-The Mythics- RolePlay

https://www.backyardchickens.com/articles/the-mythics-archives.79046/
https://www.backyardchickens.com/threads/the-mythics-rp.1606467/

The crisp salty breeze felt amazing under Lichen's wings.

The harpy tilted her long brown hawklike wings, dipping closer to the sea as she scanned the horizon. She swept back up, up up, flying nearly vertical to the craggy cliffs and shooting up above them, looking down at Birds Point.

Lichen sailed smoothly towards the ground, skidding slightly on her deeply treaded boots as she hit the gravel. Her wings folded neatly behind her, and she brushed the stray hairs escaping from her long braid out of her eyes.

She loved being able to go out and fly, feeling the freedom and wildness of the wind and the sweet-smelling pines and the salt crystals that encrusted her feathers from the sea spray.

Was it dangerous? Probably. But that was the whole point. Lichen had a fierce love of the sense of danger, the adrenaline boost that shot through her bloodstream.

The tall harpy turned around, gazing out at the sea stretching out before her, listening to the waves crash wildly against the cliffs

Galen stood in a large clearing surrounded by forest. He sighed as yet another attempt at landing the knife in a far-off tree ended again in it bouncing off and tumbling in the leaves on the forest floor. This blade was off-balance even though he had spent hours crafting it. He shook his head in defeat and went to fetch it.
He knelt and brushed his hand through the leaves until it met hard metal. Grasping it firmly, his eyes wandered up and down the blade. This knife was supposed to be one of his finest works but something had gone wrong. this was not a good witness to his skill. It was beautiful but not functional.
He stood and placed the knife in his satchel. There was more work to be done on it.
In one strong beat of his wings, was aloft. He streaked up into the sky and then dipped and flew low over the trees toward home.

The wind hissed loudly, gnashing invisible teeth at the cutting edges of the wingtips, groaning and tugging untamable as it churned from the ocean and tumbled back into the pitch darkness again.
Biting, growling, whispering, and pulling, it ran invasively through the tight-nit crest of feathers, creating an ever-droning white noise of whistles and whimpers.
Darkness. The shrouding cover of mist and clouds engulfed the sky, absorbing any light that one may have imagined from the stars or moon somewhere above.
Lights flickered faintly like dying candles, distant below the low-hanging ocean mist, as if looking down at the stars on a hazy night rather than up.
Wings tilted back, the black feathers caught the torrential air, pulling backward before turning and swooping around again, continuing the ever-repeating lazy spiral.
Pirate's Cove glittered defiantly below, unmoving but alive in the otherwise pitch-black and ominous night. Ember cocked her head toward the sprawling town, red eyes flicking emotionless over the collection of lights.
She pulled tightly around again, hovering slightly as the wind shoved at her wings irritably. The Harpy looped around again, continuing her thoughtful observation of the community miles below, wondering absently if there was really anything worth her time here.
The spiral continued a few more times. Drifting, turning, hovering, before looping back - an endless cycle. Deathly silent against the wind, tucked invisible behind the hazy mask of clouds.
She finally yanked backward quickly, twisting in the air and tilting her wings back like sails on the mast of a ship. The frigid void of mist and wind streaked past as the Harpy was pulled away, soaring off toward the coast, leaving the quiet watch over the town behind.

Gecko stretched his dark grey wings and looked out at the peaceful ocean before him. The salty air smell brought back memories- good memories. Memories of when he was a kid and when he- his mind drifted elsewhere. He smiled and laughed in his strange way. Tesla. It wasn't even a year ago when he met the fancy human being. He wished he could find him again. Closing his eyes, he pictured the man trapped while he watched from his perch above. The place wasn't too far from where he was.

Gecko took to the air. Within minutes he arrived at the boulder that Tesla was once trapped on. The little stone hut that Tesla built for shelter was still there with its moss roof. Gecko peered inside, though he didn't go in. His large wings would surely cave it in from an accident on his part. The hut was dark inside from the lack of light. A bed made of moss lay on the right and a couple of forgotten food cans sat in the left corner. Cozy, Gecko smiled. He turned away from the hut and stood on the faded SOS that was drawn on the ground.

Tesla, when will we ever meet again? Gecko wondered. "He-he-hee," he cocked his head like his thinking wasn't all there. "Soon. Too soon. He-he-hee." Gecko flew to his old perch on the cliff above. Hunching down, he watched the boulder below as though he was a predator stalking its prey. This was where he spent most of his time, despite the traveler no longer being there.

Jordan Tay slid from the roof and fell beside the child, groaning as her knees hit the wet road. Dark night hid her form amidst the haze of shadowed smog.
Blinded by the rush and flare of her beating heart, she clutched the child to her middle and crawled back. Voices buzzed ahead of the alley and the sounds pooled in her ears, unable to supass the adrenaline barrier guarding her mind.
No one seemed to take notice of the abrupt increase of the child's wailing, but she could see its damp mouth hang loose, and she could feel saliva drip onto her wrists.
“Quiet, quiet, quiet,” she whispered, and raised her sturdy palm to the child's mouth. She stood and limped to the back of the alleyway.
The yelling dulled, but the child's sounds still vibrates against her chest. She swallowed, but it did nothing to clear her deaf ears.
Her face red, sweat gripped her clothing. She fumbled for the ladder, smacking bruised fingers against the steel bars as she repositioned the child, who shuddered with tears.
“Shh.” She said, but it was a half-hearted command. The cold steel seared her calluses as she pulled up on the ladder, and her wet boots slipped in an unknown substance. Her jaw hit the bars, but she was not fazed by simple pain.
The child writhed.
Curse her for caring. The child didn't want a savior. It would have rathered dying in the god-forsaken streets.
She snagged the next rung and climbed, and her tight fingers slipped over the bars and stained red with rust.
The child jerked and cracked its skull against the steel. She could feel the vibrations echo through the rungs. “Everything sacred,” she cursed and pulled it close, feeling its small fingers twist into the middle of her loose shirt. “I'm saving you, pal, saving your blasted little life.”
Children never listen much to reason.
She gripped the rooftop and lunged forward, feeling the grit of each worn shingle with careful consideration before giving it her weight. The child wailed.
“It's okay,” she said. Her bad leg ached. No one would search for them on the roof and she thought they were safe. Her hands shook. “It's okay.”
She pried the child from her torso and pushed her sleeve against its bleeding nose. It hiccuped with excited sobs. She pulled it closer and looked ahead at the rise of smoke. Screams no longer affected her numb ears, though she could see the child react with renewed sorrow at each unheard cry. She leaned against the slant of the roof and held the toddler.
Boredom played at her mind and she scoffed at her body. Her chest pulsed with heartbeat, and her sore shoulders lay tight on the roof. If only she could calm herself. It was a rare thing to have utter control of her entire body. Now was one of the familiar instances where she sat and cursed herself for existing and for bearing the body of a coward.
The child wobbled in her lap and she wondered how loud it was crying. Her ears could not pick up on the slightest of sounds, overcome by the adrenaline rush. The blood pulsed in her temples, causing painful pressure. She lifted her stained fingers to the toddler's wet mouth and shook her head. “Quiet. Be quiet.”
Maybe she wasn't saying the words right. She couldn't remember how they felt on her tongue. She couldn't feel her tongue.
Water hit her cheek and she winced at the sight of rain, then sat up.
“We have to go.” She said.
The child shook.
She looked into its eyes and leaned forward so that they were inches apart. “Please be quiet.” She would pay to see such a request stated in a more condescending tone.
“Goodness.” She leaned back and shrugged her shoulders. “Be quiet.”
They never listen. Toddlers are unreasonable. Some folks found sympathy towards the sort of creatures that didn't bear the mental capacity to figure out what they must submit to in order to save their skin. Some folks called that ‘innocence.’ She wasn't sure she had ever bore such a title, and she wasn't confident in saying she had ever been called innocent. If she had, then the sayer would have eaten and choked and died on his words.
If she had been like this child when she was young, she would have died.
But to each their own.
Perhaps someday the child could conjure up some gratitude.
She stood and shifted the toddler to her hip. Its mouth opened in mid-cry.
“Quiet.”
Words. Curse the words. She hated remembering sacred words.
Rain splattered down. The child blubbered.
“Shut up.”
There.
She could remember that one.

Vhanya was not fond of horses.
Yet here she was, on the back of a bay mare, riding towards Pirate’s Cove. She was rather unlike the majority of her race, she shunned the Aqra’s solitary nature and always felt most at home in the bustle of the cove town. The busy streets ran rampant with all sorts of unsavory personalities; Vhanya liked everything best if it came with a little thrill, and she certainly considered running the risk of being shivved every time you set foot on the streets to be thrilling.

She looked down and considered the mare, she could put a hefty price on the horse -it was a decent beast, with a nice conformation and steady gait, even Vhanya could see that- and the gold could go towards repairs of her ship, the Quicksilver.
How a ship was the working beast’s superior! Yes, the seas were a cruel mistress, a kick from a mule would always be more tolerable than to plunge, forever lost, into the churning waters: But Vhanya never felt more free and more confident than when she was on her ship with whatever crew she currently had mustered. Her ego was already quite inflated; the high seas did nothing to help.

The roofs of buildings soon came into view as she rode, and the air gradually took on the salty tang of breezes sweeping in off the coast. Before she fully entered the view of the town, she took the safety measures of tucking her tail inside her trousers, she had bands on her thigh and calf to keep it in place; it had a bad habit of twitching whenever she was irritated, her tail’s quirks spoke volumes about her self control. She finally got her tail secured, then she straightened in the saddle, letting the breeze gently ruffle her raven hair.
It was good to be back.

The gentle rain slid off of Jintao's heavy sailor's coat as he walked down the cold sidewalk. New arrivals of people rushed by on the busy street towards hotels and taverns, some on foot, others in carriages or on horses. A busy man bumped into Jintao, knocking the package from under Jintao's only arm. "Watch it, will you!" the man growled. He pushed Jintao further out of his way and hurried to a nearby pub. Jintao bent down, picking up the carefully wrapped fish that was to be his food. He swept off the package and huffed. Nobody ever had respect for anyone around here, not even for those who were handicapped.

Jintao pushed past the busy crowd and went into the store he had so often gone to before. It was just as busy inside as it was outside. Strangers rushing for the first goods they'd purchase since arriving on this island shouted at those crowding them and pushed others out of their way. Jintao moved to the side of the check-out counter and watched hurried buyers pay for their new treasures.

"Back from another fishing trip, are ya?" Jintao turned to the clerk standing next to him. He was a short man with greying hair. "Not really," he replied. "I'm stuck on this side of the gate." "Ain't we all," the clerk smiled. He bent down below the counter. "Hey, I got those new spices you ordered," he stood up, placing a small package in front of Jintao. Jintao put his original package down and picked up the new one. "I thought you weren't allowed past the gate either," he said. The clerk placed his elbows on the counter and balanced his head on his calloused hands. "It doesn't mean I can't get what my customers want, does it?" he asked.

"I suppose not," Jintao placed the spices down and reached for his wallet. "Oh, no," the clerk placed a hand on Jintao's arm. "This is on the house. You've been one of my most faithful customers, so how could I not reward you with something special?" Jintao smiled in gratitude. "I don't know how I could thank you-" "Don't. Just keep returning here." The cleck moved close to Jintao. Like he had some secret, he looked around for anyone who might be listening. "I sell the best spices in all of Bayport and customers know that. That is all thanks to you and your taste buds. I wouldn't be able to sell what I do if it wasn't for you always noticing the flaws with every company." He patted Jintao on the shoulder as he walked past. "Let me know what you think of them. If they're good enough for you, let me know. I'll keep this place stocked."

"Will do," Jintao replied. He shoved the fish under his arm and carried the spices in his hand. He stopped by the door and watched the clerk serve another customer. At least one person cares. He exited the store and headed down the street. It took him twenty minutes to reach the neighborhood where he lived. There were apartment buildings on both sides of the street. Their chipped painting and dull lighting revealed that this was the poverty side of the city.

Jintao came to the building where he lived. Its windows were dirty and the ladders were rusty. The front door was gone from when someone broke it a few months before. Jintao went to his apartment. It was on the first floor and was the second door to the left. He sat his packages down on the floor so he could unlock his door. There was no click on the lock. Another thief must have broken in again. It happened often, as anyone on the first floor was usually the easiest for thieves to access. Jintao picked up his packages and pushed inside. He set the spices on the counter and put the fish in his icebox.

Jintao went around his apartment picking up the mess the thief must have made. There was nothing stolen, except for the antique clock that was in his living room. He was poor and he owned nothing of value. The clock was left by the last resident, so as far as its value, Jintao had never considered it. He sulked down on his ragged couch and closed his eyes. It had been a long few days. His work was hard, and even harder with only one hand to help him do it. He hoped to drift off to sleep if his thoughts would allow it.

Alayna set down her water glass after taking a long quaff from it.
The day was only half over, and she was already tired and ready for bed. She blinked the tiredness out of her eyes and rubbed them as she leaned over the counter. She was only allowing herself to do this because the bakery was currently vacant. The morning rush was finally over and all of the stragglers had gone, taking about half of the work she’d spent last night working on. Her “too tired to care” mood she called it. Fortunately, one of her friends was supposed to stop by today, so hopefully that would raise her mood rather than make her more irritable, because honestly? It could go either way.
Layna finally sat up and absently started wiping down the counter she’d been leaning over. Cleaning while working was a habit she was proud of, really, though right now she wasn’t thinking much of it. She leaned over to pull a basket out of the display case in front of her that was emptied of the rolls that had been in it and set it in the back as she pondered what she’d do that night. She’d have to get tomorrow’s baking done before sunset, and she planned on making pretzels. She didn’t want to do anything after that, just sleep.
She glanced out the window expectantly, wondering at exactly what time he planned on showing up.

...

A tall man moseyed his way down the rocky streets, his hands in his pockets.
Can’t be too late.
Wilroc was glad the streets had emptied out as little. It wasn’t pleasant having your boot slip into horse crap when there’s no room to move out of the way.
Will eventually made it to the solid-looking wood cabin that was his good friend Alayna’s home. He stepped up to the door, giving it a few brisk knocks

At the knocking sound from the next room, Layna turned towards the back wall and pushed open the swinging double doors into the second building after tossing her towel on the counter.
Finally.
She walked through the hallway, taking the moment alone to take a deep breath. She let it out and unlocked the door, pulling it open and looking up at the man. She huffed a breath out as she politely smiled, stepping aside so that the visitor could walk in. “Took you long enough,” she said jokingly. “The morning rush was over ages ago, so I don’t have much to offer you, but you can try to find something to eat out of the other room.” She mentioned to the double doors, through which lay the bakery.

