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Post by Carrow on Nov 19, 2011 10:23:46 GMT -5
Carrow smiled from ear to ear as they headed out of the cathedral, Molly's current plight temporarily pushed to the back of the mouse's mind as he listened to Tally list off all the creatures she was going to make ceramic representations of. She was speaking faster than her brain could keep up, at least that's how it seemed, and the field mouse thought it was a nice change. She was always rather quiet, sometimes almost unbearably so.
She was starting to loosen up and literally find her voice now, it appeared, and the male rodent was very pleased with this development. He knew how it was to be the silent type, so certainly could relate. Caden was leading the three of them towards the café now, but the pine marten had excused himself to the mouse first, and his pace told Carrow he really needed to speak to Ocean.
The mouse picked up speed himself, holding Tally close to him as he followed his albino companion, though staying back for the moment as he knew the two mustelids would need to converse on their own. As it was, they were all relatively close to each other so it hardly mattered, but Carrow still hung back slightly until it looked like the two had finished conversing. He caught something about Ocean keeping an eye on him and Tally, and nodded, stroking the mousemaid's cheek.
That was certainly a good idea. If Carrow had somebeast to stick with, he'd be able to keep himself occupied and keep his mind off the situation Molly was in, which was weighing on his mind more than he would allow himself to show. His eyebrows rose slightly as Caden asked Spender for assistance with something. Well, he thought, this is new. They didn't get on at the best of times, so he realised the marten thought the matter important enough to ask Spender's help with it.
He heard something about a cab, and it dawned on him that Caden was probably planning to visit Molly and Ladorak. The mouse smiled; despite the fact that he was slightly apprehensive about letting Caden off on his own after what had happened in Tunis last year, he knew at the same time that this was another thing the mustelid wouldn't have done unless he really needed to, and knowing how close his companion was to Molyl and Ladorak, there was no doubt that he'd want to be there for them in their time of need.
He settled down beside Ocean, Tally still in his arms. "We were always planning to come back here anyway. I still haven't eaten and Tally wants some lunch, so she's going to get a pizza. I'm not quite certain but I think I still may have my lasagne coming. I'll wait a moment until I can catch some creature's attention. I've been waiting to eat for a while, so another moment or two won't do us much harm." His voice lowered considerably. "If you don't mind me asking, is Spender still... acting up?," he enquired in a near-whisper, wondering what was going on with the ferret.
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"How long do you reckon it would take for them to receive any letters you send them? I know that correspondence from Welkin usually takes about four months altogether, or sometimes even longer, in between receiving letters; that's two months each way. Would you have to wait as long for responses down here, or are you slightly better off in that respect?," he enquired, curious now, wanting to discuss other things.
The mere thought of his country being invaded pained him considerably; so much so that he was in fact trying to rein in his true emotions at this point. He wasn't worried about it as he could change nothing; if it was going to happen, so be it, but that didn't mean he was anything close to fine with it. Realising it was acutely possible at this stage did not automatically breed acceptance of the facts, after all. When he was on his own, he was most vulnerable, but he didn't want to let the extent of his distress show. Not now. Not in front of a possible new friend.
Selvis's self-confidence had been as fragile as porcelain ever since Tunis. It had been broken down to an almost non-existent level by the events of Florence last year, and even though he'd been building himself up again since after he'd broken his ankle, little by little, the realisation that his home country was most likely due to be invaded within months had shaken him once again. It was just as well he'd had the time to recuperate and try to get himself back on an even keel, because otherwise this news would have been visibly, profoundly upsetting for him.
"It is extremely worrying, and I don't do well with thinking about it when I'm lying in bed... it's sometimes all I can think about, and I know that's not healthy but sometimes it just happens... I feel almost consumed by it... I need to get help to deal with it sometimes. Usually I'm not the one who's prone to getting anxious, but it just gets to me so much sometimes...," he admitted, shaking his head also. There was no point trying to cover it up - the thought of 'saving face' didn't occur to the longtail. He wasn't ashamed; he wasn't embarrassed; Scharnhorst just needed to know.
"You're right, though... the republicans, from what I know of them, don't exactly strike me as creatures with expansionist tendencies. All they want is to protect what they've made for themselves, a democracy that isn't quite the full package, if you get my drift. I've heard some of the stories that have come from there this year... Robespierre's Reign of Terror's been finished for a few months now, and they're trying to recover from that. All they want is to be left alone as they think they're better off without any kind of monarch.
"That's what I've gathered of it anyway... but yes, you were asking me what Ferlusan's like," he said, returning the zorilla's smile now. "I come from Crittenden, which is a port city, and as such we're rather close to the sea, and some spectacular views of some of the warships currently under our command. Ferlusan is proud of the fact that it has the world's only four-decker vessel in its ranks: depending on whom you hear it from, it's either the Drenedel or the Santissima Trinidad, which is Ferlusanian for Holy Trinity. I prefer that name, though I'm not exactly the most religious creature around... that's putting it mildly," he said mischievously.
"As for Ferlusan itself: from what I've seen of it, and I must admit that that hasn't been too much, as my mother's physical difficulties over the last few years I lived with her made travel difficult - I can imagine you quite liking it there. Crittenden is a busy enough place to be, and it's entertaining too. I had nothing against the city itself, and I still don't, but I realised early on that the life I knew I'd end up having there just wasn't for me. I miss it every now and then, but I know I made the right choice."
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Post by spender on Nov 20, 2011 8:23:48 GMT -5
Spender froze up, flinching, as Ocean grabbed him. By the time he was released again, the candle had gutted out. Spender's moods were as fragile as a mud castle, drying in the sun and re-forming into something else with each wave that washed over. The plan to find a fight, like his plan to see Polly, vanished out to sea with the rest of his excitement, leaving him a dried husk once more.
