Featuring: Epi, Valens, and Zea
NPCs: Aren, Burke, and Valdis
Date: May 3, 2005
IC Date: August 21, 3931
Summary: Some of the more prominent Jarls of the city of Idavoll come to speak with the crews of the Amarada and Makara down at the city's docks.
OOC Note:Anything that is in italics is something that is being spoken in the Aesir language. For most of the crew, the Aesir language is unknown, so unless you have cleared it staff, do not assume you can understand what the Aesir are saying.

Docks - Idavoll - Asgard

The docks of this walled city have been constructed of heavy stone rather than wood so that they might survive the harsh winters and cruel seas that pound the shore. The city does not see much in the way of foreign visitors, but there is some dock space available for the occasional outside vessel among the city's many war galleys and fishing boats. A high Aesir-built wall of thick stone helps to obscure the rest of the town from view and provides an initial and important barrier from raiders. An iron-bound wooden gate closes off the city from the docks and at all hours of the day it is guarded by stern-faced Aesir warriors.

The travel to Idavoll was rather uneventful. Sure, there was the occasional skirmish here and there between the southern crews and the Aesir, but all have arrived in one piece. Upon docking in the Aesir city the southerners were warily welcomed and a set of rules was quickly put down for them all to follow. Many have remained on the ships, but those that ventured into the city reported back that the reception was less than warm and that city warriors and residents kept close watch on anything they did. So far there has been little word about the Amarada's captain, save that he is still alive and is being kept by the Aesir in the city. Any who had attempted to search for him have found their inquiries to be very poorly received indeed.

But today the city seems a bit more willing to speak with the southern crews. The Aesir that were aboard the Skelfing have reported to their superiors in the city, but no one has yet heard from the southerners themselves. It seems the Aesir have made them wait until they are ready to deal with the foreigners. And so members of the two crews mingle anxiously on the city's docks while word has come that an envoy from the Aesir Hoevding is coming to speak with them and get some more information on just what had happened in Njororn. Zea stands among the Amarada crew, thankful for her fur cloak and watching the city's gate with a wary expression. There are dark circles under her eyes, suggesting she has had little sleep as of late. Every so often she glances towards the ship's First, trying to gauge his demeanor.

Only recently having climbed out of the chilled waters, Epi busies herself with putting on her pareo for the sensitivities of those who may not care much (or understand) naked fishie types. She glances up now and then nervously, as if waiting for something to happen.

Despite their meager welcome and poor luck, Mister Burke stands upon the docks looking his finest. Cheeks are ruddy with the cold, eyes bright and blue and twinkling with humor, and per usual his hair is bright fiery copper. Only those who know the First Mate well would recognize the firm line of determination that subtly alters the smile upon his lips. Only the crew would recognize that beneath the gleam of good naturedness lies the sharp gleam of an iron will. Other than that, though, it would seem that the mongrel is in his element. Though short a pair of wings, these people are closer to his way of life than most that he meets.

Certainly an uncomfortable bunch approaches the docks from the city gates, serving as a makeshift envoy from the city's Hoevding. Three jarls of the city are flanked by a small contingent of guards enter the docks, some clad in their clan colors in the midst of thick furs, their movements showing an awkward suppression of latent tension in lieu of what rumors have quickly inflated to a crisis of unprecedented nature. Aren is in the center of this small contingent, stopping halfway before the foreign ships to await the Aesir warriors and the band of foreigners wanting news of their captain. No greetings are presented, with obvious suspicion universal in the eyes of the envoy. Aren keeps a close grip of his left hand on the pommel of his greatsword as he whispers something in the ear of the jarl to his right.

The darkling Aesirian stands upon the docks, but doesn't show much pleasure in the fact. Her hand rests upon the hilt of her sword and her eyes rest upon one southerner in particular that she would most likely to kill ... a certain Empyrean woman whose name she came to learn is Zea. If looks could kills, then Valdis' are throwing daggers at the wind mage with alarming accuracy. She's kept her distance as ordered by her captain, but more often than not she was needed to help translate things, as poor as her tongue is with southern words. As the group of Jarls draws closer, her attention shifts sharply and she takes a few steps toward them, should they require her services. Mayhaps the one called Zea will be wanted for questioning? Perhaps execution? One can only hope.