“My bad,” chuckled Wilroc, giving her a warm smile and heading toward the back room. It smelled warm and yeasty, wooden shelves holding a variety of bread loaves and pastries.
Will selected a croissant and an apple fritter, scarfing down the croissant in a few bites and heading back to the front room.
“So,” he began. “How’s this little plan of yours going to work?” He took a bite out of his fritter, brushing the crumbs off the front of his shirt.

Layna slumped against the counter again and dangled her hands over the front edge. “I don’t know,” she said sullenly, her expression becoming more aggrieved. “I don't even know who to target, to be honest.” she frowned at the soiled wooden floor where Wilroc had just walked. “We’re not in the wild, mate!” She said, offhandedly changing the subject. “You can’t just trample mud around in here! I’ve got an image to keep up.” Layna sat up and stomped through the double doors and grabbed a mop leaning against the wall. She began scrubbing at the floors next to Wilroc vigorously. “You do this about every time,” she complained, “whether snow or rainwater or whatever.”

The tall man blinked. “Right, my bad,” he said apologetically.
He stepped out of Layna’s way so he didn’t encumber her mopping.
“Hmmm… obviously we have to target someone important to make a difference,” he mused. “
But not too high profile, because we don’t want to destroy the entire world. Yet.” Will ran a hand through his messy black hair, tapping his foot thoughtfully. He tipped his head towards Alyana. “I think I’d need to be more familiar with the officials here though.”

Alayna scrubbed on in silence for a moment, running what Wilroc had said through her thought process.
“The soldiers on either side of this ridiculous war would mirror the beliefs they project, right?” She said absently, pulling herself up straight and gazing around the room with half-focused eyes as she thought. “I mean, yeah, I know either side would.. do that,” her gaze hardened,” but I’m not looking to wage war with the whole world right now. Just half of it. Or a third of it, technically.” She waved a hand dismissively towards the west wall of the bakery. “Whatever. I just don’t know how to find out who it was. We’re close enough to Freedman that it could be any number of the king’s supporters or just some soldier from down South.” Layna sighed.
“You can try heading down towards the Rebel base to see if you can figure out anything,” she said, leaning on the mop handle as she looked over at Will. “And I can send someone up North to check around there. I know it’s not safe, but I trust you. And I can’t go anywhere myself until we have solid information cause someone might need my help.”

"You're right. Process of elimination." he gazed up at the roof. "Yeah. I can do that."
Wilroc paced to the window that faced the street, leaning his elbows down on the sill so he could peer outside. “Tonight?” he asked.

“Sure,” Alayna shrugged. “Just, y’know, be careful. Per usual. I’ll go out tonight and..” she trailed off just as two men strode into the bakery, chatting with each other. The first one nodded agreeably to Wilroc as his shorter companion continued talking; “I mean, if y’have a good ‘un, I really wanna take it out an' try my hand. I’m not gonna ruin it or anything!” He elbowed the other man, who chuckled and placed his hands down on the counter, and leaned over the edge.
Layna quickly swept around the counter and placed a hand on the cash register, glancing between the two. “What can I get you?” She asked. “Two apple strudel things an a few muffins,” the taller man said nonchalantly, then turned back to his companion. “How’d I know ye aren’t gonna ruin it?” He questioned in a good-natured tone. “Will took it out the other day an' scratched the livin’ daylights outta it while hunt in’ those things!”
Alayna grabbed the requested pastries and wrapped them in a paper while listening to the two’s conversation. Her ears perked when he heard the name “Will,” and instantly thought of the other man in the room. She knew it had to be a coincidence though. The name Will was popular anyway.

Hmmm.
"Good talk," Will said, giving Layna a hearty pat on the back. Rather than looking at her, he was eyeing the two men who had just walked in. "Guess I'd better be off, it's getting late."
He lingered while though, pretending to observe a painting of a fox hunt that hung on the wall.

“I dunno. Maybe. Let me think about it first.”
The shorter man rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, then turned to Wilroc out of curiosity. “What do you say?“ he asked, “do you hunt?”
Alayna looked over at Will as she rang up the pastries.

"''Course I do," Will responded. "Mostly deer and elk and the occasional hog. They say the forests around here are filled with all sorts of things, Harpies, Werewolves... Wolfwalkers."

"Of course, I don't believe in all that nonsense," he continued. "A bunch of old folks tales designed to scare us, I think." he eyed the two men for their response.

The taller man shuddered as he received his change from Alayna. “It’s creepy to think that all those things’re out there. Dunno what that last one is though.” He gestured outside, where the streets had become dark. “We were talkin’ bout huntin’ wolves though. Us an' some of our mates were out tryin' to find some and managed to shoot a few last week. It’s weird cause most of ‘em out here don’t even look like normal timber wolves. They’re all weird colors.”
Alayna, who had her back turned to the men, grew still and listened to the conversation with a sick feeling in her gut. She reached over and braced her hands on the edge of the counter with her head low, hardly hearing the spoken words anymore.
The first man’s shorter companion rolled his eyes. “You’re jus' seein’ things,” he rebuked. “What kinda—” “I am not!” The other protested. “I don’t think it’s my eyes deceivin’ me when I see a brown wolf!” The man sighed, and settled back, as though remembering that there were others in the room. He shook his head and sighed again, turning his gaze back towards Wilroc. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He chuckled uneasily and picked up his parcel of goods. “Y’ever hunt those things?” He asked.

Wilroc stiffened. "Odd," he said coldly. "I don't hunt wolves. I don't think it's beneficial."

He felt a chilly kind of anger shudder through his bones. These ones. These kinds of people were the ones killing his people.

Will watched as the two men prepared to leave, tapping his fingers against the holster at his hip that held a long dagger. He could see Layna out of the corner of his eye gripping the counter, looking pale. Bastards
The shorter man shrugged. “It’s okay to say if you don’t have the stomach,” he jibed. The taller man began following his companion out the door. “They kill our flocks.” He shrugged. “And they don’t do anythin’ good, so might as well kill the beasts.” He nodded politely to Alayna before slipping out into the night.

Layna didn’t move for a moment. The bakery sat in silence and darkness. She then suddenly leaned over and turned on a large kerosine lamp which illuminated the room oddly. She stiffly strode over to the door and locked it with a jerky motion, then leaned over and snapped the blinds shut and let out a loud breath.

Wings rustled uncomfortably beneath the dark cloak as the Harpy sidestepped quickly, her boots clicking over the cobblestones embedded in the street from the sudden shift in pace.
"Watch it!"
The burly man's words slurred groggily as he half stumbled half stomped past, the sour smell of alcohol and body odor wafting behind him, clinging to his disgusting clothes.
Ember tracked him with a frigid glare from beneath the hood's shadow, letting out a loud scoff from sneered lips before turning and striding back on her course, dark cloth whispering in response to the movement.
Pathetic humans.
There were too many pubs in this town. It seemed like every ten strides, another drunk sailor or thug lay passed out in the gutters of the narrow road or stumbled in and out of the various buildings. Dangerous or filthy-looking humans lingered around the shade of the wooden structures or sauntered loudly down the cobblestone, all containing similar or the same looks of suspicion or haughtiness on their dirt-smudged faces.
Ember sidestepped again around a pair of heavy and rugged men, both singing out of sync to some jolly, sea-faring tune, one leaning heavier against the other, drool dripping undignifying from his twisted grin. A loud and choppy, high-pitched whistle cut the mist-soden air from the direction of one of the larger buildings.
"Hey'a, yung lassy!"
Ember ignored the comment, slipping past a burly woman who stormed past with an armful of heavy sacks.
"Wat's a frail littl' thing like yeeself doin' out in te' stret this hour?"
Ember shot a cold glance from the corner of her eye, still maintaining her pace, watching the trio of sailors sharply. One leaned against a large barrel set against the wall of one of the pubs, the other standing arms crossed in the door-frame, and the third sprawled amongst a pile of crates.
"Why 'ontcha come an' grace us with yer fine presence this mornin' miss? Would luvta meetcha."
Ember focused her gaze ahead again, pulling the dark hood further down over her face.
"Of all the insolent rabble..." she hissed darkly, the rough leather gloves rubbing irritating against her skin with the movement.
The jaunty sound of the sailor's voices faded gradually, though Ember's irritation only continued to simmer.
Mist clung to her cloak, collecting and slowly soaking through the cloth, humidity seeping and stirring beneath the fabric and making her wings itch. The haze of clouds sagging over the town glowed faintly as dawn approached, the sun still crawling lazily from beneath the horizon.
A ship. That's all she needed. Pirate's Cove was crawling with smugglers and thieves, humans, and sometimes even Mythics willing to defy the king right beneath his very nose.
Ember turned down yet another unruly street, heading in the direction of the ever-present rumbling of the sea.

The day soon grew old as the sky darkened with night. Gecko took to the air, shortening his time in travel. He arrived at Pirates Cove exhausted. Gecko slid his torn cloak over his wings and headed for the bustle of the town. There were humans everywhere, but he paid them no mind. None of them were the one that he hunted, or were they? A drunken sailor tripped over a water trough nearby. He laughed at his foolishness despite his sudden wetness. Gecko fixed on him. Was it possible this was the one he was so desperately seeking? The sailor stumbled towards him. Laying both of his hands on Gecko's shoulders, he muttered something that the Harpy couldn't understand.

Gecko stared hard into the drunken man's eyes. This was not the one he was seeking. He stunk badly of alcohol, had salt-stained clothes, and held himself poorly. "Get your paws off of me," Gecko said, strangely calm. "Paws?" the sailor exclaimed. He burst out in laughter. Gecko grabbed both of the man's hands and pulled them off his shoulders. The sailor looked down. Gecko's hands weren't like normal hands, they were clawed. "Oh..." the sailor trailed off. Gecko shoved his hands behind his back, suddenly remembering that he forgot to glove them. "Go home," he said. "Your eyes are causing you to see strange things." With that, he abandoned the drunk and hurried out of the town.

The rain fell harder and poured thick at every step. Her skin buzzed, numb and unfeeling, and mud-stained up to her thighs. She slowed through the street, her boots sloshing and squishing in the frosty rain. The child lay still beneath her shirt, warm against her torso, and unmoving.
Tavern lights shone with dim glow and cast no light out onto the street. She ducked back into the alleyway and dragged her fingers across the wall until she found the lip of the door frame, then rapped her knuckles across the coarse wood, and sighed as pain rose in her hand.
For some time she stood in the worst of the rain, head down, leaning against the door, knocking. When the door gave, she half fell into the room, caught in the thick arms of a blotchy, white-skinned man, whose dark eyes glanced back to be certain they were alone. He shut the door with his heel, then pushed the young women towards the hearth, frowning at the mud and water tracked in.
“Don't care to know,” he grunted, leaning close to her ear as he removed the heavy coat from her broad shoulders. “Not right now, anyway. It's rush hour. Plan more wisely, Tay, I shouldn't have need to warn you again, girl.”
“It's pouring,” she murmured, kneeling over the fire.
“Makes no difference to them.” He said, and he walked to the alley door and twisted the rusted brass lock.
“Get out, I have to change.”
He scoffed and crossed the room. “Come out here when you're ready.”
“What?”
He repeated the command and her eyes rolled.
“I want to sleep.”
“I want your help, mate, they won't leave soon due to that blasted rain. You have, eyy, near an hour.”
“Get out, Lanec.”
“Aye,” he chuckled, opening the feeble kitchen door. “Don't let those clothes sit wet in a scared corner for me, girl, you best ring and hang them on your own, now.”
“Okay,” she said, but again she did not hear him. Her eyes stared into the enticing fire. Lanec only teased because he couldn't often get away with such remarks on a usual day. Everyone knew him as Bartender, and she knew him as Lanec.
The kitchen door shut and she slumped against the wall, freeing the child from the grip of her wet clothing. It shivered, but remained quiet, too exhausted to cry.
“Good,” she said, setting the child down as she pulled off her wet overshirt. The toddler’s composition melted and it reached for her. “Oh, dear goodness.” She muttered, unobliging. “Dear goodness.”
She heard the kitchen door open, and she threw the shirt down over the child.
Lanec bustled in keeping his eyes low. “Sorry, sorry, just a minute,”
She didn't care. She stared at the fire and felt his footsteps vibrate through the worn wooden floor. The child stirred beneath her wet shirt and she reached a tentative hand toward the creature.
“Where's the money purse?”
“In my coat.”
“It's not.”
She took it from her pocket and threw it at him, still staring at the fire.
“Thank you,” he said in a soft tone, forcing her to strain her hearing in order to grasp the words. He began to cross the room. She stared at the fire. Her shirt stirred.
A wail sounded and she straightened, pulling the child across the ground and into her lap.
“What?”
“Get out, Lanec,” she said, but she heard him approach. She turned round and shook her soaked head. “Get out, get out, get out.”
He bent and pushed his stubby fingers against her sopping hair, then pulled her close so that his mouth touched her ear, “Children make sounds, Tay. Always make sounds. I heard it the moment you came in.”
“Oh.”
“Jah. You can't keep it, and don't give it a sacred name.”
“Go tend a bar or something.”
“Aye. Where did you find it?”
“You said you didn't care to know.”
“Aye. Where did you find it, girl?”
“I don't know. A few blocks west of the marina. I walked in on a scene out of Hell and I couldn't leave.”
Still holding her head, Lanec reached down and pulled away the shirt. The child was small, and its limbs were lean, but its belly was full. Thin blonde hair blended with its pale white skin, and the toddler's blue eyes had dulled with exhaustion. “We'll talk later,” he said, and his hand slid down her neck, then dropped to his side. “You did well. Keep it quiet.” He stood as she nodded, then wiped his hands across his thighs. “You don't have to come out tonight.”
“It's alright. I'll get it to sleep, then I'll come help you. It's my aunt Jane’s birthday and she's on a dinner date with her man, so I have the kid for a night.”
His brow arched and he dipped his head, walking back to the kitchen door. “Something like that. Though I expect no woman to trust you with their child, my girl.”
She turned to the fire. “Rightfully so, perhaps.”
“Aye.” He grunted, filling the doorway as he re-entered the kitchen.
She looked down at the toddler and answered his reaching arms. “Already moved on, have we?” The remark fell flat, and she sat the child on her thigh, body facing the warmth of the fire.

