Featuring: Aurelio, Mahina, Soft-Feather, and Zea
NPCs: Negri
Date: April 13, 2005
IC Date: July 28, 3931
Summary: A simple misunderstanding over some spilled ale leads to a more serious confrontation and promised threats of more to come.

Amarada - Open Ocean

She might be a small cargo ship, but she's clearly built for speed and maneuverability - a ship able to sail the high seas but also able to move along smaller inlets and waterways if need be. Sleek lines and a proud cutting prow mark this elegant ship, which is obviously well kept and tended to meticulously. 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 mast 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. What marks her most to the layman's eye is the unusual figure upon her bow. Unlike the common maiden or mermaid, the Amarada bears upon her breast an Empyrean woman, her white wings unfurled and extending back along each side of the bow. Her face is a vision of beauty, exquisitely carved with long blonde tresses streaming back from her features as if blown by the sea winds. She smiles, serene and confident ... and there is something about her that is strangely familiar to certain eyes that rest upon her visage.

Twilight is a beautiful time of day at sea; the sun has just set in the west and the sky is filled with vibrant hues of violet, periwinkle, indigo, gold and rose. There are few clouds and what are there are high and thin, blending into the natural palette that blankets the heavens. There is a faint breeze; enough to keep the ships moving, but the Captain has called his wind mage back, her work for the day is done. The ships will continue on at a more leisurely pace throughout the evening and night.

It has been a long day, the amount of natural wind now is what it had been all day, and Zea worked hard to keep the ships moving faster than they normally would. When she lands on the Amarada's decks the ship's steward is waiting for her with a mug of something warm and he delivers a murmured message to her as she takes it from him. With a nod she pats him on the shoulder and smiles with relief and gives him a little shoo-ing motion as well.

As the sun continues to set and the crew moves from here to there, deeply immersed in their duties, a lone figure stands at the front of the ship. The winds not caught by the sails carry the hem and folds of his cloak aloft, making them flap lazily in twilight's silhouette. The man remains still, gazing off into the north, his attention entirely focused anywhere BUT the ship. His shoulders are sagged, as if he carries some great invisible burden on his back, and the man's hood is raised. Whether he is alone by choice or chance is not known but anyone who wishes to share the view would, as always, be welcome.

In the first couple months of the voyage Zea has been rather subdued. She has had her moments of outburst, yes, but those who know the woman would have been shocked at her change in character. But suddenly that seems to have changed, almost overnight. Perhaps something about the red-haired female captain struck a spark in her, but whatever it was she seems different, changed somehow. Bolder, more certain of herself and less concerned about being an outsider. It shows even in the way she carries herself. She doesn't try and avoid contact with the other sailors, but she offers then a wave or a smile as a greeting and often she gets one in return. But tonight she's too tired to join in with their games, even magic can take a physical toll on a person. She wanders towards the front of the ship, noting the Sylvan's presence. A few steps from him she offers up an 'Ave' as warm as the tea in her mug. "A lovely night, is it not? The sky is simply amazing."

The hooded figure that is Soft-Feather turns slightly, the dying sun's light splashing across the bearded chin and nose that protrude from beneath his hood. Eyes cast in darkness, the Sylvan simply nods in response before turning back to the sky, a low "Chookma" offered in return for Zea's greeting. He remains quiet after that, the wind continuing to ruffle his robes.

When Soft-Feather began this voyage, he was warm and friendly--as outgoing as possible in fact. But as of late, he has been withdrawing into himself more and more. Quiet at meals, staying below decks or in the sky (even when off duty), and speaking little when spoken to. Why this is, of course, is anyone's guess.

With her empty hand Zea leans over the bow of the ship and gently caresses the figurehead of the Empyrean woman so artfully carved and still quite beautiful after years of wind and salt spray. A strange gesture, perhaps, but it isn't the first time that Zea's done so, making contact with the woman of wood. On her lips lingers a smile, and it grows as behind her some of the crew strike up a few instruments and a song; the evening ritual has begun. The melody is familiar, as are most of the songs by now, and Zea's foot taps along with the singer as he extols the virtues of a love left behind. She glances from the figurehead back to the Sylvan, really looking at him this time rather than just offering a passing glance. "A sour mood you seem to have, Soft-Feather," Zea notes with the smile still touching her eyes. "Perhaps a mug of ale and a bright song might lift your spirits?"

