Featuring: Lyri and Zea
Date: February 15, 2005
IC Date: April 15, 3931
Summary: A frustrated Lyri blames Zea for her troubles at a local merchant's shop. Zea and Lyri go back to set some things straight and as payment for her help Lyri invites Zea to see a bit of her world.

Amarada - Open Ocean

The Amarada is kept tidy and clean, her rails and deck well tended and oiled, her sails trim and whole. There seem to be a plethora of additional lines trailing down from her masts, ostensibly to facilitate movement about the ship during storms and rough seas. She sports three masts, two main and one half to provide her with greater speed when the winds will allow for it. High above upon the center forward mast there is a crow's nest. She flies the flag of an independent ship, each such vessel having their own crest or symbol. The flag of the Amarada is a red heart framed by white wings on either side. To show her affiliation with the Buccaneers, she flies upon a field of black. There is a winch and a pair of doors built into the deck to facilitate the loading and unloading of cargo. Both the bow and the aft of the ship are raised to provide greater space below deck, a door upon the aft end leading down the hatch to the rooms below.

Morning has waxed into a breezy, blissful afternoon, full of Spring sunshine and the chirping of birds. Closer to the water, that chirping is replaced with the croaking of seabirds and the creaking of ships pulling at their mooring. Activity is insane on the docks this afternoon, as the sailors, loaders and dockhands take advantage of the cool, but sunny, weather.

Lyri has become a common sight in and about the Amarada since her hiring several days ago. In fact, she seems loathe to leave it, and is usually somewhere upon the deck, repairing some bit of her gear or helping the sailors. Unless asked to heal, she's normally light-hearted and quick to tell a good joke. But this afternoon, she is both off the ship and looking as thunderous as a storm at sea. Stalking down the dock from the city, Lyri ascends to the deck of the Amarada, muttering choice epithets under her breath the whole way, her wings flaring and folding again with barely contained irritation.

Zea, too, has been spending a good deal of time aboard the Amarada as of late, but her days must be split with some remaining duties in Parnassus, duties that require her to appear more the noblewoman she grew up to be rather than the crewmember that she has chosen to become. This day is one of those days, for she arrives on the Amarada for the first time today, dressed in fine silks and jewels, as if she just came from a meeting or engagement requiring her to play the part she is leaving behind. She carries nothing with her this time and looks as if perhaps this will be a short visit, for she suddenly looks out of place on the Amarada. Quietly she greets a couple of sailors as she crosses paths with them and offers small smiles, but her expression stills as she takes in the sight of the red-haired Empyrean. "Ave, Lyri," she greets with some hesitation in her voice.

Still cursing under her breath, Lyri pauses beside the railing, turning to half-sit/half-lean upon it, her wings arcing over the side of the ship. Blue-green eyes trail over the deck and the activity there restlessly, as if searching for something to alleviate her irritation. Her gaze falls upon Zea just as the noblewoman draws closer to greet her. Lyri is silent a long moment, but when she finally does speak, her rough accent bears accusation, not greeting. "'S all /yer/ fault." Lyri says, lifting her chin to look Zea directly in the eye, even as she crosses her arms. "Bet they never woulda said such t' ye, lookin' all fancy as ye do. Woulda curtsied and domina'd 'til their hair went grey!" She finishes sullenly, her moue dangerously close to a pout.

Zea pauses in mid-step and blinks a couple times in confusion at the 'greeting' from the younger Empyrean. Her fault? She is obviously at a loss here and her body language speaks volumes. Her wings droop slightly and the half-step taken forward is drawn back. With a tilt of her head she asks cautiously, "What is my fault, Lyri? I fear I have no idea what you are talking about." She mimics Lyri and crosses her arms, but more in a protective gesture as she glances around the deck. "Has something happened on the ship? Did some of the men mistreat you?" What that would have to do with her, she has no idea, but it is the only thing she could possibly think of at this moment.

Lyri shakes her head in negation, waving a calloused hand, fingers stained with dye, towards the city proper, the gesture surprisingly dainty for all its anger. "Nay, the seamstresses! The tailors you sent me t'! I thought I'd get me some warmer clothes, 'case we went north, y'know? So I took the list of tailors ye gave me and I went a-lookin'." She hunches her shoulders, her grimace increasing. "Hadn't barely walked in the door a'fore they nigh threw me out! Told me they wasn't gonna serve no painted, half-breed ganika." Lyri lifts her chin determinedly to regard Zea, adding, "Well, I ain't no ganika! I ain't never been paid for a good tumble, nor never will! I got standards, y'hear?" With a firm nod, she slips into her sulk again.

Eyes go wide as she listens to Lyri's story, the disbelief obvious in her expression as Lyri rattles off the insults that were hurled at the young woman. "No no, of course you are no ... ganika," Zea assures her quickly, the Varati term sounds odd with her aristocratic accent, but she uses it all the same. "This is just ... just unbelievable, Lyri. Not that you're lying, of course," Zea rushes to add lest she add additional insult to the younger woman. "Did you give them my name, tell them that I recommended their services to you?" Surely that would have helped, wouldn't it?

Lyri shrugs one shoulder. "They took one look at m' clothes, m' wings and m' hair and they was already decided. M' accent just finished the job. When they asked me t' leave, polite and all, I tol' 'em ye'd recommended the place. They said 'twas no way a street urchin like me'd know a Vilica like you." Lyri lifts her chin from her sullen, downcast view of the worn deck beneath their feet and arches a brow. "You's really a Vilica, eh?" She shrugs again, releasing a sigh. "I ain't no street rat. But people see what they wanna see."

Zea sighs heavily as the title comes out and another part of her past comes out, but she nods in response. "I was ... am, at least until the Amarada leaves Parnassus," Zea reveals, sounding a bit nervous all the same. "I ... I am sorry you were treated so poorly, Lyri. They had no right to do that to you. I could speak with them if you'd like?" She could at least use her position for some good before losing it altogether. "We could go and buy what you need, only this time I could go with you and set things right?"

"Well, 'twould be the least ye could do, seein' as 'tall started with that list of yer's." Lyri replies, but she sounds quite mollified by the suggestion, and some of the harder, angry edge has left, softening her contralto. She uncurls her arms, using her hands to push away from the railing. "Aye, I think it might do, ye lookin' as ye are. /Then/ they'll see I wasna lying." Vindication seems even more valuable than winter clothing to Lyri right now. "Ye wan' t' come along wi' me now then?" She asks, a bit more hesitant, as if afraid Zea might change her mind.

