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RDchicken99 said:
(This’ll be quick so we can jump to morning.)

Save for the gentle lapping of water against the hull, and the shouts of bar-goers from the Cove, the ‘Silver‘s weatherdeck was silent in the moonlight.
As Cyrus descended to the officer’s cabins, the sound of a fiddle drifted up through the ship, accompanied by a distant crewmate’s baritone and his fellows singing with him.
That was one thing constant between Navy and pirate ships— if a man could fiddle, his presence would be twice as welcome aboard.
Cyrus neared his own cabin, pressing open the door to seek his medicine chest. The room was empty, the first mate absent. He frowned, but sense told him that the man wouldn’t stay out of sight much longer.
He stepped to the chest by his bunk, and with a soft click of the well-worn latch and a faint jingle of various vials, he had gathered a small bottle of iodine, bandages, and rags, arranging them neatly into his spare leather bag.
Then, with the chest closed, supplies returned to their previous order, and cabin door shut, Cyrus walked with medicines in tow to the opposing officer’s cabin.
He knocked at the paneled door, speaking quietly, “Miss Lyra? I’ve come to see to your wrist.”
Click to expand...
"Flames and feathers," Ember hissed, sitting upright in the hammock again. She grabbed the black, sleeved outer cover of her blouse from where it hung at the thin wooded head of the cot and flung it over the matching undershirt as she swung out of the bed. Her bare feet met the chilled boards and she lifted an ignited hand to light the pitch-black room as she strode quickly across the cabin.
The door swung open and lantern light from beyond streamed through, rivaling Ember's own fire. All threat of exasperation sizzled and extinguished in her throat at the sight of the elderly man, and Ember stepped aside with a slight dip of her head, her eyes falling to the floorboards.
"Lyra, wake up."
Her tone was devoid of emotion.

@_-Captain BRM-_
@RDchicken99
 
-Shade- said:
"Flames and feathers," Ember hissed, sitting upright in the hammock again. She grabbed the black, sleeved outer cover of her blouse from where it hung at the thin wooded head of the cot and flung it over the matching undershirt as she swung out of the bed. Her bare feet met the chilled boards and she lifted an ignited hand to light the pitch-black room as she strode quickly across the cabin.
The door swung open and lantern light from beyond streamed through, rivaling Ember's own fire. All threat of exasperation sizzled and extinguished in her throat at the sight of the elderly man, and Ember stepped aside with a slight dip of her head, her eyes falling to the floorboards.
"Lyra, wake up."
Her tone was devoid of emotion.

@_-Captain BRM-_
@RDchicken99
Click to expand...
Oh, if Jintao had told them anything-
She rushed to sit up, searching the man's face for signs of hostility. None found. Perhaps Jintao was silent, cooperative to their wordless pact. "What?"
 
_-Captain BRM-_ said:
Oh, if Jintao had told them anything-
She rushed to sit up, searching the man's face for signs of hostility. None found. Perhaps Jintao was silent, cooperative to their wordless pact. "What?"
Click to expand...
Cyrus returned Ember’s nod before entering the cabin. Addressing the other girl, he raised his bag for further clarity, “your wrist, Miss Lyra.”
With a few brisk steps, he had crossed the room to the far desk and set down his bag.
This was another constant aboard any vessel, and as he took off his overcoat and rolled up his shirtsleeves the rhythm of his work was again familiar; the clink of instruments an old friend, spectacles unfolded and assumed just as his office as surgeon.
He’d played at captain five years too many, this was his trade and his comfort.
Cyrus snapped his fingers towards the cold lamp atop the desk, “light this, would you Ember?”
He pulled out the chair with a foot, more occupied with neat-handedly unpacking his bag’s contents, “take a seat, Lyra, and place your wrist upon the table if it is not too painful to do so.”


