TheAmishPirate

Fellowship: The Heart

She couldn’t forget. She just couldn’t forget. It’s just-

It hurt. The breathing, it hurt. Hurt her middle, hurt her head, it made her want to fall over, and not get up again. Then there was her...other thing. The two things for holding. One of them hurt too, there were these little dotted lines of...color? What color is that? Red? A little loop of bad red spots, and they hurt. And the smell, the smell! The smell was like the...wet, below them, but here, and worse, bad, very bad, and all she could remember was that she couldn’t. Forget. With a frustrated...frustrated noise, she held herself with both arms until they crinkled and-

Wait, hold on?

She thought she remembered arms not crinkling, usually. No, they didn’t, but this little bit of paper in her...paw? That did. How’d that get there?

Unfolding it carefully, she saw somebody’d drawn a little picture on it. A thin, scrawny figure wearing a big thing; was that supposed to be her? She was wearing a big thing, after all. And look, here, there’s an arrow pointing to one of its pockets, no, something inside the pocket? What a coincidence, she had something in that pocket too! Then, another arrow, and the thing from the pocket flying at those...bird things.

Signed, Jackdaw.

...was that her name? She couldn’t remember. But...if that was her name, and she made this, then it must’ve been important, right? If this was all she’d written down, then…

Slowly, Jackdaw reached into her pocket, and pulled out a book. Though she felt a strange, perilous pull to open the cover and see what was inside - the thing she couldn’t bear to forget, perhaps? - the note was clear. The book was not for her. The book was for over there. It was important.

With a pang of regret, she threw it to the antisirens.

[Rolling to Finish Them with Sense: 6 + 6 + 2 = 14]

Breathless Dead

Alexa, you truly are too kind.

He didn’t ask for any of this. He made quite sure that he hadn’t asked for any of this. (No, his attention had been, well, had been rather focused on Vasilia, he couldn’t have possibly given any sort of signal to her.) Yet, here you were. Holding him when he was too lost to stand. Speaking soothingly when he couldn’t get his thoughts together.

Trying to take the duty he was too incompetant to carry.

Frankly, it was a touch...ah, worrying? The depths to which you’ll strive to steal this responsibility from him. Why would he ask you to destroy yourself for his mistakes? Wouldn’t that be the greatest failure of them all? He softly nuzzled under her chin - a perilously rough patch, for those with less natural padding - and eked out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Alexa.” For what, he studiously didn’t say.

But don’t you see? He was well now. He was better now. He wrapped his arms around her as far as they would go, and patted her back. Once. Twice. The hug had gone on long enough, and you were free to let him go. “Let’s get you patched up, yes?” He offered with a bright little smile.

You’ve done enough. Now, it was high time for him to get back to work

****************

Can you taste that? It’s an old recipe; powerful, yet subtle. A masterful blend of anxious looks shared between close friends, the scuffing of boots inching away from the firing line, the clenching of spears, of muscle, of breath. And it only gets better the longer you let it sit. And. Steep.

That, my dears, is the delightful taste of honesty.

“Mmmm. One of their finest hours.” Vasilia mused, eyes half-lidded, swimming in insults left unanswered. “So tempting, to let history repeat itself. You’d look fetching in silks and veil.~” Her eyebrows danced suggestively, and oh, what a delight it was to let Galnius stew in implication. See the gears turn! Surely, she wasn’t serious? Where would she get the outfits? Unless...did she have them on her person this whole time...

“But not today,” she sighed, and what a pity that was. “Something’s off about this Admiral, and I don’t like it.” And if they couldn’t see that, she was in no hurry to explain herself. “So instead, we move the Eater of Worlds, break her hold on the Ceronians, and rescue our Princess when they make a run for the shuttles.”

She paused. Frowned. “...tell me; what do you think? Should I add some more treachery? Have I sufficiently dishonored myself?”

Breathless Dead

Vasilia didn’t bother watching them go. She knew a lie when she heard one. She knew what they’d be speaking of. And it was fine! Ideal, even. Maybe if Dolce had better luck than she, Alexa would finally dispose of the bowing and scraping. That song was old, and the steps wearied her.

“Because.” She fell into a chair and draped herself carelessly across the nearby table. “She just appeared, alone, took command of the Ceronians, and demanded Redana and one of the Imperial agents brought before her. Gagged and chained, very particular on that note.”

Is this making you uncomfortable Galnius? Be honest; you’re not wearing your good parade face because she’d saved your life twice over, it’s because you’re bothered. Does that make you a better soldier? Is that what keeps you in the phalanx line?

“Go on then, out with it.” She cast a lazy eye over him. “Why did you think I asked?”

**************************

Dolce, you will pull yourself together this! Instant!

You have a job, you silly, silly sheep! You have so many jobs. Much to do, much to do! How can you hope to get any of it done if you need Alexa to keep you from falling apart?!