Forget... forget about Warwick? But he'd already forgotten... something important. He was supposed to tell someone, but he couldn't recall what it was. Something about that night. What night? The one he couldn't remember.
Well, that certainly narrowed it down.
Caden was asking him something. Spender only half heard, but it sounded like a favour. It sounded complicated, too. Well, they weren't on the ship and they weren't on duty.
"No," he said.
The ferret stomped off (incidentally right towards where the cabs waited), his face clouding with dark moods. Clouding...
Clouds.
Rain. There had been rain... Think! Remember! Remember Warwick...
Warwick who hadn't ever gotten mad at him.
Spender sniffed. Then he squeaked.
Tally had finished her list, which had ended up including three different kinds of trees and her favourite bedtime story, and now worked on draining the last of her milk and listening to all the noises in the piazza.
"Only a little pizza," Tally said, shaping the ideal size with her paws. Molly had bought a pizza once and it had been very large indeed, with many interesting meats for the mustelids to enjoy. Tally had received her own personal pizza which was much smaller and had only vegetables, and it was this meal she was looking forward to again.
Tucking her pewter bottle away in her dress's apron-pocket, she then withdrew a tiny purse and selected a few coins at random, and held them out as the waiter approached with a tray; Carrow's lasagna had not been forgotten.
"What kind of wood do we use to repair her, sir?" Willard asked, fishing for his chunk of Ags-on-a-string. "Do we have to use green timber so it's all the same, or are we replacing her little by little with a more fitting sailing wood?"
He didn't know much about wood, despite being a shoe cobbler's apprentice in Muggidrear. He'd mainly swept up and polished, and did what he was told without learning much about the work itself. Clogs hadn't interested him. He really wanted to know if his piece was of the original wood, or was from a replacement... If it was, he might need to get a new piece!
The weasel swallowed visibly when Ladorak asked for the names of his travel companions. Willard hesitated, stroking his shrapnel, eyes roving around the room.
They'd left him on purpose, that much he knew. They hadn't wanted him to come along in the first place, but he'd offered them some of his pay. Then, when the suggestion to visit the post office came about, they had that tone of voice—the one Spender used before performing one of his more physical "jokes" on someone. What they had done was wrong; he could not convince himself otherwise. But...
But maybe he had deserved it. For the longest time he had not been aware that trust in him was dwindling on account of his tattle-tailing on the crew's various minor crimes and mistakes; he had always suspected it was something else. Word of his heritage, of his father's involvement in Gibraltar on the Ferlusan side, or of worse—and there were worse things about him. He was getting better at controlling it all, quelling the instincts... But the damage was done. He would fix it, though. Even if it took his entire career... He'd fix it, fix everything! And that began with doing the right thing.
"Their names..."
His paws shook. His claws dug into the bit of wood, knuckles white (though his paws had already molted and this wasn't as visible.) It was going to go on forever. He would call them out and they would be punished, and then get revenge on him somehow, or perhaps a different group would take it upon themselves to avenge their friends, and he would call them out, too, until there wasn't a single soul aboard who didn't think he was a backstabbing traitor and want him dead or worse, and there was nothing he could do about it because that would mean breaking the law more than he already had. Why did it have to be so difficult? Why did he have to choose between trust in friends and trust in every ideal he and Welkin stood for?
"I... I don't kn... Hancock and Herbert, sir. But I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding... they meant nothing by it... I was just distracted by some interesting rubber stamps, I didn't see them leave..."
Willard snapped his little chunk of wood. He didn't seem to notice.
"Pulse is returning to normal speed," the doctor informed them, finishing patting Molly down. "Is good sign."
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Post by Ladorak on Nov 20, 2011 16:13:30 GMT -5
Caden was rather surprised at hearing the "no" leave Spender's lips. Just who did this self-centered ferret think he was? Caden's paws clenched, and for a moment, he considered attacking the ferret from behind, and beating him onto the ground. That probably wouldn't sit well with those around him though... and who knew what Ocean would do.
"Fine!" he shouted, watching the ferret depart. "No more favors or kickbacks from me on the ship either! EVER!" he yelled, and turned back to the cafe. No more. He was done. If Spender wanted to play it this way, then let him. Caden was done bending over backwards to try and help. He didn't care about Spender anymore. It was a simple request! And after all he'd tried to help him with too! This was how he got repaid?
"I don't have time for this." Caden huffed under his breath. He'd wanted to rejoin Carrow and let him know his plans, but he'd need to keep an eye on the carriages now as well. "Why don't you just shrivel up and die, Spender?" the marten mumbled, stomping his way back to the tables, but keeping his eyes on the Baptistry all the same. No one was in earshot at this point, so his utterance were completely safe.
Ocean had watched the scene, shaking his head sadly, and turned as he caught Carrow's question. "Uh... yeah he's... still out there." Ocean said, shrugging. "I guess Caden's really upset... but yeah... he keeps... thinking Warwick is around... when clearly he's not." the ermine said, rolling his eyes as he sat down now, sighing. "I don't know what it is about that stoat that's so important to him... it wasn't as if he impacted us in a major way... I mean yeah, sure... he helped tend the sick and injured during Calvi, but that's... really all he was around for. Calvi. So I don't know." he shrugged again as Caden rejoined them, clearly agitated as he sat down, the wrath evident upon his face.
"I'll have to keep an eye out for the arriving carriage... I plan to visit Ladorak soon if I can." the marten explained. "I just... ugh... I didn't need that. I asked him for a simple favor." he spat, eyes scanning the Baptistry, before briefly resting on the ferret.
