Featuring: Aurelio, Epi, Nymosyne, Soft-Feather,Lexa, Lyri, Sebastian, Sivan, and Zea
NPCs:Mister Burke and Rosa
Date: February 26, 2005
IC Date: May 7, 3931
Summary: There is a great deal of activity down around the docks as the Amarada and Makara spend their last day in port preparing for their departure.

Navale - Docks - Parnassus

Surrounded by the sounds, sights, and smells of the estuary and the dockyards, where the Navale meets the water is an area of perpetual activity. Fortified against the wear and tear of the water's constant motion, the cobblestone landing extends out into the estuary with several long piers that allow ships to take berth at Parnassus.

For visitors and cargo alike, the Navale provides the first taste of the unique region that Parnassus inhabits. While Empyreans and their Mongrel slaves and employees abound, those of other races are easily in evidence, moving and working about the district. Sylvan, Atlantean, and even Varati make use of the largest, most accessible landing for ships that come into the Mahpe River's estuary. Though those who work the area tend to be coarser individuals, often someone of the upper classes can be seen tending to their business affairs, or the arrival of esteemed guests.

Carriages and wagons stand ready to take visitors or cargo up the steep hill to the white walled Empyrean city or to the impressive expanse of the bustling enterprise of Pons Pactum. Across the water can be seen the island, Insula Garum, and further across the tiered levels of Irha-Esh. Directly to the southeast is Mongrel Town.

The docks are bustling with activity this afternoon, people weaving to and fro, fishmongers selling their smelly wares, dock hands moving cargo on and off of ships, and today the crews for the Amarada and the Makara are finally boarding and getting themselves familiar with their new homes as well as preparing both ships for departure upon the next morning's tide. Mister Burke, temporary acting Captain for the Makara and long-time First Mate of the Amarada is out before the two vessels along with the second mate, checking names off of a list as each member of the crew, old and new, comes aboard. Cheeks ruddy with the cool wind whipping the docks and a cheerful smile on his face, Burke leans against a convenient dock post, eyes lifting up to the balcony of the Nereus where the lovely Lexa only just recently departed from sight. There is a wistful cluck of his tongue before his gaze drops back down again, scanning through the throng of bodies, on the look out for newly arriving crew.

Some wise men say that the key to life is a simple one. And though as over generalized and exaggerated as the statement of their reasoning might be, despite the fact that it requires a leap of faith such as all other codes for existence, and though it is most likely never as easy as it sounds, it certainly does describe one man. The key to life is to love every moment of it, and to have confidence in the fact of being its worthy lover. Possess these two attributes and the world will be open to you, full of a boundless excitement, of an unending path of discovery and growth, shinning with the brilliant luminance of sun-kissed water in the good times, and caught in the fading echo of a beautiful twilight passed with the promise of a stunning new dawn to come in the bad times. With such a dawn having broken on the horizon this morning as Aurelio woke and its effects lingering well in to the afternoon as he now makes his way down on to the docks, putting the cities of Parnassus and Ira-Esh at his back, he has certainly been made a believer today. There is an anxious jump to his step, a hurried beat to it that perhaps throws off the natural grace of his movements. Three duffels are hoisted over any of his shoulders, heavy packs well laden with material, supported by broad muscle and a stiff spine as he moves forward, rainbowed wings fluttering at his back and eyes wide as they pierce through the veil of activity that swarms itself across the wooded planks of the port to the two artifacts that will be his home for who only knows how long. Out on the water again... So it's almost blindly, caught in a state of near reverent awe that he weaves his way, bumping or dodging, through the flow of people, seeking out the gangplank of the Makara and coming to stand before it. "Aye. Aurelio reporting for duty." The voice is bright, rich, chipper, and it takes a measure of moments before emerald optics can settle themselves away from the craft down to Burke and the second mate, though their positions remain yet unknown to the Empyrean.

From the Amarada, Sivan finishes his prayers quickly before rolling up his prayer mat and tucking it up under his arm. Moving to the edge of the deck, he leans against the railing and tries to call over the bustle and noise, "Mister Burke...is there anything I can help with? I've marked off what cannot be touched down below and in my galley..." after all, it wouldn't do to have any in the crew stacking on his carefully measured rations.

Lifting his gaze to the jauntily colored Empyrean, Burke narrows his turquoise eyes for a moment, his mind bringing back to recollection the man and his skills. "Och, Aurelio, is it not lad?" Papers are shuffled in his hand as he considers his list, reconfirming what he already knew. "That be right ... ye be on the Makara, that ye be." His gaze lifts again, narrowing down on the rather excessive amount of baggage that the Empyrean has brought and long, noting mildly, "Laddie, ye wings already be more belongings than most'o'the sailors on board be bringin' wi'em. Ye get one storage trunk fer ye things and one only. So ye better 'ope that all that stoof can be fit in one'o'them. Otherwise tis the sea that will be enjoyin' yer fine possessions and not yerself. Do I be makin' meself clear to ye?"

His gaze shifts then, glancing over his shoulder to the Varati cook leaning over the rail. "Och, Sivan, if ye care to come down and greet the new crew, an extra pair'o'eyes and hands would not be unwelcome on a busy day sooch as today!"

Indeed, the docks are filled with all sorts, including the recent arrival of a woman who looks entirely out of place here. The Empyrean crosses the docks slowly - she is in no rush - with her gaze trained on the Amarada. Quick to follow her are two mongrels wearing the colors of House Acesius and while the noblewoman bears nothing, they are laden with some goods that seem destined for the Amarada or the Makara. Zea pauses a good distance from the two ships, raising her eyes toward the larger of the two, the Amarada and ignoring the sailors and merchants that pass in front and behind her, for they appear to have more than enough to do and a pale noblewoman in their way is just one more problem they do not need deal with. With a brief sigh Zea brings her gaze back down to the docks and spies the familiar red hair of the Amarada's first mate. With a wave of her hand she instructs the mongrels to follow her as she weaves through the crowds to stand a short distance from him, so as to not interrupt his current work, but to make herself visible nonetheless.

Epi emerges directly from the water, climbing up one of the ladders to the dock's drier surface. Taking out that single swath of fabric from her waterproofed pouch, she wraps it around herself deftly, pulls her wet hair back. The young Atlantean hangs to the back of the gathering, acclimating herself to the barrage of fringe emotions she's sensing. She usually is not around this many non-Atlanteans at once.

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, Lexa comes out onto the balcony.

Up to his face a hand lifts, jumbling duffels as he does, scratching at cheek and chin. Wings too are disturbed by the movement, the heavy packs kept in the curve of their undersides and feathers ruffled above as they stand firm to keep the burdens secure. "Aye, well... we might have a bit o' a problem then..." trails off the Aurelio, his head craning around then, twisting to peer behind him toward one of the dock's many warehouses. "Ye see... What I have in here does be mostly the tools o' my trade, which I do fully intend to employ for the sake o' both crews." That's punctuated with a firm nod, face strewn in serious and complex contemplation. "An' I do have a trunk o' the bulkier supplies back in that structure over there." It's the one he's currently looking at and his head inclines as further indication before he looks back towards Burke. "If truth does be told, ye will hardly have to worry about the likes o' me. Despite appearance, I do actually be quite low maintenance. However, might I request a portion o' cargo space for the more substantial o' my belongings? If necessary, I do be willing to pay for it as well."

From the Amarada, "Aye, Mister Burke!" Sivan offers even as he moves away from the rail and jauntily makes his way down to the dock. "And just what are my eyes looking for? My hands I know what to do with..." and those dark eyes glance to the colorful Empyrean with the luggage, widening as they take in his appearance. "Mister Burke..." he leans down to whisper to the Mongrel, "Is it a common thing for Empyreans to be mad?" For surely no one would wear such accoutrements and ornamentation if they were sane. Straightening as the colorful Empyrean speaks, a dark brow quirks and he offers, "The cargo hold is meant to hold food for our voyage as well as things necessary for the voyage. We can't spare any for personal belongings unless you wish to starve."

Epi makes her way forward and says in her quiet voice, "He can have my trunk to store things in. I don't have much need for it."

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, Lexa leans on the balcony, chin resting on her arms, and watches the knot of people near the two ships.

Eyes narrowing in speculation, the mongrel crosses his arms over his chest and coughs lightly as counters Aurelio. "Now then laddie, let me get this straight. You be thinkin' that you be bringing those three packs -and- a trunk in addition? We have a bit'o'a problem ye say? Well, ye can say that again. It was made clear when ye were hired that this was a loong voyage and even if it t'weren't, no one crew member can 'ave more than 'is share'o'storage space." Turning to Sivan, the mongrel's face breaks into a bright smile, brilliant enough to match his coppery hair. "Och, ye'll find laddie that most Empies, when they put t'sea, are a bit daft in the head. Wings and water dinnae mix, so ye have to be a little mad to bring 'em t'gether." His gaze then turns back to Aurelio and all pleasure and pleasantries vanish. The mongrel is known for his great amiability, so for his face to be devoid of a smile for his lips and a twinkle in his eyes means that he is mightly displeased. "Joost what do ye have in all those bags that ye think they be worth bringin' aboard? Fer Sivan is right - every nook'n'cranny 'as been filled up wi food and cargo for shippin'. There dinnae be room for anythin' bigger than a rat."

Zea calls over one of the mongrels that has been tailing her and leans over to whisper something to him, though she keeps her gaze on the mongrel and the colorful Empyrean. The show is much more entertaining down here on the docks at the moment. A few words and hand gestures later and the mongrel motions his companion to follow him as they head towards the Amarada. Their parcels seem much smaller than what the multi-colored Empyrean is dragging with him and the two seem to have no problems carrying whatever is concealed within the canvas bags. Thinking a moment Zea turns her head and calls out after them. "Just leave them by the door, I'll see to them in a few minutes."

