deck before vanishing. A large fishing net appeared behind him dragging along the ground. Remi dragged the net to the starboard railing, tying off the end on one of the rail supports. Taking a step back, Remi bunched as much of the other end in his fists as he could, with a grunt of effort he hurled the netting into the sea.

With a purpose Remiel marched back into the galley, without missing a step he plucked Aaron's cigarette from his lips, thrusting an apron into his chest.

"You are not getting ash or cigarette smoke in my meal. Get out or get ready to cook." flicking it out of the window as he stopped at the sink. Looking over Jyn's shoulder he hummed in a thoughtful way that was either approving or critical. Turning to the galley stove, two tops hissed and flared into life as Remi turned the ignition valve open. Fetching a pair of pans he placed them over the flames. Lifting his apron, Remi grabbed the bottle thrust into his belt. He flipped the bottle in the air like some performance bartender adding to the strange spectacle that was Remi in this moment. A light smile was back on his features. Rushing to the knife block Remi withdrew a small serrated blade. Thrusting the knife into the end of the amber bottle, Remi used it to pull the impaled cork from the bottle with a small pop. Pouring out a generous measure of the undefined liquid into both pans. The amber fluid immediately began to steam slightly and the smell of strong spirits filled the air.

With a look of indignation Aaron eyed Remi up and down as he snatched his cigarette. No one had ever snatched one from him before, much less straight from his lips...had he been anyone else Aaron might have cut him.

"Alright mithril chef...cool your jets. I'm not much of a cook but I'll stand to the side for those that are."

Aaron stood up and moved to the corner of the room so that he wouldn't get in the way of Remi and his culinary army. Even though he had never spent that much time with Remi he had to admire his swift and decisve actions in the kitchen.

Whirling back around Remi plucked the bottle of sesame oil from Emily, add half of it's contents to one of the pans. Gesturing vaguely in Thael's direction Remi barked more orders.

"Take the meat from the spaghetti sauce and cook it a point in the sesame oil. Before it's done, add two cups of water and let it sweat." Turning to Aaron, Remi pointed to the stack of bean cans. "Put that into Thael's shield and mash it to even consistency. Then add two fingers of the Mirin, three tablespoons of ginger, and two tablespoons of garlic." Whirling around on the next member of his conscripted kitchen crew he frowned slightly. "No, nevermind. I'll do that. You keep on eye on the other pan, when it reaches Nappe, let me know."

Moving over to the large pile of washed spaghetti on the screen, he carried it over to the cutting board. Grabbing handfuls of the spaghetti he lifted them over the mass letting them slither through his fingers until he had only a few, free and dangling over his knuckles, slapping them flat on the board, Remi lined the limp noodles into little rows. Taking another knife from the block, Remi began to cut each noodle, lengthwise with the tip, moving at the tedious task with remarkable and surely practiced alacrity and precision. Emily looked on. She almost seemed impressed; an unusual state, for her.

The Galley was a blur of activity. Remi kept everyone working feverishly, and press-ganged every new and unfortunate soul to be pulled into the maelstrom. But slowly the storm of fire, knives, boiling, and sizzling foodstuffs, something resembling a real meal began to emerge. Thinned and flattened noodles were pressed into flat planes. Sauces mixed and thickened. Somewhere down the line, Thael and Remi drew in the net, hoisting great coils of waterlogged rope up out of the dragging sea with Guardian strength, a mass of sea matter caught in the netting. Remi quickly sifted through the floatsam, picking out the occasional fish or mollusk before ordering some of his unfortunate undercooks to pick out more of the edible morsels out of the algeal mass.

He barked orders, bullied the rest around the galley, and more than once unceremoniously took over one task or another when they failed to live up to his mysterious and mercurial expectations. But when it was done, his poor jest to Emily proved to contain more veracity than any might have guessed. They had perform a sort of alchemy. From what had once been a motley assortment of canned goods, Remi and his team had produced a meal fit for a real restaurant. A good one.

Wrapped crescents of pasta, browned to a golden hue and containing a variety of meats and curried curd with a caramelized sauce drizzled with an aesthetic sensibility over them in little wave patterns were arranged on the center counter. The stack wasn't particularly large, but there was more than enough for the team of soldiers. A solemn silence had fallen over the galley, as if somehow any more noise might ruin the sacred rite they had just completed.