"Spender... is rarely ever any help." Ocean said, pondering things for a moment. "But then again... I hardly ever was growing up either. However, he... hasn't really gotten to that stage yet." the ermine commented, trailing off.
"Yeah... and he's what? Almost 17 now? Who the hell DOESN'T start growing up around then?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Thanks... for your help at least." Caden added, looked over at Ocean briefly. He took out his map of the city, and began looking for markings of hospitals, his claw running over the piazza, wandering about as it finally settled on one close by. "That must be it." he whispered, tapping it.
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Ladorak smiled as Willard asked about ship repairs. "No... we don't replace the ship's hull generally, unless it's damaged by the gunfire. Those planks are ripped out, and new ones are put in, but as gunfire rarely hits below the waterline, the planks below the water are still the same ones from before for the most part. It would be too costly otherwise, as you're talking about practically building another ship entirely." He shook his head. "That's generally not how it works. We take the copper lining off the bottom, and then re-caulk and re-copper it. However, the caulking will wear out with time, and as the Agamemnon has big gaps in her planks from the previously green timber, the caulking is under a lot of strain."
He thought about it a moment. "We aren't getting any wood replaced on this refit, as nothing needs replacing. We haven't been in combat for over a year now, so the wood is still good. Just a re-coppering and re-caulking. I'm sure you've noticed how wet it gets from the lower gun deck on down. Well the refit will be fixing that... for... oh... hopefully another year or so." he said, playing it liberally with his estimate.
"When we DO replace the timber... it's with relatively stable wood, yes. Or so we hope. Generally we let it dry in the yards first before using it, just to be sure." he explained.
"Hmm... Hancock... and Herbert... I see." Both ordinary Seajacks, though Herbert may have been an Able. "Well... if you were distracted by something... and they wandered off... were you planning on sticking together or..." he was interrupted by the doctor, who announced that Molly's pulse had stabilized.
Ladorak exhaled heavily, his breath audible to everyone in the room. "Well... that's good at least." he said softly, though it was clear that he wasn't done worrying. How could he stop? It would be impossible to, with his fiancee lying in bed like that. He closed his eyes, pained by just looking at her. He had to do something... but what? What could he possibly do?
Exhaling again, this time in a more rapid fashion, he turned to regard Willard once more, opening his eyes. "I'm sorry... where were we?" he inquired.
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"Hmmm... vell... a letter to my vater... zat takes about a month or so. It's quicker traveling overland, zo it still has to go through Kostritz before reaching Mordenz. Now zo... I'm not quite certain, as he's been forced to retreat into Vestern Mordenz... so a bit more isolated now. But it doesn't take too long." he stated, nodding his head.
"Ja... I vouldn't vorry, as said. Zey aren't out to conquer your nation, Selvis. Please... calm yourself." he said, seeing how strained the weasel was. "I mean... you can't go vorrying over it. You're stressed and I understand zat but... it's not as if Rosferia is looking to crush Ferlusan after all. If anything, zey'll just have to negotiate peace vhen it is all over. Ferlusan may have to give up some territory around ze border... but zat vill be all." he said reassuringly. He wasn't sure he found such personal weakness endearing BUT... the weasel's home was being attacked... anyone would worry, himself included. Hence his sympathy for Selvis. He had grown up in a hardier lifestyle after all, and had learned to stamp out personal weakness from an early age, but still had a heart, all the same.
"Ahhh I see... ja, ja, ze four decker. I have heard of it. Originally a three... they are making it into a four now. I see. Ja... you bring up an interesting note about your country. It is a contrast between your lifestyle and ze lifestyle you chose. A very vise choice I think. Othervise... you'd be stuck, as you said. I've also heard your country is very diverse in terrain. Rocky up north... dry and arid in ze south... and sort of a... not too sure vhat's in ze middle around Madrid." he commented, realizing he had not yet studied that portion of the country.
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Post by Carrow on Nov 20, 2011 19:15:43 GMT -5
Carrow visibly winced when he heard Spender outright refuse Caden's request, and it was all he could do to stop himself from burying his head in his paws and despairing for the ferret. What was all that about, then?, he wondered, but he didn't want to start thinking too much about it because generally when his thoughts lingered on the unfathomable mustelid for long, either a rise in blood pressure or a slight headache followed, and he didn't want those, certainly not here.
All the same, he couldn't help but reflect on his notion that if Spender had said yes and actually done something to help the mouse's friend, then that might have been the start of the pair of mustelids reconciling their differences. Caden most likely still didn't think much of the ferret, and the feeling was probably mutual. Still, though, this open act of bridge-burning was completely baffling, at least on the surface.
Spender was turning out predictable enough it seemed, taking the opportunity to refuse Caden's request just because he could. Caden's angry response was completely justified in the mouse's eyes. He wanted to be with Molly and Ladorak, (though Spender remained unaware of what had happened to the stoat jill), and had wanted assistance in getting to them. Carrow didn't take too kindly to his friend's simple request being flat-out refused like that. If Caden was going to reciprocate in future, he was well within the right, and Carrow was thinking of adopting a similar stance.
He shook his head, seeing Ocean do the same as he listened to the ermine's response. "I'm not surprised Caden's upset; if somebeast like Spender had shot me down like that, I'd be the same. But yes... about Warwick. I don't know why he's become so attached to him. I mean, I liked him too, when he was around, but he needs to face up to the fact that he's gone and he's not coming back. Times change, friends leave and life doesn't stop for anybody."