Galen wiped his brow and pulled off his gloves, slapping them down onto the table beside him. If all had gone well, his little project was finished. He'd lengthened the blade and added weight to the handle. The buyer would be pleased. It now lay beside the gloves waiting to be tested.
He absentmindedly examined his claws, long and sharp, they glinted in the firelight to which his attention was now drawn. The dying flames flickered slightly, red and orange casting strange shadows on the walls. After rousing himself from his trance, he splashed a bucket of water over the fire and tossed his cloak onto a peg on the wall.
Dusk had fallen and night was when the Harpies could truly come out, less likely to be seen, they were free to fly just about wherever they chose.
He swung the door open and after closing it behind him, strode to the cliff's edge and looked down at the foaming sea far below, and then, nonchalantly, he stepped off.

...

Galen gingerly pulled the blade from his doorpost and began polishing it in careful strokes.
He had fixed it, and it worked beautifully. He had flown into Indian Territory to obtain beautiful stone to finish the handle with. It was an even weight from end to end and was extremely sharp.
Now to intercept the buyer. She had said she was traveling to Undermine and it had been his plan to meet her at some point in between. He had much distaste for Pirates Cove and just as much distaste for Undermine. The people who dwelt in both regions were unpleasant, to say the least.
Now the tricky part, finding them. There was a lot of open water to search and it wasn't entirely safe to just go flying across the ocean with no direction where anyone could see. This might be tricky but it wasn't a problem.
Galen walked quietly towards a perch in the corner and untied a small falcon. The bird hopped obediently onto his outstretched hand.
“I need you,” Galen gently stroked its soft breast, “to go find someone for me.”
The falcon cocked its head
“You know who, you saw her last week, the Harpy, yes.”
He brought it to the door “Start your search in Pirates Cove” and with a thrust of his arm, the bird took to the air and disappeared into the night sky.

Jintao opened his eyes. His mind was racing. He lunged to his feet and nearly fell over with dizziness. It had only been a dream- PTSD, perhaps. He caught himself with the back of the old couch and slouched down to his seat. His sailor's coat was still on, which had soaked his previous seat. Gentle light shone through the dirty windows of his gloomy apartment. He looked at the clock for the time, then remembered it had been stolen. "Another rough day, huh?" he asked himself. Waking up with a steady floor was always hard, and with the terrifying memories that followed, it only made it harder.

Jintao rose from the couch slower than he had before. He went to his icebox and opened it to the smell of fish. There were three packages in his fridge, two of fish, the other he wasn't sure. One of the fish packages was old, and smelled like it. He didn't mind the smell, but used it to deter thieves from stealing anything from his fridge. He picked up the non-fish package and estimated its weight. About 10 pounds, maybe less, he estimated. He sat it down, still not ready to see what was in it.

Jintao closed the icebox and headed for the door. Stuffing his keys deep into his pocket, he left his apartment well locked. The haze of the early morning hid most buildings out of sight. The streets were quiet except for the occasional dog barking as Jintao walked past. He wasn't sure why he was out so early. He rarely left his apartment when he wasn't helping the fishermen. Perhaps it was to get away from his thoughts. No bother, he assumed. His thoughts would surely follow him out here too. He did wonder, though, if there was something out here that was calling him. Perhaps it was someone in need or other. Either way, he wasn't sure.

The tavern bustled with hoards of dying livers and other brainless folk, and it smelled of rain. Water sloshed in and it rested in dirty puddles along the liquor-stained floor.
She paced across the room carrying drinks she hadn't cared to identify due to their obscure contents.
A fattened, pudgy creature hailed her with an impatient wave, and after distributing the drinks she approached him, wiping her hands on the front of her coarse dress.
“What?”
He spoke again and she leaned closer.
“Speak up, pal,”
She didn't flinch when his dry lips brushed her ear. “Time, I say, have you got the time?”
“6:32,” she answered, and the man gave a satisfactory nod, though 6:32 had passed seven hours ago. Hurrying back to the kitchen, she wiped her hands on her dress again before taking more drinks and orders from Lanec. The nights were long and dull. She didn't dress to please and she didn't play.

The time was 3:56.
Somehow she had gotten herself trapped in the bench seat, and she knew well that Lanec wouldn't want her moving around and causing the men to get flighty on him. The five remaining patrons played cards and bought drinks. She was tired, and as counting sheep worked for some, she found counting cards worked even better.

Someone touched her arm, and she recognized Lanec’s calloused fingers. They were alone and the lights had been turned down.
“The baby’s crying, mate.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting up. Her eyelids dragged. She wondered if the child had crawled into the fire, and for a while she sat in an awkward, gory fantasy.
Bah, innocence. Stupidity, more like.
She shifted out of the bench seat, looking haggard.
Lanec ran his rag over tables and collected bottles.
She slipped through the kitchen and found the toddler out of the soda crate, crying near the exposed fire. Her eyes glanced round before she crossed the room toward the child. She checked his hands for burns, but found none.
“Lanec,” she called, lifting the child to her hip, “maybe it's hungry.”
“Then you feed it, girl.”
“What food?”
He said something, but she didn't hear him.
“Lanec,” she entered the kitchen with the child strung round her hip.
“I'll get you something. You know your poster’s up?” He grunted, pulling a slip of paper out from beneath the sink. He looked at it, then shook his head.
“Someone here turned in the information yesterday.” She said, wincing as the child's fist tugged at her dress.
“Moss, probably.”
“No, it was Gian.”
“Ah. Half-off drinks didn't cut it, then.”
“They get hot,” she said. “Nervous and hot, and then they just start saying things.”
Lanec nodded and pulled a loaf of cornbread from the pantry. “See if it will eat that.”
She sat at the bar stool and unwrapped the faded packaging, rolling chunks of bread off the loaf with her fingers. “I can't take the kid.”
“Aye. Well, I can't either.” He flicked the poster towards her and she pinned it to the countertop. “You should cut your hair.”
“Think they'd kill the kid?”
“Maybe. They'd take it, I think.”
“Which is worse,” she muttered. The toddler took bread from her palm with cold, wet fingers.
Lanec set his rag down on the countertop. “Aye.” He walked around and began taking her hair out. “Leave it at a church, or something.”
She gave a rueful smile.
He let her hair down and ran his fingers through the damp brown strands. “Aye, the laws are changing, and the declaration may stay the same, but the fools who wrote it weren't half as specific as they could have been.” His words mumbled together and he grew quiet. “All the words get all twisted up, real horrible like, and they start meaning things they aren't supposed to mean.” He took a gentle fist full of hair.
“But coexisting with mythics seems behind us, no?”
“One day we did.”
“Yes, but those days seem gone.”
“It's different for you, Tay.” The dull scissor blades crunched through her hair. “You've got a fighting chance at survival here, and if you win you won't die, and if you lose you probably won't die either. You got use some way or another, till you're old I guess. Folks like me aren't like that. We die first.”
The toddler hiccuped, and she ran a hand over its soft, blonde hair, then wiped it off on her dress.
“We make bread and drink for the big guys. If they're happy, we're happy. You don't have to be like that, Tay. Be the ones being made happy, and be gracious while you're at it. If communism is where we're at, then be on top.”
She sat still for a long moment. “You live with lots of regrets?”
“Sure.” He said, and his rough fingers grazed her neck. “I'll take the kid. You get out of here.”
“Blessings, Lanec.” She stood and passed the child off to the wide man. “Do you want to know where I'm going?”
“No.”
The toddler reached for her. “I am the furthest thing from a mother.” She said to the child. “Stop lying to yourself.”
Lanec waved her out of the kitchen. “Don't
take the money bag.”
She didn't seem to hear him.

Jintao forgot how long he had been walking by the time he stopped on the street corner. It was dark now, though the rain didn't stop. He itched his right arm. Grabbing the empty sleeve, he instantly remembered his arm was gone. Jintao leaned against a pole; he was tired, and more so than he thought. Still, something continued to urge him out here. From his tiredness, he wanted to write it off. It was probably him longing for someone who was no longer there. He turned towards home but didn't take the first step to get himself there. He closed his eyes and told himself that he was only being foolish. Go home, get yourself something to eat, and forget your problems- like life was that simple. He reopened his eyes when he heard a sound. Someone was nearby...

She rushed through the streets, cloak billowing in a cold breeze. Rain dribbled down her hooded neck and ears, but hair no longer weighed down her head.
The sparse money bag bounced in a pocket near her knee, and she pulled her trenchcoat closer to her body.
A shadow leaned against the dim light post, and she shook her hood farther over her eyes. Her hair was short and curled with rain and sweat, framing her pale face. She kept her gaze low, head tipped down.
"Stranger," she said, keeping herself out of reach, voice loud enough to be heard. "In what part of the city are we?"

Jintao watched the swift figure approach him. He returned his balance directly to his feet and stood firm. He wasn't sure if this stranger was dangerous. By her whole deminer, he felt as though she was.
"West side, I assume," he replied, eyes watching her every move. Normally, in feeling of a threat, he'd watch the other person's eyes, but with her hood blocking all light, he settled for just watching her movements. He nodded his head towards her. "Something wrong?" he asked. "You seem rushed."

She sidestepped closer and kept her palms open and exposed. "Forgive and pardon me, friend, the rain muffles my ears. Would you repeat yourself?"

The woman didn't pose any immediate threat, so Jintao relaxed just a little. "West side," he repeated. He eyed her some more and added, "Where are you headed? I might be able to help you if it's not too far."

"West," she echoed, turning towards the street. He muttered something inquisitive and she glanced back. "Uh, the... pub. Blessings." She left the lamp light, boots padding over wet stones, then turned back again. "A shoemaker? And gunsmith." She reached for the money bag and pulled a pair of coppers. "Any sort of mercantile, imports included." She tossed him the coins and studied his pale lips. "I'll triple it if you guide."

Jintao picked up the two coins. Turning them in his hand, he said, "I don't typically go near a gunsmith, so I'm probably not much help when it comes to finding one of them." He put the coins into his pocket and felt his keys. "As far as mercantile, I know of a good place not too far from here. The storekeeper always treats his customers well."

"Fine, fine," she said, stepping out of the light again. The rain fell heavy. "Lead the way."

Jintao stepped away from the light pole and led the way. As he walked, he watched Tay from the corner of his eye. So far, she seemed alright. The worried feeling that he could get in trouble for helping her rose up inside of him. Pushing it away, he said, "I'm not typically one to be formal, but the name's Jintao if you were wondering." He didn't stick out his hand to shake, though he did watch to see if she would stick out hers.

She nodded, a brisk, purposeful movement. "Let's talk inside." She pulled the cloak tight and flicked the hood farther over her head.
Rain stuck in her worn boots, and her toes rubbed, numb and raw. Blisters had formed over days of walking, but the cold rainwater cooled each angry welt and left her feet senseless.
She walked near the man, falling into pace with his even gait.

Jintao returned the nod and said nothing. He was sort of surprised to see her come so close, especially because of how standoffish she had been. Turning his attention away from her, he studied the streets as they walked along. The buildings were dark with no waking life. Rain gathered in ruts caused by once heavy traffic. An old beggar slept under the shallow eve of an abandoned store. Jintao crossed the street to him and dropped the two copper coins into the man's tin without slowing his pace.

She kept her head forward and maintained an even pace, but her eyes followed his smooth movement.
Curious.
The coppers sent quivers through the rusted tin.
So why was he helping her, then?
Words lurked in her throat, but rain still pattered and mingled with the vibrations of sound. She would have no chance at making out his words during such profuse torrents.
The water began to feel bruising upon her head, and her muscles tensed and shook.
Forever she would bear a weak body, but her mind would not be so easily given to fleshly reaction.
Tay strode through the slosh and kicked water. The soggy trench coat slapped her thighs, and the hood pasted to her forehead.

"We're almost there," Jintao said after a while. "It's just another block."

She lifted her gaze and cast a hesitant glance toward the man. He did not appear to expect an answer in return, so she gave another nod.
He was no talking her to a mercantile, she thought, but the man's swagger did not show with the anticipation of deceit. In fact, his confident steps should have relieved her.
Tay kept her head low and let her ears go numb.
Always so desperate. This situation was a low blow to whatever bit of her ego remained. Astute calculations once graphed her eyes, and now where were they?
Worthless.
But alive.
Her boots emerged from murky puddles, and a sudden paper caught on the toe of her right foot.
Ah, right, the poster.
She wasn't completely worthless.

Jintao suddenly stopped. The small business was just across the street. It was never out of the ordinary to go to this store, but at this time of night? It just might raise suspension if a one armed man showed up now. He looked at Tay. He planned to tell her to stay here until he spoke with the owner, but what if she left, or worse, some creep kidnapped her? It wasn't too hard for him to notice her weakness, despite him hiding his knowledge of it.
"We'll cross the street together," he said, returning his attention to the building that was their destination. "It's early, so he's probably not up yet. I should be able to get his attention, but don't be alarmed if he greets us with his rifle." He felt like he didn't need to explain anything to her; he did it more for conversation. "Let me do the talking until things are settled. He'll probably want to know who you are, so if you're hiding your real identity, think fast for your new one."
Jintao stepped forward, then in front of Tay, turning to her and blocking the view of the street. He had one more thing to say and this was necessary to him. "Last thing," he said. "No stealing. It will not be tolerated in this store and I will be the first to turn you in if I don't kill you first- whoever you are." The store manager was someone important to him- if not family. He knew he couldn't even injure someone with his dominant hand gone, but his threat of doing so would hopefully be enough to deter this stranger from getting any ideas. "Is that understood?"

"I understand, friend." She offered him the four coppers. "Are you some holy man, giving good money to a beggar? He wasn't even awake to see it." She looked down and shivered with cold.

Jintao raised his eyes to the sky as though he was half rolling his eyes. "Maybe I need some help keeping my sanity," he half muttered. He checked both sides of the street before rushing across. On the other side, he went to the door and knocked, expecting no answer.

She stood in the street and waited, wishing more than anything to be out of the cold. The cloak clung to her tingling, rubber-like skin, and the trenchcoat lining had soaked through.
No matter, though.
Simple pain, she thought, it was all simple pain.
Her teeth chattered and her legs swayed.
Oh, curse the simple pain.

