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Post by Ladorak on Jul 10, 2010 23:52:49 GMT -5
There was something wrong. Definitely something wrong. Saumarez had taken note that she'd brushed aside his inquiry, and then led him outside to the gazebo, but had not unfortunately had a very smooth landing in her chair. It was as if she threw herself with some third arm, and then started vigorously rubbing her head. Saumarez sighed, watching her as he took his seat with a concerned eye.
Alright...so maybe he couldn't speak to the Princess so easily about her problems. "No I think there's definitely..." but then the roast beef was held in front of his snout. Wainscott was holding it like smelling salts, and the weasel gave the attendant an uneasy smile and took the sandwich. He didn't finish, knowing it would probably do him no good. She could keep her mysteries for now, and the weasel stared forlornly at his sandwich as if it were the last sandwich on earth.
And then...quite suddenly...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
James Saumarez stared down at his dinner. It was octopus maybe. Had he ordered octopus? How had he even gotten here? The day was a blur. Mindless drivel with Priscilla Steep in the gardens, and her absolute refusal to open up to him. And then...what had happened after that? He had lost all interest in her it seemed, due to her not becoming personal with him.
The afternoon was either very slow or very long...either way he couldn't remember much of it. Speaking of Steep...he was sitting across from her at the great long table. They were all seated in the wardroom of the fabulous Immaculate Conception, flagship of the Ferlusanian Navy in Crittenden, and the personal vessel of Admiral Juan de Langara, Ferlusan's top Admiral.
He had a globetrotting record as he'd traversed the planet three times and had taken part in a highly successful operation in which Ferlusan had defeated the Welkin Navy forty years ago. But karma could catch up with you, and he had in turn suffered a defeat, this time in command of a fleet, at the paws of a much larger Welkin force about ten years ago. His career did not suffer however, as he had been heavily outnumbered in the latter engagement. Now 57 years of age, the old zorilla was quite pleased to be playing host to such guests as Ladorak Fugate and James Saumarez, as well as the esteemed opossum Admiral Samuel Hood.
The two Admirals sat at either end of the table, the bookends so to speak for the stoats, weasels and others who sat in between. Immaculate Conception had Ladorak thinking on certain things, and not limited to the fine ship he was currently in. Was it a sign perhaps? He was with that frigate captain, the one who seemed ignorant of the ways of the sea.
Saumarez, for his part, stuck a fork in his food and raised it tentatively to his lips. Why had he ordered this? Biting down, the weasel tried not to think about what it was that he had just put in his mouth.
So it was Langara, followed by Federico Gravina, another zorilla Admiral who was twenty years younger than Langara at 37, and rumored to be Langara's successor whenever he would retire. There were frigate captains, ships-of-the-line captains, and Admirals here. Even a General, Roland Steep, was present. Ladorak was quietly conversing with Molly and the weasel captain from earlier, though mostly with Molly.
"The Admiral's cabin is rather spacious I'm sure. One deck above us. If you thought mine was big well...wait till I make Admiral." he said, giving her a wink. "I do like these Ferlusanian ships. Much more spacious than our own. I'll have to make it a point to capture one someday...that is if we ever go to war." the bespectacled stoat mumbled under his breath.
Tonight was momentous, for they were celebrating the marriage of two nations not normally associated with one another. In fact...these two nations had only been allied once in their entire history. It was historic on so many levels. They had fought countless wars against each other, including the Quadruple Alliance, the Ferlusanian Succession, the Kostritzer Succession, the Seven Years' War, the Imperium War, and the only exception being the Nine Years' War, as previously mentioned, exactly one hundred years ago from today. In a century they had fought several major wars, and yet here they were, dining together amicably and without care.
Of course...such tense political bonds needed...solidifying. They needed something more to ensure their alliance wouldn't fall apart. They needed...a royal marriage. And that was just the thing that was to be announced tonight. A holy matrimony in order to better cement the not so strong alliance between Ferlusan and Welkin. Both nations had very different goals in this war after all. Whereas Welkin wanted to destroy Rosferia's naval power, Ferlusan sought to restore the Rosferian monarchy while preserving Rosferian naval power in order to keep the balance against Welkin even.
They didn't trust each other, and both knew it. So what better way than to marry off an obscure and liable Princess to an equally obscure Welkin naval officer? That way, they could at least pretend to get along better than they did, and have something to fall back on if the alliance ever was threatened. Favors for favors.
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Post by spender on Jul 13, 2010 0:37:10 GMT -5
Molly was in a good mood; one she was sure would last the night. It wasn't every day you got to sit with such high ranking beasts from two countries and be allowed to hold a knife in your paw at the same time.
But the various assassination scenarios running through her wild imagination were just for entertainment. She stood nothing to gain by seizing the moment for a pointless bloodbath. That would come later. When she opened her present tonight... Her spine tingled, making her tail fuzz out. She stuffed a piece of fish in her mouth to stifle the zhzhzhp of pleasure at the idea of so much Rosferian blood washing over the Agamemnon's deck.
She had other reasons to be happy, of course. Tons of wine, for instance. Marriage announcements in the air. Ladorak beside her. The electrifying experience of cavorting through a wonderful, new city all day still coursing through her fur. And whenever someone said the name of the ship they were dining on, she couldn't keep the chuckle in. Or the snerk. Or the guffaw. Or, in one unfortunate case, the bit of cucumber from her salad. But the dirty looks she got would not detract from her experience. She had a feeling tonight would be the night. Maybe she'd been hasty, slipping off to the apothecary earlier...
"Be a dear," she said, leaning over to Ladorak, "and capture two! I've always wanted to swing across from one to the other. Like... this..."