The rodent shrugged philosophically as he spoke, before brightening up a little as Caden rejoined them. "Ah yes, that's right. From what I caught your earlier exchange, I figured that's what you had in mind," he told the marten in a softer voice. "Do you want to go alone, or would you like me to come with you? I'm fine either way: if you want me there for extra support, I'll be there for you; but at the same time, if you want some private time with Ladorak, you're welcome to it. Which would you like?," he asked, making sure to keep his voice down. Tally didn't need to know just yet after all.
Speaking of the mousemaid, he could see that she was holding out some coins now, apparently for a small pizza. Carrow noted the kind of size she wanted, and then smiled as the waiter from earlier returned with what appeared to be his order. It was set down upon the table, and Carrow nodded. "Thank you! Er, grazie," he added, having picked up a little of the Calgarian language while he'd been here, still smiling, though this smile was directed at the staff member. "Can I get another order for my friend here?," he asked. "She would like a small pizza please. Vegetarian... er, vegetariano, per favore," he tried, hoping he was correctly pronouncing the foreign words, which still sounded slightly strange on his tongue. "She'll pay you later. My lasagne has already been paid for, by the stoat we had with us earlier on," he reminded the waiter.
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"Ahhh, a month," Selvis replied with a nod, smiling a little now. "I was in fact thinking it'd take around that, but I was curious so I figured I would enquire all the same. Now that he's been pushed back into Western Mordenz it'll take slightly longer, sure, but you should receive something soon... that is, assuming you've written to him recently enough. Have you done that?," he asked, his voice maintaining an air of curiosity.
Everything he'd been told about Heinrich's father was making him out to be quite an interesting creature indeed, and the same could be said about his son. While he wasn't at his best when discussing the possible invasion of his home country (which was understandable, and it was clear that the zorilla had gotten the message), he was greatly enjoying the conversation the two of them were having, and he couldn't wait for his fellow mustelid to be introduced to his companions.
A pensive look momentarily crossed the weasel's features. Selvis missed the old days when he didn't let things stress him out this much; something profound had happened to him in Florence last Christmas and he'd been fighting a losing battle against it the whole year. He needed to get some of his old self back, because he'd lost it all somewhere and needed to salvage some of it before life had its way with him. He was only fourteen years of age... so where had all this pessimism come from? Carrow didn't seem to be like that anymore.
The irony of him questioning how the mouse managed that wasn't lost on him, as he knew that this time last year their roles had been reversed. He needed help again, from whoever would lend a paw: Caden, Carrow... Heinrich seemed like a good bet as well. He listened as the zorilla asked him to calm down, and he visibly tried to do so as he made the effort to turn his mind to happier things.
"I don't know... I think I'm just stressed over a lot of things. This year, you see... it's been a hard one for me, and Florence was where it all started, so even though I've tried to stop dwelling on the past so much, it keeps coming up when I need it the least, and now being aware of all this... it's not the best, I must admit. It's not your fault, as you've only just met me and weren't to know, but... I think I need some form of release, just to... try and refresh myself before I head back to sea," he explained.
"Things get on top of me a lot easier than they used to..." He smiled however as Heinrich mentioned the Santissima Trinidad. "Yes, Scharnhorst, they are indeed! I wasn't sure how they'd make it more impressive, but they've managed that, alright. Will I ever get back to see it? Well, that is a question I'm not able to answer just yet, but I'd rather like to," he revealed, brightened up a little, finding that his mood was fluctuating more easily than it usually did.
"I wouldn't be able to tell you too much about Madrid though, now you've mentioned it, as... well, if I've ever been there it was only when I was too young to recall it. I've never been to my own capital city, which is a hard thing for me to admit, but the journey's always seemed daunting, and quite beyond my mother and I, certainly in the last few years we had together," he said, the slightest bit of regret audible in his voice. He'd always been there for her, but wondered how else things might have worked out if she hadn't become so... frail. "The dry and arid part of the country... well, let's just say I've never experienced heat quite as bad as some summers I lived through in Crittenden. I've gotten used to it, though - both the heat and the cold. My Welkinite companions have a little more acclimatising to do, I think, but we have our fur at least, so we just need to wear this winter out," Selvis commented, though for him, surviving the winter meant more than just keeping warm.
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Post by spender on Nov 22, 2011 13:05:30 GMT -5
Empty and angry and spaced, zig-zagging his way through memories of boredom and pain. Spender stumbled around the piazza, trying to grasp onto anything he could consider real. It was all slipping... The harder he tried, the further back he went, the less sure he was. His kithood in the Imperium; that was gone. It was all just stories now, and the stories were memories, too, and they were vanishing. The pub, the farm, trips into town; his mother, father, sisters, the chickens, the schools and all the kits he'd been bullied by and bullied in retaliation, only bigger, better, stronger. Even parts of the last two years were dimming.
The good times were the hardest. He clung in quiet desperation to last Christmas, that evening with Polly—but the earlier half overwhelmed. Naked, cold, dead sparrow, noseful of wee, everyone upset and shouting and he hadn't meant anything... had he? They were only playing... But even that assurance was drifting. His own memories were lying to him, leaving him only the stories of those around him. And the thing about stories is, they almost always have villains...
Empty and angry and spaced. That's who he was until Warwick had come along and made stories without villains. And now it was who he was again, just more empty, more angry, more spaced.
"There's the horse."
Spender turned around. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, just to make sure. The stoat was still there when he opened them again.
"Wot horse?" he asked.
Warwick grinned. "The brown one with the bells. Aren't you going to tell Caden?"
"Huh. Why'd I do that? He just ruined our game! An' then sat there eatin' at me an' then ran off again. An' yelled at me jus' now."