And well... dangit... Aurelio is consistent! Sometimes irritatingly consistent even. For yes, he's making an appearance hear aboard the Amarada. He flew in unseen perhaps... well... by those that have most recently gathered at least, considering the fact that it's rather difficult to miss that flash of color strewn across his wings, especially in the brilliant dawn of a fading day and drawing twilight. None the less, from the eyes of Soft-Feather and Zea, he managed to remain concealed. "Aye? Did someone say a bit o' bright song?" The voice rings forth clear as a bell, shinning and twinkling practically and already carrying within its rich hues a touch of melody as it lingers in the air and on his lips, head lifted as though to chase the notes, canted upward with chin slightly jutting before he at last allows it to fall and a smirk takes the place of the exaggerated expression. Like the smirk itself isn't exaggerated enough anyway... "Tsk. There ye be." strikes up the Empyrean afterward, stepping forward and dusting off his hands and cracking his knuckles. "Been looking all over for ye." Zea doesn't go unregarded though, not at all. To her he bows his head steeply, a typical flourish almost all females tend to garner from him. "I do hope this sour puss doesn't be disturbing this fine evening o' yours, me miss Zea?"

"I apologize," the Sylvan lowers his hood and offers a blithe smile to Zea, though it lacks sincerity in his eyes. "Much is on my mind today," and the theme of the song...love left behind...isn't helping. Still, he uses Aurelio's grand entrance as a springboard to divert attention away from his rather dour thoughts. "Never pictured you as a song bird, Aurelio. Perhaps the captain should keep you in a cage in his room...save the rest of us some grief." He hurrumphs sourly, though the dim light in his eyes signals that he's kidding...mostly.

Zea laughs and shakes her head at Aurelio before taking a quick sip of her tea. The nights are getting colder and colder the further north they sail and any extra warmth is appreciated. "No, Aurelio, his mood hasn't brought me down yet, fear not." She glances past them and to the singers and dancers around a collection of lanterns. There seems to be no order to run silent and dark anymore. She looks to Soft-Feather and waggles a scolding finger at him, but the jest is obvious. "If the captain wishes to keep him in a cage he'll need find another room in which to do it, his cabin is small enough already!" And there's another reason, but ladies do not talk about such things, especially when the lady is a member of the captain's crew.

"Oh, I do know more songs than should rightly ever fit in to memory." corrects the Empyrean, punctuating his statement with a smirk. "Though I do be certain very little o' them do be suitable for the fragile ears o' our fairer company, my fine Sylvan friend." To the other Empyrean Aurelio simply quirks a brow upwards. Come now. She didn't actually think she'd get away with that did she? Ammunition like that? More dangerous than a roaring cannon in the hands of this mischievous and cunning birdie. "An' ye need not tell me about the size o' those cabins, me miss Zea, ye need not tell me. Though I do suspect I know for different reasons." And as if to compliment the first gesture, his second eye winks itself pointedly in her direction. "But come now, Mr. Feather, aye. Tell us what's hanging such a dreary cloud behind those eyes o' yours, hmm?"

Mahina has just come up from the lower deck. She's calm and moving quietly across the deck of the ship. She stretches, thankful to be away from the confines of the decks and back in the sun, moon, sea and stars as she was meant to be.

Soft-Feather chuckles slightly at the talk of the Captain's quarters, not wanting to even KNOW why Aurelio might know their size. As talk swings back to his mood, however, he inwardly sighs. People are always being angsty out in public, prompting discussions of feelings and such. And normally, he's the one trying to coax out of people what their problems are. But today, he doesn't want to talk about his /feelings/. He wants to forget. "You know, a mug of ale does sound awfully nice. I think I'm going to go get some..." And he quietly slips away, heading for the throngs of dancing sailors, taking station near the barrel full of the stuff. A not-very-clean mug is picked up and dunked, the tankard filled to the brim as he pulls it back up and takes a sip. Vile, wretched stuff...but it could be worse. As Mahina comes in sight, he offers her a nod in greeting.