Turning to the Atlantean girl, the mongrel's features soften and he notes to her, "That be very generous of you lassie, and we'll see about that. But it dinnae change the fact that tis not fair for one crewmember to bring aboard more than 'is fair share." He gestures the girl closer before turning his head back to Aurelio and pinning him with a hard stare, waiting for his answer and explanation. Alas, while he has noticed Zea, he hasn't had a moment to acknowledge her presence yet.

Epi shrugs and holds out her hands. "My friend Aurelio is very good with colors. Maybe others we meet might like them, too. I know that I traded much so I could get bits of colors from him." She indicates a small pouch that is made up of many patches of fabrics of the loudest colors under the sun. "Maybe others we meet might like, too?" She tilts her head. "If space is problem, I can give my space for it."

From the Amarada, "Huh. And they say Varati and water don't mix..." and just to prove his point, Sivan calls a small flame to dance briefly over his fingers before it is snuffed out. Glancing to the Atlantean and then the Empyrean, he frowns just a bit, "That's not the point. There is fairness or there could be discontent. Have you never been on a ship? Either of you?"

A touch of anger blooms in the vibrant green of Aurelio's eyes, blossoming from deep within and lighting the crystalline optics even further. "What I do have in these bags, Sir, is a lifetime o' achievement an' discovery. In these bags I have all o' my dyes, my brushes, my fabrics an' colors. An' the trunk in the warehouse does contain my treasured creations an' my tubs. A lifetime spent," his gaze flickers to the open waters, "right out there." A chuckled snort even leaves the man's lips softly, the frustration vanishing to be replaced, now that he's asserted himself, with a wry amusement and a once more friendly demeanor. "An' believe me, Sir. Water does mix just fine with these wings. In fact, every color o' it, from well near every corner o' the world, does be somewhere on one o' these feathers. I've spent more o' my life on the seas than I have on land." That much is obviously spoken to both of the men who question him and his head nods, firmly, and settling his burdens more carefully, the Empyrean stands tall, braced under scrutiny and inspection. Not without regarding Epi though. "Ye need not do that, me miss Epi. I'm sure this fine gentlemen an' I can resolve our differences without the need to inconvenience any o' the other crew."

Rising up to his full height, Mister Burke eyes the haughty proud Empyrean darkly. "Sailor, I don't know what sort'o'allowances ye be allowed t'ave on other ships, but I'll make this verra simple for ye. If ye be leavin' yer lifetime be'hind, then ye best be prepared t'make sacrifices. Ye dinnae be answerin' me question. I dinnae give the ass of a rat whot these bags and they're contents be meanin' to ye. Ye be a sailor now and -that- be your life if ye be comin' aboard and shippin' out wi' us. So you will answer the questions asked and ye'll not be tellin' me yer life story as ye do so. So, do you mean to bring this trunk you speak of wi'ye, or does that be stayin' behind in storage? And joost whot do ye bring wi'ye in these bags sooch that I should make an exception for ye when it is given to n'others?"

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, Lexa glances back over her shoulder, murmurs something to someone inside, and then returns to watching, with an evident amused grin, the debate involving Aurelio. Or perhaps, more correctly, his luggage.

There seems to be a bit of a problem at the Amarada's gangplank, the two mongrels are being sternly questioned by the ship's men. The 'discussion' is loud enough to draw Zea's attention from the conversation at hand to the problem her men seem to be having. With a reluctant sigh she turns from Aurelio and Burke and strides towards the Amarada to hopefully soothe some ruffled feathers. "They are with me," she explains in a tone calm and diplomatic. When one sailor raises a brow at the noblewoman's statement she finds she must further explain. "Supplies for the ship's chartroom, nothing more." She steps in front of the two mongrels and attempts to make her own passage onto the ship to see the items properly stored.

Epi just shakes her head mutely at the question of whether she'd been on a ship before and remains silent.

From the Amarada, Since Burke has more weight than he does when it comes to the ship and crew, Sivan merely stands beside him and watches to see who else might be coming onto the ships. His dark eyes notice Zea and her mongrels, and he just shakes his head before turning his attention back to the argument right at hand. Leaning over he whispers something to Mister Burke.

Sivan comes down from the main deck of the Amarada

Haughty? Not really. Aurelio has never been haughty. It's hard to be when you certainly spend more time hanging around the Mongrels in the Nereus than you do parading around pretending to be noble, but he is indeed proud of the life he's spent and sea and the creations that have come of it. That much does show. So it's with a once more quietly frustrated and concerned sigh that he sets the three duffels down on to the deck, taking a knee beside them with his wings flourishing out comfortably at his back, to open one of them up. "In here I do have most o' my dyes. Colors both base an' complex that have taken days an' even weeks to create." It's closed and the other is indicated. "In this one are all my paints an' supplies for them. Brushes an' the like, equally precious." It's to the last one that he moves though, untying it and opening it up. "This one does contain many o' my fabrics, both completed works an' left bare an' canvas for painting. Also there do be needles for sewing, along with spools o' thread, an' other tailoring tools." And indeed some of them, the bundles of cloth that have already been worked on, are quite fine and exquisitely decorated by an apparently skilled hand. He closes that back up too though and stands again. "An' aye, I would like to take the trunk. In it do be the tubs I need for work with my dyes an' the most beautiful an' prized o' my creations." A pause is measured as he takes his burdens back up in his arms again. "Though this does not just be idle cargo, sir. It does be a skill an' a trade that I do plan to employ for the benefit o' both the crews."

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, Lexa cranes her head to see what Zea's doing on the Amarada, breeze blowing dark hair across her face, which she sweeps out of the way with an irritated 'tut'.

As the Varati leans over to whisper something into the mongrel's ear, the First Mate's face lights up with amusement, eyes gleaming with a devilish glint, his lips parting broadly in a smile. But whatever Sivan said is not spoken upon. Burke merely shakes his head from side to side and lifts a hand, biding the cook to stand by. Turning to Aurelio, the First Mate continues to shake his head. "Havin' a skill and trade to turn when aboard ship is an admirable thing, but not when it affects the ship and the rest of the crew unfairly. So here it is, sailor. In the future, think ye ahead and ask fer such accomodations b'fore ye come the day b'fore ye ship is settin' out t'sea. If it's wares ye wishin' to be selling and tradin' then stay b'hind in port t'do so or make arrangements to 'ave yer wares shipped aboard whilst ye stay here'n'make 'em. Ye have duties, lad, and there'll be little time fer paintin' and the like. There dinnae be space on a ship fer such elaborations." Dropping his hands down to his hips, Burke purses his lips for a moment before an amused thought comes to his mind as he idly notes, "Sounds like ye fergot to pack yerself some clothes along with all yer art goods, neh?" His gaze drops to the bags then shifts to Epi before returning to Aurelio. "So here it is lad, take it or leave it, I've got other crew t'see to. If the lassie here be willin," he notes, gesturing to Epi, "then ye may use her storage trunk as well as ye own. Yer trunk dinnae be comin' wi us. Ye'll just 'ave to improvise ... but I'll warn ye, if yer artistic shennanigans interfere with the workings'o' the ship, I'll 'ave Sivan here toss you and all yer dyes and brushes overboard and that'll be the end of it. The rest of your stuff? Pare it down to two bags, or whatever two trunks will 'old. The rest I suggest you put in storage along wi yer trunk. S'far as I can see the only things ye be bringing that be o'use to the ship and the crew be your needle and thread, and that don't take up nary any space a'tall." And with that, it would seem that the mongrel is finished with Aurelio. Turning to the Atlantean, he smiles at the girl and inquires, "Epi, is it? Well, looks like you'll be bunkin' wi yer friend 'ere on the Makara, though I 'spect you'll prefer to spend most o'ye time in the water where's you're most comfortable."

Epi nods to Burke as she says, "I do not sleep much. I will be fine." She prefers sleeping in the water herself, and that will likely be where she is found most. Out there somewhere.

After a few more moments of discussion, the Empyrean noblewoman and her mongrels board the Amarada and disappear below decks for a while. When they finally do emerge again, Zea ushers the mongrels forward as she slows her steps and takes a long look around the deck with a deep sigh. Pausing at the railing she takes in the view of Parnassus while the mongrels hurry down the gangplank to wait for their mistress on the docks. Zea eventually heads back off the ship as well and murmurs something to the two mongrels, lighting pushing one at the shoulder towards the city. "I'll not be home until tomorrow afternoon," she instructs them before they disappear. "I have an ill friend to visit this evening, tell the cook not to worry about my dinner this evening." The mongrels nod as if nothing were amiss and go back towards Parnassus as Zea turns back towards the Makara and her temporary captain.

Smiling at Epi, Burke rumbles to her cheerfully, "Good lass, welcome aboard. Do whotever it is ye need to do to get yerself settled? I know this be all new to ye, so if ye 'ave any questions, feel free t'ask me, yes? And dinnae let the crew get t'ye ... there might be a bit'o'teasin cause yer new and all." He then turns toward Zea, giving the noblewoman a jaunty wave.

Sivan offers, "You were very generous, Mister Burke. Probably much more than you needed to be." He watches the stubborn, multicolored Empyrean before he continues acting as a second set of eyes. "Should I be looking for anything in particular?"

The wave Zea offers in return is much more reserved, though the smile is warm and genuine. She takes a few steps closer to the amiable mongrel to offer a proper greeting. "Ave, Mister Burke!" Her gaze turns towards where the colorful Empyrean disappears and she just shakes her head with a sigh. Oh dear, she missed the conclusion to that discussion after all. "I hope you're not getting too much trouble today Mister Burke?" She asks the question as she leans against a couple of large crates and tucks her hands behind her back and beneath her wings.

