At the Bull Fights

[Ladorak]

((Thread is open to all))

It was the last day of the Welkinite visit to Ferlusan, and the naval officers had been invited to attend the fights at the behest of their hosts. The tournament was being held in honor of the engagement of Priscilla Steep to James Saumarez. Ten bulls were scheduled to be fought, in addition to some slaughtering of pack animals for a reason that nobody could remember.

The fights were to be held in an old amphitheater dating to ancient times sitting on a marshy island on the outskirts of Crittenden. The island was in the middle of a wetland, and was an unusual spot for such a gathering.

Ladorak Fugate was here...attempting to gather up the courage to possibly ask Molly Serra to be his bride...though whether or not he'd be able to make up his mind about that was another issue entirely. He knew about her...commitment problems after all. He was finding his seats with her up in the stands.

Caden was standing down near the pit, leaning on the railing to get a good view of the upcoming fight.

And James Saumarez...well James Saumarez was considering walking out and telling the Crescent to set sail back for Welkin. The only problem was that most of his crew was here, wanting to enjoy themselves and have a good time. To order them back would seem unfair.

Besides, the celebration was in his honor...or at least partly. Much as he hated to admit it. He was biting his finger, a clenched fist up in front of his mouth. He couldn't leave...he couldn't escape...much as he wanted to turn his back on this whole thing and be done with it. Tell them to shove off.

He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the ring again. He was giving his life away to a jill he wasn't in love with. Could he truly go through with this? What assurances did he have that he would even do a good job? Did Steep have someone in her life? He knew none of these answers, and they had made him physically sick the night before.

He looked up, spying Priscilla lurking in the shadows ahead. She must have come down here to escape the heat...she couldn't possibly be looking for him after all. His stomach did flips upon seeing her. What was this he was going through? It made his throat close and his heart race. It was the fight or flight mentality taking over...but he could do neither.

He closed his paw over the ring and shoved it back into his pocket. Striding toward her, feeling the situation completely out of his paws, his gait was uncertain the closer he got. "Priscilla." he called her name, his voice echoing in the tunnel. "Priscilla I'm...sorry...about what happened. I haven't spoken with you since then either, I know. I'm sorry. I've just been...afraid...of things. Afraid of how you must hate me. How I must be the last thing you'd ever want to see right now. May I...may I please speak with you? Here...away from the crowds?" he only looked at her briefly, mostly looking down at the floor or at the walls. He seemed to be in quite the distressed state. Everything about him was tense, and he looked about ready to break apart any second.

They were off on a bad paw...he knew that. It would fester if allowed to. But what could he possibly do? What was he capable of?

[spender]

Steep jumped a little when she heard her name called. She panicked, whirling around, hiding something behind her back. When she spotted Saumarez, she relaxed, tensed, then relaxed again.

"Eh?" she said to him, her voice low and drawling. On top of that, she spoke Ferlusanian next: "I didn't catch all that... You want to talk, did you say, Captain? Fine by me." She shrugged.

Her paws came out from behind her back. In one, she gripped a wide-brimmed white sunhat; a much better specimen of headgear than the dusty straw thing she'd borrowed from the gardener on that first day they'd met. In her other paw, a large green bottle. Liquid of some sort sloshed in the bottom, with only two sips left.

It was hard to see at first, but the closer Saumarez got, the more her dress revelead itself: High-necked, soft creamy white silk, with yellow and gold highlights and hem trimming. White lace ruffles ran down either side of her chest, much like how braces looked from the front; up and over her shoulders, where they flared a little, and down again to her waistline behind her. The sleeves were rolled back from the heat, and the skirt itself looked to have supports of some kind, for it poofed around her a little more than was really necessary (not nearly as much as a ballgown, of course; and Steep did find it let a breeze in.) The skirt hid her tail completely, and was so low not even her footpaws could be seen.

Which was just as well, because she'd found her old service boots and was happily wearing them.

Her breath smelled like smoke and booze. Lots and lots of booze.

---

Spender leaned on the railing as well, although a fair bit away from Caden and the others, and much further away from Peskers. He had not spoken to, or involved himself in any way with the others once he'd finished getting his coins from the ocean (he'd only found two.)

Although, part of his solitary confinement was caused by him buying another huge box of chocolate and eating it all in one day. He'd only gotten out of the infirmary yesterday. Not that this experience put him off chocolate. He'd promptly spent another pawful of coins on something that would last him a while longer--although this decision was not made lightly. It was so tempting...