Valens looks upon the incoming envoy with a bit of apprehension. Unlike before where the two ships held numerical advantage over the Aesir scouts, now the crews of the Amarada and Makara are fitfully surrounded, deep in the lands of the Aesir and with the Captain still held by the Aesir, a full-fledged fight would only lead to death and suffering on both sides. Keeping close to Zea in particular, his eyes glance over towards Valdis and her angry looks, ignoring them for now as he awaits what is to become of the two crews.

For her part Zea has done her best to ignore the dark-winged warrior woman, but it is difficult to completely dismiss that feeling of a glare crawling across one's skin when the one delivering the glare is so intent on giving it. Beneath her cloak she has pulled out something more appropriate for a noblewoman than a sailor. She is in a foreign port after all and one should endeavor to put forward the best of appearances. While her hair lacks the styling that can only be done by an expert servant, the rest of her would fit in well in the streets of Civitas Dei. The Empyrean keeps her chin held proudly and when her gaze does wander towards Valdis, she returns the stare with an icy glance. But the raven woman is quickly disregarded as the group of Aesir emerges from the city. She scours their ranks, her gaze turning hopeful, but as no smile breaks out, it is obvious she does not see what she searches for. There is a definite tension swirling in the air, even if no one has said anything yet.

Epi looks at the group approaching, blinks a few times and edges a little more behind Burke. Among everyone on the dock, she literally looks like a child still, a wee thing compared to most. Of everyone here, the Atlantean telepath can definitely tell the tension and well. It's not fun. But probably not politic to go dive in the water, either.

As the group of Jarls comes forward, Burke moves toward them as well, his right hand fisting and thumping hard against his chest in formal greeting. A lesser man would bow as he did so, but Mister Burke does so standing tall and looking them in the eyes - the note that he is at the very least their equal. He calls out in the Aesir tongue and in the Aesir fashion, his voice boisterous and booming, "Body'n'blood, till in Valholl we stand! Greetings Jarls of Aesir! We may not know each other b'face, but I hope ye will 'ave heard of our names! We come aboard the Amarada, brethren ship to yer own! We come in the name of Cap'n Demetrius, blood brother to the Aesir kin! I come as well, a man known amongst your people, a blood brother to the Aesir kin! I am Mister Burke, First Mate of the Amarada which is now captained by Demetrius' son, Sebastian, who you hold prisoner for crimes we did not commit. Must there be such mistrust when we have always been your allies before?"

Aren tilts his head as he observes the ragtag group of sailors from the Amarada and the Makara with almost a bit of wry amusement on his face. There's some discomfort amongst the other jarls, who seem impatient to garner news from the foreigners but Aren holds them back. He seems to gaze out towards nowhere for a moment, perhaps in deep thought over something, before taking a deep breath and his attention focusing back on the sailors at hand. When Burke moves towards them with a formal greeting, Aren simply nods rather condescendingly towards the Mongrel anyway, "Hei. I am called Aren, son of Lothgar, Jarl of the Aesir. To my side is the Jarl Wulfgar, son of Erik and the Jarl Lars, son of Ingram." At least their fists rise up against their chests in greeting. Despite his appearance and the cold reception given to the southerners, his baritone is calm and lucid, with a good command of the southern language. Aren, despite his age, is new in the contingent of the usually boisterous Aesir envoy, and a far different creature than some of his fellow kinsmen, "There is no mistrust, friend, but understand our disdain for foreigners after we heard such terrible news from the south."

Valdis stands quietly, her eyes now upon Burke and the others of the Amarada and the Makara. She has her own thoughts and opinions, based on what she has seen, the battle she fought, and her experiences with the crew on their journey to Idavoll. But she is a warrior, and it is not her place to share her opinions unless those in charge find them of interest. Or unless she cannot hold her tongue. She does frown however at Aren's lack of respect for Burke. While there are some southerns that she holds is disdain or outright hatred, Mister Burke has proved his worth by both words and actions. Her lips thin in displeasure, but she says nothing. For now.