She organized strips of fish on her plate, using her fork and knife to turn the fillets into model ships with wobbling masts. She giggled as the knife fell over with a clatter. Her crouton was not very good at swinging across, either. It landed in Saumarez's wine glass. She drank it out quickly, before he noticed.
Steep, across the table, did not make eye contact despite Molly's antics. Nor did she look at Saumarez, or any other beast. It was all she could do to care enough to raise her voice so the dining servants could hear her--and even then her father had to repeat her words louder to them.
The day had been too long for the weasel, who had fallen into a comfortable routine of frequent naps. Her head drooped a little in between bites. She'd asked for bourbon, but was given coffee instead. This not only didn't help with her pain, but made her jittery and tired. She just wanted to go home and sleep.
All in all, though, Steep was feeling better. The initial surprise of her re-induction to the military had passed, leaving the persistent aftertaste of duty in her gut. She'd cleaned and dried her uniform properly before the dinner, and then, not long after stepping aboard the Conception...
She had been presented with a beret.
It took her a few minutes to understand, even after they'd given her the stripes as well. It was too soon to make the modifications to her jacket, but she was allowed to wear the beret at the table.
She was Captain Priscilla Ginger Steep, and there was nothing she wouldn't face with dignity, pride, honour, and an everlasting love for her King and Country.
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Post by Ladorak on Jul 13, 2010 12:43:36 GMT -5
"Two you say?" he asked, studying how she was going about demonstrating this. Huh...swinging from one to the other? You would have to assume that two ships would foul each other first, providing a...bridge so to speak...but that was rather a good idea! It had never been done before as far as he knew, but first time for everything right? If he ever got that chance...he would enact it. Form a bridge and get them real good! Conditions would have to be right...but oh well.
"I'll be sure to do that, if we can." he said, contemplating it. "Yes...I can see it all now..."
Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! Cllnk! Clink! A knife was being applied to Admiral Langara's glass by Admiral Langara himself. The elderly zorilla was calling for attention. "Attention guests and colleagues! Might I make an announcement?"
"No!" Gravina cut in, laughing. "But go ahead, I'm sure none of us care for what this old polecat has to say!" he shared a laugh with most of the table, who either laughed to be polite or laughed genuinely, but either way Langara continued.
"Right...and this is the fellow supposed to be replacing me when I retire. Who knows...might hold on for another ten years now for that remark." he said, lightly punching his companion on the shoulder. "OK so...this announcement is VERY important! We are here dining tonight because we are celebrating the union of Welkin and Ferlusan in the first alliance they've had since 1688, over a hundred years ago."
Gravina stood up, and went to the stern cabin windows, opening one and taking a lantern, fiddling with some matches as he prepared to light it...a signal to those on shore. "However" Langara went on. "Something is needed to cement this alliance! Something binding! Something both our courts can look back on and say THAT is why we are allied! THAT is why we are so close now! Thus, our two Kings have taken it upon themselves a most heavy burden, as they always do, and have reached a mutual agreement. Two officers of outstanding quality, intrepid determination and redoubtable resolve shall be honored tonight as part of this alliance." he was lying. Steep was the antithesis of all those things...though her starting career had certainly shown her to be one of the best officers in the field.
Saumarez, for his part, was somewhat distinguished, but hadn't fought in over ten years. He was often overlooked as well in official reports, despite having shown fierce bravery and a devotion to his cause.
Gravina had finished lighting the lantern, and it burned with a red glow, shining out to those on shore as a signal to start the show. "Thus, I am very happy and pleased to announce that this alliance will be solidified by the marriage of two of our best." as he spoke, fireworks began to detonate behind him on the shore, silhouetting him in blues, reds and greens as the light flashed dimly into the cabin. "Princess and Captain Priscilla Steep..." he looked directly at her. "You are hereby to be joined in holy matrimony and wed to Captain James Saumarez of His Majesty King Poynt III's Royal Navy!" BAM! One particularly loud firework went off right behind the standing Admiral, as if to accentuate his words.
Saumarez had been taking in some water when the news tumbled out, and he sucked in some breath, wanting to exclaim "WHAT!?" before the water beat his words and he started to choke. Hacking as he lowered his glass, he could do nothing but choke and do his best to swallow as the shock sunk in as gently as a maul striking him on the head. M...ma...MARRIED?! To...PRISCILLA STEEP!? Priscilla...GINGER...Steep?
He raised his eyes across the table at her, looking as flabbergasted as if he'd seen a spectral spirit appear in the room above the table. He was ashen, and could say nothing, but it didn't matter as Langara finished. "Congratulations you two. You should be proud that our monarchs have so chosen to honor you with this duty. May it ensure lasting peace between our two nations and our crowns as a whole. A toast then! To the affianced!"
"To the affianced!" the cry went up from around the table, save of course for the two weasels sitting across from each other.
But...but...they hadn't told him! They hadn't sent word! Weren't they passing him over?! Weren't they...STUPID! He felt like slamming his fist into his forehead. He should have SEEN this! Ladorak's whole "Oh go with her James, she needs your gallant self as an escort. Go look at her mansion because guess WHAT? I FORGOT TO MENTION YOU'LL BE LIVING THERE SOON!" Ladorak's hollow laughter rang in his ears...despite the fact that the stoat was doing no such thing at the moment. He was saying something, probably congratulations, words he couldn't hear.
OK...OK...maybe not living there but still! "You two shall be wed before the end of the year, to bind our alliance. In addition, both of you shall of course be permitted to continue serving on the front lines. Captain Steep will be traveling as part of an expedition to secure Rosferia's southern naval base, and Captain Saumarez of course shall be continuing his cruises in support of the homeland and the suppression of Rosferia's frigates and privateers. A VERY hearty salutations you two!" Langara exclaimed, leading a round of plaudits about the table.