Zea nods to Lyri, fully intent now on righting this wrong. The girl is, for all practical purposes, still a stranger, but they are both members of this unusual crew and Zea is starting to warm to the idea of the Amarada becoming her new family. Perhaps not one she would have chosen for herself, but at this point and time, it is more welcoming than the one she is leaving behind. "Come, Lyri, we'll see this taken care of and see to it that you are suitably dressed for any ventures north the winds and seas may carry us. I know just where we'll being." She had begun to take off her cloak when she landing on the ship, but now pulls it back over her shoulders as they get ready to leave. "Take me to the shop where you were called a ganika."

Lyri nods in response to Zea, unfurling her wings with a quick glance to be sure she had clearance for them. Afternoon sun glinted lazily off the earth-tone-dyed feathers in her wings as she stepped up to the railing, using a strong push and a hefty downsweep of her wings to take her aloft.

*A few minutes later...*

Lyri dropped lightly onto the ground, the backdraft of her flight sending a few old leaves skittering away from her. She'd brought Zea to the first establishment on her list, a nice tailor in a nice part of Parnassus, where the damage from the pirate attack had been minimal. Lyri cast a glance at Zea, arching one brow, before opening the door to a ringing chime and making her way in, wings tucking tight to her spine.

Zea follows Lyri into the shop after taking a moment to smooth her hair and adjust her clothing so she looks completely put together. Granted, she could walk into the shop dressed like Lyri and she'd still get the same attention, but best to look the part if one is about the extract revenge. With an encouraging smile and a nod, Zea motions for Lyri to go on in, she's right behind the younger woman. The shop itself appears to cater to a higher class of Empyreans, but their prices are pretty reasonable. Granted, what Zea would consider reasonable and what Lyri would consider reasonable are likely two separate things. With wings held high, shoulders proudly straightened and a warm smile on her lips, Zea glides into the shop, full of determination.

As Lyri precedes Zea into the shop, accompanied by a merry chiming from the door, a young woman behind the counter looks up. Amidst the racks and displays of fine clothing laid out, most of it fit for blustery Spring weather, the Empyrean woman spies Lyri instantly, for it was less than an hour ago that she threw the girl out of her shop and called her names. One doesn't forget such an encounter /that/ quickly. Her face is already blotching an unnatural shade, but before she can open her mouth, the rumbling timbre of a man's voice queries, "And just what are /you/ doing back here?" From off to their left, a cloak held in his hands as if he's been inspecting it, another shopkeeper, perhaps the young woman's husband (much /older/ husband, by the looks of it), is looking directly at Lyri. Lyri, for once lacking her bluff and bluster, looks at Zea, appealing mutely for help. The glance catches the male shopkeeper's eyes and he turns...only to fall as speechless as his wife.

Zea approaches the female shopkeeper as if there was no problem at all with Lyri's appearance again in the shop, as if she has no idea of what had happened. Cool and serene, she is in her element and while on the ship she may sometimes appear nervous or out of place, here she is filled with nothing by confidence. "Ave Domina Evadne, a please to see you again. It seems as if spring has come early to Parnassus, does it not?" She does not give the woman a chance to answer to the small talk before she begins in with Lyri's needs. "I do hope you can help us, Domina. You see, my friend here will be traveling north within the next couple of months and she is without suitable attire for a northern climate. I do hope it would not be too much trouble for you and your husband to see her suitably outfitted for such a venture?" Zea turns and looks Lyri over, studying her build and coloring. "I would suggest some of the warmer leggings that many Empyreans wear in the winter rather than a heavy chiton; I fear the skirt would be too much of a hindrance for her."

The domina's wings flutter a moment before drawing in close to her back. She pales slightly, but nods, recovering her composure when it appears Zea doesn't intend to harangue her verbally. "Of course, Vilica," Evadne replies hastily, her glance flickering to her husband, then to the red-headed chit behind Zea. "Um, yes, I would agree, Vilica, she doesn't appear to favor skirts. But we have a few items that may fit her perfectly." Evadne's glance flickers back to Zea and a smile rises, if a bit hesitant. "We'll just need to take her measurements to be sure."

Yes, Zea seems far too pleasant, considering what Lyri told her on the Amarada, but if she has any harsh words for the shopkeeper, she is keeping them to herself for now. "Of course, Domina. No doubt my friend here will avail herself to any measuring you may need to do." Zea turns her trained smile on the painted Empyrean. "Certainly she will suffer a few moments of discomfort to know she will remain warm on her travels." As Evadne prepares to begin measuring Lyri Zea wanders through the shop, admiring fabrics and clothing and offering suggestions on colors. "She seems to favor the warmer colors, perhaps it would be best to mimic the colors she paints her feathers when choosing some fabrics," Zea suggests as she fingers a bold of deep rust-orange wool. "And do not skimp on the fabrics; use whatever you would use if it were I who was ordering these garments."

The expression on Lyri's face is decidedly less pleasant as Evadne draws nearer to her, her grin reminiscent of the wolf right before he ate Little Red Riding Hood. But she says naught, simply shifting and extending her arms and wings accommodatingly when Evadne asks. It is her husband who replies to Zea, standing solicitously to her right and nodding with her suggestions. "Yes, of course. Rusts and earth tones go well with her coloring, I'd say. You have a very fine, discerning eye, domina, very much indeed." He oozes the compliment, but seems disinclined to follow Zea's requests exactly, for he ignores the bolt she suggests, going for a lighter cloth bolt of a similar color along one wall, leaving Zea to draw closer to his wife's side. "Ah, yes, a good color indeed. Perhaps some beiges. Although a nice blue might also work, hmm..." He trails off as Evadne finishes her measurements.

Zea lifts the fabric she was admiring so that the man cannot miss it. "Oh, Dominus, I believe you have taken the wrong bolt by mistake, I believe this one is the one you wished?" Her voice is overly sweet, but the snotty superiority her kind are know for having is quite evident. "I am sure a man such as yourself who has been in this business for so long would not intentionally make such a mistake, the two bolts do look quite similar." Zea them steps away from it so that he might take it without her intrusion and she continues to look around the shop, picking over some fabrics. "I think I would like a similar outfit made out of these fabrics," Zea indicates, finding a light blue wool to match her eyes. "And Dominus, it is Vilica," she ever-so-kindly reminds him with a smile directed to Lyri, as if they share a secret.

