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Post by Ladorak on May 6, 2011 10:24:50 GMT -5
((This is the next thread for STEEP! And Saum!))
It was June 8th. June 8th already. The war seemed like a long ways off, being fought in a massive fleet action out in the Ceres Ocean. It was hundreds of miles away from Sir James Saumarez and his small squadron.
Today was different though. His squadron was not just cruising in an attempt to patrol the Welkin Channel, or some such thing as that. No, today was of a far greater gravity, at least in the least weasel's mind. The weasel Knight stood upon the quarterdeck of his ship, the 36 gun frigate HMS Crescent. The weather was fair, with blue skys and a good wind from the northeast. In company was the 36 gun frigate Druid, and the 20 gun post ship (smaller than a frigate but not a sloop) Eurydice.
To an observer, they seemed like any patrolling frigate squadron, as they were nearing the Rosferian coastline, and Sir James's home island, Guernsey. But in reality, they were part of a diplomatic mission. They were all acting as escorts for the Knight and his bride-to-be, Princess Priscilla Steep. Their wedding was to be held today, at the church near Saumarez's home.
They had sailed down to Crittenden, picked up the royal jill, and then sailed back north, stopping very briefly for supplies in Plymouth before departing Welkin and sailing southeast, towards Rosferia and the island that Saumarez called home.
They were on a larboard tack, making good progress, and the island was just coming into view on the horizon. The weasel Knight was decked out in his finest livery, wearing his gold epaulettes and white pants, along with blue jacket and black bicorn, the hat's ends pointing front and back, like a ship itself resting on his brow. His Knight's Grand Cross adorned his chest, the sparkly "star" shimmering and radiating like a miniature sun. Because he was in his "dress" uniform, he appeared far more official and regal than he normally would look on the deck of this vessel.
It caused some snickering of course, and some elbows jabbing lightly into fellows as he strode past, as well as some pointed claws (after he of course walked by, nobody would dare do it to his face), but the weasel tried not to mind it. His heart was pounding, feeling more like a two ton sledgehammer (if such a thing even existed (imagine the beast who could wield THAT!)) rather than a vital organ that kept him alive. It beat fiercely against his ribcage, almost as if it were about to die of nervous frustration, and take him with it as it burst out of his chest.
He was to be married. He was to be married. He was to be married. The words played out over and over in his mind. The day had finaly arrived. Had finally... arrived.
His pawpads were sweaty and clammy, and it felt like a small lake was starting to form under the brim of his hat. He tried breathing, but made an awfully loud show of it, sucking in air through his nose, and then expelling it in a great whoosh from his mouth. "OK... OK..." he whispered under his breath, pacing back and forth behind the ship's mizzen mast liked a caged leopard.
"Hmph... you'll wear a hole in the deck if you keep that up... ahem, sir." the voice belonged to the ship's Master, a dour looking raccoon who nevertheless bore a slightly amused expression on his face. "Why don't you go down and see her? Leave the ship to the Lieutenant, for now. We can manage up here."
Saumarez snapped his head to regard the Master with a look that screamed angst, yet still had that stony composure that Saumarez was so well known for. It was a very strange, twisted combination. "I..." He knew she was down below, in his cabin. Getting ready, going through events in her head, contemplating the future, or who knew what else? All he knew, was that she was down there.
"We've got it sir. Take a breather... go see her. We're almost there after all." the Master insisted again.
Saying nothing, Saumarez let out another puff of air, and strode down the stairs, rounding around the ship's wheel to the entrance of his cabin. The Marine guards stood aside, and came to attention, raising their rifles straight up in front of them.
He opened the door to his dining room, as he was positive she wouldn't be in there. Walking past the table, he stood in front of the door leading to his main cabin. His desk and personal furniture were all in there, as were the enormous stern gallery windows, which afforded a fantastic view out of the back of the ship.
Gulping in air, his chest rising out in front of him as a result, the weasel soon-to-be groom raised his paw, hovering it over the wood, before he knocked on the door. "Priscilla?" he called out. "It's me. Um... we'll be there soon. Can... I... come in?"
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Post by spender on May 8, 2011 2:39:24 GMT -5
"Oh, beg pardon..." The voice behind the door was rushed, unsure of how to go about telling such a beast that he may enter his own domain. Especially considering that she only knew about fifteen words in Common. At last the door simply opened, revealing a stout ratmaid who was very obviously flustered, harried, and seasick.
"Captain...! M'lady Steep," she began, gesturing vaguely at the room behind her, "is, er..."