As expected, there was no answer on the front door. He would have to go to the back door and hope there's an answer there. If all else fails, they'd have to wait for opening before they could get in. Jintao thought that Tay was still next to him, so he was surprised when she wasn't. She was still in the street and she looked like she might be shivering.
Jintao went over to her and removed his heavy sailor's coat. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "Take off your cloak and put this on." The coat was made to keep spray out and body heat in and was still warm inside from Jintao's own body heat. That is, all of it except for the right sleeve.

"Nono," she said, falling back two steps. "It's okay." She glanced down either side of the empty street. Everything sacred.
"Where are we?" She asked, barely able to hear her own words as excitement rose in her chest. "I want directions to a sacred mercantile. Reasonability is desired, and perhaps lifesaving." She flicked the box-blade up out from her sleeve and let it jump between each finger, a well-formed habit. "Direct me, pal, and take your sacred coat." Stepping back, the steel shone as it twisted over her fingers in methodic coordination. She would not meet his gaze, in fear of being recognized.

Jintao was rather surprised by Tay's response. "Sacred?" he asked, still holding the coat out to her. "I don't know of any sacred mercantile." He looked down at his coat. It was never easy to get on with only one arm, and sometimes it was downright embarrassing. If he knew she wouldn't take it, he wouldn't have taken it off. "And this," he lifted the coat a little higher, "isn't sacred. It's just an ordinary sailor's coat."

She couldn't hear him. "Take the coat, I don't want it,"
The rain softened.
Dawn bloomed on the horizon, and she feared her face would be seen.
Wasting time, wasting money.
Fool, fool.
She backed away. "Blessings," she murmured, a sound of habit, not conviction. "Hadn't you work to get off to? Perhaps productivity is in order,"
For both parties, she thought. Some more than others.
She pulled the cloak tight and started down the cobbled street.

Jintao pulled the coat back, though he didn't attempt to put it on. He stared at it blankly for only a moment. Holding it tight against his body, he followed behind Tay until he was in step next to her.
"I'm sorry," he said, staring at the ground as he sloshed through a puddle. It was cold and nearly ran up his boots. "I didn't mean to frighten you back there by what I said."

"Speak up, stranger." She leaned toward him so that mere inches separated their shoulders. The box-blade still swiveled in her hand, moving steadily between each finger.

"I'm sorry," he spoke louder. "That store owner has been very good to me. I threatened you because I don't know you and I wouldn't want you hurting him. Especially because I'm the one who led you there."

She glanced up at him. "I'm not scared of your threats, only motives, strange man. I don't have time for foolery. Is the mercantile nearby or have you wasted our night away?"

Jintao looked at her with sadness in his eyes. What has happened to you, he wondered. "I'm sorry if I came across that way," he said. "I was only trying to help." He looked over his shoulder as they walked further away from the store. That was the mercantile.

She stopped. His voice buzzed in her ears and she struggled to make out the words.
"Forgive me, man, if I do not understand. All I require are directions."
She rocked on her heels, unable to quench the pain in her feet. The box-blade still twirled in numb fingers.

The sun continued to come up. If Jintao guessed correctly, it was around 6:00 am now. He frowned, almost stopping to stare at the ground. "The mercantile back there should be able to meet all your needs," he talked in the volume he had earlier, forgetting that she probably didn't hear him. Remembering, he spoke louder, "I can take you back to the one we just passed. I'll just want to go with you because I know them. That is, if you want to go there now. They should be opening in an hour or two now."

"I would, yes." She stood oddly, wondering how many cards were left to play.
This was fine.
He was a compassionate man and he bloomed with possibilities. Kindness could be twisted.
He seemed oblivious, though.
She slid the box-blade into her sleeve. "Lead, stranger."

Jintao watched her hide the box-blade from the corner of his eye. He shifted the weight of his coat as it lay folded over his arm. It felt as though it was gaining weight the longer he held onto it.
Without saying a word, he lead the way back to the store. The windows were now lit up by a lantern inside. The owner was awake. Jintao glaced down both sides of the street before crossing. Subtle signs of life showed that the town was starting to wake. He crossed the cobblestone road with an eye on Tay. He wasn't going to leave her standing alone in the street this time.

She kept her head low and followed in his steps. Her feet ached and when they stopped at the door she leaned on the wall, waiting.

Jintao banged on the door slightly and stepped back. When no one came to the door, he banged again.
"Hold on, hold on," someone from inside complained. An older man unlocked the door, opening it for Jintao. "Jintao?" he exclaimed. "What brings you here such early in the morning? And why are you not wearing your coat? You'll catch a cold. Get in he-"
Jintao stepped aside, directing his attention to Tay. "Oh," the man said, noticing her. "Who's this?" he stared at the woman.

She glanced at Jintao, then pulled her hood back and offered her steady hand to the gray-haired man.
"Lyra," she said, her tone soft and cunning, "just Lyra."
Wet hair hung above her dark eyes, curling over her forehead, and she fingered the blade in her sleeve.

"Jack," the man gripped her hand with both of his and shook it. "The name is Jack." he smiled at the two outsiders. "Now, get in here and my wife will hook you both up with some breakfast."
Jintao eyed Tay. He found her slightly beautiful, then downed himself for thinking that way. "After you," he said politely. "Lyra."

She stepped in and shrugged off her cloak.
Wife and breakfast were the only words she had understood. The old man's voice was deep, similar to Lanec's, simpler to interpret.
"Thank you and blessings. It has been a cold night."
Her frosted fingers burned as she removed the soaked trench coat, and the heated air refreshed her throat.

The old man rushed off to the back of the store. "Daisy," he called, "we've got some hungry company. Mind taking a break and warming something up for them?" He disappeared somewhere behind the aisles.

Jintao laid his coat across the counter. He pulled out the four copper coins Tay had given him earlier. "They might have some dry clothes for you to change into," he said, feeling the cold coins with his fingers.

She ignored him and paced farther into the store, then swept back behind the counter.
Her eyes searched, and her fingers swiped across the shelves, nails clinking against yellowed bottles. She pulled away vials of Clove, Thyme, and other herbs, placing them on the open countertop with swift fingers.
"You are strange for helping me, Jintao. I certainly doubted you, and for that, I apologize. Garlic, garlic, garlic-" she whispered, flicking through the spices. "I would like to lie low here for the day, if possible, but tell me if I'm overstaying an informal welcome." She set the garlic atop the counter and tossed the ginger beside it, then turned back to the shelving.
"I do not intend to be rude, truly, but-" she snatched up a small clear glass and reviewed it's contents by removing the cap and inhaling. "Oh, gosh," she pushed it back on its shelf, "I do not even know what that is. Smells like-..." She touched her nose, blinking as she motioned towards Jintao with a vague wave, "You."
Leaning on the countertop, she pinched the bridge of her nose and pulled out the money bag. It hurt to breathe.
"I need the key to the medicine cabinet," she began counting coins, setting similar sizes in neat stacks.

Jintao watched Tay comb through everything. He was amazed and almost concerned by her swiftness. She could be a thief- he thought, but then why was she so good at paying? Perhaps her family was often in danger, which lead to them to always being in a rush? Jintao wasn't sure and he didn't dare question her about it.
"This isn't my place," he leaned against the counter, "so it isn't up to me. You'll have to talk to Jack about it." He looked where Jack had disappeared earlier. "If they say no, you can stay at my place. It's not too far from here."
Jintao watched Tay open the jar and smell its contents. He could barely stop himself from smiling when she wrinkled her nose. " Me?" he asked, sounding half offended. "Do I really smell that bad?"
He watched her return to the counter and count the coins. "Jack probably has the keys," he said. "I don't work here."

"You have a place?" She murmured, estimating the general cost of the items she selected before sliding the airy money bag back into her dress.
She pushed the herbs and liquor to the far edge of the counter, then knelt and retrieved a pair of high-laced boots from where they glistened, unprotected, and displayed at the shuttered window. She held her palm to the rubber sole. "These are fine." The boots stood tall and firm, unbroken.
She sighed and glanced at Jintao. Wavy curls dangled over her eyes. "Blessings for bringing me here, friend. If I had more change I'd offer it gladly. But alas," she tossed the boots to the counter and cocked her head, "I'm broke."

"Yes," Jintao replied. Did he really look homeless? He was poor and obviously cared about the poor, but he wasn't homeless.
He watched her pick up the boots. They were pretty and thought they would look good on her. He jingled the coins that were still in his hand. "You didn't need to pay me if you couldn't afford it." Jintao placed the coins carefully on the counter and slid them towards her. "I didn't need the money."

Without a word, she flicked the coins back at him and turned her attention to the doorway.

Jack and his wife, Daisy entered the room. Daisy was about as old as her husband and she was a little bit shorter. She carried two bowls of hot pottage, which she handed one of each to the visitors. "You two look starved," she said with her aging tone. "Eat up before it gets cold." She stared at Tay. "Lyra, it is?" She gave her husband a concerned look, who met her look with his own. "Such a pretty name," she turned back to Tay.

"Sure. I want to buy those." She set the bowl against the counter and motioned toward her collection. "I need a needle, too." She stared at the old man. "A pot of hot water. I'll pay for everything."
Being victimized and needy seemed effective.
Forceful advancement was quicker, but she was tired.
Her feet burned, and she knew the sores had blistered into infection. Theft and literal, physical sprinting seemed always to pair, and one needed a good set of feet to pull off a successful getaway.
She knew her words were brash and direct. She hadn't even blessed the old woman.
But simple pain ailed her body, and Jintao's prestigious nature toward the old couple bit at her sanity.
A patchy agenda nagged at her mind, and she did not suppress it.
Patience ran dry, and she did not care.

"Thank you, madam," Jintao said, taking the bowl and setting it on the counter. Leaning over it, he began eating it.

The old lady seemed taken off by Tay's request at first. It took her a minute before she said, "Alright. I'll go get them." With an exchanged look at her husband, she left the three by the counter.

Jack watched Daisy go. Then he turned to Jintao. "How was the spices?" he asked.
Jintao paused from his eating with a frown. "I haven't had the chance to try them yet," he said, staring at his bowl. He grabbed the copper coins as though to change the subject. "You wouldn't have a cheap clock, would you? Someone stole mine while I was away."
Jack shook his head in disappointment. "Jintao, when are you ever going to get yourself a weapon and protect your place for once? I'm sick of hearing of people robbing you just because you're handicapped. This is what, the third time this month?"
Jintao instantly looked at Tay. He wasn't sure why; he just did. He glanced down at his pottage, a little embarrassed for looking at her, then turned to Jack. "I live on the first floor. Thieves like to go for what's easiest. Besides, I wasn't home."

Tay stared back, smiling a little when he looked away. "The loss of a limb does not excuse lineance, I think." She tilted her head and caught the morning sun through a crack in the worn shutters. Her heartbeat quickened. "Regardless of cause, we are all called by instinct to protect what belongs to us, and the loss of one arm does not incapacitate."
She glanced at Jack. "Let me move somewhere less distracting. You're to open soon, are you not? Let me help your wife in the kitchen."

Jintao frowned. Maybe she was right. After all, before he cruelly lost his arm, he was an experienced fighter, with both blade and bullet. His coincidence reminded him of his obligation to the King's soldiers. He looked down at the well-worn floor with a half sigh. He felt utterly helpless and didn't know what to say.

Jack stared at Jintao for a minute. It was obvious that the younger man was bothered. Looking down at the floor himself, he said, "Yes, you can do that, Lyra. She should still be heating that water up for you." He nodded to Jintao. "Do you mind showing her the way? I don't want her to get lost in the shipments."

She watched him through her wet, curling bangs and gathered the herbs with silent fingers.
"Blessings, Jack. You are a good man."
She pulled away from the countertop and her boots were silent as she brushed past Jintao. "Come, man, I meant no offense by my words."

Jintao nodded. He picked up his bowl, put it in Tay's, and followed her. "You are right," he fell in step next to her. They walked by some crates. Jintao stared at them as they went by as though they held his secrets. "I just can't do it. At least not during this time of my life."
He stepped ahead of her to the door of the stairs. He set the bowls on the floor and opened it for her. "They live upstairs."
It felt strange talking about his handicap in the way that he was. His last statement sounded like he would take up a weapon again, even though he was forced to be against the thought.

"Tell me," she said, slipping through the doorway, "do you sit idly by and wait for inevitable exploitation, or do you open the door when they knock?" The slick stairs creaked beneath her feet and the black, plain dress obstructed her ease. She waited at the last stair, glancing down at Jintao, who seemed to hesitate. Warm air wafted from the kitchen.
Words felt right, but they didn't come.
She dipped her head and exited the stairwell, turning into the kitchen.
"You-" she motioned to the old woman and let the herbs and spices scatter onto the table, "dear, I will finish that. A needle. I need a needle."

Jintao let the question roll around in his head a couple of times before answering. "I prefer to open the door when they knock.." He pushed the bowls into the stairwell with his foot and shut the door. Then he picked the bowls up and followed her up into the kitchen. "Thank you, madam," he said, putting the bowls next to the sink. He hadn't finished his pottage, nor did he care to.

Daisy nearly jumped when Tay said "You." She spun around with her eyes large. "Oh, you startled me," she put her hand on her chest. Fear filled her eyes until Jintao walked into the kitchen.
"I'll get that right away," she gave Jintao a worried look on her way to the living room. She was only gone for a minute before she returned with a pin cushion. "Here you go, dear."

She took the soft cushion and removed a pair of needles with ease.
"Blessings."
A cough caught in her throat and she turned away from the oven, hacking into her arm as she hooked the toe of her boot around one of the table chairs and dragged it forward.
She slumped into the chair and sighed as it creaked. Her eyes met the old woman's for a brief moment, and a weak smile flashed across her lips.
"I never bought bandages, and I couldn't find stockings," she looked down and began to unlace her worn, soggy boots. "If there is anything I can do to earn those things-" she pulled the money bag from her dress in one swift motion, tossing it onto the beaten table before she returned to her boots. "I don't know how much is in there, not enough, probably."
She bit her teeth and eased off the first boot.
Yes, there was skin and blood.
This would make a fine case.
"Apologies." She murmured, looking up with cunning eyes. The water steamed and she tossed the needles into the pot. "My journey has been weary."