Lyri is thoroughly enjoying every moment of this, a fact made clear by her triumphant, smug expression. She acts the living doll for Evadne, but is quite happily watching the proceedings between Zea and Eva's husband. The smile she returns to Zea is the warmest she's yet given the noblewoman. The male shopkeeper is looking much less pleased, however. Replacing the bolt he'd originally picked up, he returns to lift the original bolt of wool, cradling in gentle hands as he follows after Zea. "Yes, of course...Vilica." He adds hastily, his voice gaining a slightly nasal quality in the next utterance. "But...but you must understand, it would be foolish for us to make any outfit for her that she'd be unable to pay for. We will, of course, make /anything/ the Vilica desires for herself." He adds hastily, attempting a persuasive tone. "We also have some darker blues you might fancy..." He trails off, following on Zea's heels. His wife, meanwhile, makes her final notation and nods to Lyri to indicate she was finished with her. Dropping her arms, Lyri cranes her neck in Zea's direction, hoping to overhear.

Zea waves a dismissive hand towards the older man. "Oh, do not be foolish, the bill will be sent to Acesius, of course. All of it." So lost is she in her charade that she completely forgets her new last name. Zea is in her element now, and probably for the last time for a long time. "And, she will be leaving the city rather soon, so I expect this work to be done quickly. The same for mine, as well. I know very well the spring orders have not come in full force, the social engagements have not yet been formally announced, so I know you have time yet." Zea weaves through more bolts of heavy and soft wool, sampling a few more before she points to various colors. "Oh, I think this would look lovely on her, don't you agree? I think a dark blue would suit me well, Dominus. You do have a good eye, of course." Finally she makes her way back to where Evadne was measuring Lyri. "You see," she says to the red-haired girl, "not all that bad at all."

Measurements finished, Evadne glances at Zea, then moves away to consult with her husband, who had been somewhat flabbergasted, but had taken everything in stride after hearing 'sent to Acesius'. So, his income is assured, and his attitude is abruptly much more pliable. "Of course, Vilica. We'll make the order our top priority!" He calls after her, and then begins gathering the bolts Zea had selected with his wife's help.

Enough snippets of the conversation have floated back to Lyri that she's understood the general gist of the conversation. As Evadne leaves her side, Lyri glances after the shopkeeper, then directs a sharp glance at Zea, her aura nearly...prickly. "Zea, I appreciate what ye've done here, but ye've no need to pay fer m'clothing. I have plenty of money. I need no one to look afta me, nor clothe me. I live in no man's debt. No woman's, either." She says quietly, her contralto low-pitched and tainted by wounded pride. Her wings sing with tension before she forces them to relax.

Zea takes Lyri by the arm and draws her aside. The couple may be discussing their own business, but Zea would bet all the denarii in her father's treasury that at least one of them has an ear open in their direction. "Then you can pay me back at a later date if you insist on it, but right now, if you want to get through this without any argument from those two and with them groveling their thanks, then let me handle this." While her voice is still as sugary sweet as it has been since they first entered, there is an underlying threat in her voice, though not a harsh one. "Most merchants in this district react best to money and customers they know, and you provide them with neither." Drawing back slightly from Lyri, Zea's voice rises from a whisper. "Of course, Lyri, I think those colors will look lovely with your hair, the Dominus does have an eye for such things."

Pitched a hint louder than before, Lyri replies, "O' course...Vilica. Yer right." Lyri replies, perhaps for both the shopkeepers' sakes and in agreement with Zea's whispered admonishment. The title leaves a foul taste in her mouth, however, and she wrinkles up her nose, turning away from Zea to wander towards a table of delicate silks. She doesn't bother to touch them, knowing her calloused hands will only catch on the material, but she has no problem in muttering, "Bad dye job. Won't last a heavy wetting." Turning up her nose in her own manner of snottiness, she moves on down the aisle.

And it had been going so well up until now. Zea sighs and shakes her head as Lyri wanders off. Whatever magic had existed there for a few moments is gone and Zea is left again confused by the younger woman. Rather than pursue her and perhaps invite a larger argument and draw unwanted attention, she wanders over to where the shopkeepers are discussing their business. "I do appreciate your willingness to work so quickly for me Dominus," she says after a moment to compose herself. "And I am sure my friend appreciates your work as well. So, you will remember her should she desire your services again, won't you?" She doesn't wait for a reply before she adds, "Because if I hear you calling her, or any other Empyrean woman a ganika again, I'll be certain that you both will be looking for new jobs in a new city. Do I make myself clear?"

Evadne and her husband pale noticeably at Zea's stern words, quickly nodding and stammering their understanding. With several curtsies and a bow, they withdraw behind their counter, taking the measurements and cloth with them. "Your order will be ready in a few days, Vilica!" are their final departing words before they quit Zea's presence entirely. Lyri drifts back over as they withdraw, speaking quietly at Zea's elbow. "Well, tha's o'er with. What say ye we go and have a celebratory pint, eh?" She offers, but then her blue-green gaze falls to Zea's outfit and she shakes her head. "Nay, I jes 'bout forgot. Ye canno' go to the Nereus lookin' so. Perhaps we ought to go back to the ship, eh?" She jerks her head towards the door, her hair adornments clinking audibly. She turns on her heel, wings tucked close, as she moves to exit the shop.

Zea draws her wings around her and gives the paled couple a final nod before she slips out of the shop after Lyri. One hand raises to brush her hair into place, only to find the delicate chain of jewels there. She had completely forgotten she was so adorned until Lyri pointed it out. "The ... the ship would be the better location I think," Zea says after a deep sigh. "I want you to know, I did not mean to embarrass you in there," she offers before Lyri is too far in front of her.

Lyri bends down to lift a bit of a twig from the stones lining the street, twirling it between her fingers idly. She takes several steps down the road leading in the general direction of the docks, but seems unwilling to take to the air just yet. Her wings remain folded to her spine as she ambles. "Aye." She says quietly, then adds, "I know." She ambles another step, glancing back at Zea at last. "Ye musna think tha I'm not grateful fer what ye've done. Tha was..." Here her mouth curves briefly into a smile. "'twas truly impressive. Well done, indeed. And I'll be gettin' m'clothes now, which I need." She admits, taking another step, her gaze swinging away again to study the stick in her hands. "'s only jes tha...I'm an independen' sort, y'know? Don't take kindly to hand-outs, cause they make me feel like I'm weak. Ain' meanin' no 'fense. Jes...that way." Is Lyri attempted to apologize? Well, will wonders never cease?

"Well, sometimes being a noble can pay off," Zea replies with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Sadly, I'll never know what they call other women and my threat was completely empty, but they don't know that now, and that's what matters." Zea takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly as they wander down one of the Parnassus streets, her eyes slowly wandering over the familiar sights. "And if I may be so bold, I do not think you are weak, Lyri and do not think of it as charity. As I said, repay me if you are truly not comfortable, I'll not hold it against you, but I'll not think worse of you if you'd rather hold on to what coin you have."