So, just...just stop shaking. Stop leaning on her, and stand on your own two legs. Tell her you’re fine. Tell her what happened, and-

“She won’t tell me.”

And. Oh. That’s not-

“I couldn’t stop Jas’o. I couldn’t get the Ceronians on our side. I took too long to get back to her.”

Slow down! Get your words in the proper order, then-

“Everything’s gone wrong, and she...she…”

Open your eyes, you useless, useless-!

“She won’t tell me.”

Dolce. Please. Pull yourself together. You’ve got to.

You’ve got to do your job.

Breathless Dead

There was a terrible, terrible moment, where Artemis stood thoughtfully over Vasila’s shoulder, and all could see the equations running in her head. Bows and rifles. Thunderbolts and ambush. Ordained victory and the mission.

She was considering it. By all above and all below, she was considering it.

Then, the moment passed. Or it never began. Or it never ended, and she’d set it aside for later. Guess, guess, as if the answer mattered a whit. “I’d have you clean yourself up. You look like death,” she curtly replied, and walked right past her. Clapped her roughly on the shoulder, before moving on to Galnius. “So, your former Admiral; has a taste for chains and gags, does she?”

Beside her, Dolce winced with a shame she could no longer possess.

Fellowship: The Heart

Oh no! The word is snort! Loud, undignified, and impossible to hide!

W-well, it was really good! That was really smart. She, um, she liked it, and…

Jackdaw huddled beneath her cloak in her latest failed attempt to disappear forever. A cloak which bulged with a few recent, stomach-turning additions.

She didn’t believe in the Shadow King. That word needed a knowledge she simply didn’t have. Perhaps no one did, but that wasn’t a thought she rested on often. She liked to think it was out there. She liked to hope in the Shadow King. Hope that somebody extruded this lure for a good reason.

For whatever hope was worth to her.

Breathless Dead

“So. Admiral Odacer has some...strong preferences regarding her prisoners.”

“She explicitly mentioned gags.”

“And chains. Twice over. For that cat-whoever she sent, too.”

“Who she is...very excited to see again.”

“...”

“...”

“...I don’t have the slightest idea what’s going on. Do you?”

“Not at all.”

“But that’s bad, yes? A lusty Admiral with an army of loyal hounds? Not an ideal situation?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay! Yes. Something to start with. We make for the palace, arrive before them, rescue everyone, sail off into the sunset. How does that sound?”

“I think there may be some missing steps.”

“And it is our job to fill them in as we go. Come, come! They’re fast for old dogs.”

Vasilia tossed Dolce his sword, and raced off without another word through the now-abandoned village. What choice did he have but to follow in silence? The talk was over, the job had begun, and he'd been equipped for service.

If he didn't want to suffer yet deeper shame, then he'd better make it work.

Fellowship: The Heart

The word is whoop!

It’s the only word suitable for riding atop an infant train that’s just clobbered the monster that was going to eat you all, right up until your best friend put on a masterclass of style and fire and magic and ran it through with a flaming sword of concept. “Nice one, Ailee!” she cheered, and nice one?! It was more than nice! Way more than nice! But she was giddy with victory, and not even that little problem could bring her down.

Which was the precise moment her heart sank, and dragged the rest of her down with it.

Jackdaw clung to Sasha’s smokestack to keep from falling off. No. Not here. It wasn't fair. It wasn't! “H-hey! Everyone! We’re not...um, at the bottom of the stairs, there’s-” And where there ought to have been words, there was cold. There were arms hugging herself. There was water, pouring from her mouth, hissing into great clouds of steam on Sasha's back. And even that, she knew she hadn’t said right.

They had to get past. If they could just go a little further, a little past her reach, they could escape. (For a time. No one truly escapes her. No one.) In a daze, she slipped off Sasha’s back, and started rummaging through the wreckage of the battle. Mostly rubble, torn pages, wreck and ruin, but still! Not all was lost of this place. Not yet. And that was their hope.

Libraries weren’t the word for the big room where you hold all your books. They were so, so much more.

[Activating Let Me See That:
• What was this made to do, and how do I use it or break it?
• What's wrong with this, and how might I fix it?]

Breathless Dead

The sudden appearance of the Admiral of the Grand Armada, alone, without any warning or fanfare was almost enough to get Dolce’s mind off his wife.

Almost.

“That’s Admiral Odacer.” Vasilia said, stunned. “That is the Admiral Odacer.”

“That is her face on the shuttle.” She won’t even look at me.

“Why is she here? How is she here? We didn’t miss a shuttle, did we?”

“This was the only other one to land.” Was she expecting backup? Was I supposed to have gotten here sooner? What did I do? What didn’t I do?

“On third thought, why and how is she here? She has ten thousand ten thousands and wastes firepower on fireworks. Now she shows up alone and unannounced?”

“I...I’m afraid I don’t know why. Or how.” I couldn’t stop Jas’o. I didn’t bring an army. I let myself get distracted. Now look what’s happened.