Daisy fell silent as she watched Tay. She occasionally looked at Jintao like he should know something that he didn't. Finally, she said, "I have some alcohol if that helps any." She seemed to have missed Tay's question about earning those things, for she never answered her on that.

"It's already on the table."

Jintao shifted his weight, shocked at how bad her feet were. He felt ashamed for not even noticing before. "Here, let me help you," he grabbed a cloth from a drying rack and knelt next to her. He dipped the cloth in warm water and stopped. What was he doing, he wondered. For a moment, he forgot that he only had one hand. There's no way he could possibly be of assistance.

She took the rag from him. "Let me be. I can do all this."
The water felt fine, but alcohol would burn.
The body of a coward.
Perhaps she should lean more towards the damsel in distress side. It's what she was, anyway, save the thrill and attraction and innocence that often came with the title 'damsel.'
That wasn't a bad thing, either. She'd happily be such a character if it didn't mean certain death.
She sighed and began scraping away the blood and dirt.
"How long since this?" She asked, nodding at the stump of Jintao's arm. "I want to help, not tease, friend, so don't be upset."

Jintao stood back up and leaned against the table. It was almost painful to watch Tay, though he should be used to pain by now.
"Uh," Jintao looked at where his arm once was. Gone from the socket down with nothing to attach a prosthetic to. Only a skilled surgeon could pull off an operation like that, and only the heart of a survivor could live past it. That was something which he lost shortly after his limb. It should have amazed him that he was still holding on.
"Almost two years now," he said. He didn't like talking about it and often avoided bringing it up if he could.

"Mm," she acknowledged, bent over her foot. "You're weak if you let it shame you, friend."
She hid beneath her bangs and held her breath, running the rag through blisters with merciless pressure.

"Weak isn't the half of it," he turned away. He said too much, and it almost came across as rude.
Jintao went to the kitchen window. He placed his hand on the still and stared down at the street below.

"He was attacked by a shark, miss," Daisy said to Tay in a near whisper. "You should be ashamed for calling him weak like that."

"A big fish ate your arm." She said, her voice loud and brash. She reached for the clear liquor bottle. "So. I don't care how it happened. Quit acting a martyr, man, and don't succumb to exploitation. Oddity does not permit lenience." She unscrewed the bottle and dampened the rag.

Jintao bit his lip. He had been passing around that lie ever since he lost his arm and Tay was the first person he wished knew that was false. The moments of his awful past began haunting him. He closed his eyes, but that never worked to chase anything away. What was it about her that seemed to bring things up like this?
"I forgot my coat downstairs," he went for the stairs without looking at anyone.

"Jintao-" Daisy put her hand out to stop him, but he was already down the stairs. She turned to Tay with her hands on her hips and a look that said, "How dare you." Then, as though she remembered something, fear filled her eyes again. "Excuse me," she said, almost shaking, as she turned to the living room.

"How dare I, indeed," Tay muttered, watching through her bangs as the old woman left the kitchen. She stood and limped with silent feet to the rich cabinetry, then opened the doors and searched the shelves. She made no sound, taking quick inventory before hobbling back to the oven with a muffled groan.
Jintao was a foolish man, and he ailed himself. Yet she admired his disposition.

She mixed herbs and spices into the liquor before applying the alcoholic solution. It fizzed and boiled in the skin so that her hands grew white and small unquenchable sounds issued from her throat. But she did not remove the rag and remedy until it had served its purpose.
Sweat had streamed lines into her dirty, young face, and hair clung to her forehead as she rewashed her feet and pulled apart the welts with sterilized needles, then washed them again and repeated her process with the liquor.
Without covering and insulation her work would be to little avail, but she did not have the composure to call the old woman back, or to try and summon Jintao.
Instead, she sat back in the chair and breathed heavy breaths, her weak body excited by pain.
She heard the rumble of voice, but understood no words.
She and Jintao were not so different.

She searched the cabinets again and retrieved a stack of thin drying towels. The cloth wrapped tight to her feet, and she put on the new boots.
Tay tied her herbs and things into the last towel, then stumbled away from the stove and slammed the kitchen window open. Sunlight made her shiver as she slid out onto the roof.

Jintao stormed to his coat and headed for the door. His mind was continuously getting worst as it tormented him with guilt and horror. He opened the door and stopped. Everything Tay had said to him seemed to be calling him back. He wanted to leave, but that would only further his profile as a coward. She thought that he should defend his property and his dignity should be a part of that.
No, Jintao shook his head. There was no part of him that needed protection, at least, not anymore. He viewed himself as a monster for his past and was pleased to keep reminding himself of that. He had changed since then, but with the constant watch of the King's soldiers he had no room to settle into his changed life.
"Jintao," Jack called from behind him. "Are you leaving so soon?"
Jintao turned to the old man and shut the door. "I was thinking about it," he answered.
Jack walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he said, "Please stay. I don't like my wife being alone with Lyra."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Jintao said with a sigh. His guilt rushed over him again. He wanted to escape from his problems and never look back. If that was possible, he didn't know. He thought of Tay's torn feet. She's in good hands, he told himself. "I should leave. Let me know if she needs anything. I'll pay her tab when I return from my next trip."
Before Jack could respond, Jintao was out the door and on the other side of the street. Leaving felt like the only thing he could do to protect anything, even if it did mean he was written off as a coward. He threw his coat over his back and held the lapel with his teeth as he slid his arm into the left side. When his arm was almost through, he accidentally dropped the coat, causing it to land in the puddle that was at his feet. "Idiot," he snarled at himself as he picked the wet thing up. If Jack saw what just happened, he'd be out in an instant. He glanced to the store. Jack wasn't in the window, so that was good. Then he spotted Tay on the roof...

She crouched and cocked her head, then raised a finger to her lips, praying he would keep his silence. The towels beneath her arms bulged.
For a moment longer she met his gaze, silhouetted to his eyes as the bright sun shone.

Jintao frowned. She was a thief at heart, and he should have known. He glanced down both sides of the street as he made his way over to her. Stopping where he could still see her, he nodded his head to the side. Keep moving, but I'm coming with you. His stare only proved that he wasn't pleased.

A graceless smile crossed her pale face and she rolled her eyes before sliding down the opposite end of the slick, damp roof.
She fell to a rickety fire escape and waited, rubbing her palms over the new leather boots.

Jintao came over to her. "Stealing?" Anger filled his tone despite him keeping his voice down. "We all knew you couldn't afford these things, but stealing them? Those are good people! They might have given them to you if you asked." He glared into her eyes in a way that didn't match his previous character. It was the way a pirate might look into his opponent just before starting a deadly fight.
"I should turn you in like I had said." His tone lightened a little, but his stare didn't.

"I have no qualms killing you, man." She stood and looked down from the short fire escape. "Remember that, now." The stiff boots creaked as she slipped over the guard rail, dangling in the air for a tense moment before she dropped.
Her knees gave when she hit the ground, but she stood swiftly and brushed off the dress.
"Say all that again, I heard nothing save your pleasant tone."

"Maybe my 'instinct to protect' is kicking in." He watched her while she was above, un-intimated. When she buckled on the ground, he softened.
"Fool of me, I should have known." He took a couple of steps back. It wasn't out of fear, but of past knowledge that he thought he had forgotten. His eyes fell from watching her face to her hands. "You leave, I'll turn you in. You kill me, there's two witnesses who'll confess, and that is if they don't shoot you first." His tough set of options fell from his tongue like he had said them before. Maybe he had, though if he did, it might not have been because his life was possibly on the line.

"My, you are difficult." She approached him and snatched the collar of his shirt as he tried to duck away, then jerked him forward, and back against the wall. "Don't move, don't move," she pushed the box-blade to his scruffy neck and jammed her knee into his side. He doubled over and she pushed him back again. "I will not bargain with you, Jintao. Shut your mouth. I keep you alive not because you deserve it." She kicked him again, her only real advantage the knife on his throat. "You've slowed me enough, man. Keep your sacred mouth shut or I'll cut out your tongue and tie you in the shadowed alley."

Jintao gazed into her eyes with his back tight against the wall. His side hurt from her kicks. He swallowed hard, which only made him feel the blade more. For once, he saw an advantage to having only a left hand, even if he didn't notice it at first. He locked his stare into her eyes like a strange intimation, though it was more for a distraction. Very subtly, he moved his hand upwards. When his hand was high enough, he snatched her hand and twisted it in a painful direction, causing her to drop the blade. Before the blade could hit the ground, he kicked the blade into a trash pile, where it disappeared from sight. All the while, he never took his eyes off of hers, nor did he speak.

She shifted her free hand up to his throat and bore her little weight down on his tense body.
She was all talk.
He far outmatched her in strength.
But she had guts and he had a heart.
Tay released his throat and pulled away, wary of his fisted grip on her wrist.

Jintao let go of her wrist and stood where he was, watching her. Adrenaline was rushing through his body, despite his hidden attempts to calm himself. He nodded his head forward and said, "So, what's your choice? Cutting my tongue will do you no good and neither will your attempts to kill me."

She couldn't hear him.
She didn't want to find the knife again and mistake looking petty, and she didn't want to hurt him.
Moving slow and silent, Tay stared him down as she approached the fire escape.

Jintao slowly leaned down, picking up his coat which had dropped when she attacked him. He stood back up at the same slow speed. "Is that your choice?" His adrenaline slowed down, which helped him to see her as he had before- Lonely, in pain, fragile, and possibly scared. "You want me to be the good 'ol rat that I am? It's my payment for breathing after all."
The moment those words came out of his mouth, Jintao wanted to vomit. He didn't really want to rat on her; he wanted her to go back into that store. But why, he asked himself. He told Jack that he would pay her tab.
Jintao stepped toward Tay. "I promised them that I would pay for those things." He let out a sigh. He kept his eyes on her, but not for intimation anymore. He went to the trash pile and found the knife. Bouncing it in his hand, he walked back towards her. "Thievery will only get you to an early death." He looked down at the knife. "And this will get you a cruel death." He handed it to her. "Take it. Use it to save, not kill."

"Dear man, take your foul proverbs and leave me be." She swiped the knife from his hands and cursed him as she climbed up the fire escape. She stopped on the first creaking platform and looked back down, his fingers gripping the splintered railing. "You think you're righteous, but even a holy man must defend what belongs to him. You are some coward, Jintao, some cripple, and poor man. Use it to save, not kill," she mocked his words, "hah. What would you know? You could not save even yourself."
She bent and collected the towels and goods, indecently upset.

His fingers tightened on the rail. He took one step up and went no further. "A pirate since I could hold a blade, a shooter once I had my first kill, a first mate when the last was fought over as a slave," he stared up at her. He was rolling out his past like it had a deep meaning, even if he had never shared it before. He threw his head to the side as he continued. "And I throw it all away because some 'saint' is caught by my crew and I'm the one who pulled the trigger on him!"
Jintao turned away. The haunting memory filled his head. His crew had been after the man for a few years before they finally caught the guy. The guy was a strange one, with a claw for a hand instead of a hook and a deep determination to stop the pirates, though he never wanted to kill them. He had stole away the pirates' hearts and souls, one at a time, even after his death. Alas, Jintao was his last and final victim. He had stared deep into Jintao's eyes with compassion and sadness like no one had ever done before. It was no wonder that it ate away at Jintao long after the man's body hit the ground.

Tay leaned forward and stared back at his eyes. She cocked her head. "Is that all?"

Jintao turned back and looked up at her. "Maybe I'm just trying to stop you from making the same mistakes I've done." He looked down at his coat that he had draped over his arm. His mood had softened as though what happened only a few minutes before never occurred. "The Crusher was known and feared by many, yet he never attempted to kill anyone. All he ever wanted to do was save others, even if some were his enemies."

She straightened, then froze, staring cooly down. "Go on, man. If you must speak, then tell me it all. But come." She turned back to the ladder. "I can't stand 'round here."

Jintao glanced up at her, then back down at his coat. With a sigh, he walked up the ladder. "Mind giving me a minute to get my coat on?" he asked when he reached her level.

She leaned against the wall and watched him with an unrelenting gaze.
Strange man. Rescourcful man.
Humid air tore through her curls and brought tenacious frizz. Sweat still clung to her skin and dress.

Jintao put the right side of his coat on his right shoulder. He bit the collar and slid his arm through the left sleeve. It was still wet from when he had dropped it in a puddle earlier. Pulling his hand through, he reached over to his right and pulled the coat to his left. He went over to the rail and leaned against it, holding the coat in place so he could button it up. Finally, he took the empty sleeve and stuck the cuff into his pocket, which almost made it look like he had a right arm after all. "All set," he said, turning around.

Tay rolled her eyes and started up the ladder.
Wasting time.
Gosh, she was good at that.

Gecko walked up the hill away from Pirates Cove. His mind was where it usually was, thinking about the vacationer that he once met. He shook his head at himself. He needed to find something better. Tesla would probably never return, and as it was, he had a dream that the vacationer was putting together a band of identical vacationers to be his loyal bodyguards.

Gecko sat down on a fallen log and stared down at Pirate Cove. His eyes lead away from the blocks of buildings to the still image of hundreds of sails in the port. The sight looked as though it was painted. Not a sail moved and not a human could be seen walking. He sighed at the peaceful sight as his gaze fixed itself on the open sea. What would it be like, he wondered, to be out there? The open waters where the only life you'd see is that of your own crew? There'd be no time for silly obsessions of people that you'd never see again. You'd have to run the rat lines and man the poop deck. There would be nets to climb and crow's nests to watch from.

The more Gecko thought of the ships, the more he got excited. Perhaps he'd join a King's ship! No, way too classy for him. A pirate's ship. It'd suit him and suit him well. After all, he did like to fight a good fight if he got the chance. Maybe he could even chase Tesla out there- Gecko stopped himself in half thought. There would be no time to concern himself with Tesla, he reminded himself. He pulled out his rusty blade and hoped it still had some use to it. I'll find myself a ship, and I'll make a name for myself, he thought. I will not be known as someone who wastes time watching for his prey but as someone who finds his prey and takes him down before anyone can ask for names!

Gecko put his blade back in its sheath and rushed down the hill. He planned to cut off most of the town's crowd by sticking to the alleyways. By his estimation, he should reach the docks by early noon. If he was lucky, maybe he could have a ship and have set sail by this very evening!

...