Lyri shakes her head, glancing back at Zea. "I have plenty o' coin, so don't ye be worrying none 'bout that. I had a fair bit stashed when I left m'clan. But...thank ye." Her wings flare and fold again restlessly as she continues down the street, letting her eyes wander over, to her, the unfamiliar sights. "Weakness, strength...'s all in the eye 'th beholder, Zea. This place? Seems fair enough, well-kept, decent. But then there's people who'll call a woman a whore, a woman who don't deserve it, 'n deny 'er rightful service cause o' how she looks or talks." Lyri angles a glance back over her shoulder at Zea. "Same 's with strength. What seems strong, may be otherwise, underneath." As if to punctuate her point, she snaps the twig in her hand with one hand, then lets it fall, broken, to the ground.

"You're welcome," Zea is quick to respond, slipping it in before Lyri begins discussing weakness and strength. "But you are only seeing one part of this city, there is true strength and honor within her walls." Zea is quick to defend the city that has been her home for the last three years, the city she will be leaving shortly for an entirely new life. "It is not to say that their behavior should be ignored, just that ... well, you cannot judge the entire city by what a couple of people may say or do. Certainly there are sailors that would consider a woman a whore as well just from what she wears. Does not make it any better or any different, it just is." Zea sighs again as the near the city's massive arch and they pass by the watchful eye of the Praetorians. One raises a hand and murmurs a greeting, a greeting she returns with a soft smile and a nod in his direction.

Lyri glances at the Praetorian, her wings drawing slightly nearer. "I never meant t' say the city was more foul than fair, Zea. 'Twas merely a metaphor, an analogy." For being a common sailor girl, Lyri certainly knows her fair share of big words. But then they're passing under the Arch, and it draws her attention, lifting her gaze up. "Was this fer?" She gestures with one bestained hand.

Zea glances up at the arch as well, her gaze admiring the handiwork of countless Empyrean sculptors and a few shapers. "This is the Arch of Parnassus," she explains, lifting a hand in a wave to encompass the entire structure. "It was built at the end of the Varati - Empyrean war to recognize the victory here in the city against the Varati invaders, as well as to honor those men and women that died to defend the city." Zea pauses in the arch's shadow and studies some of the details in the stone. "You see, there are some names up there, beneath the depictions of Empyrean warriors on the city's wall."

Lyri pauses a step behind Zea, drawing her wings tight about her against the sudden brisk wind that kicks up, rippling the loose material of her pants. Blue-green eyes slide over the structure appraisingly, nodding. "'Tis lovely. Some very fine craftsmanship." Her gaze falls, quizzical, to Zea. "But didna th' Varati technically win the war?"

"But Parnassus held," Zea says without having to actually admit to that bitter history. "The citizens of Parnassus are proud of what they were able to accomplish, to stand firm and defend their home with the help of the Praetorians, of course." Zea runs her hand over some of the carvings at shoulder-level, a warm gesture as if she were visiting a memorial of a dear friend. Parnassus wants to always remember what happened here, not only that they survived, but that some died to protect this city. Those names should always be remembered."

The red-headed chit lifts her gaze to the Arch once more, letting it slide over the sculptures and the names. At length, she nods once, firmly. "It takes bravery and strength to accomplish such, especially when the larger cause is so fragile. So even here there is strength." Lyri considers that a long moment, her gaze sweeping away from the Arch, over the city itself, what she can see of it. "Aye, a fitting memorial." She agrees, then turns her gaze to Zea. "Were you here?"

Zea blinks a moment and turns to Lyri, looking obviously stunned. "Lyri, just how old do you think I am?" Zea looks near to laughter as she poses the question; her hand slowly drops from the arch. She takes a few steps forward, back toward the docks and then looks to make certain the younger woman is following. "My parents were not even married at that time; I was born more than a year after the end of the war." She continues the path to the docks, offering brief nods to a couple more Praetorians on the northern side of the arch. "But I have only lived here for a few short years, the arch was here long before I made this city my home."

Lyri follows in Zea's wake, but she appears slightly disgruntled at the other woman's laughter at her expense. Shrugging both shoulders, her wings flare with the motion and settle against her spine again. "How was I t' know?" She grumbles. "Ye don't look /old/, but perhaps ye was a babe in arms at 'th time. I wasna born until many years after m'self." She shrugs again, then continues on down the road at a brisk pace, making for the docks.

"I'm twenty-six," Zea informs her, slowing enough so that they walk side by side. What a sight the two of them must be, the noblewoman and the sailor. She still wears a smile, gentle now as they continue back to the Amarada. "But I am glad that you do not think I look old, I would like to enjoy my youth for a few more years at least," Zea admits, this time she openly laughs rather than trying to hide it. "If anything my next years should be more interesting, if nothing else."

Lyri angles a sidelong glance at Zea, perhaps weighing her facial features against her new knowledge of the older woman's age. To a 19-year-old, which Lyri is, twenty-six seems impossibly far away. But her next question has naught to do with Zea's advancing years. "Zea..." Her tone is hesitant, but her forges on to ask, "At th' shop, ye told 'em t' bill it t' Acesius. But...ye're not Acesian, are ye?" After all, Zea had introduced herself as Zea /Justinus/. "A name like yours...ye'd have t' be a cousin in the House...'cept can a cousin be a Vilica?" Lyri's forehead wrinkles in confusion at the thoughts chasing 'round in her head, leaving her looking at Zea hopefully for illumination.

Zea's steps scuff to a stop as her heart catches in her throat. She said Acesius in the shop? Gods help her, she can't remember if she did or not, but where else would Lyri have gotten that information? Without looking at Lyri she answers after a heavy sigh. "Justinus is my new name, my free name," she admits heavily, suddenly aware of a chill enough to pull her cloak tightly around her. "I am an Acesian, though. And a Jove as well, through my mother. Justinius was my great-grandfather, it is his name I use now." Hesitantly she looks over to Lyri. "My father is ... was Deus of Apollo's house."

"Justinius...Justinius..." Lyri murmurs under her breath, trying to place the name. Her brows arch as it finally comes to her. "Tha' Emperor Justinius?'e was yer granddaddy?" Lyri's mouth opens slightly in surprise, but the next realization about Zea's parentage makes it open a mite wider yet. With a blink, her jaw snaps shut audibly and she narrows her eyes suspiciously at Zea. "Ye really /are/ noble-born, ain'tcha?" She pauses in her steps, turning to regard Zea fully with crossed arms. "But ye've changed yer name? Somehow I dinna see the kith and kin adorin' that one." She observes.