Saumarez looked helplessly at Steep, words lost on him at the moment. He couldn't even say he liked her. She was interesting...but not THAT interesting. But now...the deck seemed to collapse from under him, and he was floating in blackness...his mind went dead and he was unable to react. He was a frozen, incredulous post.
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Post by spender on Jul 15, 2010 9:35:28 GMT -5
Something was wrong. General Roland began to panic. Everywhere along the table was applause and congratulatory chatter, except the two weasels at the center of attention.
Saumarez was frozen. Steep wasn't, but only because her paw was still shaking. He could see with a glance that she was staring intently at nothing and everything. Roland's paw tightened around his wine glass. Hadn't they found out? Why were they being so shocked? A bit overkill, wasn't it, if they were just acting for everyone's benefit...?
Steep said something, so quiet Roland was only just able to make it out: "Pylaris..."
All at once, Steep's paws flew up. Roland ducked, but he need not have feared for himself. Steep's salad plate went spinning across the table, leafy greens and purples spraying Saumarez. The plate itself bounced off Molly Serra's arm—the stoatmaid gave a yelp and put her other paw on the point of impact.
The entire table fell silent. Steep's coffee, which had been knocked over, spread through the tablecloth.
She scooted her chair back and stood up, glaring at the spot her salad had been. Then she threw her beret down onto her calamari and turned to walk away. However, Steep only circled around behind her chair before sitting back down again. She scooted it back in. The scraping noise felt like claws against chalk in the stunned silence.
Steep lifted her beret out of her food, flicked a piece of squid off, and put it back on her head. She glanced up at the admirals and other important beasts, and...
It could technically be called a smile. It shared a similar property, in that the corners of her mouth lifted up. But it was brief, and it did not reach her eyes; nor did her lips part to display her teeth, even a bit.
She picked up her coffee. There was still a bit left in the bottom of the mug.
Roland relaxed—too soon! Steep smashed the mug against the table next, sending shards across the floor, her lap, and the poor beast to her right. Then she flung the handle, still in her paw, into the middle of the table.
"I want some wicking ale, dammit, right now."
Roland knew better than to try to reach out to her right now. He could only stare at his own food and hope to high heavens the Admirals weren't giving him the stink eye.
~ ~ ~
Molly had been, for a second before the plate hit her, thinking. She had been thinking: This is a magical time. I might just be drunk enough right now. I could slip it in, just a whisper in his ear...
But then she'd thought: No. Let this be their night. We should drink to the weasels, not to ourselves. Who am I, to make this about myself, when—
She did not get to finish her thought.
And now her arm was most likely going to have a very nasty bruise. She hoped it would turn green under the fur. Then at least it would be amusing. Right now it merely hurt, and all thoughts of proposals and engagements had fled her mind entirely.
Not to say she was starting to change her mood. Molly loved drama. This was loads better than any street carnage she'd witnessed in Bully Harbour.
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Post by Ladorak on Jul 15, 2010 10:49:44 GMT -5
The celebration was cut short by the sudden lurching of Steep's salad plate across the table, leafy greens and purple radishes splaying into Saumarez; he simply closed his eyes and took the force. That could've gone better. The Admirals were shocked. Ladorak was a bit angry at seeing the plate strike Molly on the arm.
He kept his paws on her to restrain her just in case...but he felt no struggle within her, and figured she wasn't harboring any wrath at this point. Good...one less jill to hold back. Had this been a mistake? Was Steep...actually angry at this?
Saumarez, for his part, was trembling inside. The whole room was looking at them...he just knew it. He slowly opened his eyes, looking directly across at Steep, and trying to block the hostile stares out. Focus on her...try and calm her..and by so doing hopefully calm yourself. She was humiliating him in front of everyone here, and also humiliating her country. What was that she had said? He had not heard before the plate went flying.
His now fiancee angrily rose, throwing her beret onto the table as if it were trash, and began to storm out...then stopped, picked her beret up, and sat back down. Was it over? SMASH! No...not yet. Her mug disintegrated, shattering into pieces as she slammed it into the table. This wouldn't do! She was embarrassing him and causing him great tension. He felt some giant paws picking him up and twisting him around and around and around as if to wring him out...and the pressure was too great. He couldn't take it anymore! He had to get her out of here! And he with her...in order to avoid those stares...those damned burning stares!
The fireworks playing through the window looked more hellish than beautiful, and caused Saumarez's head to ache. He had to remove her...he needed to speak to her about this. He didn't want it clearly any more than she did, but he was fanatically formal in public, and would NEVER sully his own reputation by acting out like this.
"This is something our monarchs decided upon. Why aren't you honored by this decision Captain? I thought that a jill of your caliber would..."
"Please!" Saumarez cut Langara off. He rose solemnly, quietly brushing what he could of the salad off of his uniform. He would need to get it cleaned tomorrow. "Admiral you've said enough...with all due respect to myself and the Captain here." he said, motioning across the table at Steep. Turning his head, he fixed her with a steady stare, his face nearly unreadable as it remained solid as a statue.
"Captain...Priscilla." he hoped his tones would at least calm her, or make her see the insensibility of this. "May I please have a word with you...alone." he glanced briefly at her father, then put his eyes right back on her. "One of the gun decks or the weather deck will suffice...but please. May I be permitted to escort you from here?" he asked, a slight, almost not even noticeable frown was upon his features, but it was one of concern and sincerity, not one of disapproval. He didn't have to ask what she was going through. He had honed in on it right off.