Turning to consider the cook, Burke shrugs his shoulders but continues to eye the departing Empyrean quietly. "Hopefully that will be that. I dinnae need a difficult crewmember'o'can't take orders on board. 'Is references were fine and he's a good and experienced sailor by the word of 'em. I be guessin' that he joost dinnae recall 'ow cramped sailing quarters be is all." Another shrug before his gaze shifts back to the Empyrean lady with a smile, "Och, Mistress Zea, tis a delight and an honor t'be seein' ye again ..." He shakes his head with a chuckle and notes, "Tis nothin' I cannae handle. Ye be gettin' yer things on board all right and square? No problems, I 'ope?"

"Experience means little when they aren't willing to work, Mister Burke. But I'll leave it at that." If Sivan has issues later, he has ways of taking care of them himself. Not all of his belongings were herbs used in cooking. Looking to Zea as she calls out, he murmurs, "I still can't believe she's willing to take this voyage."

Lyri emerges from the hold of the Amarada, narrowly ducking out of the way as another sailor hefting a heavy duffel bag shoves her aside on his way below. With a roll of her eyes, the young, winged woman pushes on through the knots of activity towards the gangplank. Dodging another sailor on his way up to the deck of the ship, Lyri descends to the docks, blue-green eyes catching a glimpse of a few people she knows. Sidling through dockhands and various folks, Lyri moves within speaking distance of Mr. Burke, greeting him with a sunny smile. "'lo, there, Mr. Burke!" That red hair would be visible anywhere. The others nearby go unnoticed for the moment, however.

"Aye," Burke murmurs to Sivan, "but the lady has a will of iron. I dinnae think she'll be comfortable, but if she wills it, then it'll be." Hearing his name called the First Mate waves to Lyri, but another sailor rushes up to him and murmurs something urgently in his ear. Eyes widen and a soft tsk escapes him as he returns mildly, "Och, that's not good, now it is?" Handing his list of crew to the second officer he murmurs, "If you'll excuse me gentlemen, it seems we 'ave a bit o cargo that's decided it's time to start leaking out its goods ... that cannae be good. Back in a jiff!" And with that the mongrel is off at a fast clip, following the sailor that brought him the news to assess the situation.

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, Lexa watches Burke go with an amused chuckle, and waits till he's gone before calling down to the knot of folks on and around the ships. "Don' be forgettin' - th' Nereus never closes, an' it'll be yer last chance fer gods know how long."

Burke heads up to the main deck of the Amarada.

Zea tosses a glare up towards the Varati cook, but doesn't say anything to him, not that it will do any good. Best to keep such things to herself and prove them wrong later. She leans back a touch to keep out of the way as the first mate dashes off to take care of the gods know what, though there is a touch of concern on her face as Burke hurries past. It is then that she noticed the arrival of the younger Empyrean woman, a woman she greets with a short nod and a brief, "Ave, Lyri."

Sivan gives a nod to Lyri and moves to reboard the Amarada as well, figuring it's going to be time to re-count his stores again. Just in case. He doesn't know everyone coming on board, and being the Varati that he is, doesn't trust the candala as much. Yet. Some he might, but not all.

Lyri casts a surprised blink after Mr. Burke as he rushes off. Multi-colored wings flare and settle at her back again as Lyri turns her head, catching Sivan's nod as the Varati makes his way back towards the ship. She returns it with a saucy wink, before turning her attention to Zea with a nod and a smile of her own. Seems the girl is in too good of spirits to be easily brought down. "Ach, Zea! Havena seen ye much a'tall lately. Not since tha day we visited tha tailor's! I got m'clothes yesterday, just in time. And s'all perfect." Lyri's smile widens into a warm, grateful beam. "Thank ye again fer yer help."

Sivan heads up to the main deck of the Amarada.

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, dark eyes study the redheaded Empyrean, with a slightly askance expression. Lexa pushes windblown hair off her face, and shivers a little. It seems that Mister Burke will be keeping his crew busy for a while to come, and she looks back into the Nereus' upper floor thoughtfully for a moment.

Zea forces a bit of a smile for that. "It was the least I could do Lyri, I hope everything fits well, though I fear it might be too late to do anything about it now." Her lips twist into a half-smile as she tries to avoid discussing what happened after that shopping trip. For herself, she looks similar to she did that day she took Lyri to the tailor's shop, not as if she was ready to depart on the Amarada at all. Pushing herself off of the crates she approaches the cartographer. "Though I hear there may be a couple tailors on board, should you have any problems, that is."

"Oh my, I am too late, I am too late, too late too late ..." Pushing herself through the sailors and folks that have gathered at the docks and that load the ship, Nymosyne is a blue swirl of plain abstraction. She has a bag on her shoulders and is wearing her ship-outfit, ready to go to see. But, she is plainly too late, and that is written all over her face. Her pale blue eyes hurry over the place, trying to find out where she can fit in without raising too many questions, and comes to a halt next to Zea and Lyri. Most probably not the right decision, but the tall Atlantean looks rather lost at the moment, and not recognizing anyone here, she just and plainly comes to a halt, looks around and waits for something to happen.

Lyri waves a stained, dismissive hand. "Nay, it all fits perfectly. No worries 'bout that. 'n I ken often stitch a few things, but ye say there's honest to Tyche tailors on board? Whatever fer?" Lyri queries with an arch of a copper brow. She looks like she might say something further, but just then, the blue form of Nymosyne comes to a stop beside the two winged women, and the confusion roiling off her distracts Lyri long enough to blink at the Atlantean. With a hint of irritation, she asks, "Is something wrong?"

Zea opens her mouth to explain what she's heard, but the blue woman is enough of a distraction to make the Empyrean forget what she was going to say. Her mouth remains open, now in shock, for a few moments before she remembers herself and quickly closes it. Lyri has already asked the most obvious question, so best not to confuse the Atlantean with further inquiries; she seems altogether too flustered as it is.

Shock is plainly written all across her face as Nymosyne slowly, very slowly turns around to Lyri and Zea, a desperate sigh-sound comes from her, "I, yes. Something is seriously wrong." Turning her glance to the sky, the tall Atlantean lets her bag slide from her shoulders, and it lands with a *thud* on the ground. Biting her lower lip, she looks from Lyri to Zea, and looks around a bit panicked, before she leans over and whispers, "I am too late."

That copper brow climbs even higher, joined by its mate this time, before Lyri's brow furrows in consternation. Her wings flare in agitation as she steps back two steps, putting physical distance between her and the blue woman. "Are ye daft?" Lyri's husky contralto bears a note that indicates she's quite sure of the answer. "What are ye late fer? What d'ye mean?" She looks at Zea briefly, then angles her gaze back to Nymosyne. "Where are ye bound?"

Confusion abounds as the blue woman continues to speak but makes no sense to the noblewoman. Once more Zea slips her hands behind her back and resumes a more casual position. She may be confused, but this could prove as entertaining as the earlier episode with the painted Empyrean sailor. Her pale eyes look Nymosyne up and down, though she has not yet retreated a couple steps as Lyri has done. A bit of a surprise, really. "No ships have left the docks yet today," she offers with a gesture to the packed docks. "Unless you were setting out with one of those small fishing vessels, but they'll be back tonight."

Leaning right back, Nymosyne's bright blue glance goes to Lyri in surprise and then to Zea. Not quite knowing on which question or statement to reply first, she suddenly rings out with a clear laughter. Not loud or rough, simply, well, high and relieved, almost hysteric, but just almost. Folding her hands on her back, the blue-colored Atlantean seesaws with her feet, "Well, I was supposed to be here in the afternoons, and it's quite later now, not? Well, I'm among the sailors and was supposed to help loading the ship. I mean, I see there is still a lot to do, but I am just glad both ships haven't taken off yet ... Oh well, I just hope no one will see me." Taking a breath, finally, Nymosyne turns with a bright cheer to Zea and Lyri, "I'm Tabanati Nymosyne, and you? Having family or friends that leave with the ships?"

Lyri ceases her retreat, but draws no closer, her wings flaring and folding again a last time as some of the tension leaves her slender frame. "A sailor, eh?" She continues with her roughly-accented speech as she gives Nym a quick perusal. "Well, there's still plenty t' do, as ye said.'m Lyri Lyracides, ship's cartographer." Lyri offers, her gaze climbing to Nymosyne's face.

On the other end of the spectrum, Zea's voice is smooth with an aristocratic lilt. She offers a faint smile, an emotionless polite gesture to the Atlantean. "And I am Zea Justinus," she begins as a way of introduction. "And though my manner of dress might speak otherwise I will be departing on the Amarada as well, though," she looks down at her noble garb, "not like this." There is a pause as she realizes she has not explained her purpose. "Wind mage for the Makara," Zea adds with a quick glance to the former pirate vessel, a glance that dissolves into a scowl.

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, Lexa is still listening, apparently, although someone's nagging her from within the Nereus.

If Nymosyne can turn pale, it's exactly what is happening right now. The blue turns a shade lighter, and then it grows real dark as she blushes. "Oh, I see. Heh, well. Yes, I guess I should go back to work. Or well, should go to work at all." Chuckling irritatedly, she turns to dip a great bow towards Zea and Lyri, "I am very pleased to know that I will be in good company. Zea, Lyri, it was a pleasure to have met you, and I am sure we will have a lot of fun together." Rising again, Nymosyne winks and grabs her bag to walk towards the other sailors, attempting to try and find out who will tell her what to do. But, it's just as hopeless as when she arrived, and so she turns back around and looks at Zea in a pleading fashion, "Can you maybe tell me who I have to talk to? A friend of mine got me hired, but I have forgotten who I need to talk to ..."