Zea nods silently to the mention of the former Emperor. "Great-grandfather," she correctly Lyri quietly. "He was my mother's grandfather. I never knew him myself." She continues on toward the ship, aware of Lyri's gaze directed at her, as well as the questions that remain unanswered. "They do not know, nor will they," Zea explains after she has taken a few steps. "To them I am still their daughter, sister, and cousin. But no, they would not like it if they knew, of that I am certain."

Lyri's sandaled feet begin to pace over the cobbled streets once more, but her gaze rests still on Zea. A thoughtful look crosses her face and her lower lip is worried between keen teeth before she queries softly, "They dinna know, d'they? They dinna know that ye've changed yer name, nor tha ye're plannin' on sailin' away." A few more steps, two heartbeats, three. "Tha's wha ye meant by 'free name'. Ye dinna want to be recognized or caught. 's all a secret, so ye's can run away." Lyri finishes with certainty shading her tone.

Zea suddenly grows very silent as she continues on a quick pace towards the docks and the safety of the Amarada. Her wings draw protectively around her and she hunches into her cloak, eyes forward. She can feel Lyri's eyes on her, but she doesn't turn to look at the red-haired girl and for the longest time she doesn't respond. "Sometimes things must be done. This is one of those times." She doesn't say anything else to her companion.

The sailor girl seems unwilling to just let it go, however. 'Tis much more fun to worry at the subject, like a dog with a grisly old bone. While silence follows Zea's reply, it doesn't last; as they round a bend, nearing the docks, Lyri ponders quietly, "Was it cause o' 'im? The Captain? Ye had to leave t' be wi' 'im?"

Zea stops suddenly and turns towards Lyri, her eyes dark and malevolent. Taking a quick glance around their surroundings, Zea reaches out and pulls Lyri into a narrow alley between two small buildings. Privacy seems to be quite necessary at the moment. "Yes," she nearly snarls as she keeps her voice low. "Is that what you wanted to hear, Lyri? That I'm some high-born bored noble who is taking up with some rough and tumble sea captain for my own personal entertainment? That I've read too many romance stories and want to be the star in a real-life one?" She is nearly shaking to keep back the tears and her own anger and misery. "Well, only a small part of that is correct, he is part of the reason, but the rest of that is just pure and utter fantasy."

Lyri jerks her arm out of Zea's grip the moment they're ensconced in the alleyway, her blue-green eyes paling to a flinty blue-gray. "Some might could say that, aye." She counters with a hiss as she shakes out her hand, taking a step back from the noblewoman. Her contralto remains low-pitched, however, designed not to carry. "But to go to such extremes, to leave yer family and yer home and all ye know...a body might could also say must be some mighty pow'rful reason. Ye's got a lot, but yer kind is also mighty restricted, Zea. Pretty pigeons in pretty gilded cages." Lyri asserts, glancing out of the alley, then back at Zea. "Love can bring a body to its knees right easy, and there's many ways to kneel. Doesna mean they're right or wrong. 'S just so."

"I don't want to be some man's prize," Zea turns and declares with a hoarse yell to the younger woman. "Alright? Stay here as I am and I'm to be married off to man almost old enough to be my father. Stay here and I would become a puppet Empress for my husband's personal goals. Stay here and I become exactly what I do not want to be!" Zea collapses back against the wall of the shop behind her, breathing hard. With the back of her hand she scrubs at her eyes, cursing the tears of her own weakness. "Are you happy now?"

"Ain't me we're talking 'bout here, Zea." Lyri returns with a calm tone and a surprisingly gentle smile for the rough chit. She lifts her chin to the sky overhead, where a few puffy clouds puff by overhead. Lyri's expression grows serious and her smile bittersweet. She drops her chin again, even as she allows herself to lean against the wall behind her, opposite Zea. "Ye know, ye remind me of my grandmother, 'Xania. She was a noblewoman, like ye, although she wasn't set t' be Empress or nothin'. Parents wanted t' marry her off to some man fit t' be 'er father, though, jes like ye. She didna lie down and take it either. If'n she hadna made the decision she did, I wouldna be here. She was an amazing woman and she had amazing strength. So y'see, Zea, 'm not condemning here." She finishes quietly.

Zea takes a few deep breaths and rubs at her eyes again, though that just brings another muttered curse from her lips. "No ...No Lyri, you're right, I know you mean well it's just ..." She leans her head against the cool stone siding of the shop and gazes upward. "I swear to the gods you couldn't have picked a touchier subject if you tried. And no, I am not blaming you, I just..." Zea sighs and looks back down. The tears are gone, though her eyes betray themselves with a touch of redness in her gaze. "The last couple of weeks have been a terrible emotional mix and Acesians are bred to restrain our emotions, to act proper and reserves, none of which I am at the moment." She eeks out a small smile at herself. "Too much is happening too quickly and I find myself drowning in a storm I cannot control and these unexpected questions just added that extra spark."

Lyri smiles lightly in return, tucking back her errant braid of dark blue hair. "Tha's where a good pint can do wonders, Zea! Either makes it a bonfire and lets ye burn yerself out, or it douses the flames a lil' and lets you sleep, even if ye regret it the next mornin'." Her grin widens as she pushes away from the wall. "We's all got things we don't want t' look at, either temporary-like or fer the long-term. But a good ale can go a long way towards makin' 'em disappear fer a bit!" It's clear now she's only partially joking, but she is attempting to lighten the mood a bit, even change the subject.

Best to get out of this alley before someone decides to take a peek, and who knows what somebody that might be. Zea tries to smile brighter at the younger woman's enthusiasm and she too pushes herself off the wall to follow Lyri back to the docks, though she is not so sure about that pint. "Well, I don't know about that drink, Lyri. I am not used to much more than wine, I fear. I'd not wish to make an embarrassment of myself and the gods know that emotions and heavy doses of strong alcohol do not mix well together.

Lyri chuckles huskily, shaking her head so that the adornments in her dreadlocks clink together audibly. "Tha's where yer wrong, Zea. Tha's when it jes starts to get /interestin'/!" Still chuckling, she swings out of the alley and on down the road, drawing nearer to the docks with each step. The sun is drawing closer to the horizon, although it is still far from evening.