"Please." he said again, a mere decibel above a whisper, and motioned with his right paw toward the door of the wardroom.
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Post by spender on Jul 15, 2010 23:24:59 GMT -5
Caliber! As if she were a rifle to be pawned off between chieftains.
Honoured! As if this bore of a jack were some kind of prince! It was they who should be honoured, if not appalled at her uncle, the Ferlusan king's, decision.
Steep rose up to follow Saumarez out--anything to be away from the table--but stopped and leaned over with fisted paws propping her up.
"Don't you-- don't you speak to me, don't you dare assume-- I will do anyth-- everything that my king asks of me, I will honour him. Your king and his decisions, on the other paw, can go--"
"Captain Steep," Roland barked. "Captain Saumarez has requested to speak with you. I suggest you go." His voice softened then. "Get some fresh air."
Steep glowered a few seconds more at the Welkinites, then left as gracefully as she could manage.
Roland sighed. "I think that... could have gone a little better. I honestly thought they had already known from this afternoon."
He glanced around the table then, wondering just whose idea was it to spring the engagement as a surprise for both parties involved. It suddenly seemed rather cruel to him-- although in his daughter's case, necessary. She was a loose cannon at the best of times, and he dreaded to think how he was going to get her to attend the dinner at all if she had known beforepaw. The re-induction into the military, along with her promotion, were probably the only reasons she hadn't tried to stab herself in the eye two minutes ago as it was.
Steep followed Saumarez, and when he paused, she continued on until they came to the topmost deck. Without walls to lean against, she stumbled to the railing and clung tightly to it.
She closed her eyes and breathed in deep. The air, crisp and cold now, reminded her of other lands, other creatures. Night-- the only time when she could be left alone to some extent, without her father or staff hounding her. When she could pad barepaw through the halls and rub her cheek against cold stone pillars, the closest she would ever come to dreaming, for her dreams now were mere pounding flashes of light and scattered images before she awoke, wet and miserable.
She waited to let Saumarez speak. Like before, she had nothing to say to him. It wasn't his fault; she had to tell herself that again and again. If anything, it was her own side she should be angry at. And yet she'd just gotten over them in the first place! They had kicked her out, they had forced this torture upon her. She could have died long ago, in service to her country. She could have done something for the good of Ferlusan. But instead they'd denied her any further involvement, and just when they let her back, just when they allowed her purpose to live to be renewed...
A purpose to live is not the same as wanting to live, Steep had found. Why was she denied one or the other? Just as one came within reach, the other was yanked out of her paws. It was that moment, when neither were in her grasp, that she found herself floundering again and again. In time, purpose or want would settle in and comfort her in the long run, but right now, she had to make a decision. She had to let go of one if she was to receive the other, or risk losing both forever.
She would marry him. It was her duty to.
But it would come at the cost of her soul. Already she had damned herself; committed acts of infidelity during her time as a soldier. She was steeped in sin already. But to be married to one jack, and to pine for another-- and she would pine, for that never changed. She would pine, and lust, and if ever the day came when she could have him again, she would, without a thought, without hesitation, and in doing so cement her soul beneath the earth.
And in this, there would be no forgiveness. There was not even that tiny shred of logic, the doubt that said: I can be forgiven for this. I can still have eternity, for no god can deny me after all I've been through. It is not murder if I beg for it. How can I be told my last act was not one of mercy?
But this was marriage, not suicide.
She would marry him, but she could not love him.
It was death, but without reprieve.
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Post by Ladorak on Jul 16, 2010 16:41:06 GMT -5
Ladorak watched the two depart. Well, well. Either they would end up at each others' throats or Saumarez would find a way to urbanely settle the issue. Ladorak had some confidence in Saumarez's abilities, though knew he was a real oddity among ship captains. He had the intelligence to formulate good enough plans, but lacked the bloodthirstiness necessary to bring him truly resounding victories. Crush your enemy completely, and ensure they never sail again. That was ALWAYS Ladorak's goal if he could help it. Saumarez however seemed more of a gentlemammal walking into a bar fight and expecting everything to go in his favor. Tres bizarre pour lui, lui being Ladorak.
"Ahem...Captain Fugate." Ladorak looked over at Admiral Hood, who was dabbing his mouth with a napkin. The opossum Admiral had helped himself to a rather large serving of frogs for his dish, and had dug in like a true beast of the wild. "I realize perhaps a 64 was a bit...well, below your level." he said, almost apologetically. "As a matter of fact...I have been considering for the past month now transferring you to a 74...in particular the HMS Leviathan. A regular line of battleship that can hold her own in combat and give you a bit more room for you and your...well Jis Molly Serra."
Ladorak felt his heart quicken. Really!? A promotion!? Already?! "Ahem...well sir...thank you, that would suit me most well but...you mentioned the Leviathan. That's Hugh Seymour's ship right? What would happen to Captain Seymour?"
"He would be transferred to another vessel of course, and someone your junior would take command of Agamemnon." Here Ladorak paused. He couldn't do that to Seymour, could he? And on top of that, being transferred would mean saying goodbye to his crew, including Caden. It just seemed...awfully soon to be speaking about transfers. He really didn't want to lose his crew after all.
Speaking of Seymour...hadn't he had an arranged marriage through royal connections? This sort of thing wasn't entirely unheard of in that case, even if it seemed a bit archaic. As far as he knew Seymour was happy with the match. "While your offer is most kind Admiral, I would need to give it some thought. I of course couldn't be expected to answer right away for sure, yes?"
"Of course." Hood replied, looking down at his dish. "Take what time you need. I'll look forward to an answer by the time we depart from Ferlusan." Nodding, Ladorak turned to Molly.