Gecko arrived at the docks exhausted. He stared at the many ships and wondered how he could ever choose one to join. There was one with beautiful white sails that reminded him of one thing- He turned away from it. He needed something different if this was going to be a change for himself. Nothing white and high-class. A pirate ship, he reminded himself. A certain black and white frigate stood out from the distance. Its beautiful paint job and fine sails felt so full of promises to him. No, Gecko turned away from that ship too. Such a fine ship like that wouldn't be looking for any crew. He looked further at the port full of ships. Maybe he should look for an older, brokenhearted ship instead. It probably couldn't sail much, but at least something like that would need a crew. He settled on that idea and began his search.

...

The streets of Pirate’s Cove were especially crowded, the weather had lately been ideal for sailing ships, and smuggling was at its highest point of the year.
Vhanya was itching to take advantage of the activity, she had sold off the mare with little trouble and her earnings jingled in her beltpouch as she strode down the cobbled streets - they’d be enough for a new spiritsail on the Quicksilver, with maybe a little left over for her to treat herself to a new pair of earrings.
She soon rounded a corner and made straight for the busy docks, avoiding the elbows and shoulders of various pedestrians; she knew these streets like the back of her hand.

The docks of Pirate’s Cove were a different sort of challenge than its drunkard-riddled alleyways. The lapping of waves against ship hulls offered a constant white noise over the shouts of dock workers. Gull droppings were healthily plastered over the docks’ wooden boards, and shrill cries from the nuisance seabirds overhead never failed to remind one that they were always watching with their beady eyes, faithfully observant for any sort of dropped morsel.

A gull attempting to gorge itself on someone’s fishing catch narrowly missed Vhanya’s boot, she cursed under her breath; she was certain that kick would’ve landed. Her yellow eyes followed the bird as it winged away, then turned to gaze fondly at her ship, which was docked neatly, just as it had been a month ago. Despite the overall anarchy that ruled Pirate’s Cove, there was one unspoken rule: “Ne’er bother with some-other’s ship, ore‘else summat bound to happen to ’ye” she could practically hear her grandfather’s voice saying it.

The Quicksilver was a rather beautiful specimen- The ship was a frigate, sleek and fast, ideal for navigating the rocky seas surrounding the Island. Her sails were a smooth gray, and her hull was painted a charcoal black accented with crisp white stripes - a very expensive paint job, mind you.

Vhanya was pleased, her ship had been properly taken care of; she wouldn’t have to kill anyone in retribution. She reached up to fix her braid, it had gotten rather tussled by the sea breezes.
Now to assemble a crew.

...

Ember paced restless up and down the cobbled boardwalk that edged the docks.
The place was disgusting. Ships and planks and railings crowded with filthy sea birds, each one as dangerously brave as they were generously messy. Half the boats were unkempt or looked deserted altogether, a few barely even sea-worthy. Sailors occupied nearly every pier and strip of dock, unloading and loading ships, organizing supplies, cursing at the birds.
Ember watched it all warily.
Over the past hour or so, she'd narrowed down her options to three ships. The fastest or the cleanest, the smaller and lighter, less busy ones. Less troublesome ones.
All she had to do now was figure out which one was willing to go her way.
There was a low-hulled cargo ship, dull and basic, but clean and organized. Probably interwoven with the king's shipping management, but it had a calm and quiet aura to it.
A private owned shipping boat, painted a mellow, boring shade of light blue. Only one old sailor had been tending to its cargo and sails, slowly hobbling up and down the small boarding plank, the clunking of his peg leg easy to distinguish.
The third ship was a frigate- a gorgeous glossy black with pristine highlights that seemed to glow in the gloomy morning mist. It was without a crew, deserted of all except, of course, the gulls. A lone sailor stood gazing up at the sleek vessel, pressing back her matching crow-black hair.
Ember leaned back against the wood building behind her, arms folded tightly over her chest as she watched, motionless, the organized chaos of the docks proceed.

...

Often, Vhanya’s sixth sense let her down. She had her race to blame, the Aqra’s relied more on their quick wits and even quicker striking tails to keep them alive than some supernatural sense, but she couldn’t help but curse its unpredictable nature.
Yet now, even through the thick morning gloom that dampened one’s perception, she could tell she was being watched.

She bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. Her flintlock pistol was tucked, concealed, through her belt, but as a precaution, she very slowly slid her tail out from her trousers. Her greatcoat was long enough to hide it, and masked her movements.

She shifted her stance so she could look out of the corner of her eye; it took her a minute or two, but she soon saw a cloaked figure, standing suspiciously idle by a fishing hut. Her sense prickled, if but a little.
A Mythic, that one, and it’s obvious they’ve got their eye on me.

She decided on confrontation, as usual. Spinning on her heels, she began picking her way through the sailors and dock workers toward the cloaked figure. She didn’t bother with being subtle, she wanted the watcher to notice her approach.

...

"Feh. Predictable."
The sailor was a Mythic. Ember could feel the voiceless sense of familiarity in the creature's presence, writhing through the air between them, tugging at the depth of her mind. Strengthening and clearing as the tense woman approached, sweeping her way down the busy dock.
The Harpy nonchalantly tugged off a leather glove, pulling the small, claw-tipped hand beneath the shade of her cloak as she repositioned against the wall, slouching to let the hood fall further across her face. Several ribbons of glossy black hair slid and dropped past her temples as she carefully inspected her claws.
If this Mythic was the one who owned the frigate, the Quicksilver, so the name read, she might be of use yet. But that depended on how fate flowed in the next five minutes or so.
Pirates weren't the only ones quick with a draw.

Vhanya sidled next to the Mythic, and nonchalantly leaned against the wall of the fishing hut.
”What’s your business? I know full well what you are - that sense is mutual, I take it.”
As she spoke, she imperceptibly pressed the barb of her tail to the thigh of the cloaked Mythic, not with enough pressure to pierce, but if the person -a harpy, she guessed, that cloak was too bulky to not be hiding something- made any sudden movements, they’d be dead before they hit the docks.
She wasn’t intent on killing anyone today, but wasn’t also about to have a fight break out and get both of their Mythical identities revealed. It was best to quietly take care of things; she already had planned how to deal with the body and not be noticed.

Ember scoffed quietly, sliding her ungloved hand up her head, pushing black waves of hair through her fingertips and up into the hood.
"My business is not any business of yours," she muttered tartly.
She tugged off the other glove and crossed her arms again beneath the folds of the cloak, fingering the leather between her claws.
"Do you own a ship?"

Vhanya chuckled slightly, she always relished showing off her ship.
”Not very chatty, are you? And why yes, I do-“ She lifted a hand with a flourish towards the Quicksilver- “that fine specimen right there.“
A thought crossed her mind.
“Say, I’m on the lookout for a crew, and if you agree to work for me while ‘yer on board the Quicksilver, I’d be glad to ferry - or if you have any cargo,“ she lowered her volume a notch, “whether it be legal or not, I’d be willing to move it.”
Her voice took on a boasting tone, “There may be plenty of smugglers in Pirate’s Cove, but rest assured, if you choose to use my services you’ll be in good hands..”

"Where are you headed?"
The Scorpion's air of self-importance was stifling, but Ember wasn't spiteful enough to ignore that the Quicksilver was one of the better ships at port. If her captain was a Mythic- albeit, an annoying and rather unnerving one, but a Mythic nonetheless- the situation could prove surprisingly useful.

“Wherever the winds take me, but I’m intendin‘ to drop by New Bayport.“ Vhanya paused, “don’t let that put a dagger in our business though, you should know I’m interested in what you have to offer.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the harpy woman yet, she wore a shrewd expression and seemed to be judging Vhanya’s every movement, but that was a trait ideal for smuggling jobs; she could tolerate the Harpy’s standoffishness if she turned out to be a capable crew-mate.

Ember was silent for a long time, tapping a slender claw against her armband thoughtfully, relishing the quiet and ominous clinking that sounded from it. She gave a slight toss of her head, looking the Scorpion up and down with quick flicks from sharp red eyes.
"Have you ever been to Undermine?"

The Harpy was making an infuriating clicking sound with her nails; Vhanya talked quickly in an attempt to drown out the constant clink clink.“I’ve been ’round every bay on this blasted Island, you can be sure I’ve haunted the coasts of Undermine.”
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as the Harpy looked her over, her birdlike red eyes assuming a faint glow in the morning haze.
”The name’s Vhanya, since we’re gettin’ acquainted - Captain Vhanya Marriott, Queen of the Quicksilver.” She said the latter title with a small grin, she’d had the nickname since she was an insolent little girl, known by sailors as the granddaughter of Alastar ‘Turncoat’ Marriott, the loyal king’s soldier gone pirate.
“What’re you lookin’ to do down in Undermine, if you don’t mind my inquiry? I’m not a nosy sort, but you seem a woman with some duty on her mind.”

"If you're not the nosy sort," the Harpy's tone pricked defensively. "Then you will have no problem keeping it out of my intentions."
Ember pressed off the wall, standing straight and tugging the hood low.
"But if you can captain that ship, I'll be willing to contribute some amount of assistance, in return for secure travels."
She turned her head sharply, fully to face the sailor, fixing Vhanya with a steady, emotionless stare.

“You have my word,-“ Vhanya could tell that the Harpy knew better than to trust a pirate’s word, but she said it anyway, more for her own image than concern about the Harpy’s privacy- “although, you’d best know that once on a ship most intentions are bared, no matter how secret..”
The Harpy had turned to face her, and Vhanya now matched her stance, keeping her tail close and hidden under her greatcoat. “Call it a deal,” she stated, reaching out for a handshake to seal their agreement.

Ember regarded Vhanya's outstretched hand for a long, skeptical moment, one thin eyebrow gently arched.
There was no trusting the captain, but her best option lay now with the Quicksilver. Besides, if anything went south, she would just sink the sorry ship, fly back to the mainland, and regroup.
Who knew? Maybe- somehow- the scorpion would prove useful after all.
Ember slowly extended a hand, watching Vhanya sharply as she gripped hers in return.
"Deal."

Vhanya shook her hand firmly, a grin slowly spreading across her face; she didn’t bother to hide her sharp incisors as she did around humans.
”I’d like to know your name, if you‘re going to sail with me- and there are some small rules for those on my ship, nothing terribly restrictive, but it’s best you’re aware.”
She reached into her coat’s inside pocket while she talked, grabbing her pair of kidskin gloves and slipping them onto her hands, the sea offered a chill to the air as the sun set, while Aqra’s had superbly tough skin they were very much intolerant of the cold.
“Firstly no smoking of any sort, dropped tobacco will stain the deck. Secondly, no drinking in excess - now I’m not sayin’ no drinking, but don’t get so plastered to prompt any unnecessary retching,” she stopped briefly to start walking in the direction of her ship, and gestured for the Harpy to follow, “and lastly, please, if there is any confrontation, let me do the talkin’.”
She halted at the edge of the port, the last licks of sunshine caught the shining black paint and neat letters on the Quicksilver’s hull.
“I’m certain there won’t be any questions needed.”

Ember kept several paces behind Vhanya as they walked, keeping a watchful eye on the sailor's movements, still wary.
"How long before we're out of port?"
She didn't care for the scorpion's rambling, most of her words falling as empty noise over the Harpy's feathered ears. Besides, she would never pollute herself with the same low-life smoking and drinking habits the captain seemed so worried about, and it was for her own dignity, not any care for the ship, that obligated her to uphold any rules.

Vhanya pressed a gloved hand to her chin, “Well, if you haven’t already noticed, my ship doesn’t have a crew apart from the two of us… I doubt we leave port until we can rouse up some other’uns to help us.” She turned her yellow eyes to the harpy, “Unless you’re implyin‘ you think just us two can man a ship on our own, if that’s the case you’ve got some sickness in your feathery head.”
She gestured towards the Quicksilver, ” Would you like a tour of this fine vessel here? And you still haven’t told me your name. We don’t have to get all chummy, but if I don’t get your true moniker you’re bound to end up with some unwanted nicknames - from me or whoever else we recruit.”

Ember folded her arms again, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I'm Ember. Ember the Harpy."
"And I know you can't man a ship with only two people, but I was hoping you already had a crew. After all, the 'Queen of the Quicksilver' ought to have subjects, shouldn't she?"
The Harpy didn't wait for a reply, dropping her arms again and striding up the boarding plank to the ship.

“It’s a pleasure to be acquainted, ‘Ember the Harpy’”
Vhanya fixed her coat, then started up the plank beside Ember, talking amiably as she walked, “Most of my crew I hire on commission, the last batch all died, unfortunately-“ She stopped talking abruptly to whip out her flintlock and blow away a curious gull that had landed on the spotless deck, she walked to what remained of the bird, and with a look of disgust on her face, threw it overboard into the harbor. She then resumed talking as though nothing had happened.
“I’m not fond of keeping set crew around very long, I’ve found everything is much more efficient in rotation.”

Ember sidestepped away from the boarding plank and leaned against the railing of the black ship, casting a lazy gaze down at the rest of the port as Vhanya continued talking.
If I'd known she'd be this chatty, I might have turned down the deal.
"Hm. Pray tell, how did your 'unfortunately' late crew all die again?"
Ember brushed several strands of hair out of her face, slightly pushing the stifling hood back to give her a better view of the busy docks.

Vhanya paused, and began slowly, “One of the crew went berserk when he found that a few of us were Mythic - slit their throats as they slept, he didn’t stop there either - until everyone else was dead. I tagged him with my tail, but before the poison claimed him he threw himself into the ocean… From what I’ve gathered he was a part of some group intent on the deaths of Mythics. Rather unsavory lot, really.”
She turned away from the railing to the sea, watching the varying vessels come to and fro. “We’d best stay on the lookout for potential crew mates. I try and ask anyone who looks capable. Usually, they’ll agree to work for food and pay."

...

Pirates Cove.....
A good place to get stolen goods and things from around the world. Dangerous? Yes, but that didn't bother Lichen.
The cove wasn't far from Birds Point, and she went there often. But today, there was something new.
Lichen caught a wind current and drifted, leaflike, over the harbor. A huge, sleek ship bobbed in the waves there. Never seen that one before.
She could see two figures on board. One of them looked to be a Harpy, but not someone she recognized. She sailed closer.
Yeah, no. Too interesting to worry about basic safety.
Lichen twisted into a dive, smoothly dropping out of the sky and landing on the front of the bow with a solid thump.
"Sup guys?"