Valens keeps his distance from Mister Burke, considering his state of being as well armed if not better in relation to some of the Aesir - not trying to threaten them by any means. He can sense the tension in the air and his eyes observe the surroundings, the calm, calculated words of the head of the envoy setting off an uncomfortable feeling of some sort of trap. His face too contorts in a slight frown at disrespect given to Mister Burke. Despite the fact he's a mongrel, Valens has come to respect him as a valuable leader amongst the crew.

Zea listens to the mongrel speak in the foreign tongue and watches the way he carries himself and she allows herself to smile for a moment. Granted, the words he says are gibberish to her ears, but he conveys so much through his body language and his tone of voice that she can get a feel for what is going on. There is obvious respect coming from Mister Burke, though she is not quite so sure if it is being reciprocated. Her pale eyes travel towards the group of Aesir, listening to their response, her eyes widening a bit as the presumed leader speaks in their language. She had heard the other ones speaking in a broken language, but this Aesir's knowledge of the southern language comes as a bit of a surprise.

Epi peers around Burke, frowning a bit at Aren's last words. The green-haired Atlantean girl looks at the big man as she pads from behind the shield that is Burke, tilting her head as she studies the men, her curiosity overcoming any nervousness. Her clear turquoise eyes are unsettlingly fixed on the Aesir jarl. Jarls? Empathy is a side blessing/curse of telepathy, and she's trying to understand these strange folk. "Why?" she asks Aren boldly, a simple question with the weight of a thousand behind it.

Burke's face grows more florid as he steps forward at the offense, but he is stopped by the Atlantean shifting forward and asking a simple question. It takes him a moment to realize what he thinks she's asking, and he places a hand upon her shoulder and nods before lifting his head and replying in Aesir, so that those who are perhaps not so fluent in southern might understand. "Bollocks. Ye call me "friend"? How can ye use sooch a word? Ye claim no distrust and yet ye show no respect. Iffin' ye 'ave disdain fer foreigners, meanin' us, then ye distrust us. There be no two ways about it, laddie. Ye do yer race and ye lineage a great dishonor by speaking in sooch forked ways." His words would have come out heated and hostile, but Epi's innocent question has tempered the First Mate's words to cool logical steel. "Ye either recognize our names and our years of friendship and kinship with yer race, or ye dinnae. We be either ye friends, and thus deservin o'yer respect, or we dinnae. And I'll remind ye that it was we "foreigners" who laid ye dead to rest when we coulda left 'em to rot. It was we "foreigners" who spoke the words of passage to ease their way back home. It was we "foreigners" who stood by your people in death when all others would have ransacked the village, taken all that they could, and left. Fer that alone, if nothing else, we deserve a little respect." He pats Epi's shoulder again and notes dryly, "When ye live in waters infested wi'yer enemies, I dinnae see why it be foreigners that ye be so quick to mistrustin'" To Wulfgar and Lars, Burke turns to each and thumps his chest in respect and honor of their goodwill and honorable actions. "Jarls Wulfgar and Lars, what must ye do to prove to ye our friendship?"

Aren steps forward towards Mister Burke, his attentions momentarily interrupted by Epi's defiant question, some words of questioning stifled by an angry glance. "Silence!" Aren hisses at them in their native tongue as he turns and stares intently towards him - or is it through him? With a deep breath, he nods quietly to Mister Burke's words and his own fist moves in greeting, a smile forming on his dark features, "All right. Now we can trust you," He replies in the southern tongue again, as if his momentary gaze resolved the cold iciness of first contact. Although Wulfgar and Lars have already been familiar with the exploits of the Amarada before, Aren had always been rather skeptical - preferring to see things in person. "Forgive me for my initial hostility, but a great war is brewing and none of us can take anything for granted..." his reply to perhaps both Burke and Epi's queries.