Lyri holds her tongue, merely watching Nymosyne with a curious expression. Her gaze angles towards Zea, since the noblewoman was the one addressed by the Atlantean.

Zea turns this way and that, lifting herself up for a couple more useful inches. "Where did he..." Zea drops back down on her heels without completing the question. "Well, Mister Burke was handling that duty earlier. Ginger-haired mongrel, ruddy complexion, a jolly sort most of the time." Her lips twist as she nibbles on her bottom one a moment. "Whatever the problem was it must still be occupying his time." She looks towards the two ships again and sees a sailor with a scroll and it is to him she points. "I'd speak with him, the ship's second mate, he could see to your boarding if you wish." Her tone is completely business-like, if there is fun to be had with this one she makes no obvious mention of it, completely glosses over the Atlantean's enthusiasm.

As Zea tiptoes, so does Nymosyne, even though she wouldn't need to. Simply because she doesn't even know for whom to look. Following the Empyrean's movement of coming back down, Nymosyne smiles brightly and dips another, gentler bow, "Well, thank you ladies, I will see to my luck or unluck then. Pray for me that I will not be made standing one head smaller, I would hate the look from so far do... err, from, well, you know what I mean!" Chuckling and waving, the Atlantean makes sure to create big circle around Lyri, whether doing it by intent or by having noticed that she backed off when Nymosyne drew closer. Turning around once more as she walks, Nymosyne waves and bangs into another sailor, laughs, apologizes and runs up to the sailor with the scroll.

As Nymosyne circles around her and departs, laughing and apologizing, the first hint of a smile cracks Lyri's face. Turning her head towards Zea, "An odd one, isn't she? And she's gonna be on the ship wit' us?" Another glance towards the blue Atlantean, then back to Zea. If Lyri's noticed the noblewoman's reserve, she hasn't given it any thought yet. "A regular crew of misfits, ain't we?" Her eyes dip briefly to Zea's own clothing before rising with another amused curve of her mouth.

Zea could get dizzy watching the Atlantean and she cannot help a bit of laughter when the blue woman is out of earshot. "Indeed," she answers, the grin fading. "Some are more of a misfit than others," she adds, eyes landing on Lyri with a shake of her head. Obviously she does not count her in with the so-called misfits. "So..." Zea begins, searching for some small-talk as the docks remain a flurry of activity around them. "Are you all settled in now, ready to depart in the morning?"

Lyri glances behind her before leaning back on a pair of sturdy crates, her wings flaring to either side to accommodate her shift in posture. Her gaze swings back around to alight on Zea as she shrugs briefly, eliciting a rustle from stiff, painted feathers. "Pretty much. Woulda be'n ready t' sail days ago; all I own's in m'pack I brought. Course now, I got the 'tother clothes from tha tailor. So all set. Miss the feeling of the sea, I do. Roll o' the water beneath tha ship, smell o' the sea permeatin' everythin'." Lyri smiles briefly in a half-reminisce, before she jerks her chin towards Zea. "And ye? Ye ready to leave behind yer world?" It's a multi-layered question, asked with a hint of gentleness.

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, Lexa's face is probably half hidden in shadow, especially since it's starting to get dark, and the careless observer could be forgiven were they to forget she's there. She most definitely is, though, and straining her ears to listen.

Zea blinks at the gentleness in Lyri's words, the surprise enough to still her tongue for a few moments. Such a seemingly easy question, but it comes with difficult answers. She drops her hands to her sides and steps a few paces away, turns and makes a return before speaking. "I've really got no choice," she begins slowly, picking each word with care. "When it comes down to it I can either remain here, or rather go to Civitas Dei, and become my family's puppet or I can leave with the Amarada and at least retain my independence and happiness." She wipes her hands over the front of her skirt; as if that could simply erase the final display of opulence she'll experience for, well, quite a long time. "Yes, I think I can leave it behind."

Lyri watches Zea's movements, weighing her expression and her words for several heartbeats after she stops speaking. And, at length, she smiles, ever so slightly. "Aye, I think ye ken.'n fact, I know it. But dinna think o' i' as if ye had no choice, Zea. Most dinna /have/ the choice. Ye do. Tha choice and tha makin' of it make ye stronger. As m'mother often said...when Tyche smiles on ye...smile back." And at that, Lyri smiles as well, her lips curving in an amused half-smile at the older, pure-blooded Empyrean.

There is a strange expression on Zea's face. There is surprise to be sure, but there is something else mingled with it, like she's been awakened from a long slumber. Slowly she gives the younger woman a warmer smile and were the situation different she might even embrace her. "Perhaps you are right," she responds, her voice softer, heavy with the wonder she expresses in her gaze. "I could choose to remain as I have and have nothing change, save that I would be forever miserable. I do not know if there is enough denarii, silk, and fine jewels to ever replace the presence of another person. As for the fair lady Tyche, perhaps she is smiling, but one can never really known the whims of such a fickle goddess. But if she provides the opportunity I shall take it gratefully and question her payment later."

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, there's a faint, indecipherable sound from the balcony above, and Lexa sits down, hard, in the deepest shadow at the furthest point away from the Amarada, and probably mostly out of sight.

"M'mother said she met Tyche once, walking by tha shore. Told 'er all sorts o' things, called 'er daughter. But then she woke up. 'Twas all a dream." Lyri replies, her accent softening along with her tone. "Tyche's gifts ken seem a dream at tha time. Or when they's gone. But what is life, if not dreams?" Lyri waxes oddly philosophic, then falls silent, her gaze climbing to the masts of the Amarada beside them. With a blink, she glances back at Zea, her smile now slightly tart. "Well now. I was on m'way down t' the Nereus for a last pint, but if'n I ask ye along, I dinna know what ye'd say. What would ye say?" She directs to Zea with an arched brow.

Zea crosses her arms in front of her and eyes the younger woman for a long time before answering. Perhaps she feels some kind of odd kinship with the woman, though that should not be too surprising, seeing as how Lyri is one of the few other Empyreans she'll spend her days with. "I ... I need to change," she explains slowly, "But I do not believe I'll drink. You have a strange idea of what tastes good, Lyri." Zea could certainly do without the alcohol, but the companionship is far more important right now as she is stuck in a strange limbo between her old life and her new. She makes a turn towards the Amarada and then stops. "Will you wait for me?"

Lyri hesitates, then nods. "Aye, I'll wait." She replies, then turns her head away, crossing her arms to survey the loading of the two ships from her vantage point, leaning against the two crates.

Up on the Naughty Nereus balcony, Lexa takes a slow, slightly unsteady breath, and slips inside.

Rather than press her way through the crowded docks, Zea closes her eyes a moment as the winds seem to encircle her. Without the aid of her wings she suddenly levitates a few feet above the docks, enough to free her wings enough that she can use them and not her magic to board the ship. Upon landing she hurries below decks to change. When she emerges this time it is not in the ill-fitting garments of the Amarada's captain, but in ship-worthy clothing cut to fit her figure. The white blousy shirt is cinched at her waist with a scarf the color of the sea, and she wears, shockingly enough, dark blue breeches and short boots. Not surprisingly she moves slowly, uncertain in her new appearance as she descends to the docks along the gangplank. She gains a few looks from men on the Amarada who saw her enter the ship with a completely different look. Upon approaching Lyri she does a quick-footed spin, something she's probably done thousands of times at home whenever she tries on a new gown. The pants, unfortunately, leave her without that familiar fluttering of material around her ankle.

A motion of blue catches Lyri's attention, but when she turns, 'tis not the blue Atlantean that greets her eyes, but a newly garbed Zea. Her brows furrow momentarily as she appraises the woman, then finally releases a half-grin. "Well, now!" She exclaims, uncrossing her arms and pushing away from the crates with a lithe movement. "Ye're no longer wearing yer boyo's undies!" She makes a brief moue, then nods. "Aye, it'll do. Ye'll suit." She nods once more, then beckons Zea with a tilt of her chin. "Come along then." And with that, she turns on her heel and makes her way towards the Nereus.

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.

It's early evening in the Nereus, the usual hubbub of activity as off-duty sailors, assorted lowlives from Mongrel Town and the bottoms, and various others, gather in the inn to slake thirsts both liquid and other. Rosa's busy at the bar, dispensing drinks with her usual brash good cheer.

Zea trails Lyri into the Nereus, looking a bit like a skittish cat as she remembers her last visit to this notorious tavern. She doesn't slink, but she keeps an eye open, glancing around for a possible familiar face, as unlikely as that would be. A chair is roughly pushed back as the occupant rises from his table, placing a barrier between Lyri and Zea. The noblewoman's step shuffle to a pause before she snakes herself around the mongrel's chair, her murmured 'excuse me' brings loud laughter from the men at the table.

The laughter brings Lyri's head around, for the redhead chit was nearly to the bar by that point. Spying Zea, she cants her head to one side, eyeing the men at the table and then the noblewoman. Fighting a smile, she offers over the din, "Ye dinna hav' t' come, ye know. But tha last time, ye seemed t' enjoy yerself. Wan' t' share another bot'l wi' me?" She offers, turning back towards the bar and gesturing to Rosa. "A bottle of bonded whiskey and two shot glasses." She calls to the woman.

Rosa grins, pausing in the middle of pouring several tankards of ale to grab a bottle down from the shelf behind her. "With you in a second, lass."