He bounced on his footpaws, now, shouting at the empty arena:

"C'mon, fiiiiight! Fightfightfightfightfight, I wanna see a fight! I wanna see some bulls!" He'd never seen a bull before; he had no idea what he was in for. "I wanna see some chickens! I wanna fight a chicken! Bokbokdookdookdookbok, fightfightfightfight C'MON, FIIIIIIIIIIGHT! When's it gonna staaaaart! UGH, this is taking too loooooong!"

To pass the time, he began to pick his nose.

[Carrow]

Cerinus Apodemus was not the bravest of creatures, that much was for certain. He didn't like to see others get hurt, and he knew that today there was a rather high possibility of that. It didn't bother the mouse all that much, however, as there was one reason above all others that he had come along.

The rodent was fascinated by the practice, and was tagging along simply for the spectacle of such a thing. Well, that and the company of Caden and Selvis, of course. That had played a rather large part in swaying his mind, when asked if he was still intent on going to the ampitheatre and settling in as an audience member.

He couldn't get enough of exploring Crittenden, that much was clear, and the youngster had been tempted to stay put after he'd finished writing his letter to Archie. Instead, however, the Dibbun sent the letter and went off to rejoin his friends. When the question of his attendance at the event was put to him, Carrow answered in the affirmative.

As he looked around him now, he could see that he'd made the right decision. Sadly, there was no sign of Elliot, and Carrow was unsure what exactly had happened to him. Had he missed the call, or simply opted to stay behind like Carrow could have done? He wasn't all that put out by the beech marten's absence, however, knowing that he'd seemed slightly preoccupied for the last few days. Was something troubling him?. He wasn't going to worry about the marten's position, though; worrying always made things worse, he knew that for a fact.

Carrow was most definitely *not* put out by the immediate absence of a certain ferret. Spender had clearly gone out of his way to avoid Carrow and company for the entire trip, but this wasn't ruffling the rodent in the slightest. He was probably off doing his own thing, and he had no doubt in his mind that this particular course of action was best for all of them.

Caden was on the mouse's right side; and Selvis, the newest recruit of the HMS Agamemnon (as of a few days ago), a long-tailed weasel who was set for quite the growth spurt sometime soon due to the changes he was undergoing (changes that Carrow was mentally preparing himself for, as he had heard that hitting puberty early wasn't exactly uncommon), was on his left.

He turned to the Ferlusanian now, smiling a little as he addressed his new friend. "This place looks rather impressive. I quite like it here, you know. Besides, we have a pretty decent view!" His brown eyes sparkled as he gave the mustelid a pat on the back. "I'm really excited about this, I have to say!"

"So you should be, matey! So you should be!," was the weasel's response. He turned his bright blue eyes on the diminutive wood mouse. "You're going to enjoy this. If I've learned anything about you since I met you, it's that you're fond of spectacle."

Carrow nodded silently, confirming his companion's assumption. If something looked impressive, it was far more likely to impress him than something understated. Though things such as that had their moments too.

"How about you, Caden?," he asked his fellow mustelid who was standing across from Carrow. It was unfortunate that the pair had to literally converse over Carrow's head, but they were a considerable amount taller than the wood mouse, and so that was the way things had to be. Selvis rreturned his gaze to the ampitheatre itself, studying it as best he could. Carrow isn't wrong, he thought: they've really done a good job with this place.

[Ladorak]

It was clear to Saumarez that Steep was under the effects of quite a bit of alcohol...again. Was drinking really the only way she solve her problems? He had managed to glean from some doctors he'd spoken to that she had headaches...quite severe ones. While he was no medical practitioner, Saumarez suspected more than just your run of the mill migraines with this one.

There was apparently no good relief for her, or so he had heard. Other than that, he hadn't pressed the matter more. Headaches? Splitting? They must be quite bad if she needed to drink that much.

He furrowed his brows as she spoke to him in Ferlusanian. Uhhh...something about didn't mind and it was fine? Hopefully that meant it was fine for him to speak to her.

"I spoke to some doctors that have treated you...about your condition I mean." he said, speaking a bit louder to be heard over the crowd above them. "They said you have headaches...very bad ones from what I heard." And something about a loose bladder at night? Yes...he had heard that as well. She seemed to have a problem with bed wetting...linked to the headaches they had said. Poor thing.