"Bit sudden that. I wasn't expecting such a thing to say the least...so soon after that little...show." he said, motioning to the wardroom doors. A 74...but could he really accept?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Saumarez followed her up to the weather deck, noting how she seemed to clutch desperately to the gunwale, almost as if the ship itself were being tossed about in a storm. No such thing was occurring though. Conception rode serenely at anchor. Poor jill...must feel the very devil himself moving inside of her now. Was she going to retch? Or was she just knocked senseless?
He waited for her to say something...anything. They were just abaft the mainmast, on the larboard side of the Conception. She was enormous compared to his little frigate, and his eyes moved about her decks as he waited for Steep to speak. But there were no words from his new fiancee. Moving his eyes from the mainmast to her, he clasped his paws behind his back, opening his mouth but saying nothing at first.
The fireworks were still exploding behind them, throwing their light over the bay. Perfect...celebrating something not worthy of such praise. It must make her feel simply dreadful...but what can I do?
"I can only imagine you must hate the world right now." He said, his voice uneven as the wind blew by. "I had no inkling of this. They mentioned it in passing months ago...but I had heard no word from them since, and assumed they were moving on with it. Had chosen somebody else. You must be in immense pain right now." he said, his voice hoarse. "Being asked to wed someone you care nothing for."
"I can somewhat relate. I myself am in love with ano...with my country...that is I love my country. I respect its wishes. The monarch has so far proven to make generally good decisions. If my duty is to secure an alliance through marriage then so be it. You don't have to like it and neither do I. I only hope you can accept whatever meager apology I can offer you that it was me." he had almost let Dorothea slip, but didn't want to complicate the issue. What if she wanted to try this after all? Knowing he had a sweetheart back home wouldn't help.
"Priscilla..." he said, turning to look at her back. He tentatively approached her, holding out a trembling paw and laying it on her shoulder. He expected a smack, or a recoil...or at least a tensing of her muscles...but there was nothing. She was dead. "Priscilla I know that it must seem like your entire future has been robbed from you. Taken by those whose judgment we might not always agree with, or even comprehend. But it's no cause for despair. So you have to marry me. So what? It doesn't mean your whole life has been sunk. You have a very long life ahead of you, of that I am certain. Many long years of service to your country lie ahead. I would never deter you from that. I look at you and I can at least see a creature of determination, and of some strength. To how great I do not know...we only met today after all. But I still see it all the same."
He paused, swallowing and hoping he wasn't far off his mark.
"I say to hell with your destiny. Your life is not being controlled, no matter how much it may seem that way. You have the power to make of it what you will. Nobody else can do that for you, even if it seems like sometimes you have but one choice or one path. This is of course one such instance. But damn them and damn their games! It doesn't matter what they decree! You have your duty as I have mine. Try not to despair over this...because if you do they'll have won. They will be the ones in charge if you do that. For your sake...it has nothing to do with me but for your sake I don't want this to drag you down! I'm imploring with you now not to let them get the better of you! You're still in control of the rest of your life! You don't have to like or embrace this but please...you seem to be troubled by many things I can't even begin to comprehend. I don't want to see you collapse because of this. Because if you go down so will I...and we'll be the shackled slaves of whatever destiny they craft for us! We can still hold our heads high regardless of these circumstances tonight. I'm sorry once again...sorry this happened to you. If I could I'd annul it. You have my word on that."
He let her go, letting his paw drop to his side as he used the other one to lean against the gunwale and look at her profile. Best let her digest all that...he had certainly rambled on there, that was for sure. A sudden thought occurred to him now, and he hoped it would make her feel better once he brought it up, but he would remain tight lipped at the moment. Best hear her thoughts on this whole thing, including what he'd just said.
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Post by spender on Jul 18, 2010 23:59:08 GMT -5
Molly poked at her food excitedly. 74 guns? That was ten more than 64! And how many did this ship have? She couldn't even remember. A lot. And this ship was better than most manors she'd visited in Bully Harbour. Imperium ships, lacking cannons, had seemed spacious enough - but they were mere viking's bath toys compared to even the Agamemnon. Molly had quickly learned to appreciate how much space a foot really gave.
It made her tail fuzz to think of ten more cannons on a ship, and how that might change dimensions elsewhere. Even six inches was six inches more room to war dance. She had never liked being cooped up in small places; they reminded her of her home in the Slups as a kit.
"Go for it," she said. "Ten more guns! And then we can get that loveseat I wanted, that you said wouldn't fit..."
Curse him, he was right. But did he have to rub it in?
It was almost too much to process.
Furthermore, Saumarez had opened her mind to another facet that she had been ignoring: that he, too, had his life on the line. Not his mortality, but his life.
And suddenly she saw herself ten years from now. Fifteen, twenty. The same afflictions were there in her visions, and the same fire in her heart that could burn for no other. And she saw him, or some shadow of him, and the shadow was reminiscent of her father. Retired early, his coat hung up for all but dinners and pomp, and his face sunken from worry.
It would be remiss of her to let this happen to Saumarez, who was still young and possibly handsome--she could not say, herself. Admitting he was handsome would be saying Pylaris was lesser.
"You could annul it?" she whispered in a moment of silence between two booming fireworks. "You should. You've been robbed, Captain."
She turned away towards the stern, to get a better view of the fireworks. Though the noise irritated her, and the lights reflected in the dark ocean baffled her senses, she decided not to let them go to waste. It would probably be the only thing about this night she would care to remember later.
Saumarez followed her up. He looked about to speak again, but she followed through with an explanation. It was now or never.