She hardly had to say more. Steep's wedding dress was spread out on one of the tables, another maid scurrying around it to get creases out. Steep's wedding shoes were placed carefully on a chair; below it, her "tromping about on ships" boots had been tossed without care. There were at least two corks on the ground, and one empty bottle peeked out from an open travel trunk. In a cage under one of the windows, Pip rustled. He glanced up at the door, saw Saumarez beyond, and gave a hello quack.
The other maid, a ferret, wasn't quite as flustered, but was certainly more upset, to the point it seemed she did not particularly care if letting her emotions out wound endanger her job. She let out with a flurry of Ferlusanian:
"You won't find her here, good sir, she had another episode and said she was going to find a bed. She was crying—or so I think I saw. We only just stopped her throwing her shoes at the windows! How we are to get her into this dress in time I do not know! We shall need an army to hold her down and a barrel of rum too deep to be sucked dry before it is done."
Where Steep would eventually be found was in Saumarez's hanging cot in his sleeping cabin, facedown beneath all the sheets, blankets and pillows available to her. Her bare footpaws stuck out either side; her forepaws clutched the pillows above her head, tightening them. The sheets shuffled on top of her as her tail flicked side-to-side.
Another empty bottle rolled around on the floor beneath the cot.
In the darkness of her cocoon, Steep pressed her face against the headboard, partially enjoying the scratchy sensation of wood against her eyelid. Every so often she would slur out some snippet of song, forget the words, hum a little, then belch and feel sick and squirm around until a bit more fresh air filtered down to her nose.
She dreaded the day to come. Had been dreading, ever since the beginning of the journey. She'd put on her best face, but it was hard, avoiding all his questions, giving vague replies to her recent activities. What could she possibly say?
'Oh, nothing much, you know... sending letters to my long-lost lover, eventually working out how we can meet up, spending two days with him, completely betraying your trust and sinning against God, dealing with a nervous breakdown when I had to say goodbye to him, dealing with another nervous breakdown when I realised I'd convinced myself that I loved you when I obviously did not, will not, so long as my true love lives and probably longer still than that, since, you know, just because he might be dead doesn't mean you're any more desirable to me... that's about it, really, apart from about to be married to somebeast I don't really think I love, even if at one point I thought I did, and add onto that telling him all this right before he's about to be married, and you can see how I might not be having the best time of things. I dare not even mention my phantom pains, or even my real one. Eyepatch straps itch behind the ear. Anyway, how about you?'
She'd never really tried to drink herself stupid before, but now the concept was looking very alluring indeed.
Alas, she hadn't thought to try it until today, and had dried out her last two bottles. It wasn't enough. She was still sober—by Steep standards, anyway.
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Post by Ladorak on May 8, 2011 22:35:43 GMT -5
Saumarez stood there, almost stone like as he listened to the rapid Ferlusanian, and tried to translate. Crying? Throwing a shoe through a window? And who's bed? His own? Was she next door to him then? In his sleeping quarters?
He closed his eyes, the weight of it all sinking in. His paw shook where it rested at his side. He tried to control it, but it subsided after a few brief spasms. "I see." He said, and began to close the door. "I'm sorry I disturbed you." the door latched into place with a click, and the weasel Captain sighed. Crying? Over what?
But he was afraid he knew the answer to that. She wasn't even in her wedding dress. It had been draped all over his desk like some discarded pile of trash, albeit expensive trash.
She didn't love him. She was being forced into this, as was he. He thought he'd be OK with it all, and that so long as she was OK with it, he would be as well. But that was all out the window now. He couldn't do this after all. Not if she couldn't. He could not force a jill to do something like this. Not if there wasn't any love. He had been deluding himself that there had been.
He looked over at the door leading to his sleeping cabin, and let his paw hover once more over the polished wood. But instead of knocking, he found his nerve failed him. He wanted to talk to her... to find out if he should tell the squadron to turn around, and head back to Welkin, so that at least she could get back home. He would fail his King and be disgraced... but that was the price he'd have to pay for disobeying orders from the Crown.
Without knocking, he opened the door, and closed it quietly behind him, leaning against it to make sure it shut. She was there in his cot, and he swallowed hard at seeing her this way. "I'm sorry. You're not up for this. I see that now. It was stupid of me to think you were." he said, keeping his voice low. "I understand if you don't want to go through with this. I'll go up top... and tell them to turn this squadron around. I'm..." he paused here, eyes falling to the deck, crestfallen. "Sorry. For everything."
He slowly started to turn the handle of the door, ready to show himself out if she had nothing to say.