"You were rude." Warwick squeaked.
"So?"
Warwick sighed. "You're just hungry, you're not thinking clearly. Go back and *sniff* eat. Tell them the horse with the bells is back."
"Where are you goin'?"
"I'll be around, Shark! I always am."
"Squeaks? Wot 'appened that night? The one I can't remember?"
The stoat smiled. "Nothing. Nothing happened that night."
So very cryptic, Spender mused, turning to head back to the cafe... sigh... again. When he turned to look at Warwick, the stoat had vanished behind a group of passerby. It was infuriating... why couldn't Ocean see him, when he was so plainly right there?
"Uh..." Spender said, as he approached the group. "Warwick said..." He paused, glancing at Ocean. Maybe it was best not to mention him. "Th'horse is there. Wif th'bells..." He mumbled and wiped his sleeve across his nose, then sat down next to Tally. His stomach rumbled again at the smell of Carrow's food, but he didn't say anything. It had been hard enough to get a drink without ordering an entire bottle. He didn't want to embarrass himself by purchasing an entire buffet.
Empty and spaced, but not angry, not right now. Just scared. As he ought to be. He was, after all, the villain.
"Two pizzas," Tally suddenly interjected. She patted her stomach and smiled knowingly at Spender. She knew the language of hunger well. "Vun vit' ferret foot. Popper-pony!"
Willard had been thankful for the doctor's distraction. He had an idea about the Agamemnon, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to say it aloud before he could find out more about just exactly how ships were repaired. And he didn't want to get Herbert or Hancock in trouble anymore than he probably already had; the entire episode was still rather fresh and their betrayal still stung.
But the Captain had asked him a question. Metaphorically gritting his teeth, the little weasel replied:
"My plan was to find where you and the other Seajacks were staying, sir, and to see if you could recommend me some accommodations. I have a bag with my slops in, out in the hallway. Er, I don't know what they had planned once we arrived here, sir. They were very quiet on the way over."
Willard tried not to stare at Molly. It was impolite. But there was not a lot else to look at. He closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired from a long evening of travel and stressed about getting lost and exhausted from chasing down the carriage that had brought them to the hospital. But he didn't show any of this; that would have been just as improper. He was sure, no matter how he was, it could not compare to the Captain's current state. So he sat straight in his chair, paws folded (wood and map now tucked away in pockets), calm as a cotton ball. No more shivering.
He had control.
"Sir, if I may speak of Jis Serra?" He waited for permission before continuing. "When my mother was ill, I found it helped to sing to her. If you like, I... or if you want to, I can leave, sir..."
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Post by Ladorak on Nov 22, 2011 19:46:37 GMT -5
Caden didn't initially register what Spender was saying to him. Something about Warwick... he couldn't care less, as it didn't seem to be addressing him. He kept his eyes on the map, surprised Spender was back so soon. It took a tap on his arm to get his attention, and he turned to face Ocean. "Huh?" he asked, and the ermine nodded in Spender's direction.
"The cab is coming back. Spender saw it." Ocean said, motioning with his head over to the approaching carriage.
"Oh... thanks." he said, looking over at Spender, though it wasn't clear if he was addressing him or not. It just seemed like a general thank you, and Caden was feeling much too conflicted and upset right now to properly thank Spender anyway.
Pushing his chair back, he looked down at Carrow. "I'm going on my own... you should stay here... you have too much going on, after all." he said, gesturing to Tally. "I'll be fine. I just need to see how he's doing... and indeed... how she's doing." he said in a softer voice.
He didn't really have a jillfriend so to speak... not like Tally was to Carrow. He and Elle just... never had time these days. He was busy being an officer trainee, and she had her own projects too, usually with the sails.
"I'll see you guys later... probably back at the palace." he said, nodding, and moved away from the table to cross the piazza and head for the cab. He needed to reach it before the driver picked up a new customer.
Ocean clammed up about Spender, now that the ferret was sitting down next to them. As it turned out, Tally offered to get Spender food, and he wanted to order something as well, but figured he'd wait a bit. He had no idea what he'd like after all, and thus decided to sit silently and wait.
The ermine picked up a menu, and tried to make out what it was saying in Calgarian, hoping he could decipher enough to order soon.
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Ladorak thought about this a moment. It seemed the conversation about shipbuilding was over for the present time. "Well... I have taken up residence in the Pitti Palace. The Grand Duke absolutely loves having us as guests... I've received permission for a select few of my crew to do so as well. As for accommodations, I'm afraid you'd be on your own if you didn't want to stay in the palace. I'd have to ask the Grand Duke if he has an extra room to spare, though I can't imagine he wouldn't. That place is so big after all... one of the wings should have a vacancy. I can inquire on your behalf if you so desire." he said, looking over at Willard.
He'd heard tell that Willard had thought him not a capable Captain at times. Granted, most of those reports had come from Ocean before the sieges on Personza, and he wondered now why Willard was here if he truly saw him that way. Maybe he'd had a change of heart? He couldn't possibly have some ulterior motive, after all.
He furrowed his brow as Willard mentioned song. Him offering to do it was even more bizarre, as Ladorak found it strange he wanted to sing to his fiancee. Narrowing his eyes, he shook his head. "Er... no... thank you. I don't think you or I shall be doing that. Besides..." he softened now. "I don't even think she can hear me." he said quietly. "She may not be able to at all, given the damage... though I'm remaining hopeful. I... waiting is always the worst part." he said, wringing his paws again.
"What made you want to stay on shore?" he asked suddenly, shifting his eyes from Molly back over to Willard. That was the question on his mind. Why had the sea weasel decided to become a land weasel? Trying something new, for a change?