It is obvious that the two of them have a far different opinion on just what makes something interesting. Zea follows, but she walks with uncertainty as she hurries after the expressive redhead. "Well," she begins, catching up to Lyri, "I certainly could not be seen in a place like that, looking like this." She looks down, finding herself draped in jewels and silks, she might as well go into the Nereus naked, the attention she'd get would be about the same either way. She offers a compromise. "I ... I will have a drink, one drink, if I can change into something more appropriate." Then it dawns on her that Lyri might be joking about all of it and she draws up short. "If you were serious about that, that is."

"I never joke 'bout certain things, Zea." Lyri replies as she swings her head towards the older woman, still grinning. "Alcohol and m' work bein' two of 'em. So if'n ye want to go wi' me t' the Nereus, I'd be happy t' have ye. Haven't had a good drink in a couple o' nights now. Be nice t' get off the ship. But yer right, ye canna go so. Have ye anythin' that /would/ be suitable?" She asks, eyeing Zea critically.

Zea considers that for a moment and slowly a smile creeps across her lips, a genuine one not touched with uncertainty. "I think I can find something, yes," she says with a nod and suddenly her steps seem a little lighter as they head for the Amarada and a plan is put into motion. "I will need some time to undo all of this," she says with a wave over her body to indicate the gown, the jewels and her upswept hair. "I will try to be quick about it, I'll just need to find a few things."

Lyri nods quickly, wings flaring and settling again as she quickens her step and they make the descent into the dockside area. "O' course. I'll check in wi' Dylana, and wait fer ye on deck." She replies with a glance at Zea.

Zea hurries down below deck and there's the sound of a door slamming as she disappears into the captain's room. The wait might seem as if it takes forever; there's a lot of a noblewoman to do to dress down and try to look like she fits into an environment not made for her at all. When she does emerge, her appearance is rather striking, or is that shocking? Even her simple chitons look formal compared to the garments that Lyri is wearing and so there is only one thing left to do, and that is to raid the roommate's trunk. She comes up on deck slowly, a bit shy now in one of the tunics that Sebastian commonly wears. The dip in the neckline reveals a bit more skin than she is used to, but it is still pretty modest. The pants appear to belong to the captain as well, but she uses a scarf as a belt to cinch it to her slender waist. Her elaborate hairstyle has been taken down and pulled into a simple ponytail, the pale golden locks bound in a sea-blue scarf that flutters down between her wings.

Lyri is leaning against the railing, her wings fanning the warm Spring air lazily, sunlight glinting off opalescent feathers. She's watching the hatch to the belowdeck area with a slightly impatient expression, fingers drumming on her forearm, but the emergence of Zea erases any irritation, replacing it with pure surprise. A copper brow arching, Lyri grins, pushing away from the railing and approaching the almost unrecognizable noblewoman. "Well, now! And here I thought mebbe I needed t' loan ye something of m'own!" She eyes Zea critically and slowly her grin widens. "Are ye wearin' men's clothing there?"

Zea blushes fiercely and looks down at herself garbed in Sebastian's clothing. "I am," she admits with a sneaky smile. "I looked through everything I brought and nothing was appropriate. This will have to do." The clothes obviously look as if they were made for someone else; the sleeves of the bound tunic are too full, as are the legs of the pants, not to mention the bunched up material around her waist. But at least she does not look much like a noblewoman, at least when she isn't walking. She still has the posture and gait of a noble and that cannot be quickly changed with new garments. "So, we are really going to do this then?"

Lyri nods in approval. "At th' very least, ye won't show off yer womanly features so much." She winks at Zea, then adds, "Oh, aye! Ye ain't backin' out now! Come along then!" She beckons with one hand, moving towards the gangplanks that lead to the dock below, wings tucking to her back.

Tavern - Naughty Nereus - Navale Dockside

The dank interior of this sordid little tavern has seen some years of abuse. Walls are a glorious burnt orange, or rather - they were, about ten years ago. Now mottled, the earthen walls peek through the cracks, and attempts to patch them have resulted in varying shades of orange speckling the room. While there are windows in the room, they're only opened during the warmer months.

Directly in the center of the tavern is a large fire pit, a flagstone wall encircling the flames so that frequent brawlers might not end up among them. The chimney yawns above and rises through the center of the building, a hollow column of stone that keeps every room warm as smoke and drifting embers escape through the roof. Roughly hewn tables and benches encircle the pit, providing space for a weary patron to rest for a few minutes.

The bar, perhaps the place of most interest to the patrons, is opposite the main door. Giving the namesake of the tavern a dubious honor, hanging behind the bar there is a gaudily painted carving of the god Nereus - engaged in 'naughty' activities with several wenches. A modest swinging door to the left of the bar is rather plain and small, leading into the back room. Catching the eye, door to the right of the bar is far more elaborate. Keeping with the nautical theme, the mouth of a rather large fish was carved around the entryway swallowing any who go up the stairs, which rise to an upper level where guests can spend the night -- or just a couple of hours with a willing partner.

Several minutes later, after weaving their way through knots of sailors, vendors and other, more unsavory types, Lyri leads Zea to the nearby Naughty Nereus. The sun is just now nearing the horizon, so there are few people within the tavern, but the few that are there are likely regulars, and already deep in their barely washed cups. Lyri holds the door open behind her for Zea, even as she casts a quick glance around the room. A knot of three mongrels and an Atlantean are engaged in some game in one corner, while several other individuals occupy the dark, dank corners of the room. Leaving Zea to close the door, Lyri strides confidently across the room, skirting the fireplace, and takes a seat at the bar. "Bonded whiskey." She says when the bartender, a greasy, unkempt mongrel, arches a brow at her. She glances over her shoulder at Zea with a grin. "What d'ye want, Zea? I doubt they serve wine 'ere.

Zea gingerly takes a seat next to Lyri; she may look the part in some strange way, but her movements make her stick out like a sore thumb. She takes a glance around the common room, taking note of the various patrons and realizing that should anyone try anything there are no Acesian guards hovering nearby to take care of things for her. She's really on her own now. She swallows hard and turns back to Lyri and the barkeeper, finding the mongrel staring down at her, waiting for her order. She gives Lyri a nod, understanding that her usual tastes will not be sated here. "I'll ... I'll have some brandy?" She looks expectantly to the bartender, hoping they have that as it is the only hard drink she's ever had. Otherwise she'd be at a loss.