A few of the sailors toss a warm (and a not entirely sober) greeting as Soft-Feather approaches. Zea gives Aurelio a quizzical glance, one that started with his knowledge of the captain's cabin, but it extends into the departure of the moody Sylvan. "Well, it seems as if ale is on the schedule tonight, shall we partake of a sip or two?" For Zea it likely will be little more than a sip or two, but she cannot speak for what Aurelio might consume. As she watches Soft-Feather depart she notices the arrival of the Atlantean woman, and while she is a bit too far off to call a greeting to, she lifts a friendly hand in a greeting should Mahina's gaze wander her way. Speaking to Aurelio but still looking towards the small gathering at the center of the ship she notes, "Seems anything celebratory might be good to try and lift his spirits, he's been like this for days, at least when I've seen him."

Mahina nods in reply to Soft-Feather's. She smiles as she notes the others. She doesn't walk over to them, at least not quickly. She takes her time, why move fast-at least for now. "Blessings," she greets the groups, nodding to each in turn. She turns to note all the celebration. "What all this about?" she asks, she's not sure.

Never having been one to partake much in ale before, Soft-Feather's tolerance for alcohol is limited. It doesn't take much beyond the first mug to get a wave of warmth spreading through his face and chest. Feels good, really, and he isn't quite sure why he's never drank with the men before. His mug is dipped into the barrel again but one of the sailors bumps into him as he withdraws it, causing the liquid to spill all over the deck. Whipping around, a dangerous golden glow flashing in his eyes--surely a sign of magic barely restrained in anger--Soft-Feather growls, "What are you /doing/?!" He gestures at the puddle on the deck, "Clean that up!"

Some of the crowd in the immediate vicinity of the two men quiet down, drawing closer to watch the altercation. One of them whispers to another, "Sounds like fight'n werds t' me!" And sure enough, the drunken sailor in question sneers at the Sylvan. "You were in my way. YOU clean it up!"

One of the female sailor leans over to Mahina, laughing as she holds up her mug of ale. "Don' need no reason ta celebrate, just some good frien's, passable ale and some musicians who know a tune a two and tha's all the reas'n ya need!" She's ready to extol the benefits of such a gathering when things get a little heated by the barrel of ale. "Ye spill'd it, ye clean it up! Don' be wastin' good ale!" Well, it isn't that good, but when it is spilled, it's like gold.

Zea watches from a few feet away and freezes in shock at the Sylvan's sudden temper. She is not surprised by the sailor's reaction, for likely it was an accident, but Soft-Feather is another story. The musicians stop playing and join in the shouting (and betting). Zea grumbles and shakes her head and takes a few steps closer. "You start a fight now and you'll likely find a punishment waiting for you at the end of the evening and no ale for a fortnight." That's probably a bit harsh, but the last thing they need is an all-out brawl.

Mahina frowns. Soaking them all seemed like good idea. A nice bubble of water, to drop on a few of the crewmen. "Well, I don't think they need to fight... but how about they stop drinking..." she murmurs.

Taking a deep breath, realizing that the situation has grown rather far beyond a simple spilled drink, Soft-Feather sets his mug down on a nearby crate. Buzzed or not, he should not have responded so angrily. It was obviously an accident. Embarrassed about his own behavior, he focuses his thoughts on the words he wants to use, trying to be diplomatic. "I'm sorry for being so snide...you didn't mean to bump into me, it's not your fault," he offers a smile that would disarm a crazed pirate, "Maybe I'll just grab a mop and clean it myself?" Soft-Feather looks Zea's way, hoping she'll see that he's trying to correct his mistake, when the mug connects with the side of his head. The Sylvan drops to the floor with a dull thud.

"Capn's girl er not, you stay outta this!" The sailor snarls at Zea, holding the mug-turned-blunt-trauma-weapon. Then he turns to his buddies, laughing up a storm. "Wouldja look at that, boys? One hit...why were ya afraid o' him again?" A group of four other men join in the laughter now.