@-Shade-
@_-Captain BRM-_
 
RDchicken99 said:
Cyrus returned Ember’s nod before entering the cabin. Addressing the other girl, he raised his bag for further clarity, “your wrist, Miss Lyra.”
With a few brisk steps, he had crossed the room to the far desk and set down his bag.
This was another constant aboard any vessel, and as he took off his overcoat and rolled up his shirtsleeves the rhythm of his work was again familiar; the clink of instruments an old friend, spectacles unfolded and assumed just as his office as surgeon.
He’d played at captain five years too many, this was his trade and his comfort.
Cyrus snapped his fingers towards the cold lamp atop the desk, “light this, would you Ember?”
He pulled out the chair with a foot, more occupied with neat-handedly unpacking his bag’s contents, “take a seat, Lyra, and place your wrist upon the table if it is not too painful to do so.”


@-Shade-
@_-Captain BRM-_
Click to expand...
Her hesitation was brief- there was no room for argument. Feet soundless on the floor, she slid into the seat beside Cyrus, sitting oddly over the coarse folds of her torn skirts. "I do not believe it broken," voice low, "not more than a bruise." She did not look at him as she spoke, pulling back her sleeve and pressing her forearm to the hard table.
Oh, she was overwhelmed. But to play cards wisely... What would the next move demand?
 
_-Captain BRM-_ said:
Oh, if Jintao had told them anything-
She rushed to sit up, searching the man's face for signs of hostility. None found. Perhaps Jintao was silent, cooperative to their wordless pact. "What?"
Click to expand...
RDchicken99 said:
Cyrus returned Ember’s nod before entering the cabin. Addressing the other girl, he raised his bag for further clarity, “your wrist, Miss Lyra.”
With a few brisk steps, he had crossed the room to the far desk and set down his bag.
This was another constant aboard any vessel, and as he took off his overcoat and rolled up his shirtsleeves the rhythm of his work was again familiar; the clink of instruments an old friend, spectacles unfolded and assumed just as his office as surgeon.
He’d played at captain five years too many, this was his trade and his comfort.
Cyrus snapped his fingers towards the cold lamp atop the desk, “light this, would you Ember?”
He pulled out the chair with a foot, more occupied with neat-handedly unpacking his bag’s contents, “take a seat, Lyra, and place your wrist upon the table if it is not too painful to do so.”


@-Shade-
@_-Captain BRM-_
Click to expand...
_-Captain BRM-_ said:
Her hesitation was brief- there was no room for argument. Feet soundless on the floor, she slid into the seat beside Cyrus, sitting oddly over the coarse folds of her torn skirts. "I do not believe it broken," voice low, "not more than a bruise." She did not look at him as she spoke, pulling back her sleeve and pressing her forearm to the hard table.
Oh, she was overwhelmed. But to play cards wisely... What would the next move demand?
Click to expand...
Ember's expression hardened at the command, but she obeyed, swiftly flicking the door of the lantern open and brushing the oil wick with a flaming hand.
As exhaustion tugged at the edges of her mind, the hesitant reminiscence of this same motion bloomed in her memory- and the Professor would have asked her to light the lantern again, the same tone as Cyprus. How terrible this man was.
The wick came to life and she withdrew, extinguishing her hand as the gentle light filled the cabin once more.