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Post by spender on May 10, 2011 3:05:38 GMT -5
Steep roused. Her tail kept still, and she shifted to let more of the world in through the pillows covering her head. Was that a voice? She couldn't hardly make it out, but it was close, masculine... It was easy to guess who.
"James?"
Her voice was raspy, groggy, dried from her lengthy sobbing. Her head popped up, displacing a pillow, which fell to the floor. She rose from the cot like a sea dragon, linen slipping away like sheets of water, her musteline curves arcing. She was dressed in the white chemise and underdress that she was to wear beneath her wedding gown, although she lacked the corset that was to be applied as well. Her eye was puffy and red, but sparkled with a smile that reached her mouth when she saw him in the doorway. She reached out and grasped the edge of the cot, leaned out as she tried to settle her hind-quarters more comfortably—
"What were you saying, just now? I could not... Chivvers!"
—which resulted in a graceful tumble that landed her on the deck, footpaws coming to rest facing Saumarez, and her vision filled with the cot's underside.
"...hear you," she wheezed, with the last of her breath.
She reached beneath her back and withdrew her empty bottle. She winced; that would most certainly leave a bruise of some sort, and her lungs were in shock and unwilling to fill again. She floundered, pawing at her neck and chest.
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Post by Ladorak on May 10, 2011 22:45:26 GMT -5
Saumarez winced when he saw his fiancee take her spilll. She had gone from a graceful sea serpent, one spoken of only in legends, to a jill that had tumbled completely backward, as if bowled over in a game of sixpins. Or was it ninepines? Saumarez never really played either sport. "My lord." he murmured, going over to help her. Had she been... smiling? Was that a smile he saw on her face before she most certainly had the wind bashed out of her?
Were his fears all for nothing?
He reached her, paws taking her in a firm grip, and helping her to stand up. He pushed the cot away, so that it wouldn't whack her as she rose, and kept his back right against it to keep it from swinging. Unless they suddenly wore or tacked, he wouldn't pitch forward... or rather backward, as they were on a larboard tack now, and she had fallen on the starboard or lower side of the ship.
"Ahem... are you alright?" he asked, wanting to check for bruises but not daring to lift her shirt. He merely peered around to her backside, but of course could see nothing with that white linen in the way. "I was... was merely concered for you." He stated. "You were crying... or so I was told. And well... one doesn't generally cry unless they're upset, I wanted to make sure you were ready for this. I could always turn the squadron around if..." The ship rolled a little, probably catching a wave, and he was tossed into her a bit, though not particularly hard. Simply a little nudge. "Sorry... blasted helmsjack can't keep the ship straight." He muttered to her, giving her an apologetic look.
Looking right at her, into her eyes... admiring her facial features... the jack was unable to help himself when he lifted his thumb claw and stroked her cheek fur a little, against his better judgment. "Are you alright? Nervous? Or something?" his Ferlusanian was getting much better, as he had been practicing, though his accent was still terrible. It still sounded so bloody Welkinite. But he was a Welkinite after all, and he wasn't going to apologize for it. If she spoke in Common, he'd do the same, and if she spoke in Ferlusanian, he would attempt to follow suit.
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Post by spender on May 12, 2011 20:12:05 GMT -5
Steep's lungs finally kicked in as she stood up, and she filled them up as Saumarez spoke—and then let out the tiniest of weasel burps when he bumped into her. It was startling, but not undesirable.
"I'm fine... falling out of bed isn't going to hurt me," she murmured quietly, dusting her clothes off and straightening them. "Be more concerned for your planks..."
Her ears pricked. Turn around...? He was kidding, right?
"We can't," she said, her eye widening. "We're duty-bound to be bound..."
Turn around! Never before could she remember the idea of a single act being so detestable, for not only would it disobey one king, but the other as well. Such an act of disobedience would be catastrophic!
"Nervous," she repeated blankly, staring at his decorated chest (so easy to imagine the muscles beneath) and then her smile flitted back again, briefly, and she tittered in the air-headed manner of high class jills. "Yes, that's it. My shoe wasn't fitting and I... It's quite fine now. Every now and then I get a little bit..."
She shrugged, looked up into his eyes. So much concern there! She had to remember: this was her James. He just... happened to have brown dorsal fur now. A molt didn't make someone entirely another being.
She couldn't break his heart. The idea terrified her. Resolve, where was her resolve, that festering, steely thing that kept her alive all this time? She needed it more than ever, for now, for later, for that night. For forever.
"How much longer? I don't know how long I've been napping... I suppose I should see to the dress again...?"