Zea glares at the sailor who assaulted the Sylvan. Usually she might have slunk back and let the men have their fun, or whatever it is they're having, but she's found her backbone again and she's not afraid to use it. "Captain's girl or not, I will not stay out of this, especially when you're knocking out fellow sailors with a mug simply for spilling a few drops of ale!" She gestures angrily to Soft-Feather's still self. "He even said he was sorry and he'd handle it himself. There's no need for doing what you did, I don't care how drunk you are!" Her wings begin to bristle and while the winds don't pick up, the look in her eyes tells them they'd better just try her and see how far they have to push. But she's also been working all day and some of them likely know that, for even a mage gets tired.

The female sailor looks at Mahina has if she's grown a second head. Tossing back her own head she laughs loudly. "Take away their ale, are ye daft, girl? Migh' as well take away their manhood! Ain' gonna happen..." She looks over at the fight in progress and takes another deep swig. "Well, alright, maybe it will now," she concedes, laughing all the while.

"Aye... aye... Fellas... mateys... companions an' comrades..." The rainbowed one has decided at last to come over too. The second feather was clubbed down his brows had climbed the slope of his forehead, but he did not charge over. No. No need to excite an already aggressive opponent. Before any brash action could be taken on his own behalf he measured a calming breath within his lungs, steeled his features to a degree that, though might be uncommon does not look entirely out of place: with a flatter line of his lips and a different quality to the narrowing of his gaze... something sharper and more severe despite the sparkle of levity that somehow persists. Altogether it does look very... peculiar. "Does this be any way to be behaving?" A nod is given to Zea, even if he does bypass her just slightly, his stride slow and careful, uninvasive of the angry sailor. "The miss does be right, Sir. He did apologize an' it was just an accident. All around, it was. But aye, if ye do wish to continue in this course o' action, ye best," and he speaking calmly, his tone level and even soft-spoken in another almost contradictory style, "consider first the potential consequences. Hmm?" Aurelio playing mediator?

Mahina chuckles. "Taking away their ale no... suggesting that stop drinking... that was my idea. But as I can see that is not going to happen." she gestures over the side of the boat and small bubble of water floats up from the sea... "Hm..." she says looking around considering where to drop. She doesn't drop it though she just plays with in her hands.

"Whatcha gonna do? Flap yer wings at me!" Negri can't help but bust a gut over Zea fiery response, "Leave the fight'n to the men, birdie." Locking eyes with Aurelio, and noticing the myriad of other stares directed his way, the sailor thrusts his mug into the barrel, snags a refill, and then takes a quaff. "He shouldn' told me teh clean it up. I ain't his nurse maid, though he be needin' one now." More laughs from his posse, "Lez go men, nothin' ter see here." And with that, the group begins to move away.

Meanwhile, Soft-Feather remains lying there on the deck, face resting against the hard and grainy wood. How dignifying a pose, eh?

Her wings bristle some more and small tendrils of wind begin to form around the woman. Zea's tempted, she's so very tempted, to show them just what she'll do, but that would likely bring punishment to her as well, Captain's girl or not. But an upturned ale and another spilled beverage is hardly worth a punishment. With her eyes boring into the man's back a rush of wind hurries past her and attempts to unbalance the already stumbling sailor, causing him to spill his ale. A twinge of a smile emerges on her lips as she watches the man. She's not touched him or laid a hand on him that anyone can see.

A similar intensity is there in Aurelio... but it's so hard to define. It's so uncommon in him to see it, no matter how natural it seems to fit him now. The smile is gone, the features of his face are drawn sharp and severe upon their angular planes and the eyes of his are narrowed only with a pointed focus, not with the mirthful tug of what should be smiling lips. No, it's the expanse of a dead calm sea that rolls across his face and sparkles in his eyes as he holds the gaze of the angry sailor. Not another word is spoken though. The man has said his peace and he has little authority to carry things further. So instead, he moves to take a knee beside his fallen friend, scooping the man's torso up with a contemplative furrowing of his brow. "Aye..." he's speaking absently to Zea."Ye may want to get the likes o' Lyri to just fix him up a bit..." A little light patting of the man's cheek attempts to rouse him. "Nothing serious but..." And that's when it happens and he cuts off, the gust of wind. It doesn't take much for him to put two and two together, especially given the smirk that's spread across her face when he glances up at her. But the rainbowed Empyrean just hopes the other fellow is ignorant.