@_-Captain BRM-_
@RDchicken99
 
The evening's cool breeze was greeted with the sailors' singing below. A voice from the crow’s nest above joined in unison, reminding Jintao that he was being watched, even here. He looked over his shoulder, Coal's song echoing in the darkness, and despised the joy he heard. He'd never be allowed the such pleasure of joy again, not even here.
Everything was dark and against him, even the depression that made its home deep inside his soul. Jintao turned back to the waters, his eyes focusing more on the shadowing depths than the reflection of the stars. Nothing more could be said about the situation and with the ship already at sea, turning back was no option. Nautalis wanted him to stay longer, but he made up his mind that as soon as they reached the Undermine, he was gone.
The distant flicker from the Captain's cabin caught Jintao's attention. Cyrus headed below deck, most likely in pursuit of rest. Jintao's dagger would be left with the Captain, locked away in her desk or hidden safe.
Jintao shook his head, leaning further down the taffrail. He pulled off his hat and slammed it at his feet. If Captain Mavyak had acted like Vhanya, would her first mate not have risen against her? Killing her not single-handed but with abuse from specifically chosen members- one of which that was Jintao? Chosen in lead and favored by the cruel Nahash Ammoni.
Jintao squirmed against the rail, clawing his fingers through his coal-black hair as sickness stirred his empty stomach. Vhanya is an idiot! the thoughts screamed. Why would she set me as first mate without knowing my history? I'm worth nothing but dead to her and her ship!
Jintao curled. His thoughts wouldn't leave him. Alcohol couldn't kill them, but even if it could, he wouldn't touch it. Too many times he was included in the death of rebels like Captain Mavyak, and every single one of them he was too drunk to even know his name.
Jintao's hand freed itself from the tangled black strands and he straightened himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing the day he was born. Tay's words of mercy should have never come. He should have experienced the Captain's wrath, even if it was with the hands of Ember and a lashing. He was such a fool, he shouldn't have accepted such an easy way out.
He let go of his bridge, the constant singing of joy becaming more of annoyance to him. He scooped up his hat, placing it over his brows- a little lower than it was when the Captain scolded him. It didn't matter. She was going too easy on him. He deserved worst for what he had done, including for the crimes that was encouraged on the Destruction.
The boards creaked under Jintao's heavy footsteps. Darkness of depression filled his head with all the reasons why he deserved death more than anybody as he made his way down the stairwell. Voices in song grew louder, coming out in rolls of laughter as means of control and torment. Jintao shook his head. It was as it always had been. Nahash had taught his crew the value of mockery and the great damage it caused their helpless victims.
The Quartermistress' cabin door was open with the haunting flicker of light. Jintao turned away from it, fearful of seeing Tay in the state  he had put her in.
You'll never change, you'll never change, like a shadow of a man, his thoughts hung over him, digging his pit deeper. All you do is bring pain. See? You couldn't even hold it back from Lyra. She never meant you harm, and to think, you might of even been falling for her. Shame on you! You'd even hurt someone you love!
Jintao rushed to his cabin, hoping that somehow Cyrus wasn't there. It was dark and without breath. He closed the door behind him, holding it shut to keep the thoughts on the other side. It was useless, he told himself. He left the door, lit the lantern on the desk, and sunk down on his hammock. His breath was heavy and slow. He laid back, watching the lantern's flickers on the ceiling above. It offered odd soothing, soothing he wasn't sure he should accept.
Jintao sat up, wanting the comfort but refusing to enjoy it. He stood up, removing his coat and placing it on his hammock. His thinness poked his conscience, warning him that Cyrus was sure to judge that was well. He pulled the spare shirt from his empty sleeve. He had refused too many days without food, a simple punishment of pure laziness; laziness often occupied with depression and self-guilt.
Jintao threw the crumbled up shirt onto his hammock and a piece of parchment escaped upon its landing. He opened his mouth slightly, closing it in caution. Sloppy cursive stood against the crinkles, inviting him to read it. He picked it up, eyes scanning the words.
Thus saith the LORD, The people which were left of the sword found grace in the wilderness; even Israel, when I went to cause him rest. The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have...
Jintao closed his eyes. He had written this just after his amputation. Each word was copied from the book that the kind guard had given him. Why? he asked. He wasn't sure anymore. At the time it offered him both a new life and hope, but now, he had forgotten it.
Jintao opened his eyes. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to read the rest of the words on the page. He was too far gone; returning to his vomit and in the place that'd get him killed. He shoved his shirt under his hammock, hiding the parchment in its folds. Sitting his hat on of the pile, he turned away, pushing any hope far from his mind. He laid down on his hammock with his back facing the outside and covered himself with his coat. The lantern could flicker. Cyrus was sure to come in soon, and he could blow it out when he was ready.
 
