“alright, the Rod for another day?” The Shopkeeper asks with a polite smile
“Oh. How much for the rod?”
“Hmmm, well the black one is 130, the Red, 150, and the green, welllll it’s 1000.” He seems hesitant to even offer the last one, knowing it’s more than most people have. Or would ever have.
“Then I’ll take the black one…”
Alexis stared emptily at her knife, focusing solely on the conversation between Rook and their priest Hoping to learn anything about why he had been glaring at her earlier. surely it was the military cape.
surely it wasn’t jealousy.
Surely it wasn’t something so…
so childish
Oh…OH it all made sense, at least from what Mariner had told her. so it was jealousy, she sheathed her knife and continued on her way to the helm. although it could be a mix of the two. She gave a wave to one of the ghost crew. In his eyes some Pompous-Military-Caelin had swept in and stolen a job he was much more accustomed to.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You’re not the captain, You’re the Helmsman and your position as Caelin is questionable at best
She stopped short, the words of Mariner repeating in her mind, Functionally. She had authority on this ship, second only to the captain.
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Maybe there is hope after all, then.
Nico walked slowly down the length of the room, examining the weapons with a careful eye as he went. He hefted a sword, sighted down its length wistfully. In his line of work, or maybe his set of skills, something as elegant as a sword had never been something to learn. He’d learned and been tought to fight fast and dirty. Knife and club were all he needed.
He wished he had had someone to teach him, now.
He replaced the weapon, and turned back the way he had come. It was probably time to examine the crew’s quarters. He passed back through the ammo room, up the ladder and through the oar deck, and into the crew’s berthing.
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At the very moment Dolphus decided he would fight back his tears no longer, something startled him out of his plight. That something was Nico’s head popping up from the ladder in front of him, with presumably the rest of his body immediately following.
For Nico, the first sight he would see as he returned from the lower decks to the crew deck was Dolphus, huddled on the floor next to the stairs, the light reflecting off the water in his eyes. His face was perfectly mortified at Nico’s sudden appearance, and his hand had frozen halfway to his sword.
There was no verbal response. In perfect frankness, Dolphus was hoping Nico would apologize and then go away so he could go back to almost crying in relative peace.
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“The Black one aye, that’ll be 130 additional”
The Sailor waved back, a bit unsure of themselves.
A Ghost Sailor comes down the stairs at this moment. Looking back and forth between the two. The sailor turns on their heel and walks back up the stairs.
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"Can we get rid of the spears then?
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“Alright that’ll be 90 ember extra”
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“Wait…i said I don’t want the spears.”
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“Yes, so 90 on top of the 48 you already paid. Price went down. Make sense?” The Shopkeeper explains this patiently, math could be hard sometimes after all.
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“Very well then. Thank you.” Mako hands over the coins.
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“Pleasure doing business with you” the Shopkeeper says taking the coins. As the transaction takes place the bell at the door rings. A Large armoured figure enters keeping his head low. Carefully avoiding eye contact. He walks up to the counter, still staring at the floor. “Yes, I’d like 300 000 pounds of live chum”
The Shopkeeper sighs, “You again? It’s in the back, gimme the 150 000, and get your buddies to haul it to the sea”
“Much obliged, I’ll be back next week” the figure makes an odd clicking noise. As he deposits a large clinking bag of coins on the counter. He shoots a click glance at Mako, who might have seen the outline of Mandibles where his mouth should have been. If he were looking.
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“Hello.” Mako said.
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Nico had not expected this.
He had been preoccupied with other things. Coping with his memories, trying to get an assessment of the ship’s affects, and getting a mark on his fellow privateers. Their weaknesses, their proclivities, how much of their personalities were masks.
Not this.
This was an opportunity, he supposed. A withering, condescending glance, and then striding past the boy. That should be the course of action. The boy seemed to be the most … poised of the party, and to make him look - and more importantly, feel - like a sniveling, crying child could cripple any possible threat, at least for now.
He didn’t want to do that, though. In reality, there was no chance Nico would ever do that. Empathy was ingrained in him, was how he liked to put it. What he intended to do instead was completely natural to him, just as natural as finding the space between ribs with a knife, or crushing a nose with his club.
He approached the boy from the opposite side of the corridor, and then stopped when he was across from him. He removed his jacket, slinging it over his arm.
He sat.
On the Saint, most of his crewmates - and later crew - had been much older than him, and most had been grizzled, cutthroat veterans. Most of them don’t think about- But Nico knew how this felt. Or he liked to think he did.
He would have pulled his legs up to his chest, but he was a tad gangly for that. Instead he stretched them out in front of him, crossed at the heels. He didn’t let silence stretch out. He smiled for an instant.
“Are you scared?”
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The figure quickly looks at the ground, “Hello.” He says shortly, and kind of makes a Skittering motion to the side to get around Mako. “nice to meet you, good talking with you, same time next week” he speeds this all out in one conglomerate of a sentence, his tone emphasizing how nervous he is. “Goodbye other Human” he goes to turn for the door.
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The tension seemed to dull out every sound on board the ship until the only sounds were the noises of Nico finding a seat and the beating of Dolphus’ heart. When the question came Dolphus tensed, his arm moved slightly, and his throat locked up to keep his breath inside lest someone find a way to steal it.
There was a metallic click and a sensation against his palm.
Dolphus’ eyes slowly traveled down, eventually dragging his head along when they could go no further. His sword had been drawn just enough to disengage it from the sheath, and his hand was gripping it by the handle with enough force to turn his knuckles white. Cautiously, as if the blade could suddenly turn upon its master, he drew it fully from its sheath, looking at the flat in a perfect worried state.
“Yes.” His voice weakly replied. “I am afraid, Nico.”
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Mariner stands in the Shallows, staring desperately out to open water. He longed to be out there, where he belonged, where he felt free. His domain. He turns back to Hethila.
“Unfortunately we must be parted soon, I do not wish it, but our duties carry us apart”
“Oh don’t be so dramatic Mariner, I’ll come visit at some point. I know how much you hate the shore. You belong out there. Don’t feel bad about leaving.” She smiles at him, and sees his head incline in response. “Tharwin said I’d be heading out to sea soon on some mission of great importance, I’ll take some time to check in.”
“It’s not the shore I hate. It’s who lives on it” Mariner mutters darkly. “What they took from me is irreplaceable, I shall never forgive them. Not truly”
Hethila didn’t seem to know what to say.
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The idea of being self-conscious was foreign to Nico. People were people. For Nico Markl, at the end of the day, the difference between what you tell a friend and what you tell a fellow mercenary in the same situation was not significant.
Nico’s eyes traced over the weapon wistfully. His eyes avoided Dolphus’. He had started to sweat.
A corridor just like this one. Hot. So hot. Need to burn. So hot.
His voice was quiet.
“I’m scared too … I think. I don’t know what we’re getting into, but it’s not what I expected.” He let the silence drag, after that, and then, “It’s a beautiful weapon. Have you … been learning, for long?”
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