"What now," Kim said softly. Remi smiled at him. For a moment, for now, he knew just what to do. What steps to take. The world could storm around them in hellfire, but in this instant he had sovereignty over this space. He could not do much for his friends. He could not shield them from every bullet, every blade, every cruel act of fate and chance that would ail and slay them all one day. But he could give them this.

"Now," Remi said, "we go get the rest. It's dinner time."

What followed Remi could not claim dominion. One by one the friends gathered. Someone found some soft lanterns to hang from the mast. A stack of cargo crates were pushed together on the foredeck for a makeshift table. They ate off palms and with fingers. Mouths filled with smiles and food. The sounds of laughter and the tinkling of some mysteriously pilfered booze bottles accompanied the soft roar of the sea. For a brief time, they might have been back in Oakridge, on leave from the academy for a night on the town. For a brief time there was mirth, merriment, and a momentary refrain from the stress of the violent and weathering lives they lead. They relieved themselves of the pains of interpersonal conflict, the wounds of their previous visit with violence, and the slightly more metaphorical bruising suffered by those who had cooked under Remi's regime.

Emily mostly avoided looking at Aaron and Olivia. They talked, a little, but the conversation was short, forcibly casual and superficial. She didn't talk to Remi much, either, except to compliment his heretofore unknown cooking skills, but she snuck glances at him every now and then which were significantly less covert than she might have thought they were.

Aaron mostly kept to himself as the group ate this culinary concoction. Every now and then Aaron would sneak glances at the group that he had talked with through this seemingly endless boat ride not sure really what he was supposed to say. There were some awkward conversations between most of the group, although Aaron could almost phyically cut the tension with a knife between Emily, Olivia, Maggie, and himself. This was going to be a long dinner.

But all such ventures, no matter how pleasant or cruel, eventually come to an end. Bodies slowed by stuffing and minds fogged by sake and wine, they crew retreated to their bunks for the respite of sleep or solitude, only too soon needing to ready themselves for the battles ahead.

Remi was one of the last to leave. There wasn't much to clear from the meal. No silverware to speak of. Taking down the lanterns, he slowly climbed the stairs towards the bunks. With each step reality began to seep back into his flesh. His belly was full. His hunger should be sated. The gnawing sensation at his core was still there. If anything, it seemed even more insistent, even more ravenous. As Remi reached the top of the stairs he lifted his head to see Emily still in the corridor. She swayed slightly, her hips moving with the motion of the ship and the not insignificant amount he'd seen her drink. Her soft, pale skin almost glowed in the low light. Remi frowned. He knew other ways to sate a hunger.

As she reached the door to her bunk, his fingers touched lightly at the small of her back. Remi leaned close, breathing a low, hungry, desirous growl into her ear. He saw the edge of her smile. The door to Emily's bunk slide open. The door slide close. The corridor was empty and silent save for the gathering darkness and the whispers of the sea.

JJ Doe said
AHAHA! I like how all three flashback ideas with Kim is: Kim has a heartfelt conversation with someone. [Someone] says something insensitive.Oh, and of course everyone has to die at some point in the flashback. Wow... How do they keep coming back to life?Edit: The guys get conscripted into a beefcake calender to help with recruitment.→ Kim's turns into a mug shot.

Naw naw naw, you don't get it, everyone always dies at the end, but they're fine the next episode, it's a negative continuity thing, like the original Hitchhiker's Guide. And don't kid yourself, Kim would mainline that thing. They'd make him Mister July...ok, you now have a new nickname.

Blackwell said @Tenish: I don't know what it is, but Cillian Murphy creeps me out. Like beyond belief. I seem to be alone on this though. EDIT: Omg Tenish I just read your post and it isn't helping my opinion of Cillian Murphy.@Six: Kat needs love too. :(

And now you know why I picked him.

@six: HAWP HAWP HAWP HAWP!!!

@Everyone: The flashback ideas I put up were just what came to me at the time, which is why it's so Remi-centric since I know how best he'd play through most scenarios, but some of them I think actually have potential. Especially the cake one. It would be amusing to see all the hijinks that would ensue as a group of close friends mock/awkwardly lust after one another, especially considering how all of our casting choices seem to make the gang the Arrow pretty to someone's taste or another.

Also, I see your 'epic' music and raise you this,,,

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