“Well! We can’t just let her do whatever it is that she’s doing for whatever reason she’s doing it, don’t you think? We ought to stop her. Now.”

He startled. He couldn’t help himself. Sorry, sorry! “Yes. Yes of course we should.” Too much was falling too fast, and his mind raced a thousand ways every second, and all it did was pull him farther apart when she needed him here. “...how, exactly?”

Useless. Utterly useless.

[That’ll be a 1 + 4 + 1 = 6 on Look Closely. Going with Tell me about “Admiral Odacer.” What are they doing? What will they do next?]

Breathless Dead

“You must be a riot at parties, darling.” Vasila parried a slicing shadow, taking no care to hide her shuddering breath. Keep him talking. Let him gloat his way right into an opening… "But if you must know, there is one good thing I’ve done with this life of mine.” She danced closer, leaping from gap to gap, a wall of flashing steel against the unyielding dark. She pressed in, but could not push it back. It cut her, but she did not feel it. And there, where no one who mattered could hear, she breathed a bitter whisper.

“I hitched my wagon to better people.”

White flashed behind the dark.

The priest fell like a limp sack.

The shadows disappeared, revealing her faithful Dolce. Here for her, as swiftly as if she’d called for him.

And she turned away. At once. The little she’d seen - he was already moving to her, his eyes, oh his eyes! - was enough. No more. Please. Don’t make her see him. Don’t let him see her. Not like this.

“Captain Vasilia, are you alright?”

Captain. Captain. Her breath caught in her throat. She grabbed hold of it, and forced it past her lips. “I’m...fine, dear. Looks worse than it is. Smoke and mirrors, yes?”

He said nothing. She felt his gaze searching her, looking anxiously for every little detail she would give him, and so she gave him nothing. Nothing at all. No signs, no orders, no invitation to ask a single question more.

If she really was his Captain, then she would have silence.

[Rolling to Finish with Sense: 6 + 6 + 1 = 13]

Breathless Dead

“You cannot be serious.”

“Was I joking? How strange, I don’t even recall the punchline. Did I say anything brilliant?”

“If you ever do, I’ll let you know. That shipment of plating was due to expand the solar shielding of the worker’s barracks. We could have kept thousands safe through the blistering season.”

“And the new plover models will keep all of us safe through all the seasons.”

“What does that matter if they’re burnt to a crisp in a month?!”

“You wound me-”

“Someone has to.”

“-as if I gave it away for nothing. When next you walk the lines, and you see the water barrels filled to overflowing, I’ll be happy to accept your thanks at your earliest convenience.”

“Is that what passes for a fair bargain, these days?”

“It is the only bargain, and I grow weary of your ingratitude.”

“Vasilia-!”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“...your Ladyship.”

“...you forget yourself. And you forget how hard I have worked for our people. If you had endured the...negotiations I’ve endured, you would not be so quick to judge.”

“I only tell you what I see. And what I see is that many won’t survive the summer.”

“So figure something out, tell me what’s needed, and I will get it for you. All I ask in return is the common courtesy not to second-guess my efforts.”

“...very well.”

“Very well, who…?”

“Very well. Your Ladyship.”

"That's better."

******

A clawed hand shot out and caught the priests’ mid-gesture.

And she leaped.

The two of them flew through the air, set free by the workings of her grav-rail, and she slammed his back against the hull of the shuttle. Gripped by book and by hand, he had nowhere to look upon but his handiwork. Captain Vasilia’s eyes went pitch-black, weeping rivers of steaming night from frozen blue irises. Every movement, every twitch of her limbs saw phantom claws digging into her. Fighting her. Straining to pull her back.

And still, she fought. And still, she laughed.

“Oh ho! You do know how to emote! Brilliant!” She cackled and wept. “I’m sure with a little practice you’ll get the hang of it.”

[Damaging Vasilia’s Wisdom, paying the price of her heroic persona.]

******

Dolce could not speak. The king was talking, but he could not listen.

Vasilia...what’s been done to you? Why do you-

No, no! Why are you still fighting? Run! Get out of there! Come back to him, please! Together, they could win over this army, and then the Ceronians could take care of everything else . Don’t- don’t do this! You don’t have to!

She disappeared behind the shuttle. He could hear her, faintly, from here. She was alive. She was on her feet. But...but her voice...

He bowed his head to Jas’o. “Greetings, o King.” He couldn’t get his words to sound...to sound full. “A royal blessing is powerful, yes…” He couldn’t get his heart into it. “Though, you are royal yourself…” His heart was over there, behind the shuttle. “The recipient of loyalty does traditionally stay with the soldiers for rites…” His thoughts were to his own prayers. “According to theory and tradition.” Hermes was for healing, or maybe Hera for her care, but, his job, he had to win over the Ceronians… “It would be wise to remain, o King.” What should he sacrifice? Where was he to find a sacrifice now?! “It would be wise...yes?”

[That’s a 7 on Talk Sense.]