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"I have vritten him recently, ja." Scharnhorst said, nodding. "About a veek ago, I think." he commented. Selvis was mentioning about how hard a year he was having, and once again, Scharnhorst couldn't relate too much to this. Weakness was seen as a flaw, and drilled out of you at the academy. You either toughened up, or were kicked out.
To hear one admit he was having a rough time... it was a little unusual for the zorilla to hear, as he hadn't been around others like this in quite some time.
"Blech..." He said, sticking out his tongue in disgust. "Too hot for me. I'm used to relatively moderate temperatures, being from further north zan you... considerably I might add." he said, winking. "Ve are very near Dazaria in fact." he said, smiling. "You heard of it? Ze land of ze otter family, Otterburg." he said, referring to the ruling house. "It is cold up zere in ze vinter." he added, pretending to shiver a little for emphasis. "Not bad summers zo. Can be hot, but mostly moderate." he explained.
"I imagine it can get very... gross down in Crittenden in ze summer." he speculated, grimacing.
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Post by Carrow on Nov 23, 2011 17:12:35 GMT -5
Carrow sighed inwardly. Spender was... mentioning Warwick again for no apparent reason whatsoever. What was the stoat now anyway? A distant memory in the minds of the select few creatures he had spent time with. Spender was hung up on him in a rather alarming manner, and it dawned on the mouse that the mustelid now thought of the tic-laden stoat as an imaginary friend. Great seasons of sun and showers! That was all the rest of them needed!
He wasn't sure what the ferret thought of him these days as they scarcely spoke to each other, but it was safe to say the field mouse didn't hold him in too high regard after his latest 'episode'. He noted that the waiter was still hovering about; it was no wonder as Carrow hadn't told him that their party was finished. He heard Ocean telling Caden that Spender had spotted the cab. Oh, so he had decided to help after all? The field mouse wasn't that surprised, as he had nothing to lose with the pine marten at this stage. Carrow saw it as simply too little, too late.
Caden, meanwhile, was trying to hide his conflicted state and doing a rather fine job of it, but it wasn't quite the full package. No wonder he couldn't quite pull it off, the mouse thought. He couldn't imagine how his friend was feeling, though he could certainly guess. His companion looked down at him and told him he'd go it alone, assuring him that he'd be fine. In a city like this, the field mouse could well believe it - Florence wasn't as hazardous as Tunis, though that wasn't to say it was without its problems.
The last time Caden had gone off on his own in a city, he'd ended being kitnapped, and Carrow had almost gone into meltdown once he'd found out, to say nothing of the delayed impact it had had on Selvis. He wasn't worried about the albino, however; his assurances were sufficient for the rodent. who was a worrier at the best of times. He nodded, meeting his friend's gaze for a moment before he left, once again finding comfort in eye contact. "Sure. Let me know what's going on, if you can. I'll see you later."
With Caden gone, Carrow decided to make a start on his lasagne. When he was worried - as he was at the present moment - his appetite could be all over the place, but he knew he had to eat regardless. He saw Spender take a seat next to Tally, and saw his food being glanced at in a hungry manner. Spender hadn't eaten yet?, he thought. That seemed almost careless. Carrow had been busy, but Spender, from what the mouse was seeing now, didn't seem to be doing much at all.
Tally came to his rescue (Carrow might have, but then again he might not have: he wasn't sure what the ferret deserved, while simultaneously not wanting to give him (too much of) the cold shoulder), asking for what the male rodent deciphered as a pepperoni pizza. "Could we also have... a pepperoni pizza for him?" He pointed to Spender, after which he tried the lasagne. He'd never had it before, but on first impressions it was rather nice, if a tad hot. Perhaps he'd jumped the gun.
The waiter, a least weasel, nodded, taking down Tally's orders and glancing at Ocean, the only one at the table who hadn't ordered yet. Carrow took the hint, catching the ermine's attention. (He was currently seated to the mustelid's left.) "How about you, Ocean? D'you want to order something now, or will I ask our waiter to come back in a few moments?," he enquired, leaving his lasagne to cool for a little bit, just in case. He'd been fortunate enough never to burn himself while eating and was hoping he could avoid it today as well.
--
"About a week ago... I see," Selvis murmured. "All going well, then, you should receive a response from him around the tail-end of January. It's just a shame neither I nor my friends ran into you this time last week, then you could have told him a little about us, heheh," he chuckled. "It'll all come out in due time, of course, and the best part is you'll still be here when you receive your response," he told the zorilla, before going on to explain the situation.
"We actually have a few months ashore here in Tuscany; right now we don't think it will be necessary for the Agamemnon to sail again until, oh, late February, early March, 'round that time. Of course, this could change, and we'll be ready for news when it arrives. Look at it this way, though: you have an absolute minimum of two months, by my reckoning, to really make up your mind about joining our ship," he explained. "We'll get to spend some time with you before we head back out to sea, though of course, if you're thinking of joining, you can declare your interest any time you want."
Selvis didn't particularly mind one way or the other what Scharnhorst thought of his self-confidence issues. He knew that through the rigorous military training he had, he would have been toughened up against things that might have been seen as weaknesses, but at the same time, if he specifically asked - and he had not done so yet but felt he would need all the assistance he could get, what with the fate that would most likely befall his homeland in the next few weeks or so - he was almost certain his fellow mustelid would try and help him out.
There would have been no point in covering it up, because Selvis knew he was flawed and he didn't like to paper over the cracks, so to speak - in the long run he would just end up feeling worse. He'd have to work on his weaknesses, but he was an animal and all animals had weaknesses, last he'd heard. He had his health (at least, now he did), was fundamentally a happy creature (in contrast to, say, five months previously), he had true and loyal friends he could rely on, and was currently getting to know a possible new companion. Everything else paled a little in significance when he thought of those things.