"I'm not a princess. By blood, maybe. By title. But I have no land. I have no standing in any courts. I left all that to serve my country, to fight against Welkin. I was at the Siege of Gibraltar. And I fell ill, in the final months." She gripped the railing now with such intensity that the wood threatened to crack. "Ill in mind and spirit. I dare not even describe it to you. My father has called in every doctor, alchemist and priest in Ferlusan. There is nothing wrong with me, physically. It's all in my head. I'd just got news my mother had died, that was when it started. Whatever I saw, whatever I went through in Gibraltar, the two took a toll on my mind. And once then, my body was taken by demons, and nothing will draw them out."
The fireworks began to leave no pause between them, drowning out any further chance to speak. The finale was resplendent. But Steep had stopped watching.
"So they say," she finished, when the last boom echoed away.
"I belong in a hospital, Captain, with bars on the windows. But it would shame Ferlusan. They have chosen the next best thing, and now I am your problem. You can either annul it now, or..." Or I can do it for you.
Steep stared at the black waters below. She'd tried it before. Once in the ocean, once in the bath. Both times had not succeeded. She'd made a promise. But now, there was no light to show the depth of such judgment. The water was a glass table, it would shatter, and below it the darkness would take away everything, sight, sound, breath, and this time, she could relax and let go. Without a sun to swim to, without having to sit up, she could solve everything so simply.
The promise was to be broken anyway. What choice did she have? And what purpose, what use, would she be to Ferlusan, if she went through with this marriage? It was only that she would accept the terms of the engagement that they had given her her rank back, so by the true wishes of the King and the military, they wanted her to stay out of affairs in the first place. She would be doing her duty, and sparing this weasel, Saumarez, from the eventual failure he would face in his own path. Her country demanded her death, and for once she could see an upside to it in sparing him her madness.
It all made sense when she laid it out like this.
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Post by Ladorak on Jul 19, 2010 15:00:49 GMT -5
Saumarez could hear her whispers in between the fireworks...annul...he'd been...robbed? What was all this now?
Step into the rainbow, find another view
She was walking though, walking towards the quarterdeck, the fireworks showering her in multifaceted colors, rainbows dancing and exploding off her fur. He followed solemnly, going to speak but realizing she was going to give him an explanation. They just needed to climb these steep steps up to the quarterdeck and the ship's wheel.
Chase the tender light, borders let's cross over
They both crested the quarterdeck now, entering the nerve center of the ship when it was at sea. No crew lurked these decks tonight however. No Quartermasters to pawdle the wheel on this evening. The binnacle and wheel stood like silent cenotaphs for the two weasels, and the jack followed Steep up to the stern railings, and it was there she told him part of her tale at least.
Siege of Gibraltar? So she had fought...against them of course. Saumarez himself hadn't been stationed in that theater, as he had been leading attacks along the Imperium coastline.
She had no land? Yet she had...peerage!? What had happened? Had she been stripped of it somehow? But suddenly...things were beginning to make sense. Names, words, titles and about a million other things began to pulse through Saumarez's brain as she spoke. THAT was why they were so eager to "pawn" her off! They were "hocking" a nearly "useless" Princess in order to secure Welkinite support in the upcoming campaign! It was at this point in time that James Saumarez was smoldering inside. The politics of all this filthy business disgusted him. Both governments were looking to use the other to get military support, and it seemed as if he and she were the pawns, the link that secured it.
Ready to define the mists inside your heart?
She was sick? Terminally? No...from what it sounded like it wasn't fatal. But sick all the same. Nothing physically wrong? As Saumarez had little respect for Ferlusan sailors, so too did he have little respect for their doctors. It sounded suspicious...something wasn't right. It couldn't just be mental...no...not to a jill like her. She seemed as sharp as a tack. It was possible she had snapped under the pressure of the campaign, but a jill like her? Who had the guts to enlist in the military in the first place? Not likely. No...but as he had no details, he couldn't comment on this illness.
And that was it. The finale of the fireworks...the finale of her statement. She was far darker than he had at first pictured. A mysterious illness perhaps existing in her head, but more probable there was something physically wrong with her...he couldn't accept this.
Take a breath and start your life...
"No!" he said, shaking his head. "I couldn't do that. It would humiliate me and I'm NOT going to do that just because some power conductors think they're throwing out their 'refuse!'" he glared at her, trying to catch her gaze. "Look at me Priscilla. Don't let them define you like that! You aren't 'refuse' or 'trash' or whatever else you may think they see you as! That's THEIR definition! If you truly are suffering from some sort of illness then the least they could do is offer you condolences and compassion! Not strip you of your dignity! How is something beyond your means to help something to feel shame over?"
He was digging his claws into the wood of the taffrail, the indignation clear on his face. "I'll tell you right now that I don't buy that whole mental issues crap. You don't look like you belong in a 'hospital' any more than I do! Look at yourself! You're in the military for crying out loud! That's more than ninety-eight or even nine percent of the jills out there can say! That's not something to scorn. Far from it. I look at you and you don't strike me as someone who would be remanded to some institute. And I speak honestly about that!" He said, simmering now, though not at her. He was cross with this whole situation...and for some reason hated to see her put herself down like that...probably because he'd been there before.
He'd been down that road. He'd felt worthless at times...or overwhelmed with life. He had been passed over his due plenty of times...especially at the Saintes. He had taken his ship and pounded the stern quarter of the Rosferian flagship...yet it had been others who had gotten the credit for his work...even when the Rosferian Admiral himself had praised Saumarez's work in bringing about his surrender, it was still others who were credited over him. He never really seemed to get much recognition for his acts of bravery and sound tactical thinking...
