TheAmishPirate

Breathless Dead

As if that was even a question! “The Starsong Privateers welcome anyone with a song in their hearts, sir.” Dolce shook a tentacle in his hand and grinned. “Welcome aboard.”

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

Finally. She was beginning to think that she’d never put her down. Do you know how hard it is to graze a link in a chain when somebody won’t stop jerking it around? Now if she could just...a little lower now, and-no, no! Lower that hip at once, do you hear her?! Stop-Ugh. Still couldn’t get a clean shot. Why did everything have to come hard today?

Vasilia marched a slow, easy arc around the room. Never getting closer, no. That would be just too satisfying for the poor dear, wouldn’t it? Not an inch closer. If she wanted to continue this tantrum, she’d just have to move herself. “Oh? Don’t fancy me saying Redana? That’s quite alright, we can talk about someone else, Bella.”

A light, lazy smile stretched across her face. “It is you, isn’t it? Don’t look so surprised, we know alllllllll about you. You should have heard the things Redana said about you. She couldn’t talk about Tellus without bringing you up. Her beloved maid. Her faithful servant. Her best and only friend. Never in so many words, of course, but why else would she have gone to you that night?” As if there was any other night she could be speaking of. “Out of everyone in the palace, all those people at her beck and call, she chose you to share in her plans. She trusted you.”

“And you betrayed her.”

Alexa? Anytime now? There’s a wonderful distraction here for you to take advantage of, whenever you’re ready?!

“Did you ever think about what that night meant to her?” She covered her mouth, and yet somehow, the laughter still bubbled out. “What am I saying, of course you didn’t; all you had to do was be there for her, and you couldn’t even manage that. Gods forbid you should have to think.” Her footfalls rang out in the empty throne room. Over the sound of engines, they sang, they echoed! Fool! Traitor! Brat! “Allow me to pick up your slack.”

“It’s simple, really. Redana must be a stupid child. Redana must not know what’s best for her. How else can you feel good about yourself when you tear her heart out? You get to pretend that what’s best for Bella is what’s right, and if anything tries to soil your comfortable, selfish life? It certainly won't be your fault.”

She bared her fangs, and from the vitriolic depths of her stomach, she growled like the coming thunder.

“Wake up and smell the ashes, darling; you’ve already lost her.”

Fellowship: The Heart

Gone. Gone a little too soon for her to work out how to say thank you. Not for the soup, no, she’d already messed that up, but for the everything else. The chance for some quiet. The fact he was glad she’d not disappeared forever. (That’d gotten a crooked smile out of her.) The camaraderie. Unless...unless she could use this quiet, and work out how to say thank you, and she’d have it ready to go for when he came back! Yes! Good thinking. Good use of time. As she set herself to thinking, she carefully navigated a spoonful to her mouth and-

Didn’t let it go.

It was the secret, last taste. She’d licked the bowl clean. She’d gotten the bits stuck to her nose and whiskers. There wasn’t any left, none left at all, but the spoon tasted like soup, so, so, there had to be some soup there too, right?

“Eh, what’s this? Do we have a spoon-grubber on our hands? Planning to eat up all our good cutlery?”

The matron of the stew towered over her, wielding the great Ladle of Authority. But Jackdaw was tough! She wouldn’t be cowed into confessing false spoon-grubbery. She shook shook shook her head furiously.

“So you say...” A wide grin split her face. “But I’m not gettin’ my spoon back, am I?”

A shake shake shake of her head, and a happy kick of her paws.

“Ha ha ha! A tough negotiator! Well, what do you say for a trade? A story for a spoon?”

A nod! Many nods! So many nods!

“It’s a deal, Jackie.” She sat herself down with a laugh and a pat to the ground beside her. “Best get comfortable, this is a long one. Told to me by my mother’s mother mother, it was. This was long ago, when the seas could be kind and the moon knew the way of words…”

Jackdaw nestled up close, resting her head against her as she listened. The matron touseled her fur and hugged her without even breaking stride. Soon it would be dark. Soon, she’d have to find her way back to her hidey hole, when no one else could see her go. Soon, she’d have to sleep, to be awake before the dawn, when the carts came in from port and treasure could be found by the loose cobblestones. But for now? For right now. She was warm. She was full.

She was safe.

Jackdaw set the bowl down with trembling paws. Clutched the spoon still held tight in her mouth. Screwed her watering eyes shut. And just

didn’t let it go

Breathless Dead

Vasilia’s response was a single, raised eyebrow. “Charming. You share his wit, too.” She did not stretch herself out. She did not puff herself up. Today, what you saw was what you got, and if you were uncomfortable to be in her presence, then that was entirely your own problem.

...one of your own problems, as the case may be.