"I'm very sorry." he said, giving her a sympathetic, almost cute look. "I understand too that it's chronic...and hasn't gone away in nearly ten years. It's amazing you've been able to last so long...but I hope you keep going Priscilla...such strength is hard to come by and I can only imagine what it is like living with this...thing, whatever it is. At any rate, I wanted to apologize for what happened the other night. I understand why you wanted to jump...I really do." He took hold of her paw in his own, making sure it was a comforting hold and not one that was perhaps reserved for lovers. It was more an old friend speaking to her type gesture than anything else, despite him being no such thing.

"I just want you to know that my promise to you still stands...and if there's anything I could ever do for you that's in my power to grant...please just name it." He said, more softly now as the crowds were quieting to hear some announcer down in the ring. He would probably be singing the praises of the new marriage in Ferlusanian, and welcoming the guests from Welkin.

He reached into his pocket again with his free paw, and withdrew the ring he had held in front of her that night. He brought it towards her finger resting in his paw, but did not slip it on just yet. "Please accept this...as a reminder of my promise to you...if nothing else." He said, very softly now, studying her with hopeful eyes. He wasn't promising her unconditional love...he couldn't do that just yet. He wanted to talk with someone...who knew love first. He wanted to know just what unconditional love was...and what one needed to make it so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Huh?" Caden looked over at the mouse, having been distracted by what he thought was a vaguely familiar face in the crowd of spectators. "Oh uh...yeah...I think it's going to be a good time I hope! Though maybe the violence will do me in before the day is over. Not sure. Depends on what it looks like. I've never seen one of these after all." he looked back to his right, trying to pick out...yes! There he was! Why did that ermine picking his way through the crowd seem so familiar? It was someone from his past...he knew that much...or at least he felt it was.

But...who? The ermine was out of sorts...should've had a summer coat on, but instead was pure white. The black tip on his tail gave him away as a stoat. He was dressed fairly common enough for his species, though his clothes bordered a tad on the lavish side; he seemed to be no higher than upper middle class.

He strode through the crowd, pushing a few aside that were getting in his way. He had the look of an older stripling...perhaps 17 or 18...maybe even an adult...but a very young adult if he was one.

He was in fact, Ocean. Spender's somewhat long lost adopted brother. Why he was here was anyone's guess, but he had recognized the ferret right off, and thought he had seen Caden close by too, but he couldn't be sure. Adopting a smug look, the ermine shoved his out of the grandstands and down next to Spender. "Well, well, well." he said, his voice having developed nicely over the years. He was in fact 17, one of Caden's guesses. "Spender Cielciosk, is that you?" he asked, feigning surprise. He had known about them being here for a few days yet, but hadn't had a chance to approach them. In fact...he had a very specific reason for making himself known now, just as the first bull and fighter appeared.

Spender had been shrieking and dooking and yelling and making all sorts of noise. Impatient little twerp...seems he hasn't changed much over the years, Ocean thought to himself as he leaned casually on the rail, playing the "cool" jack for the most part. "Remember me?" he asked, pretending to study his claws in a bored manner as the fighter and bull squared off.

[bookity101]

Ellie was lost. Completely and utterly lost. She had woken up on time, just like everyone else, had had breakfast, and had even started to follow the rest of her group down the gangplank, which is where her day took a turn for the worse....

Ellie was glancing over her shoulder at some of the pendants that flew on the Agemmemnon, proud that this was "her" ship, and that it was a really a great representation of Welkins Navel might. Just as she was turning around again to ask where exactly the bull fighting stadium was when Spender came up from behind her, jostling her in his hast. She lost her footing* with a yelp that went mostly unnoticed by her companions. Not that she blamed them... it was quite noisy that day. Thankfully a young midshipjack had seen her tumble and thrown a line to her.

Now she was lost, very lost and wet... still! She gave her body another shake, dislodging more of the water from her fur and clothes.

"I can't believe that I don't know where the others are!" She glanced around, scowling at the different signs and beasts around her. Sure that she understood them, but it didn't help that she had hit her head on the dock as she slipped. It wasn't a very bad hit, in fact she barely noticed it till she located (FINALLY!) the stadium. From there it was almost a simple matter of finding Spender (who was easy to spot as he was jumping up and down yelling like an idiot.) then passing him as she made her towards where she spotted her group. A passing glance was spared for Spenders new companion... and she made it to the stands just as the fights were beginning to start.