"No...I see a jill who might think lowly of herself, but that's only because the opinions of others have thus far served as slings and arrows to do more harm than good. If you see yourself as a burden, don't. An annulment would bring about an embarrassment to not just us two but our countries as well. And if they think they're being clever by saddling me with you, I'll prove them wrong. I'll MAKE this work...on my end at least. I'll show them it doesn't matter if you're sick or you're struggling with something or they think you're ultimately some low Princess without even a title! So what? You've at least earned my respect! No jill I know would say they've been in the military. Nor faced what you have. I know what it's like being underrated Captain...you'll have to trust me on that. Because someone says you are or aren't doesn't necessarily make it true."
He paused to think this over. She was a burden though...but he didn't want her to see herself as such. So he couldn't marry the jill of his dreams...that was an issue. His marriage was decided for him. Who he would have to spend the rest of his life with. That...was something he had always pictured for himself. Something he had always foreseen in his dreams. He'd find a jill one day...a jill he was in to, a jlll he could appreciate and she likewise him. That wouldn't be the case here. Neither of them loved each other. He respected her...and she was intriguing...but how could this possibly work?
He knew that her getting it annulled wouldn't help matters however. He knew in the end he could never do that. He would have to sell himself to this...
"Don't see it that way. You're not my 'problem.'" he hesitated again, knowing he was going to regret this. He pushed off the taffrail, and walked a bit towards the wheel, stopping to look back at her, moving to face her backside. "Priscilla...you may see yourself as a problem or a burden to others but I'll tell you right now...no...more than tell you. I'll promise you." his voice went lower. No need to speak up now that the explosions had stopped. What are you doing!? You can't promise her this!? And if you do you'll be bound by your word...the word you ALWAYS honor! Shut up James! Don't speak these words!
"I promise you if nothing else that you'll never be seen by me at least as a problem or a burden. Of that...of that you have my word. It doesn't matter what you may or may not have...at least trust me and confide in me." his voice got so low it was almost a mumble, but he kept the words clear so that she could hear him. "I'll never reject you." Now that was a highly strange thing for James Saumarez to say! Why did she matter so much? Was he that desperate to save face, or was there something else? It wasn't love...couldn't possibly be. He didn't know her...but one thing he DID have was compassion enough to fill the oceans of the planet and then some. If nothing else he could at least give her his compassion and his understanding on top of his patience. If it made her feel better about herself then...at least he wasn't doing everything wrong. And he would be able to rest easier at night about this as well.
Night...it was night now. Thoughts of "night" filled his head. Yes...he would have to share a bed with her...live her life...as she would have to live his. He only hoped he wasn't biting off more than he could chew.
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Post by spender on Jul 20, 2010 10:56:39 GMT -5
Co-post ahoy!
Damn. That was not the response she had been hoping for.
Saumarez, though not technically a suitor, was not her first. Nor her second. Nor her third. In fact, four weasel jacks before him had come to her manor, begged, almost, by her father. He had used his utmost trickery on them, and her, but each time she had simply folded: agree to marry, but lay the facts on the table straight. They ran like the wind, every one of them.
This one was different. Steep would have been infuriated, if she weren't so dismayed by his fortitude. He was a weasel, all, right. He clung on to the concept with hunter's teeth. She had once heard of a soldier who had been beset by a falcon. With his rifle torn from his paws, he had fought back with tooth and claw, and was carried off, for the rest of his company would not fire on the bird with him so close to it. It had escaped, but the same bird came back months later, the soldier's skull still grimly clinging to its neck plumage. The image perfectly fit her idea of Saumarez now; the idiot would bleach himself dry, throwing his life away for her. And she didn't even want him!
She closed her eyes and breathed.
Then she took off her beret, and laid it on the deck, and began shrugging out of her jacket.
Saumarez looked her over now, watching as her beret was placed onto the deck, as was her...wait...she was getting her jacket off? Well...this either meant one of two things. One was that she wanted to preempt their marriage and..."get to know him" now, or...
Saumarez was actually baffled by what that second option might be. He couldn't think about it...surely she wasn't planning on going for a swim with him...naked, was she? While if he were alone and in the privacy of just her he might not pass up such an opportunity, he would not under any circumstances do that here...in the middle of the harbor!
"Captain Steep...might I inquire as to what you are doing?" he asked, hoping he didn't seem too awkward if she really did want to take him here and now on the quarterdeck of the largest warship he had yet placed paw on.
"It's hot out," Steep replied vaguely. She paused to think about this. Maybe it was; maybe it wasn't. Had the deck soaked up heat from the day, or was that her own trembling body warming her uncomfortably? Was there an ocean breeze, cooled by the evening's churning salt spray? She hadn't been paying attention.
Drooping her jacket over the railing, she hefted herself up and swung her legs over. Here she stopped, considering again the darkness below. All it would take was one push, one slip. But she didn't move.
Saumarez felt his throat closing up. What...was she doing? She wasn't wildly embracing him and running her claws down his backside...in fact she was heading up and over the taffrail, and she wasn't inviting him in for a dip. Besides a jump from this height might wound a beast if they didn't do it properly...
"You should go back to the dinner," she called over her shoulder. "I'll be along shortly."
What was she going to do? Surely not...
"Ahem...Princess Steep...I don't think I should leave you alone like this," he said. "You're sitting on the taffrail right now...looking down at the water. So unless you were planning on a swim...I don't think me leaving you right now is wise. Don't...don't consider what I think you're considering. It's not worth it," he said softly to her, walking up behind her.