Oh no, not *that* again. Zea's eyes go wide and she is waving off the woman behind the bar as she takes a seat next to Lyri. "Just one shot glass," she tells the woman while casting Lyri an evil glare at the mere suggestion. But now she is at a loss, for her expertise in tavern beverages does not extend much past the generic ale and this whiskey Lyri obviously favors. "You have an odd opinion on what is fun," Zea says under her breath as she leans over to speak with Lyri. "I am not falling for that 'It tastes like honey nonsense again." But what is she to drink? She muses over it a moment, waiting for the bar mistress to make herself available.

Rosa knows better than that. Two glasses, or rather, two mugs, since the glassware in here rarely lasts the night, get delivered with the bottle of whisky. "There y'go." The pair get a friendly grin. "Anythin' else?"

Lyri settles onto her own seat, throwing Zea a surprised look. "What is wi' ye, Zea? Ye've been skittish all evenin', and now ye're refusing good whiskey?" Lyri remarks with obvious disappointment and a hint of disapproval. As Rosa brings her order, Lyri turns a friendly smile on the woman, shakin' her head. "Naught fer me, but p'haps sumthin' else fer the 'lady' here." She tosses a glance at Zea, arching a brow.

Zea pushes the mug away, doing so as respectfully as possible. Old habits really do die hard. "No, no whiskey for me. I'll have ..." Well, might as well go with what everyone else is drinking, it can't be any worse than the whiskey, that's for sure. "A pint of ale," she declares to Rosa before turning to Lyri in an attempt to explain herself. "The gods only know. Perhaps I am more nervous about this voyage than I thought. Now that we're actually preparing to leave, that tomorrow I'll receive my last view of Parnassus for a long time, if ever, I might be a little unsure of what is to come."

Rosa says "Comin' right up." She ducks between two grinning sailors back to the bar, stands on one's toe as a pointed reminder to keep his hands off her rear, and hollers to Jenna, her colleague behind the bar. "'Nother ale for the songbirds over there.""

Blue-green eyes slide over Zea a bit skeptically before Lyri turns to pour herself a splash of the whiskey. Lifting the mug, she doesn't yet drink, content simply to hold the alcohol in her hands. "Look, Zea, if'n ye dinna wanna be here, simply say so. This ain't yer life, not really, not yet. If'n ye'd rather spend yer last night in Parnassus wit' yer real friends or yer boyo, simply go. Ye dinna need to playact. 'S demeanin' t' us as lives it." Not to mention Zea. But that goes unsaid as Lyri turns away and lifts the mug to her lips, throat undulating against the fiery liquid.

Zea stares blankly at Lyri for a moment before she fishes out a couple coins and slams them down onto the bar. "For your trouble," she says to Rosa before focusing fully on Lyri. "Well, thank you Lyri for determining what my life is or where I should be. The captain is currently far too busy to have me hanging around and as for my real friends in Parnassus..." She looks down at herself, no way on earth she could go back into the city looking like this. She shoves the barstool out of the way and is quick on her feet. "I apologize for 'demeaning' you and *your* kind. Enjoy your whiskey Lyri," she spits out angrily as she turns and storms out of the Nereus.

Lexa comes down the stairs from the second level.

Evidently, Zea wasn't the only one to take a moment or two to change. A tall, slim mongrel woman with long, night-dark hair appears in the fish's mouth that decorates the staircase, and pauses to take in the scene, and, likely, from her pose, to be taken in herself. She does indeed garner a few wolf whistles, catcalls, and inappropriate suggestions, from which it doesn't take much to figure her name is Lexa, and her usual business here is conducted upstairs. Or not, if some of the suggestions are to be believed. Rosa, meanwhile, blinks,. slightly surprised, at Zea, but not so surprised she doesn't pocket the coin.

"Tyche's /Tits/, Zea, I didna mean....!" Lyri calls after Zea, only to let herself trail off halfway through. "Ach, what's tha use." She mutters to herself, turning back to the bar to pour herself another splash of whiskey. "I ken argue wi' 'er on tha morrow if she has a yearnin'. T'night I'd prefer a bit of whiskey and a good tumble." She grumbles into her cup. But she can't help a last wayward glance after Zea.

Zea is angry enough to push her way through without the usual polite apologies. "Awww, why ye leavin' so early, pretty bir'" says one rather drunk Sylvan that Zea attempts to push her way past. He even goes so far as to wrap an arm around her waist to get her to stay, but rather than receiving a girlish giggle in response to his brutish show of bravado she turns a glare to his glassy stare. "Let go of me or your last breath will be your last," she hisses with a shove against the man's chest. "'ey, 'he's a feisty one," the Sylvan laughs to his friends, but he doesn't seem ready to let go out her just yet. His sparkling green eyes turn on her with a slobbery grin. "I like 'em feisty," she tells her, breathing ale all over her.

Lexa scowls, and elbows her way past several grabbing hands in Zea's direction, muttering a curse under her breath that would make Mister Burke blush. "*Hey*." She swats at a hand determined to paw at her almost-visible rear, and grabs at the Sylvan's shirt. "*OI*."

A colorful curse, a bit of laughter and a bit of a scuffle wound together are enough to draw Lyri's head around once more. She blinks through the tavern's twilight and grime, blue-green orbs alighting on Zea and her "friend" just as Lexa reaches for the Sylvan's shirt. Lyri blinks twice, thrice, before she's slid off her stool, leaving her bottle and mug behind. She's more than willing to wait and argue with Zea later, but she's not about to let the woman get accosted, when her being here /is/ technically Lyri's fault. Leaving Lexa to deal with the Sylvan, she draws closer to Zea's side, fingers already resting on the knife at her belt, just in case. "Ye all right, Zea?" She calls to the older Empyrean.

No winds are rising, but the wind mage is focusing intently on the Sylvan, and not in a favorable way. For a few moments the air around them becomes thin, as if standing atop a mountain, but when Lexa approaches and grabs for the Sylvan, the thinness disappears. Lexa's advance and the unnatural change in atmosphere is enough to distract the Sylvan enough to loosen his grip enough for Zea to angrily push him away. Stormy eyes regard the mongrel woman for a long moment and then shift to Lyri. "Fine," she scowls. "I can take care of myself," she insists with another angry shove to the Sylvan before making for the door.

Unfortunately for the Sylvan, the amount of ale he's had, and the two shoves in the chest, *and* the hand tugging on his shirt, do precious little for his balance. It's sufficiently crowded in the Nereus that Lexa, likewise, hasn't really any place to go, bar stumbling half a pace backwards, before fetching up on her back with a cry, and the Sylvan sprawled across her. The resulting stream of invective would blister the paint on the walls, if there were any, especially since the Sylvan's in no hurry to move.

The quick series of events that leaves Lexa stuck between the bar and the Sylvan bring a widening of Lyri's eyes and a drop of her chin in surprise. Blinking, she glances after Zea, then back at Lexa, before it dawns on her that Zea is on her way out the door. Lyri ignores the waterfall of expletives coming from the direction of the bar, nearly tripping on a chair and whapping some drunken mongrel with her wing as she attempts to trail after Zea. "Zea! Wait, damn you!" As the mongrel grumbles at her and reaches out to slap her derriere, Lyri turns and punches him solidly in the nose before scooting after Zea. "Zea, /wait/." Thankfully, the mongrel was already so drunk that the tiny fist that connected with his face was just the straw on the camel's back. He's out like a light, and falls backwards in his chair.

Zea stops at the first call of her name, her wings already bristling from the first attack, and the curses directed at her do little to calm her nerves. She spins to face Lyri, her defenses already up. "What," she scowls as she looks to Lyri, seemingly ignoring the growing mayhem around her. The flurry of curses from the mongrel woman trapped by the Sylvan who had only moments ago had his arm around her does provide a bit of distraction from looking at the cartographer. The woman did try and help her after all. "Excuse me," she says, voice void of politeness as she pushes past Lyri. She doesn't touch the Sylvan, but with another steady gaze on him he slowly levitates a bit, enough for Lexa to escape from under the drunken lot. One can only imagine what the Sylvan must be thinking about his current situation. "Move!" she calls to the fallen Cyprian.

Lexa does. Although her first move *is* an upward jerk of her knee somewhere painful, before she rolls out of the way, and gets, somewhat cautiously, to her feet. A mongrel sailor who clearly doesn't learn from his fellows' mistakes attempts to haul her upright for a kiss, and collects a elbow under the sternum for his pains. "Keep yer hands t'yerself." He takes a step back and glares back at her. "What's yer problem, Lex? Y' dress like that an' *not* expectin' t'get groped?"

Lyri is caught for another long moment in her surprise, blinking at the sight before her. But at some point, her jaw snaps shut and tightens briefly as she fingers her knife once more. She draws closer to the Cyprian and the mongrel sailor, trailing after Zea, but though she could likely help or make a bit of noise herself, she hangs back, oddly reserved and silent.

A sick little smile twists Zea's lips as Lexa gives the Sylvan what's coming to him. And then she has her turn. *Slam!* In an instant the Sylvan falls to the floor, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He might have a sore head in the morning, but the falls was barely enough to break any bones or cause any other injury. She turns swiftly to Lyri, eyes dark and stormy still, but with that little smile that doesn't touch her gaze. "What?"

There's movement by the door, the lean and wiry mongrel bouncer moving to hover, unobtrusively, behind Lyri, just in case she was planning to do something as foolish as draw the knife. Lexa, meanwhile, shakes dark hair back, and growls at the sailor, "Sure. But I was expectin' you t'pay fer it."