“Just listen to yourself; the two of you read from the same script. ‘So sorry her highness involved you in her stupid misadventure. Her highness needs to be tied and gagged for her own safety. Her highness is a silly little girl who doesn’t know what’s best for her.’” The high-pitched imitation voice wasn’t strictly necessary, but it was polite to make clear when you were quoting someone. “What, pray tell, is best for her? Only the Admiral, only the Empress, only the people more important than you know that. And both of you will run yourselves ragged to make it so. Loyal dogs, sent to fetch your princess.”

She sniffed, profoundly disgusted. “She has a name, you know. And Redana can make her own decisions.”

Breathless Dead

What adventure! What a life! Dolce gasped in delight just to hear of it. Black holes, distant worlds, the unknown wonders of space, viewed from a safe distance! What’s more, there’d been a whole crew of beuroctopi along for the journey, all of them bustling about happily at their posts. Together.

What a life indeed.

“I think you are lucky.” Dolce sighed, a wan smile crinkling his nose. “You loved your job dearly, and you were good at it. That's more than many people can say. But is your place really gone? The Eater of Worlds is dead, but there’s still so much life here. Yourself, your fellows, the Ceronians...” Probably more life than either of them knew. Than either of them could hope to know. “This is still your home, and there are still fears that could threaten it. Your office is still here, and you were so happy there. Why not stay?”

[Rolling to Talk Sense with Wisdom: 6 + 1 + 1 = 8]

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

The song in the night does not go unanswered. Even when it is sung silently.

Vasilia strode out from behind Alexa, and you could be forgiven for failing to recognize her. Gone was the dashing captain, bravely meeting the golden shuttle. Her sword was drawn, and pistol free; instruments of violence, ready for the work. Her attention fell on each, taking their measure in turn, but her ink-laden eyes never strayed from the cat. Every ghost-ravaged step was an effort. Every step was sure.

Struggle with your squirming bundle, handmaiden. Show off your freshly-ravished uniform. Collect the shattered remnants of your composure.

You’re trying your best, and that’s all we can ask.

“Has anyone ever told you,” she mused, looking down at her. “You sound just like Jas’o.”

Breathless Dead

Dolce gently nuzzled at the curious tentacle, as if to encourage the others to draw closer. See? It’s okay! Soft things were meant to be held, or else how would their softness be complete? Stay a little longer. Don’t run. Please, don’t run.

“That’s a very tough question.” Dolce agreed thoughtfully, pulling himself into as comfortable a ball as he could. “Can you tell me about your old job? What was it like to manage the fear of a leviathan?” Perhaps it was difficult to see the faint sparkle in his eyes. But who could miss the note of wonder in his voice? An impossibly huge creature, home to and living through a city’s worth of bureauctopi; who could ever imagine such a thing?

Breathless Dead

“Boost me!”

Did he just say that? Vasilia was already kicking away a free space beneath the vent, Galnius and the other soldiers were falling back, Alexa was shouting somewhere down the hallway, so, yes! Didn’t leave anybody else, did it? Besides, somebody had to leap into the air vents after the talking octopus. He was the smallest and most flexible of them. Vasilia could make it, but really; what kind of Chef Mate asked his Captain to do a thing like that? Frankly, it’d be a terrible one who didn’t volunteer for the job in the first place.

All this ran through Dolce’s head as the rest of him tossed his sword aside, and made a running vault off Vasilia’s waiting hands into the air vent. Which meant that other, insistent thoughts like “what do you say to a giant frightened octopus?” and “oh no, I’ve just crawled into a confined space with a giant frightened octopus” didn’t have a chance to get in the way.

“We’ll meet you on the other end, dear!” Vasilia called from below, before ordering the others after Alexa. Leaving him alone with the only soul who could save them all.

At least no one was around to see his heart race most unprofessionally.

“Sir! Please wait!” He called out, crawling after the writhing mass ahead of him. “The offices are in terrible disarray, and you are the only one who can help us. Moving the Eater of Worlds is the only way we can save our friends, and all the Ceronians here. Isn’t there anything to be done?”

[Auto-success on Speak Softly due to Heroes of the People:
-What do they want, and how could we help them get it?
-What would they have us do next?
-What can they tell us about themselves and their job here? (Dolce would like to get a sense of what they do here, and their attitude towards their job. Get to know them a little better.)]

Fellowship: The Heart

The word is steady.

Hold the bowl with both paws. Always both paws. No shaking, no matter how long it’s been since you had a proper sleep. If you must shake, let your toes and tail do it for you. When you nod and smile to your friend, you think about it first, then you do it. Slow and deliberate. No risky moves. None.

Jackdaw took a long smell of her portion. There were flavors there, sure, but...well, of course there were flavors. There’s always at least one, what did she think there would be? But she never had the nose for picking out the particulars of food. To her, everything blended together into a mouth-watering, rumbly-inducing scrumptious.

And the first taste was hers.