Valdis almost takes a step forward, not exactly surprised at the red-haired officers words, for Burke has already proven himself a man to say exactly what he means and not always in the most delicate or tactful of ways. Very Aesir, which is part of why she respects him. He is a man of both honor and strength. But it is the Jarl she is uncertain of, half wondering if he might take action against the mongrel. She is taken by surprise at his strange reaction and subsequent words. She can't quite fathom what has brought about this sudden change in his demeanor ... was it the First Mate's show of strength? Whatever the reason, the warrior stands at ease now, though her hand still remains upon the hilt of her blade.

Zea blinks at the sudden change in the Aesir, the surprise evident in her features. Suddenly everything is ok between the Aesir and the southerners, when only a moment before they appeared to distrust the Amarada and Makara crews. Zea doesn't understand this sudden change in the Aesir's demeanor, but as Aren insures that the southerners are trusted, she feels a bit emboldened to speak up. It does not hurt that the younger Atlantean woman voiced a question as well. That came as much of a surprise as anything else that has occurred in the last few minutes. Glancing toward the city and then back to Aren she takes a step forward, chin up and voice firm without being insulting. "Where is our captain? If we are to be trusted, then release him to us, for if we are worthy of your trust, than so should he be." She probably should have waited, remained silent, but some things are harder to restrain than others.

The Atlantean girl studies Aren and the other two Aesir with narrowed eyes, silent for a moment as she sifts through what she senses from them, not as willing to take their words at face value, herself. That distrust is apparent in the darkening of the more fish-like patches on Epi's skin and the slight flaring of the fins on her arms, like the swish of a cat's tail. Perhaps it is a stronger than expected strength in the girl, or the strength of idealistic naiveté. But one thing is certain... these Aesir are crazy.

Burke is likewise somewhat surprised by the younger man's shift in demeanor. A show of strength is the Aesir way, and his words were true. But likewise the Aesir can be quick to take offense and often choose violence as their retort. It was a calculated risk, but still a risk. And besides, he always prefers to speak his mind. It's part of the reason he loves the Aesir so much as a people. Nodding his head in return, Burke lifts his hand to his chest, though it is placed there more than thumped. "Tis an evil thing that was done," he replies in southern, his voice indicating his regret, his disgust, and his regards. "Per'aps, we can 'elp? We did find some suspicious things about, things that stink of the Najada to us at least, but no proof as o'yet. But we be willin' to share whot we've managed t'piece t'gether. Tis a crime that cannae go unpunished. If it be the Najada, or 'ooever it be, they must suffer fer what they 'ave done." He glances at Zea, for her question is a valid one and he nods in turn. "Aye, I hope ye dinnae treat the cap'n too harshly ... 'e did come to warn ye and as a show of good faith after all ..."

Aren's attention turns towards Zea, a tilt of his head in momentary contemplation of the Empyrean woman and more than a cursory glance or passing interest before replying to both Zea and Burke's request. "I have no control over his release - that is for the Hoevding to decide. Be assured however, that he is being treated well." His black wings relax some, shimmering in the dim sunlight with color and depth of a raven's wings. There is no fear or apprehension as a consequence of strength, but a certain confidence in Aren's eyes, as if the latest news bolsters some private agenda of his own, "From what your captain already told us from his initial observations, it sounds certainly like Najada work and your words certainly affirm such an observation. We will accept any help that is provided - after all, magic runs thin in our blood..." Aren replies with a hint of a grin. His words are direct and to the point, as if he was already expecting the rare convergence of two wind mages and the assorted Atlantean, Varati, and Sylvan blood on the two ships.

Ebon eyes narrow as the darkling warrior eyes the darkling Jarl with displeasure. If he means what she thinks he means, then the one she despises will be possibly their greatest asset? Coughing, Valdis steps forward and notes boldly, "Some amongst them are twisted in their ways. Magical, yes, but like the Najada. Deceptive and cowardly - without honor." Her hand lifts to point to Zea, her eyes dark with judgment as she notes, "Like that one. Must we descend to the level of our enemy to defeat them? Must we use perverted and cowardly magic to win our battles for us?"