Lyri doesn't draw her knife. In fact, she doesn't even move. So the withdrawal that comes as Zea turns to look at her, the slight distancing and shrinking, is visible only in her eyes, the way lashes shutter and fall. Blue-green eyes turn briefly to Lexa, a flash of concern darkening their hue, but they pale again as they shift back to Zea. And finally, a short shake of her head. "Nuthin'. Nuthin'." She mutters. Taking a step back, her wings draw tight about her, even as she skirt around Zea and the table, moving back to the bar. She doesn't quite make it, however, before she's abreast of Lexa and the mongrel sailor. "Jes cause I dress the way I do, I dinna expect to be groped. I expect respect, all tha same. She expects payment. Dinna be a fool, boyo." The dangerous edge to her voice is slightly lessened by her rather undangerous appearance, slender and bearing only a knife as she is.

The adrenaline that quickly flooded Zea dissipates, leaving her standing here, wings slightly slumped and breathing a bit too heavy. She doesn't say anything to Lyri, but a flicker in her gaze notes the sudden change in the cartographer's regard for her. She brushes some stray tendrils back behind her ear as she turns and watches Lyri approach the dark-haired mongrel.

The sailor treats Lyri to a snort of laughter. "Featherbrain." Lexa simply turns her back on him, and manages to accidentally land a foot in the downed Sylvan's ribs as she turns, eliciting a groan. Dark eyes slide past Lyri to the lean mongrel behind her, and she shakes her head. "S'fine, Darryn." He shrugs and turns away, as she makes a token attempt to adjust her silks and turns her gaze back to Lyri, assessing.

Lyri rolls her eyes and mutters, "At least I /hav'/ a brain," briefly showing flashing her teenage years and the accompanying raging immaturity that strikes without warning. Huffing a sigh, she eyes the Cyprian, shrugging one shoulder. "Sorry." She mutters. "Jes...dinna like seein' people kicked 'round." She casts a glance over her shoulder, spying Zea not far off, and turns her head away again, a bit sharply. Wings hunch tight to her back as she returns to the bar and her bottle of bonded whiskey, pouring an ample amount into that already in her mug.

For the most part the patrons seem suitably subdued; at least none make another grab for the noblewoman in sailor's garb. She blinks in shock at the reaction from Lyri, but remembers the earlier comment and her intention to get out of this place. A touch of remaining anger has her shoving a chair back under a table as she passes it on her way to the door. People are not exactly jumping out of her way, but she doesn't seem to cower from them as they stand their ground. She eyes one of the bouncers as she approaches him, half-expecting him to say something. From the tales told about this place, this 'brawl' was terribly tame.

Darryn watches Zea, eyes narrowed. And like everyone else, hears the tide of muttering from those near the brawl, words like 'Empy witch' clearly audible. There seems to be a shift of movement towards the door, particularly from a few of those emboldened but not incapacitated by drink, and a raised voice yells, "What the hell you doin' stickin' up fer her, Lex? She ain't yer type any moren' she's our'n, stuck up birdie witch!"

Lexa takes a pace backwards till her rear bumps the bar counter, settling her hands on the edge of it, and watches Zea, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, Lexa," asks another. "What're you doin' sidin' with Empy's all of a sudden?" It's apparent, perhaps, to Lyri from as close as she is, that maybe Lexa doesn't know how to answer that.

Empy witch. Well, that's certainly a new one to the pale blond woman who is looking more and more like an outsider. Might as well have left her fine garments on, she sticks out just ask much. She comes from a world where her magic is an asset and suddenly it sound more like a curse. Movement to her left and her right has Zea pausing, unsure what is happening, her wings twitching at her back as her signal of annoyance. "I'm not looking for any more trouble," she warns them as she takes another few steps towards the door. "Keep your filthy paws off of me and we will not have a problem."

Earth-toned feathers flash briefly in a froth of white as Lyri's wings flare and fold again. Downing the whiskey in her mug, she sets it back down with a bit more force than necessary, casting a sidelong glance at Lexa. A wayward dreadlock is pushed back out of her face as Lyri turns her head more fully to take in the Nereus' dimly-lit space. "What ever happened t' jes respectin' a body's right t' space, no matter tha race?" She lifts her contralto with irritation. "Decent folk's hard eno' t' find, 's equal 'mong races. Pigeon, Finny, all tha same, innit?" She challenges. "Met good'uns and bad'uns o' both sides now." Sliding off her bar stool, she turns completely around, casting another glance at Lexa before taking a few steps towards the door. She's not really capable of doing much more than distract, but she's giving her best go with another stretch of those multi-colored wings. "Tha lady 'ere can rip a man's head off wi' that magic o' hers. D'ye really want i' t' be any of ye?" She queries loudly so all those nearing the door might hear her.

"Aye," points out one of the patrons near Zea, a swarthy, solidly built dockworker. "But there's only one of her... less'n y'want t'join in?" The stretch of wings doesn't exactly endear Lyri to those near her, either, earning her several sharp remarks and a pointed shove. Lexa, meanwhile, watches with something akin to dismay, before pushing up with the two hands that are clutching the edge of the bar, until she's in quick succession sitting, then standing, on the counter. "*HEY!*"

This is an entirely new kind of world for Zea and not the way she wanted to get this kind of lesson. In her world, her word was obeyed and these men would step back. Anger flushes her cheeks as they threaten her and her wings bristle loudly, shaking enough to drop a couple feathers to the floor. "You really do not want to ..." Zea's words are cut off by the mongrel woman's shout from atop the bar, and while she is not inclined to turn her back on these men, she does toss a quick glance over her shoulder.

Lyri stumbles back from the force of the shove, ending up with her back to a table and her wings splayed haphazardly across the questionable grime on its surface. With a grimace, she pushes herself up, reaching for the dagger at her waist, but its unsheathing is stilled by Lexa's shout from the bar. Her eyes swing briefly in the mongrel's direction, but quickly dart back to the others around her, unable to prevent the sinking feeling in her belly that melds with the adrenaline beginning to sing through her veins. Ah, a good brawl. Almost better than a good bottle of whiskey.

And under normal circumstances, Lexa would agree with her. Certainly from the custom she tends to get afterwards. But, for reasons Lexa would be hard put to articulate, especially given her known dislike of Empyreans as a race, these aren't normal circumstances. She has perhaps five seconds, no more, in which to hold the attention she's got from most of the largely male population of the Nereus, before the simmering mob runs the risk of boiling over, and knows one way to do it. A toss of raven-dark hair, and fingers reach, very deliberately, for the clasp at the front of her sheer silk top. "OK, boys..."

Now, it doesn't take too much to distract a man, especially if that distraction is plentiful ale or the suggestion that he's going to get a free look at something he must usually pay for. Added to the fact that very few men here are sober to begin with. Zea blinks and against her better judgment, turns to watch the cyprian with a look of open shock. She isn't... she couldn't ... she wouldn't, not here! Her wings slowly settle as some of the men around her are now pushing by her for a better look. The door isn't completely clear, but her chances are a hell of a lot better than they were a few minutes ago.

An appreciative whistle comes from Lyri's direction, not for the show the mongrel woman is about to give the drunken men (ahem, /boys/) around her, but for the woman's guts and resourcefulness. "And /that/, boyos, is why /we/ are the stronger half of the races. /All/ of the races." Lyri straightens and fishes a bit of coinage out of her pouch and tosses it at the bar, more for her unpaid drinks than for Lexa. But whoever ends up with it, it's all the same to her. But at this exact moment, she's getting the feeling wings aren't a good thing to have here. And so it is she tucks them tight to her back and slips between the now distracted males around her towards the door.

This is, likely, going to turn into one of those nights that gets talked about at the Nereus for a while. But Lexa isn't stupid: plying her trade since she was fifteen or so means she knows the art of the tease, and, now she has them, she can drag that out for plenty long enough for the two previous centers of attention to make their way out, with a little help from the wiry Darryn should anyone be insufficiently distracted. But, too, she knows that there's an unspoken rule about not starting something you're not prepared to finish, and even if the Empyreans don't realize it, there'll be more of a price than just stripping atop the bar to pay.

Zea isn't prepared to stick around to see just what Lexa has to do to keep the men entertained. The gods know she's seen enough already. As Lyri hurries past her Zea take the opportunity to slip out with the younger woman. "I'd say Tyche isn't quite smiling as big now," she says in the other woman's ear as they hurry for the door and the relative safety of the outdoors.

Lyri casts one last glance back at the bar, her own expression far from a smile. But there's a trace of pride and gratitude there. "Nay, I'd say she is smiling on /some/ of us." She murmurs, then turns her head away without looking at Zea, and slips out the door.

The roar as the pair leave suggest that Lexa's delivered on at least one implied promise.

Navale - Docks - Parnassus

Surrounded by the sounds, sights, and smells of the estuary and the dockyards, where the Navale meets the water is an area of perpetual activity. Fortified against the wear and tear of the water's constant motion, the cobblestone landing extends out into the estuary with several long piers that allow ships to take berth at Parnassus.

For visitors and cargo alike, the Navale provides the first taste of the unique region that Parnassus inhabits. While Empyreans and their Mongrel slaves and employees abound, those of other races are easily in evidence, moving and working about the district. Sylvan, Atlantean, and even Varati make use of the largest, most accessible landing for ships that come into the Mahpe River's estuary. Though those who work the area tend to be coarser individuals, often someone of the upper classes can be seen tending to their business affairs, or the arrival of esteemed guests.

Carriages and wagons stand ready to take visitors or cargo up the steep hill to the white walled Empyrean city or to the impressive expanse of the bustling enterprise of Pons Pactum. Across the water can be seen the island, Insula Garum, and further across the tiered levels of Irha-Esh. Directly to the southeast is Mongrel Town.