Mahina watches. She feels that even if she were to stop this... possibly fight it could ugly quickly. She moved back. She was so ready to just leap over the side... she was. But she remained, to watch.

The burst of wind does indeed catch him off balance, sending him falling towards the deck. He's able to catch himself on a crate but doing so meant letting go of his mug. Inebriated or not, a strong gust of wind that causes him to lose something as important as his ale (it might as well be his manhood, remember) isn't going to go unnoticed by Negri. Finding his balance, albeit temporarily, he looks back at the wind mage with a certain amount of danger in his eyes. "Usin' yer powers on me, eh? I do believe there be rules agains' that, there do. Whassa matta? Fraid to fight me without yer magic, little birdie?"

Finding himself in the arms of...Aurelio?!...Soft-Feather stirs, the smacking of his cheeks (gentle indeed!) enough to bring him back to consciousness. Rising to his feet, using his right hand to massage the rather large lump on the side of his head, the Sylvan tries to assess the situation. It looks much worse than it was before, that's for sure.

Zea watches the chain of events silently though the smirk on her lips slowly begins to fade away. When the sailor turns angrily at her and offers the challenge she gives him an innocent smile and flaps her wings at him. "Whatever would I do, just flap my wings at you?" She laughs and suddenly looses all amusement in her features as she doesn't back down. "You want to fight with whatever talents the gods gave to you, that's fine. I use what I have and it is just as much a weapon as a dagger or sword. You knocked a man out *after* he apologized for losing his temper." Her tone has turned angry and severe, there appears to be no indication that she's going to cower in front of this man. "Assault will not go unpunished, be you drunk or not. The second will see to it, the man's injury is quite obvious." She points down to Soft-Feather as proof. "You want to try and start something else when you're already on thin ice? Are you really that stupid?"

"No, miss Zea. I do not think he is." Who the heck spoke that? It was not uttered by any voice recognizable from those present, that's for sure. It was offered forth heavy and laden with severity, with threat, with ultimatum, and with certainty. It was, indeed... spoken by Aurelio. With Soft-Feather rising up on his own and a hand lingering on the Sylvans shoulder for a few moments longer to make sure the man is steady, the rainbowed Empyrean is stepping forward. No levity is there to be found on the features of his face. His mouth is indeed only that of a flat line, its edges and contours hinting at the near possibility of an imposing scowl and his eyes, normally so bright and vibrant, now turbulent and dark with the looming of a storm to be broken. No one on this ship has yet to see him behave like this, perhaps traces of it have been found before, but never has the transformation been so complete as this. "Our friend here is going to walk away. He is going to forget whatever thoughts might be floating around in that muddled brain o' his, an' he is going to go back to his bunk to rest off his misbehavior. An' like ye said," a concession of a nod is given, a subtle gesture toward the woman who is behind and at his shoulder, still visible certainly as he hasn't interjected himself completely between the pair, but enough to intercede if it becomes necessary, "the second will deal with him when he wakes." Almost disturbingly calm is the man who is normal all smiles and laughter.

You know that moment when the bully realizes that he's truly outnumbered and has no hope of saving face? Well here it is. Negri narrows his eyes at Zea, disgusted with the woman and certainly wanting to continue the "discussion," but Aurelio's little speech and the throngs of onlookers once again convince him that now would be a good time to leave. "S'not over, birdie," he mumbles, turning to once again leave with his compatriots. Technically speaking, he never laid a hand on her...and she attacked him with wind magic. If he's punished for attacking another crewmate, certainly she'll have to be too. And that's fine for him at the moment.

Soft-Feather continues to massage the knot on his head, though his gaze isn't on drunken sailors...it's on Zea and Aurelio. Truth be told, he's extremely surprised at the both of them. "That...might have been unwise," he moves closer to the pair, now looking in the direction of the entrance to below decks. "I'm just glad we all bunk on the Makara," he offers a smile. "I didn't mean to cause such trouble...but I'm glad the two of you were here to break it up. Especially you," he narrows his eyes at Aurelio, "Thought you were all smiles and jokes, huh? Remind me not to cross you..." He looks again to Zea, "So what happens now? Will I be thrown in the brig for causing this mess? And what about you?"