Zea doesn't need to speak the Aesir language to get a pretty good understanding what Valdis is saying. The woman has seemed to hold some dark hatred towards her ever since the battle and while the Aesir might find fault in how she defends herself, Zea has no problems with it. Zea watches Valdis as the woman points to her, the icy gleam in her eye returns as she does not appreciate being singled out in what feels to be something less than hospitable. But she tries to ignore the other woman and turns her attention back to Aren, still prodding ahead. "We do not like what happened in Njororn any better than you and I will be happy to help find those who committed such a horrific crime." Likely the rest of the crew feels the same, but she is in no position to offer the aid of anyone, save herself.

There is no missing Valdis' hatred. It cuts the air like a blade whistling through the air. Epi's arm fins flare fully as her gaze snaps to Valdis, shifting her weight uncertainly, though flight is considered an option. She is no warrior. It's painfully obvious she isn't anywhere near a warrior, bold as she has been with Aren and even with those among the crew. Oh, were she only strong enough to touch minds with non-telepaths, she'd tell that Aesir woman what for. Maybe the water up here poisoned the natives... seems to serve as an explanation enough for Epi. "Bad waters," she mutters.

With the respect to their captain, Burke had rather suspected as much and in turn he nods, wondering how much they might choose to hold onto Sebastian in order to coerce their cooperation? "Then I look forward to being able to speak wi the Hoevding at 'is earliest convenience." His frame loses some of its tension as he notes in caution, "As I said before, we ave no -proof- that the Najada are responsible - it just seems very likely and like them. But best t'know who is truly t'blame before strikin'. T'would not be right t'be played by the enemy and accidentally strike an ally, aye?" His gaze flickers over the crew before he notes, "We do 'ave some o'are strong in magics and others who are less so ... I dinnae know 'ow they might be of 'elp, but iffin it be wi'in our powers and dinnae be somethin that should'na be doone, then we can offer whot we can. But those 'o be mages moost be asked themselves to 'elp. They're powers are they're own, not mine nor the captain's, to be commanded less it be fer the ship." His gaze narrows at Valdis harsh words and stepping closer to Zea, Burke questions softly, "Mistress? Whot did ye do t'the lass to make 'er hate ye wi'sooch a passion when she hate no others that she fought?"

Valdis' sudden outburst catches Aren's wrath as his head flicks around to gaze at her, fiery words coming out in the heavy Aesir tongue, "Would you rather see your people slain and their bodies rot in our city, neighboring villages, and the fields?" He composes himself as he proceeds to rebuke the woman further, this time with a gentle, if not blatantly arrogant tone in his voice "...And watch your tongue, woman. That same contempt for magic is the reason why my prophecies were ignored by the Hoevding, and an entire Aesir town was slaughtered. There are many other rival towns to Idavoll who only dream about knowing what /I/ see." The entire conversation brings discomfort into the face of Lars, the older of the two accompanying Jarls. While the conversation is carried in their own tongue, the mongrel seems to have a good grasp of it himself, and makes evident the tenuousness of the rare unity shown by the Aesir. In contrast, Wulfgar, seemingly Aren's young lackey, simply nods in agreement to Aren's words.

Aren turns to Burke and replies, "I /insist/ such magics help us in what will be a bitter war against the Najada..." with a certain finality to it, as if a subtle demand, rather than a request."Excuse me. I need to discuss some matters with the Hoevding before the afternoon. I will make sure to discuss your request with him as well. My companions will be more than willing to speak on the behalf of our city." And with that, Aren and almost the entire legation of guards follow him back to the gates, leaving particularly Lars more than relieved, as if the burdens of some sort of hidden oppression had been lifted with the exit of Aren's entourage.

Jarl or not, Valdis yells at Aren's back, "I am no WOMAN you arrogant excuse for a man! I am Othin's own DAUGHTER! I am a WARRIOR and as such you will respect me or I will spill your blood next time we meet!" Several of the hovering Aesir cheer Valdis on, respecting her dislike for Najada ways and her spirit. She might be a warrior to his Jarl, but she deserves respect. Her record, her kills, her courage, and her strength have earned her that right. Several of her fellow warriors in support of her rattle their swords within their sheaths. "And if you say that we cannot win this war with honor, that we are so weak that we must rely on the magics of others then it is YOU who should watch your tongue, lest one of use decides it deserves to be cut out!! Do not DARE to speak for me! I do not have contempt for magic! I despise those who use it without honor! Who fight like cowards and feral dogs, lying and cheating and sneaking! May your special sights blind you, you BASTARD!" The woman is fuming with rage and it desperately needs an outlet, her dark eyes casting about furiously, looking for a target.