Ember nearly jumped out of her cloak, the flurry of dark feathers and wild hair dropping into her vision, sending a loud thud across the deck of the ship.
"Flames and feathers-"
Heat pulsed defensively into the Harpy's fingers, sending waves of stifling air up the sleeves of the cloak, making the cloth suddenly itch. Her wings twitched viciously under their cover, making the feathers stick and brush uncomfortably against the fabric. Ember clenched her fists, knees bent, braced for a fight.
"Who are you?"

“Woah, cool it,” Lichen said, rolling her eyes and lifting her clawed hands. A Phoenix?
“Just checking things out. I’ve never seen such a fantastic vessel here in grubby Pirates Cove.” she took a step closer, tilting her head.

What a brash Mythic!
Vhanya had her pistol leveled at the head of the Harpy as soon as she hit the deck. “No sudden movements, Harpy.”
She circled around the stranger, her tail twitching, ready to strike at any given moment. “You’d best be glad the night hid you, there are plenty of folks here who’d like to see your wings up on a wall.“

“Cool it,” Lichen repeated, in a softer tone.

"Hold it, Vhanya."
Ember's wings twitched again, the urge to defend rising unsettling. She swiped her own hood off her head, pacing toward the scorpion and outstretching a thin, clawed hand toward her pistol.
"If you shoot that Harpy, it'll be a lot more than our deal that's ending," she hissed quietly, leveling a stern gaze on the sailor, red eyes glowing dimly.

Lichen's eyes flicked over to the other Harpy. She thinks I need to be defended! A flare of irritation flashed through her, making her wings twitch.

Vhanya barked out a laugh, her eyes flicking between the Harpies.
”Are you threatening me on my own ship? And don’t strain your dear heart, Ember, I wouldn’t shoot to kill, I don’t want too much blood on this nice clean deck.”
Ember drew near to Vhanya, a hand outreached towards her flintlock, her red eyes fixed on the pirate, what she didn’t realize was her proximity; within poison tail‘s reach. So in a flash, Vhanya had the barbed end poised to strike a deadly blow on the Harpy. She hadn’t lowered her gun -still trained on the stranger - a hair‘s-breadth either.

Woah. Scorpion. Lichen hadn’t seen one of those in a while. She shifted her weight to her other foot calmly, flexing her claw-tipped fingers.

"That wasn't a threat. I'm warning you."
Heartbeat pounded in her ears, Ember couldn't tear her eyes away from the otherworldly stinger. Her eyes pulsed with light as her adrenaline rose, and she curled her fist again, hoping the pirate wouldn't notice the occasional licks of smoke sliding between her fingers.
"You-" she jabbed a finger at the other Harpy without looking. "-State your business, your name. Why are you here, and for the love of all that is holy, why aren't you wearing a cape?"
Her gaze flicked back to Vhanya, locking eyes with the scorpion, hoping that by some miracle, she'd keep her loud mouth shut long enough to resolve the sudden issue before the tension snapped.

“If trigger-happy over here is planning to blow my brains out, I don’t think my name is of any importance to you,” Lichen said in a level tone. “I already stated my business, and my cape? I don’t believe in living in fear like a skulking coward.” She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.

Ember's head snapped around, fixing the Harpy with a burning stare.
"Are you calling me a coward?"
Her voice was dangerously calm, slow, daring the woman to reply. The Pheonix could still see the looming barbed tail out the corner of her eye, and the ever-ready flintlock leveled on the Harpy.

“I never said that,” Lichen said. “I simply stated my preference. I don’t care that you folks run around hiding in cloaks.”

Ember‘s pleading gaze made Vhanya drop her tail; if someone was going to get killed, she’d rather the Harpies go after each other than have more blood on her hands than necessary. She still kept her gun raised though, as a precaution.
She watched, amused, as the Harpies bickered, silently glad that she didn’t have a pair of large wings to have to conceal.
She sidestepped over to Ember’s side, and whispered to the Harpy under her breath, “I have some strong narcotic darts at hand, I can put her to sleep and get her tied up - unless you’re just itching for a fight.. “

"Give it a minute," Ember murmured, dropping her fist back to her side as Vhanya's tail fell.
"Let me get this straight," The Harpy raised her volume again so the other Mythic could hear her. "You were just causally flying over a pirate-infested town, saw a ship you thought was pretty, and decided to drop in? Tell me why I should believe that."

“Correcto mundo,” Lichen said. “You don’t have to believe me, doesn’t matter either way, to be honest.”

...

The Falcon glides into Pirates Cove, circles once, spots its target, and flies away.

Back home it swoops into the door and alights on Galen’s folded wing.
“Ouch!” He gently shook the bird off, “My hand, you must land on my hand.”
The Falcon came to rest on his gloved hand.
“Did you find ‘er? In the cove?” He rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing to do. Best leave this” He tugged his cloak and gloves off and hung them up, “in case we need to make a quick getaway, can't get all tangled up.”
He ducked out the door and closed it behind him.
“Alright,” He flexed his wings, “Lead the way.”
The falcon took off and in one large wingbeat, Galen was also in the air. He flew down along the edge of the shore and trailed one finger in the water before slowing his flight and shooting upwards, getting a clear look at the cove below. He spotted a large ship and his falcon circling it below.
He angled his wings and streaked downwards toward the water before suddenly snapping them open with a loud woosh and landing gently on the deck.
“If you so much as aim that thing at me,” He had seen what was happening from the sky, “you might regret it”

...

Gecko, who was also in the cove, spotted the other Harpy while it was still in the air. He abandoned his search for a ship to join and headed for where the other Harpy landed. He kept himself concealed by the ships he went by, as he wasn't sure how another Harpy would take it if it thought someone was around. His wings were hidden, so the threat of being territorial if spotted wouldn't be an issue, but the threat of anyone could be enough trouble as it was. Gecko knew this very well.

...

Lichen jumped back. “Who are you??”

”Oh for the love of- another?” Vhanya turned her yellow gaze to the Harpy man now perched on the deck. “How about I prick you with my lovely tail here so we all can watch you spasm, yeah?” She sighed, and muttered under her breath “too many Harpies in one day, I’d say..”

Ember yanked her own pistol out of its sheath, keeping it aimed tensely at the boards of the deck, her eyes flaring brighter as she glanced between the two Harpies.
"Liar," she hissed to the first one, shooting her a dark look.

Lichen whipped back around to glare at the Harpy. “Who cares if I'm lying! Who’s this guy??”

a knife wooshed through the air and landed not a half millimeter from her foot, "you're not the only one with reflexes, and the way I see it," He raised one eyebrow, "I'm out of your range"

Ember stared at the blade embedded in the floorboards for a brief moment, her head cocking ever so slightly.
"Don't be too sure," she replied slowly, looking up at the Harpy again, recognition drawing, before turning her focus back to Vhanya and the other Mythic.

Vhanya fixed him with a glare that - if Aqrabaumeli truly could possess other living things - would’ve certainly done so then.
”You want to test that theory? From the way I see it, you’re no sharper than the gulls plastering this port with their filth..”

Vhanya nonchalantly leaned her head towards Ember, still standing beside her. “How do the darts sound now, my friend…”

Lichen flared her wings slightly, ready to take flight at a moment's notice.

"Not yet," she muttered back, raking her gaze over the fist Harpy before reaching down and tugging the knife out of the black wood.
"Hm. It's smaller than I expected."

Galen, unfazed by her stare, returned it, ignoring the scorpion for the moment.
"You wanted to carry around something larger? Also, I would have handed it to you but-" he gestured to Vhanya, "I don't care for death very much."

Lichen pointed to the new Harpy. “This guy. He makes a lot of sense.”

Vhanya’s eyes flicked between three Harpies. For a split second she considered the words exchanged by them: Realization took hold. She jabbed a finger towards Galen.
“You’re a bladesmith?”
She saw the opportunity blooming before her as clear as day, smiths were useful. Smiths were an asset.
Ember’s expression had changed to a shade of familiarity, Vhanya took advantage of this.
“You’re acquainted with him, Ember?”
As she spoke, she lowered her flintlock away from the other strange Harpy woman; her naïvety overshadowed her confidence, a fatal flaw, especially in a place like Pirate’s Cove. Vhanya wouldn’t need to shoot her, if it was the Harpy’s time to die, there were plenty of others in the Cove who would fell her as soon as she took flight.

"Depends on why you're asking." He narrowed his eyes, "but I guess you could say that it's a little hobby of mine,"
He bowed his head slightly, a formality that wasn't worth anything here but was a habit at this point "I'm Galen"

”It’s a pleasure to be acquainted, Galen.”
She returned his bow, her movement languid with sarcasm.
“The name’s Captain Vhanya Marriott.”

Galen. She'd have to remember this time. In all honesty, she'd almost completely forgotten the Harpy existed.
"We were acquainted a time ago, I requested a new blade."
Ember turned it over in her hand a moment before facing Vhanya again.
"He's fine, but what do we do about her?"
She flicked her head at the third Harpy.

”I’ve got ideas..” She said it quiet enough for only Ember to hear, but the other Harpies clearly noticed her whispering something.
She lent them a theatrical pause and adjusted her greatcoat around her shoulders.

Galen shifted his eyes between Vhanya and Ember somewhat amused about the fact that he had been labeled as ‘fine’
“Now that my business is finished, does anyone object to me taking my leave? Sun’s coming up and I should get home”

Vhanya offered him a sharp-toothed grin.
“I object, actually. And you-“ she pointed her tail towards Lichen- “you listen up too.“
She stuffed her flintlock in her belt and raised her hands in a rational gesture.
”I’m on the hunt for a crew, and you both seem to be quite capable, for Harpies at least.“ She turned a yellow gaze to Galen, “You, smith, I’m certain you could use some work. I’m willing to pay a considerable wage as well as a bed and food, if you’ll offer your services in turn.”
She regarded Lichen.
“You might be insane. You wear no cloak in a town swarming with souls who find Mythics the vilest sort there could be... Your fearlessness can garner some respect from me, I’d like you as a scout- if you’re up for it, and do consider that I’ll pay you as well.”

She quieted, allowing her offer to stew in the minds of the Harpies.

“Crazy, for someone that wanted to blast me to pieces five minutes ago,” Lichen said drily. “But alright, I accept.” She shrugged.

Galen was slightly taken aback though he tried not to show it. Join a crew? Be under someone's authority? The freedom he so cherished gone for the moment being and worse yet, in the hands of this impertinent mystic.
He thought this through for a bit as he absentmindedly picked at under his claw with the tip of a small throwing knife.
His falcon landed on his shoulder, yanking him back to the present.

Vhanya thoroughly enjoyed watching Galen squirm. She could practically see the gears turning in his head, his dark eyes fixed on a knife in his grip.

"I'm reluctant to come to any agreement when the terms laid down are so vague." Galen frowned. "lay everything forward, no gray areas."

“Easy. You offer me - and the rest of the future crew- your smithing services; repairing blades, tending to my ship’s various metallic extremities, the like.“

She lent him an easy grin, sometimes her feminine charms would sway indecisive souls towards her will, it was always worth a shot.
She continued:
“In turn, you get paid, fed, and protected. You can leave when you like. I don’t like keeping crewmates around too long, I’m certain that might benefit your temperament.”
She looked to Lichen while she spoke, as to suggest the offer went her way as well.

“I have but three rules for those aboard the Quicksilver- before you bolt, they’re nothing too restrictive. One: No smoking, lest tobacco stain the deck. Two: No drinking in excess. And finally, let me do the talking in cases of confrontation.“ She held up a finger while she voiced each rule.

“I do hope you consider joining us, the Quicksilver is a fine vessel to man,” she looked up fondly to the gray sails lit by moonlight, fluttering softly in the sea breeze. “I find no greater purpose than to tend this ship, and you should know it is an honor to do so.“

Ember slid her gun back into its holster as well, watching silent while the other Mythics conversed for a long moment, turning the new blade in her hand. These two were only a start to the willing crew they'd need to collect before leaving port. Ember had a deadline to meet, and she was already beginning to doubt if accepting Vhanya's offer was the best option.
She'd wait. She needed an interceptor to complete her mission, and if they could be out of the docks within two days, she would give the Quicksilver and its captain- granted, increasingly annoying captain- a chance to show her what they were truly made of. But to find out, she'd have to wait.
Ember growled quietly under her breath.
She hated waiting.
The Harpy glanced back up at the scene, waiting impatiently for Galen's reply.

Galen took a deep breath to clear his head. He felt cornered.
"I-" His words rattled in his dry throat. He cleared it and started again, "When do you plan on leaving." It was his main goal to leave the cove as soon as possible. It wasn't safe here especially now that day would soon break.

...

Raven watched from where he stood in the shadows. What confirmation did he need? There were two Harpies without disguise and that was green light enough. He chuckled to himself and pulled his hood over his head, "it seems," he murmured, "that they are in need of a crew member."
He slid out of hiding and strode towards the ship.

Raven stood near the ship, leaning on a doc post. If his assumptions were correct, their sixth senses were firing over time and he'd be noticed soon.
The Captain though, was an Aqrabaumelu so he most likely still had a chance. It all depended now on whether she was the sort who would listen to the concerns of others.
but how could she pass someone like him down? His experience on a ship could be invaluable to her.

Feathers bristled, rustling the cloak as Ember straightened, a chill running down her spine.
Something stirred in the corners of her mind, unnerved and anxious, grappling with the sense of darkness, like black cobwebs growing with an approaching presence.
Danger.
Ember tensely pulled her hood back over her head, slowly glancing over at the boarding plank and down to the shadowed docks. She slowly rested a hand on her flintlock again, wondering vaguely if the other Harpies could feel the warning too.

Ember, with her superior sixth sense tensed, pulling her hood up around her feathery ears. Vhanya too noticed the change in the dawn air, but she couldn’t place her finger on what.
Curse this lousy sense of mine.

She shook off the prickling feeling as best as she was able; she had other matters to deal with. She looked back to Galen.

”We leave as quickly as we can, but you should be aware that we need nearly triple the amount of people we currently have to properly man this ship,” her voice turned buttery-smooth, “I’d certainly appreciate if your discernment was turned to seeking out more souls for our crew, if you’re so intent on setting sail.“

She set her attention to the other Harpy woman, hoping to distract herself from the uncomfortable feeling crawling up her spine, setting her tail a-twitch and raising the hairs on her nape.