"It's not worth it." he placed a paw on her shoulder again. "I'd know, because I tried this very thing once...you aren't carrying anything heavy, so you wouldn't drown...you'd black out and float back to the surface...and be coughing up water for a week. You might also cripple yourself in the fall...I'd have to go in after you...I couldn't simply watch you throw your life away over something like this. I'm telling you now it's not worth it...you have a lot ahead of you yet."
"What, do you think I'm stupid, Saumarez?" Steep snapped, surprising herself. It had been the first time she'd used his name instead of rank. "Of course I'm not... not going to... to..."
Her mind said she wouldn't. Her heart said she would.
"You don't know that," she said, suddenly changing tactics. "You don't know how long I have left like this. A month? A year? This isn't the first, and it won't be the last." She began wriggling out of her uniform skirt. She still had a white floofy one underneath, but she couldn't ruin the uniform. That was important.
"It's you who is trying to throw his life away. I'm just sparing you this... mistake. You can move on from this. The alliance will hold. They won't miss me. Hah! I'm not a Captain. I'm not even a Lieutenant. Dishonurable discharge, that's my rank. They gave me this—a bribe! You said so yourself. Take command of my own fate."
Her skirt removed, she caught it in her paws and laid it on the railing beside her. She began to stand up.
"No! Not like this! It doesn't have to be this way! You're not as worthless as you think!" Saumarez said, growing desperate as she moved to stand up, brushing his paw off and removing her skirt. What could he tell her to make her come back over here however? How could he persuade her that she wasn't worthless?
"I never said I was worthless, Captain..." A manic grin briefly flashed across her muzzle as she whispered, "I'll make a very good meal for a shark..."
Her dark humour was lost on him.
"Priscilla, listen to me! I tried to do this very thing and it didn't work! I wasn't weighted down! You'll only end up hurting yourself even more! I would have to follow you in and carry you out...think about your father...think about your country! Don't do this!" His voice wavered, the jack growing nervous now that she might actually take the plunge.
Growing more frantic as time went on, he did the only thing he could think of. He put his arm about her waist, not gripping her tightly, but in a soft hold, one she could easily break if she did plunge forward and he chose not to tense up.
"Priscilla! Forgive me but I can't watch you take your own life in front of me! I can't do that!"
"So look away! Close your eyes!" She tried to pry his paws off her without falling. She wasn't ready just yet.
Tears starting to come to Saumarez's eyes. Steep wasn't turned around, luckily for him, but he felt that unless he got this situation under control...it would fast go from bad to worse. "Here...I'm a warm, living, breathing weasel, Priscilla! Same as you! You have a heart beating right now that would go out if you did this. Everything would stop...everything you wanted to do in life would be gone! Think about that! Here!" he dove into his pocket with his free paw, not thinking about the consequences.
"Here!" He thrust a golden ring up in front of her. "You're not doing me a disservice by marrying me! But you would be if you jumped! I value others and their lives...it's a horrible profession I've gotten myself into, I know, but look...just look!" The stone on the ring was of an opaline quality, and glittered with many colors and shades. "It's for you, OK? It was originally for somebone else...somebone I...still...care for but...obviously can't be with now!" he hesitated, realizing what he'd just said. He'd betrayed his love...betrayed his devotion...he was damned now and there was no going back. "But it's yours now OK? I can't ever give it to who it was intended for...so take it...please take it and live. Be my wife Priscilla...not out of love or passion but because I don't want to see you die! I want to help you live your life...I mean really live it! Not to live in fear or regret but to really, really live! To feel like you're alive. Please...please come back down...please..." His voice dropping lower each time as the tears overtook him.
He had no idea why he was crying, only that the situation itself was so overwhelming...and in a small way he was feeling her pain. The pain that was driving her to make this decision. Please... he pleaded again silently. Just don't...jump...
Steep was crying, too. It came on suddenly, as if rushing to catch up with her thoughts and feelings of the past few minutes.
"I c-can't... I can't feel anything!" she screamed, her arm lashing out to slap him away. Anything to get that damned ring out of her face. Fates—it wasn't just her they were buggering with this. He had a jill somewhere, he'd made plans for that jill, and they'd ignored all that! For this! For this stupid, needless deal... some solidification!
Her paw, on its way back to clutch the railing, brushed her skirt and a claw caught on the fabric, yanking it out into the abyss. It drifted away without a sound.
"Don't you get it?" Her claws tore into her face, ripping the scab on the bridge of her muzzle open again. "I can't feel this! I can't live! For once—for once I'm given a chance, a good reason, and you, you stupid blithering weasel, you have to ruin everything! Go away! Go home, Saumarez! To hell with Welkin, your whole wicking lot—I'll never..."
Her voice drowned, overcome by the sobs that surged through her chest.
She stepped off.
"NO!" he exclaimed, sensing the release and pulling her back. She was for a moment weightless, and floating in mid air as he struggled to hoist her back up. He tossed the ring back onto the deck after it had been batted away, and he pushed his other arm down, trying to get more than just a bare pawhold under her arms. He managed to at least hook his free paw under her right armpit, and struggled, heaving for all he was worth, he groaned, grunted. "I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I'm sorry you're in pain! But I don't want to see you die! Please! Just believe me...on...that!" He hauled her up and over the taffrail, but backed up and slid his footpaw on her beret without meaning to.
"Ack!"
He fell backward, his center of balance lost, and she wound up on top of him on the quarterdeck, safe but perhaps not secure. He kept his arms about her, looking into her eyes. "I can't...I can't let you go just yet...forgive me..." he said softly as he heard approaching pawsteps.
"I hate you," Steep sobbed in Ferlusan, too hysterical now to bother trying to aim her fists at his face. She scrabbled uselessly at his chest. Her voice was a mere squeak, audible only to the jack beneath her. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I hate you..."
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