Zea lays a hand on Mister Burke's arm as the Aesir announce their departure and she tries to keep back her emotion on the matter. "But what about our captain..." Her words die away as the contingent of Aesir turn and depart back into the city. They've agreed to help the Aesir, she agreed to help them, and yet Sebastian remains hidden and in a prison somewhere in the city. She looks to Mister Burke, surprised and confused and she doesn't force herself to hide the emotions in her eyes. He is probably the only other person on the Amarada with who she might feel comfortable showing such emotions. She doesn't cry, her eyes don't sparkle with tears, but there is an obvious question in her eyes. But there is also the question he had asked of her, a question she was about to answer before Aren decided to leave. She leans in towards Mister Burke and gives a slight shrug to accompany her words. "The gods only know, Mister Burke. They came on us so quickly, she attacked one of the sailors and without a thought I used the only weapon I have to protect him and then myself as she seemed to turn her anger on me and came at me in the sky." Zea risks a glance towards the dark-haired Valdis as she spits out something very loud in her own language and then she looks back to the mongrel. "She attacked us, if anyone should hold grievances here, it should be me and such is not the case."

Epi stares at Valdis and then shakes her head. That one, she won't trust, the way she edges so that Burke is between her and the raving mad Aesir makes it as plain as if she stated it aloud. "There is much distrust," she says in a low voice to Burke. "Distrust of all that has magic. That one hates her more than the Najada. Others of them might feel the same." She looks at Burke and says, "This port is no safer than the last one, sir." Looking uneasily at Valdis, she asks, "Permission to return to the Makara, sir?"

Burke watches the group depart with eyes that are cool and displeased. "Dinnae you worry about the cap'n ... 'e can take care of imself, lassie." And if the First Mate doesn't actually believe that, his words sound true enough. His gaze meets hers and softens at the sight of her emotions, one hand reaching out to pat her arm reassuringly. "One thing is for certain ... I dinnae be dealing wi' no underlings any further. I'll speak wi the Hoevding and I dinnae speak wi' anyone else till then. Nor will we lift a finger to 'elp before then either. Iffin they want our magic, they'll 'ave to ask nicely." He scowls mocking Aren's voice as he parrots, "I's insists such magics 'elp us ..." well 'e can insists all 'e likes. We dinnae answer to the likes o'im." His gaze then shifts to Valdis and a small smile curls his lips as she chews out the Jarl loudly and publicly. "Fer all that she 'ates you, she's got spunk. Ye musta din somethin unsportsman like wi'ye fightin', lassie. She dinnae 'ave issues with fightin' wi'magic it seems, just fightin' unfair like. I cannae imagine that pushin' wi ye wind would seems unfair. Push wi wind, thrust wi' sword ... same thin' in a way ..." His gaze flickers to Epi and he shakes his head, murmuring, "They mistrust Najada magic, but that's more because they 'ave so little of they're own. And they prefer honest fighting, and the Najada don't fight honest. So it's 'ard to blame 'em really fer bein hostile and suspicious." But clearly the girl doesn't want an explanation, she wants release. He pats her shoulder and nods, "Aye lassie, off ye go."

Valdis' gaze rests angrily on Zea, but at this moment she hates Aren even more than she hates the Empyrean mage. Turning to three of her fellow warriors she snaps, "Come on .... spar with me lest I go cut off that bastard's head from his shoulders and claim it was to spare him the pain of his sight." Her wings fairly tremble with repressed rage as she turns and the men laugh and clap her shoulder hard, following along with her willingly enough. She is their little sister, their fellow warrior, and their talisman. As such they view her with affection, respect, and on occasion awe.