Galen stiffened as the uneasy feeling smothered him like a thick impenetrable fog. His hand tightened around his knife as he slowly slipped it up into one sleeve.
"I'm not intent, I couldn't care less I just...don't like it here."
He backed up slowly towards the edge of the ship and the open water for a fast getaway.

He continued to inch back, franticly scanning the docs, the water, even the ship, what was wrong? Experience had taught him caution.
He froze as his eyes rested on a figure standing on the docs...watching them.

Lichen’s claw-tipped hand slid to her hip to grip the dagger that was strapped there. It was quiet. Too quiet.
The waves lapped at the hull of the ship, the sharp noise making her feel on edge. The air seemed heavy. Dark.

Galen froze, his body going rigid in the corner of Ember's vision and she glanced at him, tracking his gaze toward the edge of the docks.
It was unusually difficult to interpret what her sixth sense was trying to tell her, the mess of alarm and familiarity weaving and twisting her sense.
A mythic- no- a threat. Both? A soldier or pirate maybe? No... Definitely a mythic, but...
Ember slowly reached up and unclipped her cloak, letting the cloth drop to the deck. Long, black wings tensed against her back, prickling warily, the crimson-red tips gracefully brushing the deck boards as they shifted.
Her eyes locked on the dark figure standing at the end of the boarding plank, watching the scene on the Quicksilver silent and motionless.
She paced forward tensely, still gripping her pistol.
"What do you want?"
Her voice cut the dim, misty air, carrying down to the dock.

The third one was interesting, she must be a hybrid. No, pay attention. He'd better make this quick, the male Harpy was about to bolt. Raven shook himself from his thoughts. He'd been around a bit and knew the drill.
Slowly he drew his pistol, dropped it with a thud onto the dock, and kicked it away.
"I want many things," He wished his voice sounded more...perhaps the word was relaxed. there was no hiding the strained rattling that came from his throat when he spoke. "but I won't bore you with a sob story, I want a job aboard this ship of," he glanced at the Aqrabaumelu and pointed, "Yours"

A new stranger sauntered up the gangplank, and something prickled in the back of Vhanya’s mind.
Familiarity.
Not the sense of knowing that came with the presence of another Mythic; but the small twitch that shouted, I have known you before!
She pressed back her braid -it had quickly become a habit since she started braiding her hair.
The cowled Harpy voiced his intentions, and the eager side of her started at the opportunity of recruiting another crew member; but the tenseness of the other Harpies was almost tangible, their sixth senses must’ve been going haywire.
She opened her mouth to speak when-

A shadowy figure peeled away from the night and stood at the edge of the gangplank of the Quicksilver. The small figure wore a long cloak that dragged along the ground and a hood that cast its face into shadow.
Unfortunately, someone was standing at the end of the gangplank.
The cloaked figure gave an exasperated huff and ripped off his cloak. It was indeed a he, a harpy with shoulder-length hair so greasy it looked even more flammable than hair usually was wont to look and massive wings that overwhelmed his spare frame. He was unabashedly shirtless. He gripped the cloak in one clawed hand and jumped into the air, flying up and over with a few powerful beats of his wings and landing in a three-point position next to Ember. There were a few guns being pointed about but he figured he hadn’t done anything to deserve gunpoint yet. Yes, he had just landed on a private boat, but it appeared to be a free-for-all where trespassing was allowed, based on his observations of the numerous Mythics just sauntering onto the boat.
“Emberrrrr, why would you join a pirate crew without me?” Coal asked in a half-mocking voice. His lips curled into a smile, revealing sharp white teeth.
He had been tracking her the whole way there. He was sure that she knew of his presence—her sixth sense was stronger than his—but she couldn’t exactly stop him from following her either. Coal could make himself a terrible nuisance.

Galen nearly jumped out of his skin when the new harpy landed on the ship. He was so focused on the cloaked mythic, human, thing that he hadn't sensed him coming.
That was it, he couldn't stay on this deck any longer and still keep his witts about him. Galen scrambled to the edge and almost tripped out into the air before taking off and flying up to the top of a spar. he clutched the mast and leaned over to watch what was happening below.

Ember flashed her wings out, jumping herself away from the dark figure with a strong pulse of her wings. Her flintlock hammer clicked back menacingly as she leveled it with the other Harpy's forehead, her eyes flaring brighter still, both clawed hands gripping the gun firmly.
"Who are you and how do you know I'm Ember?"
A look of mild disgust and irritation mixed with the fierceness in her expression.
"And what are you talking about?"
What is happening?
She took another step back from the black and red Harpy, glancing at the dark figure still standing on the docks, his venomous eyes glittering with interest. Her gaze flicked back to the new strange arrival.

A flurry of wings and a thump of feet against the deck announced the arrival of another strange Harpy.
“Souls in Hell!” Cried Vhanya, her tail immediately at the ready to strike the new Harpy man, along with her flintlock trained between his black eyes.

He knew Ember’s name, but her demeanor implied she had no clue who he was, there was no use in asking her a thing. The other Harpies seemed just as startled as her, their feathers bristling and stances shifted to the defensive.
Vhanya couldn‘t keep her eyes from dancing Harpy to Harpy, her heart pounded in her ears. Although, if a shootout occurred, she was much more concerned for the welfare of her ship than that of her new crewmates.

At the sight of the gun aimed at his forehead, Coal yipped and jumped two feet in the air. This fearful jump was a great opportunity. A great opportunity to beat his great wings and fly out of harm’s way. As he ascended, he yelled, “YOU’RE MY SISTER!” Coal flew in loops high above the ship, still within earshot, but hopefully out of the range of Ember’s gun. Hopefully. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought that his dizzying flight patterns might reduce his chance of getting hit.

Her brother?
The stranger’s dizzying launch and shout shook Vhanya out of her thoughts. She turned sharp eyes to the early morning sky and steadied her flintlock.
”Land back on this ship or I’ll have you riddled with lead!”
She left it at that.
She’d felled plenty of flying gulls, and could never miss a shot from the deck of the Quicksilver: To be on one’s own ship offered confidence that was intoxicating.

Coal’s eyes widened, and his glance flashed between his sister’s gun and that of the pirate captain. Who was scarier? Definitely the captain.
And he wasn’t about to chance that he was out of range. He promptly landed on the deck behind Vanya, lacking all of the bravado of his previous landing. Fulfilling the scary lady’s terms might grant him some kind of immunity, and he felt that by standing near her, Ember might balk at shooting him.

"That's impossible," Ember snapped, pinning the wide-eyed Harpy with a sharp, firey stare. A flicker of satisfaction at the Mythic's visible terror twined around the rage and adrenaline pulsing through her body- she kept the flintlock trained on his head, her eyes glaring past the barrel at him.

“Mother said so,” Coal faltered. She really hadn’t stopped training her gun on him. And for what? All he did was a little playful following. Every sibling experienced that. Except she didn’t know he was her sibling. Oh. That would explain why she thought he was creepy. “Do you think every phoenix or harpy on this island has wings like these?” His wings had been folded on his back. Presently, he spread them a little farther, but not too far. The captain seemed a little possessive of her personal space. It was kind of dark, but he hoped she noticed the picoteed pattern that they both had inherited from their mother. No other at Bird’s Point had he seen with that coloration.

"Fool," Ember hissed, her wings flaring.
"Your colors mean nothing. I possess them because my lineage is of both tribes, not because of some special familial trait."
Her wings unfurled slightly, arching behind her head.

"But I am fully Phoenix..." he said quietly. He cupped his hand, sheltering a tiny, delicate flame that was snuffed by the gentlest of night breezes. He didn't really know if half-harpies could make flames. Probably. "And so is our mother."

"Not any mother that I know."
Ember released a hand from the flintlock and raised a clenched fist, bright flames curling over her tense fingers, bouncing light off her gold wristbands and lighting up the eerie deck of the Quicksilver. She could see the Phoenix's face better, cowering behind Vhanya, the red tips of his wings catching the light vividly.
She tossed an irritated glare over her shoulder at the cloaked stranger still watching the scene silently.
"And how should I know that you aren't allied with this sulking pirate?"
She readjusted her stance, moving her flaming hand to see the dark figure better, still holding the gun level with the Phoenix's face.

Raven squinted at the firelight, how rude it was to rob someone of their night vision, but the true offense he took was from being associated with this discombobulating Phoenix. He frowned slightly and reholstered his pistol.
"I can assure you," he turned to get a better look at Coal, "I've never seen this bird in my life, though I'm sure," slowly, He reached up and tugged the hood and face covering from his head, revealing his array of scars and deformities, "That we'll get to know each other very well." a grin danced on the corners of his mouth as he redirected his attention to Ember.

Ember’s show of power ignited Coal’s competitive spirit. She can’t think my fire is weak just because I don’t want the captain thinking I want to burn her! he thought.
Coal stepped away from Vanya and held a globe of fire between his hands. His sharp white teeth gleamed in the light of the fire, but he was grimacing, not smiling. It was hard to maintain a calm and easy smile with a gun trained on his head

Vhanya watched as the varying Harpies bickered, the cowled Mythic revealed his scarred face -where had she seen him before?- and the other male Harpy took flight to the crow’s nest, her annoyance building like waves lapping against a ship hull.

She sidestepped away from the Harpy behind her -scratch that, this soul was a Phoenix. Vhanya noted his race when she felt flames warming her back from where he stood.
“I’m not a Mythic you want to hide behind, boy,” she flicked her tail in his direction as a not-so-subtle reminder of its venomous barbed tip.

She didn’t bother to hear an answer from him, and instead strode to the middle of the deck, lifted her flintlock, and shot a solitary bullet into the sky, the crack of the shot piercing through the predawn air. She wasn’t concerned about unwanted attention, Pirate’s Cove was no stranger to the sound of gunfire.
”Alright! Every soul currently aboard my ship I beseech you, cease your screw-jay squawking lest you find your blood black with venom or lead- your choice, it’s my treat.“
She knew she couldn’t take on all of them on her own, but a well-delivered threat often did the entirety of the work for her.

She turned slowly around to face every Mythic, even Galen, still hulking in the crow’s nest, his wings high up about him like some vulture.
“If you’re looking to join my crew you’d best stop flinging guns and words about like savages. If you’re not, then I’d say it’s best for you to leave this port as soon as possible. I have plenty of friends who’d relish seeking out your end.”

Coal’s flame went out. The shot got his attention. He was half-afraid that it would cause a second shot—this time in his forehead. He sobered, standing at respectful attention; this was someone worthy of respect.

Galen begrudgingly dropped down to the deck and resumed a straight stance, trying not to look flustered. he pulled his knife back out, less for comfort, more for the fact that he might need to use it. His eyes flickered back and forth between Vhanya, Raven, and on occasion, suspiciously towards Coal.
His heart still thrummed in his ears so he took long breaths in an attempt to slow it down as he turned the blade over and over in his hands.

The wind whistled past his ears, dancing around his head and pulling his loose hair this way and that as he stood atop the crest of a hill, overlooking a starlit valley. The stars shone with an uncommon brightness while the moon slowly crept into the sky from behind a far-off cliff face. The bellow of a familiar voice called to him and, Fengonne, the herd leader loped towards him.
“Shem!” The voice said harshly as Fengonne came closer. “ You should be down in the camp with the others, preparing for tomorrow. You can’t leave all the work to them.” Fengonne said sternly, circling him and moving them down the hill and into an opposite valley.
“I wasn’t going to leave it all to them, I just wanted to see the Harpies,” Shem replied earnestly, looking up at the much larger figure.
Fengonne opened his mouth as if to reply. But in the same instant, his eyes went wide as the herds camp came back into view. An exhale of shock escaped his lungs and he continued forward, faster now. Shem scrambled to catch up from behind, catching a flicker of light as it glinted off the large sword Fengonne drew from his back. That’s when he saw what had caught his leader's attention.
The entire herd had been surrounded by figures holding bows with arrows tipped in flame and scimitars that shined unsettlingly in the pale moonlight that now streamed down on them.

The dream kinda skipped forward from there, it always did, wouldn’t be much of a nightmare if it was all just arguments and peace being discussed for hours on end. From there it always went straight to the moment when the king had had enough, if Fengonne wouldn’t kneel to him or even accept a peace deal then that was that apparently.

The king flicked his hand toward a line of humans in robes, and the horror began. First to go were the carriages and trading wagons, set ablaze by smoldering arrows. When the elder’s trade wagon was set on fire he attacked a human archer with his staff, which was blade-less and dull. The archer fired at him in return and the chaos ensued. They slaughtered anyone who refused to go with them peacefully, leaving most of the herd dead. Fengonne was the second to die, charging the king with nothing but his great sword. An arrow was loosed and to Shem's horror, its aim was true, striking Fengonne in the neck. The volley of arrows that finished him off was unnecessary, but the kings bloodlust hadn’t been satisfied. As Shem backed away, toward his remaining herd mates, he caught a glimpse of the king's eyes. They glowed with heat and seemed to engulf him in a wave of fire, everything searing white hot before…

*gasp!* Shem woke up to the sun blinding him as it peaked across the hills and into his quarters. He slowly got onto all fours and strode toward the large, arching window, pulling the burgundy curtains inward to block the morning light. He groaned, wiping his eyes and yawning loudly. He wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and sleep a peaceful, dreamless sleep. But he had work to do, so he unenthusiastically started his morning. A short time later he was dressed, donning a long, thin cloak the color of pine needles along with a white shirt. He braided his hair and slung his bow and quiver onto his back before making his way outside and into the courtyard to see what the day would bring.

The courtyard was buzzing with life as he ducked under the arching entrance and strode ahead. Humans and others alike were lining up in an orderly fashion for training and several guards were sitting around a blazing fire, cooking some small creature, maybe a squirrel or a small rabbit, and warming up. Shem looked around and locked eyes with a familiar centaur, one under his command. The younger centaur jerked his head in the direction of a portion of the soldier's barracks, out of sight of any prying eyes. Shem followed him inside and once they were completely alone, the silence was broken. The red, Appaloosa Centaur spoke first. “Shem,” he said with pause.
“It’s a no-go. The Indians received our message but they won’t help us. The chief sent our message to the mythics. I haven’t heard anything back so far.” He finished, looking down for a second and sighing.
Shem rubbed his temple in annoyance before putting a hand on the centaur's shoulder, “Don’t worry, Tuun. I’m sure the mythics will get our message sooner or later and send a rescue mission our way. If not, well I have plans that might get us out, but not quietly. Whichever way it goes down, we’re getting out of here.”