The bartender shakes his head, turning to spit into a bucket behind him in the same moment. "Neh, fresh out this mornin'." He announces with a wide grin, displaying blackened teeth chipped from breaking up (or joining in) one too many bar brawls. Lyri simply waves a dismissive hand. "Dinna ye worry, Zea. I'll share m' whiskey wi' ye. It ain't cheap, but 'tis fine, smooth stuff. Strong, too!" She grins widely, clearly pleased, as the bartender nods in agreement and sets her requested bottle before her, along with two shot glasses. "I was in 'ere t' other day and some Empyrean warrior fellow turned me on t'it. Odd lad for a bird, carrying swords 'n all." She remarks as she pours two shots of the whiskey and plunks one of the shots before Zea.

"Probably a Praetorian," Zea mutters as she watches the bottle and glasses put down before them. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. "I'm not worried about the cost," Zea says as of the mere mention of coin was amusing. How much longer could she be that casual about money? She reaches for what looks like the cleaner of the two glasses and pulls it to her, though she hesitates from taking that first drink. "Have you come to the Nereus often, by yourself," Zea asks as she takes another look around. At the gaming table in the corner rough words erupt into a fight as two mongrels are suddenly at each others throats, with the Atlantean sitting back and laughing his fool head off at whatever the disagreement was about.

The 'disagreement' at the far table snags Lyri's attention, but only long enough for her to laugh softly in amusement, before turning back to claim her own shot glass. "Nay, I'm not so certain 'e was a Praetor, Zea.'e was clearly sum sort o' sailor, actually said folks found 'im amusin' fer not runnin' round like a 'coward waving spears and bows', 'e said." Lyri shrugs, then slams back her shot with a gasp and a grin. Cheeks flushing faintly, she glances at Zea once more. "Aye, been here a couple times now. Got good atmosphere. Always sumthin' interestin' goin' on."

Interesting, yes that's one way to put it. Instinctively Zea's wings pull tightly to her as the argument continues and soon the bartender is shouting over the crowd, something about not breaking the chairs. No one seems to be listening, they are far more interested in the fight or the sudden rush to lay down bets on who will win. With a shake of her head she lifts the shot glass and studies the contents. "Don't believe I know the man, then," she says before taking a sip of the whiskey. Her whole face seems to wrinkle as the liquid burns against her lips, she barely gets any onto her tongue. "You're really supposed to *drink* this?"

"Ye may meet 'im sometime, if 'e follows through on 'is plan t' sign on with th' Amarada." Lyri replies, pouring another shot glass of whiskey for herself. At Zea's last comment, Lyri turns her head and arches a brow, before letting out a rich, husky laugh that turns the bartender's head for just a moment. His leer earns him only a withering glance from Lyri before the sailor-girl returns her attention to Zea. "Look 'ere, ye're bein' too dainty 'bout it. This is bonded whiskey, not some fine wine from the Empyre's finest vineyards. Ye drink it all in one gulp, like this, see?" She lifts her own glass, knocking it back quickly, gulping it down and setting the glass down with a soft *clink*. With a wide smile, she gestures encouragingly to Zea. "Go on, try it." Her gaze flickers briefly towards the brawl and the bets being placed with a slightly wistful expression, but she invited Zea here; she's not about to abandon the older woman. If she did, she'd be afraid Zea might not be here when she got back. And not because Zea had left of her own volition.

Zea looks to Lyri as if she's lost her mind. She looks to the shot glass again and then, reluctantly, is drawn to the mongrel's leering gaze. Alright, that did *not* help. Gulping heavily she lifts the glass to her lips, closes her eyes and in one quick motion downs the whiskey. The experience is quickly ruined as she begins coughing roughly, bending over her knees as she sounds like she's hacking up a long. "Dear gods," she gasps as she finally catches her breath and sits back up. She tries hard to ignore the laughter from nearby patrons and somewhere in there she hears more bets being made, this time as to how long before she falls from the stool. "And you drink this all the time," she asks of Lyri, eyes wide and watering.

Lyri guffaws with the rest of the patrons, who are slowing filling the tavern as the evening draws near. Her laughter, however, is quite good-natured, and she slaps a bedyed hand between Zea's wings companionably. "O' course not! If I drank it all th' time, I'd not be fit fer m'work, now would I? But I like t' go out a few times a week, aye. This whiskey's a new find fer me." She replies, pouring both Zea and herself another drink. After two, she's got a bit of color, but appears to be doing quite well. "Got t' be careful, though, cause it hits ye like a ton of bricks. Doesna sneak up on ye slow. It gets better though, try again!" She encourages, before glancing at the brawl in the corner, which seems to have mostly abated, for chairs are being righted and the game is once more in progress.

That is supposed to make her feel better? Zea now feels caught between her pride and health. Her cheeks begin to burn a lovely shade of crimson but she is unaware of the fact. "I ... I don't know," she says to Lyri as some of the patrons urge her on. She doesn't turn to look at them; the slight movements of her head already make it feel like her mind is swimming. "Do it, lassie," calls out a voice from the crowd and Zea closes her eyes at the calls. Lovely, she now has an audience. "One more," she promises both herself and Lyri as she lifts the glass and downs it in a similar fashion as she drank the first. This time, however, the coughing is kept to a minimum, thank the gods.

Lyri, to help Zea along, downs her third glass at the same moment as Zea, slamming the shot glass on the bar with a congratulatory whoop. "Good on ya, Zea! Not bad a'tall!" She grins widely, then pours herself another drink, still appearing only slightly flushed. But then, she has far more experience than the noblewoman does with this sort of thing. "See? I told ye it gets better! I bet another'd just go down smooth as honey!" She encourages, but doesn't push. There's an aura of camaraderie about her and a warmth in her expression that Zea was daring enough to go this far. After all, she saw Zea at her most 'noble'. It's only fair she give Zea a taste of her side of life.

This is something that Zea has never really experienced before, and as the second drink hits her she begins to laugh, loudly. She slams the glass down on the bartop as she nearly doubles over laughing. What she's laughing at is anyone's guess but whatever it is, it must be quite amusing. However, she is not so drunk that she doesn't notice the mongrel that has slipped up beside her and slips a bold arm around her. She sloppily pushes him away and turns a glare on him. "Twas only tryin' to keep ye uprigh'" he offers, lifting his hands to her with false honesty. She wraps her fingers around the glass but doesn't ask for a re-fill. She is not sure she can handle it. "Nothing like wine," she manages to get out with a tilted grin to Lyri.