"I thought it might have been too hot for you, alright. You're quite a distance north of where I used to live, as you say... and yes, I have heard of Dazaria. I can imagine it being quite cold up there around this time of year. I've experienced some pretty harsh winters down in Crittenden myself. Quite a bit of snow. Ice, too - and I've picked up enough cuts and bruises to prove it," he commented, smiling ruefully. He'd avoided serious injury, but smaller ones had been common enough for him.
"As for the summers... 'gross' would be one way of describing it, yes. It's good conditioning, though. As a result of being acclimatised to the Mediterranean weather we get down there, I can pawdle pretty much anything that's thrown at me, conditions-wise, though I know that it can get extremely hot as well as extremely cold in Africa. I've not had a chance to head down there yet, but as I'm a seafaring weasel, the chances of that happening are about as high as anything else - we don't know what to expect from one month to the next most of the time, you see," he revealed.
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Post by spender on Nov 24, 2011 11:01:30 GMT -5
"That would be..." Bloody brilliant! "Very kind of you, Captain, sir." Willard wheezed. A palace? They were staying at a palace?! Willard's mind frazzled. All he could picture were turrets, moats, and dragons. And for some reason, Tally in a little pointed cap with a streamer.
"Although I do not think I have the funds necessary... I've been saving up, since I don't have anyone to send to anymore... It still must be an awful lot, sir!"
The weasel shifted in his seat, embarrassed at his suggestion being shot down—embarrassed he had suggested it in the first place. It was silly. Just a silly thing a would kits do, singing. He was confused as well, about Molly's condition. As the blood had been cleaned from her ears, there was no visible damage, just the stitched scar on her brow. She seemed to be just asleep. Surely she wasn't in a coma, fevered or otherwise?
He stayed silent, unsure what to say in the wake of the Captain's grief.
"What made you want to stay on shore?"
Willard was feeling increasingly trapped. He hadn't been expecting Molly to be in so bad a way when he'd seen the stoats pile into the carriage, and now that he was here, he felt... not unwelcome, but out of place. He was intruding on something private. And that privacy was beginning to unnerve him. He had no escape, no distractions—he was being asked direct questions! He could not ignore them, nor could he lie, or even avoid telling a whole truth.
He took a deep breath and envisioned paper. His paw curled in his lap, as if holding an invisible pen, and began to shift as he spoke; slowly, but without pauses.
"Well, a number of things, sir, those being that I must keep my appointments with Seajack Apodemus that he has scheduled me; and that I seek to request from Midshipjack Fugate the possibility that I may borrow some of his books again for study, as I only have the one book of my own which I have read three times now; and that with Seajack Pyne's injury seeing him sent home, there is nobeast willing for my company (not that I know particularly of anybeast here who does); and that, again, I wish to find learning material regarding ship building. To be honest, sir, there are still many jobs as need doing back on the Agamemnon, and I would rather much be doing them than visiting and idling my time as a tourist..." Finally, he paused. "But with the crew scattered as we are, it doesn't feel quite right at home, sir. And I... I can't trust myself to be alone. I can't put my paw on it, sir, but she's different without you. The lieutenants do their best, but it doesn't feel... safe. If I am to be perfectly truthful, and I know I must, sir, it isn't Midshipjack Fugate and Seajack Apodemus's presence that made my decision to follow you all here. Captain Fugate, sir, it was you."
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Post by Ladorak on Nov 24, 2011 13:03:43 GMT -5
"Uh..." Ocean looked over at Carrow as the mouse addressed him. What DID he feel like having? He froze up. trying to decipher the menu. The normally simple wording suddenly became as foreign to him as say Greek would have been. "I'll just... take some linguini with chicken." he said quickly, tossing the menu back on the table. "Yeah... uh... linguini e pollo." he tried, struggling with the words, tripping over them clumsily.
The waiter nevertheless acknowledged him with a nod, and hustled away to place the orders. "Thanks... needed to make up my mind." he said, shaking his head as he spoke in low tones to Carrow.
The red clad ermine was feeling rather flustered as of late, trying to pawdle Spender and balance his future career... whatever it may be at this point. It seemed slippery and on the rocks, and he wasn't sure he could maintain it much longer without breaking down and asking the Captain what he intended to do with him.
Puffing his cheeks and blowing out, he settled back into his seat to just... wait. Keep an eye on things. That's what the Captain wanted... wasn't it? Or Caden at least. Sure... he could do that. Play big brother to everyone around him yet again.
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"Oh you don't have to pay for the accommodations." Ladorak said, cracking a smile now. "That's not necessary. It's their way of repaying us for keeping their shores safe. Kostritz doesn't have a navy after all, and had no coastal regions under their control until earlier in this century, so they're grateful for whatever assistance they can get." the molting stoat explained. "You should accompany us back to the palace later in the day... or if I can't make it back there tonight, I'll see you off to a cab." he added, glancing over at Molly.
Waving his paw at the mention of work to be done, he dismissed it rather easily. "Nonsense. That work is for the dock workers... that's what they get paid for, after all." he said, smiling again. "I mean our government's funds aren't just going to pay the crew. There's no reason for you to be working when the Agamemnon is getting a refit. Take my word for it."
He quieted again to listen to Willard's reasons for coming ashore, though it seemed as if none of them were ultimately that important to him, by his own admission at the end. What turned out to be the real reason caused him to catch himself, and pause, almost freeze in fact, as Willard came out with why he was really ashore.