Epi dives back into the water, heading to the other side of the ship. Bad water, but better than no water any day.

Zea turns and gives Epi a smile and a nod before the Atlantean dashes back to the ship. "Farewell, Epi," she calls after the woman before turning her attention back to Mister Burke. His pat to her arm gains a sympathetic and thankful smile in return. Much is exchanged in those few moments and not a single word needs to be exchanged. The smile grows as the First mimics the Aesir and she gives him a firm and decisive nod. "Best to go right to the top with this, especially if it is their ..." She fumbles for the Aesirian term, her tongue tripping over it so poorly that she just shakes her head. "If their leader is to determine when the captain is to be freed, then best you deal with him directly." Even if that does mean Sebastian might be held in a cell a while longer. The gods only know when the Hoevding will see Mister Burke. The smile fades and she quietly corrects the First as the discussion of magic returns. "It was a little more than just shoving, Mister Burke. Air is a dangerous magic, even deadly. Perhaps she might have viewed my tactics as a dishonest fight, but I have no shame in what I did."

Burke hmmms thoughtfully at Zea's words before shrugging. "I suppose I'll just 'ave to ask 'er myself then. It dinnae do to let this go on as it is. Will only cause trouble, I can assure ye. I wouldna be surprised if she tried to stab ye in the back if ye make the mistake of walking past 'er too closely ..."

Try as she might, Zea is not fast enough to keep her wings from flaring at the thought of a knife to the back. She gives Mister Burke a brief nod as she swallows her revulsion. "Some are skilled with a knife, a sword, or a bow. I only have the weapon the gods gave me and I see the use of it no less honorable than a weapon made by a smith. But if you think talking with her might remove this unexpected ire, then I have no qualms in it being done." She smiles again at the older mongrel. "Thank you Mister Burke."

Patting her arm again lightly, Burke rumbles, "Och, well, it may do no good, but it dinnae do no 'arm to find out what bee 'as gotten into the lass' bonnet. She 'as the Aesir bloodlust and fire, that she does. I be guessin' that she likewise be as fiery and passionate in ..." but the mongrel seems to suddenly remember exactly who he's talking to and has the decency to shift gears rather abruptly, "... ahhh, in politics! Talkin' politics, aye, that she be a firecracker at, t'be sure ..." The mongrel ducks his head slightly, looking off to the side to hide the flare of color that comes to his already red cheeks. "Well, we dinnae want to encourage any more trouble than we already are in ... best we get back aboard and out'o'harms way, neh?"

Zea looks at Mister Burke out of the corner of her eye and the thankful smile turns into something a bit more wicked. "Ah ... yes, I imagine a woman like that would be quite skilled in ... politics." She bites back from actually saying what Mister Burke intended. She slips her arm under his and looks back to the Amarada with a nod. "It might be a good idea, best to let tempers cool a bit before we take it upon ourselves to just wander on into their city." She's trying hard not to laugh at the mongrel and even cranes her neck a bit to get a better look at him as he looks away. "It is alright Mister Burke. I am not so ignorant to imagine you are not well-versed in the ways of the ... politician. No shame in it. And who knows, she might be interested in hearing your views on various matters and share some of hers as well." She really must work hard to keep from breaking out in laughter. Months spent on a ship and listening to the men discuss their conquests hardly allows for a lady to remain so ignorant of such things.

A bark of a laugh escapes Burke at Zea's artful teasing and he murmurs, "I still see ye as sooch a lady .... o'course I figured ye knew full well about the joys of ... politics, but it didn't seem very, ah, politic to discuss them in sooch graphic terms I suppose." He laughs again and notes, "Och, now that's a shocker. Demetrius must be rollin' in the ocean fer that! I dinnae think there was ever a woman that could keep me tongue civil and decorous, and now this. At this rate, Mistress Zea, ye might just be able to make a gentleman o'me. My reputation wi'be in shreds ..." The mongrel takes her arm, however, in a most gentlemanly fashion, leading her back to the Amarada. Unlike her Captain, Mister Burke has no problems showing Zea a little extra special gentlemanly attention.