"Hi guy's... sorry I'm late..."

*pawing?

[Ladorak]

"Elliot!" Caden exclaimed, looking behind him now at the approaching marten who shortly joined them. "Hey...why are you all wet? And your head! Its...got a nasty bruise on it! What happened?" he asked, concern washing over him. His nose inhaled her wet scent, and suddenly...he could've sworn he smelled Elle on "him". What was going on here? Why did Elliot smell so much like his sister?

"Uh...Elle...I mean...Elliot!" Caden snapped, realizing his mistake. "Good to see you back but I hope you're OK. Looks like you've been through something before coming here. I was just trying to see if I could recognize that stoat over there...well the ermine really. That in itself is unusual." He pointed over in Ocean's direction.

"To see an ermine in this climate and weather...but I feel as if I...know him from somewhere before." the albino said, voice trailing off as he studied Ocean again before shifting his gaze quickly back to Elle.

[spender]

Steep was more or less flabbergasted. The language barrier was almost too much for her alcohol-addled mind to follow. She could only grasp phrases, pull random words out of the miasma and piece them together in the thudding recesses of her mental process.

It was through this luck that she missed Saumarez's use of "treated", and disaster was averted. Steep had no love for the myriad healers that had studied her and poked her; not one of them had made a difference, and if she hadn't begged in the first place, she would have liked to get an arrest warrant on the quack that had shaved her back and had her covered with leaches.

And that was another thing! Why were bad doctors called quacks? That was demeaning to ducks. She would have to talk to the King about it, get that changed around. Darn Dazarians. Ruining ducks for everyone. Stupid bloody useless doctors.

"...and if there's anything I could ever do for you that's in my power to grant...please just name it."

Steep's paw curled around the ring as she gave a little sigh.

Now that the initial shock of the event was over, she felt... bored. It was just another stupid, mind-numbing, soul-crushing occurrence that she had to deal with. She chose to face it as she faced all her problems: quiet desperation, a touch of indifference, and...

"I'd like more of this," she said, still not bothering to slip out of her native language. Trying to translate while drunk was a hassle she was not willing to put up with. She lifted the empty bottle and pressed it into Saumarez's paws in exchange for the ring. "And a bag of grasshopper, too."

It was something of a delicacy for any creature that could stomach the thought of eating a bug, and it was made like this: You took a plump, adult grasshopper, and snipping the rear end, carefully scooped out the soft insides. These were made into a paste with oils and butter, and put on to boil. Then you took some peanuts and fried them in the batter, then slipped them one by one into the empty grasshopper carapace. The entire thing was then roasted in an oven, dozens of them on dozens of trays, and sold as snacks at events, or at romantic street corners in the evening. Sometimes you got different flavours—substituting peanuts for almonds or crushed walnuts, for example, and the addition of cinnamon, chocolate, or coffee was not unheard of. There were even some that were cooked with alcohol for that extra zing.

Steep loved every variation.

Her ears twitched towards the arena. She supposed it was time to go out and take her seat. Hopefully there was some kind of awning set up; her hat made her ears itch, but the sun was worse...

"But if I may ask, first... Captain..."

The female weasel looked, at that instant, almost as if she were out of a book. Something about the way her face pointed at him, the way she suddenly held herself; every aspect of sleekness came back. This was Steep's one grand social skill, to transform herself from the broken, drunkard, cringing thing that was to be pitied, into a powerful, self-sustaining jill of cunning and prestige. Saumarez was a lucky jack to witness the change, for Steep usually needed a private place to compose herself. It did not do to alter one's self before an audience, for it gave the entire game away, that of deception.

It was tremendous mental effort on her part, and it strained her body badly, but she could keep it up for hours if need be. It was how she had survived for so long after her illness struck—and it would be how she survived for the months and years to come. It was her shield, her mask. Her secret. And now she shared it with Saumarez, although he probably didn't realise how important it was to her.

"...what is your first name?"

[Carrow]

Carrow turned around at the sound of a familiar voice, and felt a mixture of emotions upon seeing Elliot. On the one paw, the mouse was relieved that his beech marten companion had actually made it. On the other, however, was the question of his dishevelled appearance. Had something happened to him on his way here?, the youngster thought. There's no point actually wondering about it, though; I'll just ask.