“Thank you, very much. I really appreciate it.” She gave him a weak smile and regretted it immediately. She ‘really appreciated’ it? No! That’s what you say when somebody loans you a pencil, not, not, this. “Um, I mean it, it’s...truly, it means so much-” Oh, sure. Be vague about it. Nothing said gratitude like tired platitudes, right? “Everything’s very hard down here, and, this makes it a little easier…” But you didn’t see anyone else complaining about it, did you? “I’m, very glad, of all the groups travelling here, this is, the, um...” Off-topic! Hurry! Get it out! You’re ruining the moment! “It’s...I...”

She tucked her head low, letting her cloak fall over her stupid face. Slow and deliberate, of course.

Breathless Dead

This was not a time to be clever, this was a time for decisively striking while the opportunity presented itself. The last thing their escape needed was a surprise phalanx cutting off their retreat.

It was, on paper, a hideously unfair rout. Vasilia, standing above the chaos with rifle leveled, directed Dolce and the others to any Ceronian making an effort to gather their weapons and stand. Any out of their reach received a bullet for their troubles. Keep the pressure on, and eventually there would be one soldier who gave up. That was the trick to dealing with Ceronians; they stood as one, and they broke as one. No in-betweens.

Only, these soldiers did not break. Shot after shot, slash after slash, they would not yield. Their shields were broken to uselessness, their formation was a shambles, they were bruised and bleeding and cut to ribbons, yet they showed not a trace of fear or exhaustion. They rose, and kept rising, even as their ambush force tired and her rifle jammed.

Vasilia felt the sneaking suspicion that something here was terribly, terribly wrong.

[That’s a 1 + 4 + 2 = 7 on Finish Them (with Grace) Vasilia spends her rifle’s Reload for the scene to damage Shieldwall.]

Breathless Dead

The only warning the Ceronians had was an empty barrel thundering down the hallway.

As one, they wordlessly rose, closed ranks, leveled spears, and shut the gate of adamantium. This did not even count as a clever trick; this was a tired training exercise. Entire Olympic events were built around shield walls resisting ever-larger, ever-heavier impacts. The hollow wooden barrel disintegrated into firewood on impact, and did not move them back an inch.

Which was when two figures leapt from the blind spot behind the ruined barrel. Dolce slid beneath the outstretched spears, and with a quick slash knocked them off-target. In the breath before they brought them to bear again, Vasilia thrust her glaive at the heart of their formation, the space around its tip seemed to warp, and-

-wrrrrrkBOOM-

The enemy scattered like tenpins, their shields crumpled.

[Rolling to Overcome: 4 + 6 + 2 - 1 = 11]

Breathless Dead

-tink tink tink-

Stonework. Apply the chisel at the correct angle. Tap gently, but insistently, until the surface is relatively level. Apply sandpaper to smooth. Repeat. Precise work, but simple work.

Work that he could do right.

-tink tink tink-

Do you know the story of the little lamb who tried to fly? When no one was looking, he slipped away from his chores, and snuck to the master bedroom, where he was never ever supposed to go. From the great balcony, he could see the skies stretching out to the horizon, and they wove a spell over the naughty fellow. Come, join us! Swim in our depths! Be as the clouds! He was so taken that he leapt off the railing at once.

He fell like a stone. Had the gardens not been in full bloom, the story might’ve ended there. As the house nurse carried the crying lamb to the infirmary, he sobbed out apology after apology. He would do better next time. He would train hard. He would study the winds. Next time, he would get it right. The nurse shushed him gently, drying his eyes and soothing his hurts. For it was not the silly little lamb’s fault that he would never fly.

-tink tink chrnk-

He froze. She winced. “My apologies,” he murmured. “The angle was-”

She didn’t even look at him. Cut him off, told him that she shouldn’t have overreacted. That it wasn’t his fault.

Then, it was finished. Holes patched solid with bronze. Solid, strong, ready to soar to the field again. Perhaps if saving a Princess required slipshod stonework or an artful cheesecake, he would be ready too.

The steady tromp of boots heralded the arrival of Vasilia, with Galnius and their comrades marching close behind. Dolce shot to attention, giving a slight bow to his Captain, sparing him a few moments of those hideous, ghostly claws rending her spirit. “I’ve finished repairing Alexa, we’re ready to-”

Which was as far as he got before a clawed hand cupped his chin, and she planted a loud, lingering kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, my dear.~” You know, perhaps she meant to whisper that, but if she did, she forgot to say it quietly. “Careful on our advance now, there’s bound to be guards in the dungeon. Alexa, Galnius, the front is yours.”

He was walking beside her, which was good, because it meant that he wasn’t frozen in place while he tried to put his heart back together. Was that...good? Was he good now? That felt a little good. And not normal. That wasn’t usually how that went. So was that bad? How could it be? But why now? Why here? Did everyone have to see that? Why did she spare a quick glance to Galnius? Was it okay for them to see that? What did it mean?!

A confused and agitated bleat fought in vain to escape his throat, but he studiously kept his mouth clamped shut and his eyes ahead. They were on the march, and there was nowhere else to go but forward.