Lyri gives the mongrel next to Zea a warning 'She's-with-me-in-any-way-that-matters-so-keep-your-hands-off' look, before turning her grin back to the Empyrean beside her. "Nay, 's nothin' like wine! But wine takes too long! And's only fit for snooty britches thinks they too good for what's good in life, like a good beddin' and a good brawl." Lyri lifts her glass and swallows the last shot glass of whiskey with a quick undulation of her throat. "Ahh!" She exclaims, then pushes the glass aside, wrapping her fingers around the half-empty bottle. "Best save the rest fer later, eh? Share wi' our mates on th' ship! If'n we keep on, we might not be able t' find it!" She jokes, for her eyes are indeed a bit glassy by now. "Ye done good, Zea. Helpin' me today and comin' out fer a drink. I can tell this is all new, and-" Here Lyri hiccups briefly, "'s good o' ye." She finishes.

"But *I'm* a snooty britches," Zea defends as she tries to prop herself up, which leads to more laughing. The whiskey certainly has had an effect on her and quickly. Her whole body seems flushed and her demeanor is far more amiable than she normally is. Too bad they cannot keep her drunk all the time. "And wine's good, it is! It's *hic* dignified! But ..." She leans in towards Lyri and encourages the other woman to lean in as well. "I've never brawled, don't think I want to." She says it in a secretive whisper, though she makes no mention about bedding, she's obviously done that. "And yes, save the rest or else I think we might invite unwanted company into one of the rooms upstairs." Her wings shiver at that as she vaguely gestures towards the crowd behind them.

Lyri laughs heartily, waggling a finger at Zea. "Ach, but ye're not *just* a snooty britches, and therein' yer saving grace, 'domina'." She adds the final title mockingly, but winks. Another laugh escapes her as Zea's wings shiver. "Eh, there's much better to be had back aboard ship than /these/ louts," Lyri counters, waving a shaky hand about the tavern. She's leaning fairly heavily on the bar now, one arm wound round the bottle, her hand propping up her red-tressed head to make it look like it's /intended/, not because she couldn't sit up unaided anymore. "Ye, o' course, ye've got a fine boyo to call yer own, already! No need to be lookin' elsewhere, eh?" She says suggestively, arching her brows and grinning widely.

If Zea were stone cold sober she wouldn't dream of speaking about her relationship with Sebastian, but the alcohol has loosened her mind and her tongue. "You've got that right," she exclaims, lifting her empty glass in a salute. She pulls up the neckline of the tunic and inhales with a goofy smile. "Still smell like 'im" she declares openly, through girlish laughter. "And no no no no no I don't have to look anywhere else," she says with a shake of her head that has her quickly reaching up to support it. The other hand drops the glass and waggles a finger at Lyri. "And he doesn't have to look elsewhere either, oh no he doesn't!" She continues laughing as her head slips from her hand and falls to the bar. Oops!

With concern slow to form in the fog gathering in her mind, Lyri nonetheless reaches out to put a none-too-steady arm on Zea's shoulder, patting it, then Zea's head, before moving to grip the bar. "Careful! Ye'll need that, dinna wanna break it!" She admonishes with a giggle. "Yer boyo might not recognize ye! And 'e seems a prize, 'e does! Is 'e a good ride? Is 'e good to ye?" She pushes just a bit, the glint in her eye belying she might not be as drunk as she seems to be, even as she sways a bit on her stool, wings flaring for balance.

Zea sways on her chair, the alcohol has a firm hold on her. "Gotta lay down," she says as her words become more slurred and while she cannot really lay down, she does the next best thing. She folds her arms on the bar and drops her head on to them. She ponders Sebastian for a moment, as much as a hazy mind can, and her first response is a soft 'mmmmmmmmm' and her eyes sink closed. "He's got the best han's" she says, her eyes half open. "Strong and firm, I like 'em like that, not all sweet and perfumed like silly nobles. And he smells so good." A cat-like smile creeps across her lips as memories invade her hazy mind. "An' he's very good to me, no doubt about that."

A petulant moue crosses Lyri's face momentarily, but it's soon wiped clean. Cleaner than the bar, certainly. The very bar Zea's draped herself over. Lovely. "'ere now, Cap'n won't take kindly t'me leavin' his lady t' sleep off 'er liquor in th' Nereus. We'd best go back t' the ship." Dropping a few coins on the bar, Lyri rises, a hint unsteady, and puts an arm around Zea's waist to assist her off the stool. "C'mon then."

Zea slides off the stool more with Lyri's aid than with her own. "We leaving so soon?" she asks as she lifts her head and looks around. She takes a few stumbling steps at first towards the stairs. "Is 'e here, up there?" Zea points towards the infamous second floor of the Nereus just as one of the tavern's girls leads a willing partner up the squeaky passageway. "I din' bring clean sheets this time," she mutters as she begins a wobbly turn towards the door and shakes her head. "Won't take kin'ly at all, oh no, not at all." She's a mess, a big drunken noble mess.

Lyri chuckles under her breath as she attempts to lead Zea out of the tavern without falling over or whacking someone with her own wings. With a hiccup, she replies, "'e's back at th' ship, I figure, Zea. So les jes go on back now." Her speech is even more rough, if anything, but with perseverance, she makes it out the door without losing her grip on Zea /or/ the whiskey bottle.

The cold evening air hits her face like a rock and Zea is gasping for air. Her wings unfurl frantically behind her and from her lips bubble a trail of "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'mfine,I'mfineI'mfineI'mfinefinefinefine," even though she most certainly is not. She seems not to care one iota who sees her and among all of those 'fines' she starts laughing again. With a child-like squeal she points towards the mast of the Amarada where the white-winged heart snaps proudly in the sky. "There sh' is!"

"Aye, there she is. A fine ship, th' Amarada." Lyri replies softly, with a hint of...pride in her voice? But it surely is. As she stumbles lightly, wings flaring and fouling with Zea's, she hiccups and grins. "Wonder if yer boyo knows how lucky 'e is, havin' a daddy tha's left 'im so fine a ship. I do wonder indeed." A couple of mongrels leer at the pair, but Lyri is lucid enough to leer back with a threatening air as they stumble past.

"He knows," Zea says with a moment of lucidity as she stares up at the ship. Her words are still a bit slurred, but she speaks what she knows. "Never saw a man who loved his father like that, or a father that loved his son so. Great man he was," she adds before she takes a few more stumbling steps towards the ship. "'e'd give up that ship inna second if'd bring back his da." She nods her heavy head up and down in an exaggerated manner which brings about a groan of pain.

Lyri pats Zea on the back comfortingly, but her face has gone pale, her expression withdrawn. She says naught more as she helps Zea up the gangplank to the deck of the ship and towards the room the noblewoman shares with the captain. But her jaw has gone tense and her blue-green eyes have paled to stormy sea-water.