"Hello Elliot...," the rodent said softly, the mustelid's arrival having snapped him out of his daze. He was thinking of all sorts of things - going over the previous few months in his head mostly. It had been eventful, that was for certain. He found that he was enjoying himself even more in the company of all these creatures as time went on. They were what made life aboard the Agamemon what it was for him. Even Spender was necessary in a way.

His brown eyes widened visibly as he took a look at him, and his voice rose in pitch. "Er, feel I have to go with Caden on this one, Elliot: what happened to you? You look a little rough, to be honest. Did it have something to do with you getting held up?," the long-tailed field mouse enquired now. He hadn't been expecting to see the beech marten in this sort of state, and was curious as to what caused it.

Selvis had turned too, smiling and nodding at Elliot and acknowledging his presence before Carrow had spoken. It would have been rude to interrupt, of course, but like his pine marten and wood mouse friends, the weasel was surprised at that sight that greeted him when he spotted Elliot. He kept silent, wondering what he would offer by way of an explanation. Then his sharp blue eyes spotted the... ermine? What?! At this time of year?!

It was certainly an unusual sight, even more so than Caden's snow-white coat. He was sure that this was more surprising than when he had met the albino marten; so much so that he let out a soft gasp, which was picked up on by Carrow, who was standing beside his longtail companion. He turned to face Selvis, glancing upwards to make eye contact with the weasel. "Why the gasp?," he enquired.

In response, Selvis pointed out towards the newcomer. Carrow's brown eyes followed the line of the weasel's pointing paw, as the stoat's presence was brought into focus. The Dibbun's eyes lit up. Another stoat? Excellent! The mouse quite liked stoats - he would, of course, having met Ladorak. He was puzzled as to why the stranger was in ermine, in high summer to boot. He returned his gaze to Selvis. "Hmm... that's unusual. Quite interesting too. He's already talking to Spender, I might add. I'd say that ferret will keep him busy for a bit, but something about him intrigues me. I hope I get a chance to speak to him."

Selvis nodded, flashing the mouse a grin. "Me too, mate. He looks to be rather sure of himself, at least from what I can see from here. I like confident creatures, you know. He knows what he's about anyway. We'll have to see how things go I suppose. From what you've told me of Spender, the stoat doesn't find himself in the best of company at the moment. This should be interesting I suppose!"

With that said, having finished their conference, the two friends turned back to Caden and Elliot, still thinking of what the beech marten had to say for himself after ending up in such condition. Both creatures had been expecting this visit to be relatively low-key and uneventful. To their delight, it was turning out to be anything but.

[spender]

Something was in the arena! Something was happening! What was that! What was that! It was some kind of ... cow! Only not a cow. It was a scary cow. It was an awesome cow.

Spender ogled it. So this was a bull.

Why had he thought it was a kind of bird?

"Spender Cielciosk, is that you?"

"Huh?" Spender said, glancing away from the arena for only a moment. "Yeah. Yeah."

He stared back at the bull and the fighter, his eyes popping almost out of his head. This was going to be awesome! It was better than fighting a bird, almost! That thing was huge! The fighter could practically ride it!

Spender decided at that moment he would ride a bull sometime in his life. Preferably today.

"Remember me?"

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah."

The ermine went ignored. The bull and fighter were circling! It was pawing at the ground! Was it digging for treasure? When was the fighting gonna start? Why was he waving around that stupid towel?

"C'MON, Y'PANSY! FIGHT IT! GNAW IT IN TH'FACE!"

Spender turned his head in disgust to comment to the ermine standing next to him.

"Pansy! Lookit that, they're not even gonna claw each-other..." The ferret's eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched in thought. Then at last he understood. "Ocean! 'Allo!"

Spender punched the stoat in the nose.

"How've you been, y'goober! Cor, wotcher doin' here? Run away? Can I come? Set yer sisters on fire again? Are they here? Can I sling mud at 'em? You're still not brown! Haha, yer a freak, Ocean. Is yer nose bleedin'? Hey look, I think the bull's gonna do something! Didjer know they're not a bird?"

The ferret babbled almost unendingly, bouncing all around his long-forgotten friend.

[Ladorak]

Saumarez relaxed visibly upon seeing her take the ring. Good! No more reminders of Dorothea to weigh him down! That ring would only serve as Priscilla's now...something to look upon as their vows of marriage...not love but marriage. He only hoped he still wouldn't view it as something negative...something that might have been but never would be now.