His paw hovered in mid-air, about to return to his chin, but stopped by some unseen force. He was looking right at the young weasel now, contemplation written all over his features as he almost blankly stared. Looked past him in a way even.
"Well I'm... not sure what to say about that." he said, taking a moment to gather himself. He hadn't been very popular in Willard's eyes last year, so what had changed? His being away was enough to make Willard follow him out here? Was this a yearning for family? Without his parents and any immediate relatives he could interact with... was he viewing Ladorak as his foster father in a way? Ladorak was the "father" to a lot of the crew on the ship, but he wasn't aware that Willard looked up to him in such a manner.
"I thank you, of course. I care deeply about my crew as well. As you probably know... I've been offered command of a 74 at least twice now by our previous Admiral, and both times I've declined, because I didn't want to leave my crew behind. A 64 gunner allows me to choose... twenty of my original crew to go with me if I were to transfer, if I recall the rules and all that." he said, squinting a little now. Each rating had a certain number of crew a Captain was allowed to take with him every time he transferred, and 64s were permitted twenty. Of course, if the ship he was transferring to was devoid of crew, then most of the crew could accompany their Captain if they so chose. "A mere twenty out of 500..." he said, shaking his head.
"The problem I had... is that I could never figure out which twenty to take with me, and which 480 to leave behind." he shrugged. "I didn't want to leave ANY of them to be honest. Many of them were volunteers from my home region, and joined because I went on a personal recruitment drive. I didn't want jailbirds after all, and made it a point to get honest, hardworking jacks. I cared about them too much to leave them behind if I transferred." he explained.
"I have to ask though... if you decided to come and visit me on leave, is it because you miss your family?" he asked now. "Do you... miss having a... family that you can write to or be with?" he said nothing further, and merely waved at the weasel to answer, nodding as he did so. He could relate... so could Caden. So could many of the younger crew. He had grown up without even knowing his parents. His father he'd only located many years later. His mother died giving birth to him. Losing a family could be hard on one so young, and he wondered how Willard was taking all of it.
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"Hmm about zen, ja." Scharnhorst agreed, nodding now at the thought. It was then that Selvis explained just how long they'd be in port. He raised his brows, a tad surprised at the answer. "My, my... long vinter quarters, I suppose. Many armies do it zo, so I suppose it doesn't surprise me to learn zat ze ships do it too." he said, nodding.
He smiled a little as Selvis seemed to just launch into how he had plenty of time to make up his mind about joining, and went on and on about it. "Hah! If I didn't know better... I'd say you vanted me to join." He said, chuckling a little now at the thought. "It is OK... you should slow down a little. I'm still making up my mind, after all." he said, shaking his head, though the smile remained upon his countenance.
"Snow? Really? You get snow?" he asked, a bit wide eyed. "I vould've assumed it vas too varm for zat... but maybe it is true. You must not get much zo, right? Zo you did say quite a bit." he said, pondering this. "I thought ze average temperatures vere around forties Fahrenheit. in vinter." he commented, stroking his chin. "You must get some zo." He said, smile returning to his features. "Othervise, you vouldn't have zose cuts." he joked.
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Post by spender on Nov 25, 2011 9:35:22 GMT -5
"Oh... okay."
Willard's voice suddenly sounded a lot like a female weasel's half his age. The poor weasel didn't know what to think, how to respond. Palace lodgings... for free? Was it truly repayment for simply doing their jobs, or was the Captain insinuating that he would pay for it? Both possibilities were too much, and so he let it slide over him. He would deal with the shock later.
He found himself nodding as Ladorak explained why he'd turned down the upgrades; he had always wondered, never quite understanding, why he would turn down something grander and stick with a ship that needed to be re-caulked so often. (Of course, Willard had his own reasons for refusing to leave the Agamemnon if he were Captain.)
He thought back to his anger at hearing the news. The stoat was such a great Captain, he could do so much more in service to Welkin with more guns! But that, Willard realised, didn't quite add up. No mistake Ladorak was a good Captain, but Willard had been of the impression he'd instilled that loyalty in a crew of complete strangers, and thought if he had done it once, he could easily do it again on a grander scale. Knowing that they had followed him before being in the Navy lessened that awe somewhat... Of course, there was still the question of how he had got them to follow him into the Navy in the first place. That was certainly something worth knowing.
As he was about to ask, the Captain beat him to it. The question was surprising. Willard found himself needing time to think, and told the Captain so. In this moment of silence, the doctor re-filled Ladorak's glass, and his own, and retired to his desk in the corner to write. Willard's ears twitched at the scratching of the pen.
"No," he said at last. "No, sir, I do not."
He looked up at Ladorak, one of the few times he took his eyes off the floor or his own paws since he'd sat down. He wasn't sure how a steely gaze was accomplished, but did his best, almost frowning with the intensity of his facial features. Finding his answer curt and simple, perhaps to be taken the wrong way, he decided to elaborate a little... or a lot.
"The Agamemnon and her crew are my family, sir. She is my mother, my sister, and I have many uncles and brothers. Assuming that love is what defines a family, that is. My mother... was not aware, most of the time. My sister was more than half feral. I loved them, but I can not say with any certainty that they loved me. They needed me, but... they did not want me. Likewise, I can not say if, apart from Seajack Pyne and Jis Tally, I have been shown any love in my time with the Ags—forgiveness, surely, beg your pardon sir, and thank you, but not love as I understand it to mean. It seems to me to be mostly a one-way thing in regards to me. So as far as that goes... yes, I love the Agamemnon, her crew, Welkin, the Crown—I love them more than I could love anything else, and that is what makes them family. That is what I believe, sir."
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