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Post by Ladorak on May 16, 2011 12:33:17 GMT -5
She was quick to respond that no turn around would be necessary. It partly surprised him, but she seemed to be regaining her composure. She was either the best actor he had ever laid eyes on, was so conflicted she didn't know what she wanted, or had been crying about somethting else entirely.
"Well... yes of course, we are. I just wanted to make sure you were truly ready for this." She had said as much this morning, so he wasn't sure why the doubt was infringing on his heart. Perhaps it was the crying. His empathy of course sent off warnings and alarms that tried to force him to heed them. All they really served to do was annoy him however, so he pushed them aside.
She seemed to suddenly wander into a daze, staring directly at his chest for some strange reason. He looked down, trying to figure out what she was looking at. Was there some spot on his medals? A stain on his jacket? A hanging thread that she wanted to pluck? He could see nothing, and looked back up at her as she tittered.
He raised a brow, but found her smile infectious, and soon, he was smiling along with her, though it was short-lived. HIs features softened as she hinted at having a breakdown over the frustration of getting dressed, though of course, that had probably led to her frustration with the wedding, and the crying.
He sighed, and wrapped his arms about her, pulling her in tight up against him. "I'm sorry. I"m nervous too. But we both know we can do this. Not just we have to do this... but that we can. I believe you can." he said, able to nuzzle her neck due to her slight height advantage over him.
"We're about... oh, an hour, two max from the port. The island just came into sight, if you want to see it. As for the dress... yes, but there's no immediate rush. The wind is pretty good, so I don't expect delays, but at the same time, it's probably best to start changing now, just in case." he explained, pulling back a little, but keeping her in his arms.
"Is there... any sort of assistance I can give you? Anything you need? I'm not directly required to be at the ship's wheel right now, so I can sort of hover around close by if you need something." He suggested, giving her a look that said "You'll be fine".
He offered a slight smile, and looked her up and down. "I bet you'd look very good in all that white." He concluded, giving her left arm a bit of an affectionate squeeze.
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Post by spender on May 26, 2011 11:06:51 GMT -5
Steep shook her head.
"No... I'll be fine. I don't want you to... see me." She pulled out of his reach, grinning slyly. "It should be a surprise, should it not? Your first sight of me, all in splendor--why spoil it bit by bit? No... You wait on the, er, the... main deck... and I'll... come up when I'm ready."
Prancing and giddy now, Steep flounced to the door and slipped through it backwards, keeping her eyes on him.
"I can't very well be seen like this now, can I?"
She shut the door and scurried back to the main cabin, where her maids and dress were waiting.
"Attend," she said, and they came running to resume their work on her.
All in white... Like a stoat in ermine... or a least weasel in...
Steep scrunched her nose. What was least weasel fur called? Just 'winter molt'? It was a bit... dull, wasn't it? It would need a new name. A weasel in james? No... A weasel in saumarez? Not quite...
Mustela nivalis vulgaris, that was her. Vulgar. Plain. Brown.
Mustela nivalis nivalis, that was him. What did the second "nivalis" stand for? What did the first "nivalis" stand for? She racked her brain, trying to remember her language lessons. Snowy! That was it.
She straightened up. A weasel in nivalis. White as snow. She would become that creature.
"My lady... your shoes?"
"Wick the shoes," Steep snapped. "Fetch my boots."
Steep had never been one for fanfares. She was a creature of stealth, of wriggling through mud and tall grass, a snake of weasels, a fighter in the dark. The idea of being announced before arriving somewhere was upsetting to her core nature.
So it was that neither maid came out to inform Saumarez or the rest of the crew that Princess Priscilla Steep (not serving in her role of Captain at the moment) was to be making her appearance on the weather deck. She simply opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, and waited for the first pair of eyes to notice her.
It did not take long at all.
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Post by Ladorak on May 28, 2011 16:27:25 GMT -5
Saumarez watched her back away from him, smiling at her the whole time. Well she had certainly been bitten by something rather cheery. He nodded his head, and let her leave back into the main cabin. "Very well. I'll see you shortly, then." He said, giving her a small wave as the door shut.
Time to get back to work in that case... as work was the one thing he absolutely had to do before the wedding, being in command of the squadron after all.
Saumarez exited his sleeping cabin into the dining cabin, and from there, out onto the main deck. The wheel was right in front of him, and the first Lieutenant barked out to the rest of the nearby crew "CAPTAIN ON DECK!" They all turned and saluted, and the Quartermasters quickly went back to what they were doing, which was steering the ship.