As soon as they're free of the Nereus, Lyri takes one last look around at the door and the shout rising inside, shaking her head, then begins walking back to the Amarada at a quick clip.

Zea hurries along after Lyri; not so much to catch up with the other woman as to get *away* from that foul place. "I ... can't believe ..." Zea's thoughts are lost with her quick steps as pulls her wings in against her and makes for the Amarada. "That ... woman..."

Hearing Zea's muttered comments behind her, Lyri whirls around, her wings flaring yet again, this time to balance the sharp motion. "Tha woman?" She repeats a hint louder, looking hard at Zea. "Tha woman saved our asses, Pigeon. And d'ye know what? We get t' run while she gets t' stay and deal wi' what she started. She didna hav' t' do tha. But she did. She deserves all th' respect ye got in ye and then some." Lyri says fiercely, shaking a bedyed finger at Zea.

Zea draws up short, nearly colliding with Lyri and her waggling finger. "Gods," she breathes with some anger still in her. "I wasn't insulting her, Lyri. Excuse me for a moment if I need to get over my shock of what I just witnessed. That might be a usual event in your world but I am not quite at that same place." She draws her wings tighter against her as the chill of night descends on the city. A few sailors, some drunk and other not, give the two women a glance as they walk by, but none seem to stop long enough to get involved.

Carrying a duffel bag made from strong deer hide over his shoulder, Soft-Feather makes his way towards the Amarada. Time to check in with the First Mate and find quarters...that is, of course, until the man spots Zea and Lyri. The former looks familiar for some reason, though he can't immediately place her. Their paths intersecting, he simply stops to let them pass, a deep head bow offered respectfully. Then he remembers why Zea looks familiar...he tried to rescue her from the Makara--once with Sharpclaw, then again with the rest of the Amarada's crew. Thankfully the second attempt was a success.

Lyri paces away from Zea on the heels of the noblewoman's speech, so she misses Soft-Feather's approach. She turns again sharply several moments later, however, shrugging with both shoulders and wings as she groans. "Look 'ere, Zea. I...I dinna mean no offense." The apology comes grudgingly, haltingly, but the tone is there as she watches Zea. "Ye jes...ye ken be shivering and innocent on tha one side, then so cold and haughty. And yer magic..." Lyri shakes her head again and begins to pace once more, unable to contain her agitation, even as her wings flare with it. "Ye..." But before she can finish that statement, she nearly runs smack into Soft-Feather with her stalking. With a hiccup of surprise, her wings surge back to offset her change in balance, but it's too late, and she ends up on her rear on the ground as she attempts to avoid the Sylvan.

There is so much Zea could say in response to that, but the shocked look on her face is enough to speak for itself. Shivering and innocent? Many years since she's felt she could be called that. But the intrusion, as it were, of the Sylvan ceases all arguments and conversation. In the darkness she gets more of a sense of his frame than his face, but she squints anyway, trying to make out features. Gods, don't let it be one of the drunken louts they just ran from. "If you're looking for a quick roll, you'd best get back to the Nereus, we aren't interested."

"A quick roll?" The terminology is unfamiliar to this man, his voice filled confusion and respect all at once as a hand is offered to Lyri. "Allow me to help you up?" Soft-Feather looks back to Zea, "I was on my way to the Makara. When I realized my path would cross yours, I stopped so you could go by first. I apologize for the...fall," a warm, calming smile is offered to Lyri. The deer-hide bag is shifted slightly on his shoulder, "Is...everything alright?" He refers, of course, to the conversation he could not help but overhear.

Lyri stares up at the Sylvan man in confusion a long moment before accepting the offered hand with one of her own, calloused and bedyed as it is. Using the leverage to gain her feet, Lyri brushes herself off, wings settling to her back as she eyes the Sylvan and then Zea briefly. Swinging her eyes back to the man with the duffel, Lyri shrugs, "'Tweren't yer fault, shoulda been lookin' where I was goin'." She mutters, shoving her dreadlocks back into place roughly. Taking a step back, she adds, "Th' Amarada? Ye another sailor, what's signed up wi' 'er?"

Zea takes a couple steps back as Soft-Feather helps Lyri to her feet. She's still on her guard, as it were and even though he says he is sailing with the Amarada she isn't quick to welcome him with open arms. "We're fine," she defends, standing up straighter and lifting her wings a bit. He may recognize her, but she has not yet placed him yet. "It is quite late to be signing aboard. I'd wager you're one of the last to do so."

Soft-Feather nods slowly, "I...had a lot of good-byes to say." His eyes focus on Zea's wings for a moment, "Glad to see your wings have healed. Are you both coming along as well?" This could be interesting. Judging from Zea's reaction during his initial rescue attempt, he wouldn't quite peg her as the sailing type... But Lyri, with her calloused hands and fractured speech, she DOES fit the picture. His face adopts a slight smile by default as he awaits a response.

"Aye," Lyri replies, after casting a curious glance between Soft-Feather and Zea, then back to the Sylvan. "'m Lyri, ship's cartographer." She takes a step back, brushing her hands together before she crosses her arms against the evening's encroaching chill.

Zea looks startled at the Sylvan's recognition and she takes a few steps closer to get a better look at him. "You're ... you're one of those shapeshifting Sylvans from the ... when the..." She makes a sharp gesture towards the dark shape of the Makara. But she doesn't wait for an answer from him before answering his questions. It is only polite after all and there has been a severe lack of that tonight, that's for certain. "Yes, I'll be traveling as well," she answer plainly. "Wind mage for the ... Makara." Even now the ship's name is a bitter ash on her tongue.

As recognition dawns on Zea's face, as well as in her speech, the Magus merely nods in confirmation. "Yes, I am Soft-Feather. And I'll be scouting for the Amarada..." he grins conspirationally, "among other things. Potato peeling was mentioned, so was learning to help sail the ship. Should be fun...I think." His eyes follow Zea's gesture and settle on the Makara--ah yes, he knows it well. If it weren't for a misplaced kick, he would have died on that ship. Turning back to the Empyreans, he bows deeply. "It is good to meet you, Lyri, and to see you again, Zea. I hope to know you both better as the voyage wears on."

Copper brows draw together in consternation as Lyri's gaze shifts between the Sylvan and the Empyrean, who obviously share some sort of history, none-too-pleasant. She's heard stories of the Makara, granted, but... Heaving a deep sigh, Lyri turns back to the Sylvan, inclining her head in a surprisingly regal manner. "'Tis good t' meet ye as well, err, Soft-Feather." Sylvans and their odd names. She gestures behind her, towards the Amarada, attempting to be helpful. "Th' Amarada's jes there. Probably not much space left, but if'n ye've signed on, I'm sure they saved a bit fer ye, too. Good timin'. We ship out t'morra."

From the Amarada, The Captain of the Amarada emerges from below deck, stretching lazily and rubbing a hand over his weary face. The past few days have been long and difficult and he is grateful that most of the crew is settled in now, either making a raucous noise over dinner below or out in the city for a few last hours of precious freedom before the morning comes and the sea takes them out of port. Yawning he slowly ambles toward the rail of the ship, leaning his arms upon it and glancing down to espy the small gathering of familiar figures below.

Now that introductions have been made and confusion has been put to rest, Zea can relax a bit, or at least until she hears a few drunken sailors burst into song as they make their way back from one of the taverns. Her pale eyes narrow as a few stumble by, her shoulders tightening and her wings flaring ever so slightly. But once they're past, she relaxes again and turns back to the conversation, giving a nod with what Lyri says. "It seems those that are not already on board are out enjoying their last night of freedom, so to speak." She looks Soft-Feather over a moment to add, "You might be one of the few sober men left on this dock."

From the Makara, Epi emerges from below the decks, and pads over to the bow of the ship to look out at the estuary that had been her home for the past few years.

The Sylvan considers what Lyri says about space and certainly hopes she's right, "I would have come on board sooner but I had much to do to prepare. But if there's no cot to sleep on, I'm used to taking the floor." Granted, that floor is usually covered in soft grass or dirt, but still. To Zea, he responds with a chuckle, "Sober is relative. From what I've seen," he gestures towards the bar, "one doesn't have to be drunk to act like a fool. I won't be sad to leave these people behind." Not quite bitter but definitely...not amicable, that's how he comes off regarding the idiots buffeting Rosa inside earlier.

"Suppose I'm tha only one wishin' she /was/ drunk here then 'bout now." Lyri mutters under her breath, but to Soft-Feather, she smiles briefly, waving a dismissive hand. "Ach, nay! More'n likely they've still a spot fer a hammock fer ye or sumthin'. 'Twill be too long a voyage fer the floor, surely. Or p'haps ye can flip wi' someone fer a switch now and again, eh?" She offers, to her, helpfully.

From the Amarada, Idly stepping up to the railing, Sebastian allows his wings to flare out before stepping off the edge, slowly gliding down to the surface of the docks. The conversation below was muted and broken by the slap of the water against the hull and docks, but it more a desire to stretch his wings and his legs that brings him down to earth than curiosity regarding whatever conversation might be holding the threesome together.

Zea is completely at a loss as far as the conversation is concerned. She's got little real knowledge about the sleeping arrangements on the two ships and her interested, yet vacant expression might betray that lack of knowledge. But she tries. "I am sure they would not hire on more sailors than there was room for." She laughs lightly and looks to Lyri for some reassurance on this matter. "The ships are small enough as it is, it cannot be good for moral to pack men in without a proper bunk or hammock in which to sleep?"