So she wanted more wine...OK. His paws enclosed the empty bottle. That wasn't a good idea in her condition, but he had given her his word after all...so alright. And a...bag of...what? What? What the hell was a saltamontes? Saltamontes? Saumarez's grasp of Ferlusanian was only basic conversational, and he knew little about species or animal names outside of weasel, stoat and family name mustelid. What on earth was a saltamontes?

It didn't sound like a food...unless it was very specific. But a bag would probably imply some sort of cooked animal of some kind...but that's the extent that Saumarez could speculate. "Uhh..." He wanted to ask her to please translate but instead she started speaking again...and then a change came over her.

It was the same change he had observed that day in the manor, when suddenly she had reappeared, looking for all the world as if she were ready to tackle extreme challenges, flaunt her beauty and conquer all at the same time.

It had caused Saumarez to feel just a tad hot under his uniform but now...now she was looking right at him with this, facing him directly, eyes boring into his. She had the sleek arrowhead look to her face now, that look of assured confidence and poise.

It absolutely melted him. Saumarez was dissolving and forming a puddle at her feet. He managed to give her a lazy, almost dreamy smile, hearing himself say "Yes...Priscilla?" in response to her wishing to ask him something. It was as if the entire world had suddenly frozen, and both of them were moving in slow time. The graceful, ardent, Steep, and the melting, helpless Saumarez.

Hazy clouds surrounded her face, and everything was going blurry. He had the sudden urge to lean in, pucker his lips, and kiss her square on. Embrace her in a nice, tight hold up against him, and wait...was she...was she really...going to do that!

Alas it was only his imagination! He was snapped back to his senses by her asking him his first...name? "Erm...it's James. James Sebastian Saumarez." He said the same thing again in her language, at least knowing how to convey that. So much for that little romantic...wait...romantic? Since when did he consider her attractive?!

But...she was! In a way...that fierce, confident aplomb bordering on a calculating and intelligent warlord. She was sleek...cunning...she was a weasel! And for some reason he found that adorable. It was smart, sexy, and desirable. Odd combination...and truth be told...he never knew that type actually could get him going! Even her scab had seemed like some sort of glistening ruby on her snout, something to admire and drool over rather than abhor.

At least he'd caught himself in time. Holding up the bottle, he indicated he was going to go and fetch her some more, as well as a bag of...saltamontes?

Luckily for Steep, the two weasels would be sitting in seats of honor, under a great awning that had been stretched out for them. So no sun worries for her this time it seemed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bull charged forward, barreling towards the marten fighter as he waited...timing his movement just right...and flashed to the side. The purpose of this was to tire the bull out, and then...when it was nice and fatigued, to jab it with a sword!

Ocean scowled, taking note that Spender seemed almost hypnotized by the fight and didn't even bother to glance at him. Same old Spender...more interested in scenes of violence and brawls than old friends. It took a moment for the perplexed furo to finally turn on him.

And then...the words flowed out like a river. The ermine gasped a bit as he was socked on the nose, causing it to go temporarily numb. "Fine." he said simply to Spender's first question. "No" he said to the second. "No as I'm joining you." was the third. His whiskers twitched and his left eye started squinting and opening at the mention of fire. Fire...fire...FIRE!

He almost snapped before Spender's incessant voice cut him out and brought him back. "No they're not. No you can't, they're not here." he said to the questions about his sisters. This required some patience..."So are you!" he exclaimed, to the freak remark. "I can't feel it right now." in response to his nose. "It's charging again." about the bull. "Of course." About it...not being a bird?

And then...silence...just a bouncing ferret. Finally! Wham! Ocean's fist connected with Spender's chest...not too hard, but enough to let him know he was still the older brother. "SO! Good to see you too!" he declared. "I've been uh...traveling for the past two or so years. Decided to bid goodbye to the old Imperium and see the world!" And a few other things as well...

"Strange us running into each other again. Is that Caden I see too? Over yonder." he gave a brief point in Caden's direction, the albino catching it right off. Where was...what was his name? Fugate? The sooner he found the Captain the sooner he could get aboard. He reached up a claw and jiggled it briefly in his nostrils, withdrawing it as feeling slowly returned. No crimson...meant no blood. Good...twerp. He'd get more than a simple punch if he had made Ocean bleed. He needed his clothes immaculate today...for today was the day he cast his destiny in a different direction...one more profitable and hopefully lucrative for his search.