Lacy Duckwing said:
The evening's cool breeze was greeted with the sailors' singing below. A voice from the crow’s nest above joined in unison, reminding Jintao that he was being watched, even here. He looked over his shoulder, Coal's song echoing in the darkness, and despised the joy he heard. He'd never be allowed the such pleasure of joy again, not even here.
Everything was dark and against him, even the depression that made its home deep inside his soul. Jintao turned back to the waters, his eyes focusing more on the shadowing depths than the reflection of the stars. Nothing more could be said about the situation and with the ship already at sea, turning back was no option. Nautalis wanted him to stay longer, but he made up his mind that as soon as they reached the Undermine, he was gone.
The distant flicker from the Captain's cabin caught Jintao's attention. Cyrus headed below deck, most likely in pursuit of rest. Jintao's dagger would be left with the Captain, locked away in her desk or hidden safe.
Jintao shook his head, leaning further down the taffrail. He pulled off his hat and slammed it at his feet. If Captain Mavyak had acted like Vhanya, would her first mate not have risen against her? Killing her not single-handed but with abuse from specifically chosen members- one of which that was Jintao? Chosen in lead and favored by the cruel Nahash Ammoni.
Jintao squirmed against the rail, clawing his fingers through his coal-black hair as sickness stirred his empty stomach. Vhanya is an idiot! the thoughts screamed. Why would she set me as first mate without knowing my history? I'm worth nothing but dead to her and her ship!
Jintao curled. His thoughts wouldn't leave him. Alcohol couldn't kill them, but even if it could, he wouldn't touch it. Too many times he was included in the death of rebels like Captain Mavyak, and every single one of them he was too drunk to even know his name.
Jintao's hand freed itself from the tangled black strands and he straightened himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing the day he was born. Tay's words of mercy should have never come. He should have experienced the Captain's wrath, even if it was with the hands of Ember and a lashing. He was such a fool, he shouldn't have accepted such an easy way out.
He let go of his bridge, the constant singing of joy becaming more of annoyance to him. He scooped up his hat, placing it over his brows- a little lower than it was when the Captain scolded him. It didn't matter. She was going too easy on him. He deserved worst for what he had done, including for the crimes that was encouraged on the Destruction.
The boards creaked under Jintao's heavy footsteps. Darkness of depression filled his head with all the reasons why he deserved death more than anybody as he made his way down the stairwell. Voices in song grew louder, coming out in rolls of laughter as means of control and torment. Jintao shook his head. It was as it always had been. Nahash had taught his crew the value of mockery and the great damage it caused their helpless victims.
The Quartermistress' cabin door was open with the haunting flicker of light. Jintao turned away from it, fearful of seeing Tay in the state  he had put her in.
You'll never change, you'll never change, like a shadow of a man, his thoughts hung over him, digging his pit deeper. All you do is bring pain. See? You couldn't even hold it back from Lyra. She never meant you harm, and to think, you might of even been falling for her. Shame on you! You'd even hurt someone you love!
Jintao rushed to his cabin, hoping that somehow Cyrus wasn't there. It was dark and without breath. He closed the door behind him, holding it shut to keep the thoughts on the other side. It was useless, he told himself. He left the door, lit the lantern on the desk, and sunk down on his hammock. His breath was heavy and slow. He laid back, watching the lantern's flickers on the ceiling above. It offered odd soothing, soothing he wasn't sure he should accept.
Jintao sat up, wanting the comfort but refusing to enjoy it. He stood up, removing his coat and placing it on his hammock. His thinness poked his conscience, warning him that Cyrus was sure to judge that was well. He pulled the spare shirt from his empty sleeve. He had refused too many days without food, a simple punishment of pure laziness; laziness often occupied with depression and self-guilt.
Jintao threw the crumbled up shirt onto his hammock and a piece of parchment escaped upon its landing. He opened his mouth slightly, closing it in caution. Sloppy cursive stood against the crinkles, inviting him to read it. He picked it up, eyes scanning the words.
Thus saith the LORD, The people which were left of the sword found grace in the wilderness; even Israel, when I went to cause him rest. The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have...
Jintao closed his eyes. He had written this just after his amputation. Each word was copied from the book that the kind guard had given him. Why? he asked. He wasn't sure anymore. At the time it offered him both a new life and hope, but now, he had forgotten it.
Jintao opened his eyes. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to read the rest of the words on the page. He was too far gone; returning to his vomit and in the place that'd get him killed. He shoved his shirt under his hammock, hiding the parchment in its folds. Sitting his hat on of the pile, he turned away, pushing any hope far from his mind. He laid down on his hammock with his back facing the outside and covered himself with his coat. The lantern could flicker. Cyrus was sure to come in soon, and he could blow it out when he was ready.
Click to expand...
She man is literally breaking my heart...
I regret everything Ember holds and hates against him, but I can't escape that from her character- it IS her character, and I have to stay realistic, even if it hurts this OTHER character which in turn hurts me
 

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