Helpful indeed, that much is clear from Soft-Feather's thankful smile. "Thank you, Lyri," he repeats her name, committing it to memory...though something tells him he won't have much of a chance to forget it, given the close quarters. The discussion, at least as far as he is concerned, comes to a close as Sebastian glides down to join them. "Chookma, Captain," he lowers his head respectfully in a slight bow, again readjusting the deerhide bag slung over his shoulder, "I was just aboard to board the Makara and get to work." Surely those potatoes need attending to, hmmm? "Thank you again for allowing me to come along. Our last adventure was...interesting. The ones to follow even more so, I think?"

As he approaches the group, Sebastian tips his head, addressing the Sylvan first as he rumbles, "Aye, I think the Amarada is full up for the night but there's room aboard the Makara for you to set up your bunk. Mister Burke knows who goes where better than I, but he's off having a well deserved drink I do believe at the moment." Turning to the Empyrean pair, Sebastian's eyes land upon Lyri first and he studies her hair for a moment, eyes flickering to Zea before a wide grin curls his lips, some secret joke perhaps? "Evening ... Lyri, isn't it?" he asks, knowing that the girl has been pointed out to him but realizing suddenly that this is the first time he's ever actually -spoken- to her. Reaching out his hand he rumbles, "I'm Sebastian .... Captain Xaverius during sailing, but I don't care much for formalities otherwise ...."

From the Makara, Epi looks down at those on the docks, watching the group in typical Atlantean silence... and Epi-typical curiosity. She isn't the most social of creatures on land or in the waters. But she is one of the more curious ones.

Lyri looks askance at Zea, about to reply to her, but the captain's arrival forestalls her; all she can utter is a muffled squeak of surprise. She steps to one side as he lands beside them, quickly looking away, towards Soft-Feather as the Sylvan speaks. But then the Empyrean captain is addressing her and it's impossible for her to pretend she hasn't heard. She is, after all, standing right next to the man. Tyche take her luck tonight. But then, they'd shortly be in much closer quarters for a veeery long time. Schooling her features into some resembling neutrality, Lyri lifts her chin a notch, swinging her gaze towards Sebastian. "Aye, cap'n, 'm Lyri." It appears while he may not stand on ceremony, she's going to. As much as she butchers the title with her rough speech. "Mr. Burke has hired me and m'partner, Dylana, t' be tha cartographer and navigators fer th' Amarada." Almost as an afterthought, she reaches out briefly to clasp his hand, then jerks her calloused digits away as if burned. And yet, she can't take her eyes off him.

Whatever secret might be shared in that quick glance, Zea doesn't reveal it. She returns the Captain's smile with a bright one of her own and nods with an 'Ave' in greeting at his arrival. She takes a small step back to widen the circle a bit, and her flared wings are quickly pulled in, only the longest ones brush against Sebastian's. The introduction between the two Empyreans is a curious thing; Zea watches Lyri more than Sebastian, and one brow arches curiously as the younger woman's hand retreats sharply. She looks a bit surprised, for she had suspected the two had already met and she makes mention of it. "Why Lyri, in all your times aboard the Amarada in the last week or so you've not yet been introduced to her Captain?"

The scout nods, "Aye, the Makara it is then." Eyes drifting back to the ship where he almost met his doom, the ferret mentality in Soft-Feather finds wonders if the pirates left anything shiny behind in some secret compartment. He makes a note to go slinking around sometime to find out. Noticing Zea step back in the corner of his eye, he follows suit and as he does so, Epi is spotted above. A smile is offered her way, whether she sees it or not.

From the Makara, Epi sees the smile and raises one hand in a shy wave to Soft-Feather. Land dwellers are ever so fascinating to the water world girl. Maybe in the close quarters of the ships, she may finally understand them better. The interaction between Sebastian and Lyri was a curious thing, one she itches to ask someone about, but doubts they have any better idea than she does.

Sebastian is surprised by Lyri's reaction to him, her hand drawing away faster than a striking snake. One brow arches curiously, but his hand merely drops to his side and he makes no comment about her choice of calling him Captain. Probably for the best. He always tends to be too familiar with the crew, and that has cost him dearly in the past. Nodding to her, he rumbles, "I know who you are ...." a long pause held as he studies her intently for a moment, stormy blue-grey eyes flickering over her features before he finishes. "Mister Burke told me about both you and Dylana and I look forward to working with you." To Zea he notes, "It happens sometimes .... Mister Burke is really the one closest to the crew ... sometimes I don't meet all of the new crew till we're out at sea. With Lyri here," he notes with a mild hint of curiosity, "it seems she's always where I'm not and vice versa. Mister Burke has pointed her out a number of times, but she always seems to vanish when I find a moment for introductions ..."

Lyri shrugs, the very picture of innocence and nonchalance as Sebastian answers Zea's question before she can. "Aye, so much t' prepare, t' do. I'm sure yer ver' busy, cap'n." Lyri pauses, glances flickering to the others present, then back to Sebastian with a dip of her head. "'n aye, we look forward t' workin' wi' ye 's well. Be good t' be on tha sea again. Too many weeks ashore now." The last is murmured with only a hint of complaint, but then her eyes shift to the Amarada and back to her captain. "Fine ship ye have 'ere, fine ship."

Zea has so much to learn, to absorb and each new question answered seems to be a hundred news ones to light. She stands quietly for a moment, listening to Sebastian's explanation and Lyri's response, her gaze lingering longer on Lyri than on the ship's captain. But, being raised to one day become a good hostess, she feels it necessary to include everyone in the conversation, and so while Lyri compliments the Amarada, Zea turns towards the Sylvan. "Have you been a sailor long? I remember you now on the Amarada, but I did know know you were familiar with this line of work, or are you as fresh to it as I?"

Soft-Feather finds the discussion leaving him behind and that's alright. He's got one final good-bye to say anyway. Looking up towards the direction of the forest, he spots her...coming, as always, to his mental call. The eagle flaps her majestic wings, soaring above in a circular pattern now as she searches for a place to perch. Settling on Soft-Feather's arm, the avian descends--claws careful not to cut through the sleeve of his robe.

Soft-Feather speaks quietly to the bird, hoping not to disturb the others. "I'm going to miss you, Brynn. I wish you could come but...not many things to hunt out on the open water." He affectionately strokes her beak with his free hand, then offers a snippet of dried meat produced from a fold in his robe. She takes it gingerly as the Sylvan regards Zea once again. "I suppose it depends. I am new to sailing in general but I have been scouting for many seasons. The skills and instincts of a hunter and the eyesight of an eagle prove useful now and then." A smile blooms, "But I admit, it's nice to know I'm not the only one new to this."

His gaze is speculative, but Sebastian in the end merely smiles and nods toward Lyri. Strange girl, but Burke was clearly quite taken with her. Likely the hair brought about the bonding between them, he suspects. "The Amarada is one of the finest ships sailing .... and she's been on the seas for nearly forty years now." Sebastian's gaze shifts out to the ship, eyes warming as he studies her as a Captain now, not just a member of the crew. "Sometimes I think I really don't deserve her." He is startled, however, but the descent of the eagle, wings flaring slightly before settling at his back again, listening to Soft-Feather address the bird. "Aye, especially where we are going, she would not like it."

Lyri's face remains neutral as she turns to survey the ship, a flicker of her gaze returning to the captain when he's not looking. She turns towards Soft-Feather again, however, at the sound of the eagle descending behind her. Blue-green eyes widen significantly at the sight. "My." She manages as the bird accepts the meat from Soft-Feather. "Ye must be a shifter, t' command such a beaut'ful creature." She nods towards the eagle, saying naught else.

The afternoon and evening have been a flurry of activity, and not all of it was positive. The efforts of the day mixed with the worry and anticipation of tomorrow are beginning to weigh heavy on Zea. She watches the eagle for a moment, a small smile on her lips before she turns towards Sebastian and lays a hand lightly on his arm. "It's been a long day, I think I really need to get some rest." Not wanting to ignore the others, she gives both Lyri and Soft-Feather a nod. "I am sure I will see both of you in one form or another tomorrow. Vale."

Soft-Feather shakes his head, his tone unconsciously slipping into that of a teacher to an apt pupil, "I don't command her." He smiles wide now, "No one can /command/ such beauty. Only befriend it and hope that when the time is right, it'll do the same for you. But yes," the dying day is reflected in his eyes, "I am a shifter. Ferine Magus, so don't be afraid that I'll shift into a wolf and eat your young uncontrollably or something." A hearty chuckle before nodding to Sebastian and his comment about the bird not liking the ocean, "Some things just do not mix...like feathers and salt water, eh?" A smile for Zea as she departs, as well as another head bow. "It was a pleasure. Calm trails."

Sebastian's attention is broken as Zea turns to leave, his eyes meeting hers as his head dips in assent. But he makes no other gesture or comment, no response to her touch. The irony of Soft-Feathers words are not lost on the Empyrean, who ruffles his wings, his lips curving into a smile as he turns back toward the Sylvan. "It is not so much a question of wings and water, but the fact that we are headed north and it will be very cold. No eagles fly where we are going." His gaze shifts to Lyri and then to Zea as he notes with amusement, "There is a surprisingly large contingent of Empyrean's traveling on this voyage ... more than I've ever seen on a ship before. Hopefully we'll keep the storms at bay and thus have little need to mix wings and water, which as you say don't really go well together."

Lyri offers a nod to Zea in parting, her expression retaining some of its earlier distance and discomfort as she regards the Empyrean woman squarely, but it fades as her gaze shifts to Soft-Feather. "'m a bit too young to hav' any young'uns, but thank ye fer th' reassurance." She chuckles, nodding towards the bird. "She's beaut'ful, she is that. But I dinna know 'bout wings 'n wat'r. If they didna mix a'tall, I doubt we'd be so at home on th' wat'r, I do. But point taken." She nods to the Sylvan and captain both.