Zea glances over to the captain's cabin where she spends her nights; it isn't back to the Makara for her. She turns and watches the men leave, allowing the other man's threat to hang in the air. Only once they are gone does she let out a sigh and look to Soft-Feather with little more than a shrug of her tired shoulders. "I do not know what happens now," she says quietly, the idea of punishment to come suddenly hits her. "I cannot imagine you would be thrown in the brig, as long as the mess is cleaned. You did not do anything wrong, Negri is the one that knocked you out." The fire that was in her has quickly been extinguished and worry begins to gnaw at her brain. "As for me, I don't know what will happen. If there is punishment to be given out, I'll take what the second deems is fair and say not a word of it."

"You shouldn't have done it." Aurelio states that much firmly to Zea. It's not put forth in the form of a reprimand though. He's not scolding her or lording anything over her by any means, he is simply sharing with her a statement of fact and his opinion on the matter, for whatever it may be worth and for her consideration. Yes, she acknowledged the fact herself, but he too states it. "He was already bound for punishment, but now you've just thrown yourself in with him." The rainbowed Empyrean shrugs though and permits himself the length and breadth of a small sigh's relaxation, eyes, still dark, flickering over to Soft-Feather. "I treat the world as it comes. Most o' it does deserve levity... but not everything can be laughs an' jokes... if it was... they wouldn't have much meaning." But he's slowly starting to relax now, his wings not so sharply tucked against his back and let to dangle a little more carelessly. With how he's spoken, one might have forgotten such a colorful array was even there. "But aye... I do bet it was satisfying regardless, hmm?" First to Zea then, "An' I don't suppose you'd appreciate," he's still not entirely switched back yet, not yet slipped back in to his drawls, "the offer o' a drink to calm your head." is fired at Soft-Feather.

Soft-Feather hurrumphs, "A drink is what started all of this. I think I'd better not...unless you've got water or fruit juice in mind. Zea?" He turns his head so that she can see the large knot there, "Think I need to see Lyri or Minowa? Or might it heal on its own?" He'd forgotten that Zea slept on the Amarada...must have been the blunt head trauma. Knowing this isn't the first time Negri has caused problems, especially while drunk, he can't help but think of the further trouble that could come about. Lowering his voice, he whispers to Zea....

Soft-Feather whispers "I could turn myself into a ferret and watch your quarters for a few nights...if he tries to start trouble, I'll be there?"

Zea shakes her head at the offer of ale and turns a stern glance to Aurelio. She doesn't like to be told what to do, even though she's already done it. "Ale would be the worst thing right now," she says quietly as she looks over Soft-Feather, checking the lump on the side of his head. "You really should have Lyri or Min look at that, it might get worse before it gets better. You don't want to take that chance." When the whisper is delivered she listens closely and then shakes her head, looking a bit surprised and somewhat startled. Everyone knows where she sleeps, don't they? "That won't be necessary Soft-Feather. If the sailor is foolish enough to enter the captain's quarters without permission he'll find himself in more trouble than he could have dreamed."

"Aye..." states the Empyrean with a sigh and a shake of his head, lifting a pair of finger to rub at the bridge of his nose... "That... me fine ship mates... was... indeed... the point o' the jest." The ale. But alas, he can't blame them. With the shock of seeing the serious side come out of him at last, it probably does blur quite well his efforts to relax again and let the more comedic air of revelry reveal itself once more. And effort's thwarted, he has little to do but concede in the form of that long-drawn statement and pair it with a few lingering chuckles. Odd how two such contrasting personalities can seem to fit a man so well when he wears them. "But aye, miss Zea does be right. Get it looked at an' mended up. No sense in walking around with it." As for what was whispered, he can only venture a guess really. But lets it slide and roll off his feathers. "Or maybe... just leave it long enough for us to play another match o' stones." Now too the smirk returns, flashing itself suddenly and brilliantly back in to place across his lips.

Soft-Feather simply nods, "Then get it looked over, I will. Thanks again..." He smiles a little before moving away from the crowd, that headache of his definitely cause to get going for awhile. Slipping below decks, he makes his way to find a healer.