The Crescent had only one gun deck, being a frigate, though the quarters were still sufficient for the officers. Being a smaller ship meant less officers, and thus, not a great demand for cabin space. Whereas a ship of the line had as many as eight Lieutenants, a frigate had between four and six. Saumarez knew his quarters were more than big enough for Steep and her maids, and worried himself not over the matters of space.
"The island looks to be well in Spring bloom, sir." the Lieutenant commented, to which Saumarez nodded.
"Indeed. I take it it will be very pleasant." He caught the Lieutenant smiling at him, and he snapped his head to look right at the officer. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing sir... nothing." the Lieutenant said, struggling to suppress the smirk. He had just been picturing the Captain and his new bride strolling through a tree covered path, paw in paw. His wooden, stiff Captain, full of formality and routine. It had of course sparked the amused smile, though the Lieutenant dared not betray his thoughts.
The sound of the door opening behind them caused the two of them to swivel their heads in the direction of the officers' quarters. Saumarez was unable to speak for the Lieutenant, but his own breath positively caught in his throat. The dress had been picked out from an obviously very reliable source, as it was simply the finest silk that Saumarez had ever seen. His heart started to race, and he blinked a few times, as if in a dream.
Slowly, a smile tugged his mouth upward, and he started to speak. "Beautiful." he said, giving her a little bow as she approached him. "Positively beautiful. You should compliment whoever made you such an impressive garment. Ah!" He said, straightening back up as a sudden thought struck him. "But... it's not quite complete just yet." he dug around in his pocket, fishing for something, until he finally withdrew an object clutched in his paw.
"Now... I had three choices. Well OK, technically more, but, after narrowing it down to my birth month, it was three choices. Aquamarine, which is a dull, uninspired sort of clear blue that matches the sky and does nothing for me whatsoever. Jade, which, while it would probably look rather fetching on you, was outshone by the third choice." he started to clasp a necklace around her, doing up the fastener in the back, and stepping pack a few paces to let her see what sort of pendant he had hung around her neck.
"So that just left... bloodstone. It's one of the three birth stones in my month, and it symbolizes endurance, which... I think fit you far better than those other two that I mentioned." he said, looking at the heliotrope about her neck. It was a very dark green, splashed with red jasper here and there, like drops of blood in a dark sea. It was shaped like a cylinder, but was wider at the center, and tapered off to smaller points at the top and bottom of it. A sort of cigar shape, in a way. "It's for you... and hopefully it will serve to reinforce your already very hearty endurance. You are... the strongest creature I know." He said, speaking in very low tones, so that only she could most likely hear. "What do you think? How do you find it?" he asked, clasping his paws behind his back and going silent in order to let her speak.
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Post by spender on May 31, 2011 20:54:17 GMT -5
Steep stepped with care, lightly, lest she betray the nature of her footwear under the dress. It was perfectly tailored to her height, with barely half a centimeter between the hem and the deck, and so her appearance was ethereal; she glided, smooth as, well, as a weasel over cream.
She smiled at Saumarez and his staring crew. She knew that, so long as her dress didn't go 'quack', as was currently a possibility, she would be able to withstand their gazing. It felt like her review all over again, waiting on the judgments of Ferlusan's military leaders. The crew had every right to unsettle her, too--she was to take their Captain away...
She froze as Saumarez placed the necklace about her.
Steep was no stranger to gifts. Her father had sicced countless suitors upon her, and each had different ideas what a shut-in jill might like, from fancy clothes to some rather outrageous jewels. None had perked her interest; she had refused everything but the cigars and wines.
Nor had Pylaris been one for gifts. She wouldn't allow it, for one thing. Nothing but his letters. Her perfume she purchased of her own accord, to slather her own letters with, knowing it to be the scent he favoured on her.
So she was quite at a loss as to how to accept this gift. Jewelry had ceased interesting her when she had decided to sneak away to join the military. But it was pretty, she had to admit, and it did look fetching--at any rate, it almost pulled attention away from her eye patch and her scab.
"I... I like it," she said, keeping her voice low so the crew would not have much to titter about later. "It's very handsome. Thank you."
"Quack," said her dress.
If there was any proof of Steep's royal ancestry, it was in the way she perfectly ignored the very idea that this event could ever have occurred in the same universe as she.
"Is that your island?" she asked, raising her snout to point with the gaze of her eye. "It's very green."
"Quack."
Poking out of a perfectly-located hole in the dress, Steep's tail gave a slight twinge. That was the only indication she gave that something was amiss.
Luckily, all attention was diverted as somebeast began to shout something from a nearby ship. Flags were waved and more beasts began to shout, and point, and Steep stood there feeling very relieved, and very dumb.
"What's going on?"
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