Closed Sailing into the Horizon

[Amael]

1st Day of Winter, 515 AV

They'd literally just left port. The ship lurched from side to side and waves lashed tempestuously up at the boat, sending it hither and yon. The rolling sensation was more than enough to cause the layman panic. Beneath the leaden sky, a gale of wind had struck the sail and the result sent deckhands scrambling to secure whatever wasn't tied down. It was going to be a rough ride, at least in the beginning.

Rightly so. The thug faced Noven down squarely. He was your average petty kingpin, a boastful and intolerant brute who felt himself a cut above the average criminal. He was dark haired and chiseled, but his face seemed considerably weathered, more than likely from too much time in the sun. At his flank stood a man of similar build and features. The pair of them could be assumed to brothers and might even be mistaken for sailors, but they swaggered too unsteadily with the boat's rocking.

These two men leered at them from within the cabin of lurching vessel, in the flickering candelight.

"Noven, right? That's what they told me your name was." His voice was as weathered as his face. He looked Felicity up and down as if drinking her in, and the sight was nearly as nauseating as the waves had been. His brother looked away in contempt.

"I hear you're the man to find if there is work to be done." He seemed all business, all of the sudden. As if she were a trifle he was done with, the kingpin turned away from the human girl, locking eyes with Noven. After a moment more, he seemed satisfied. He uncrossed his arms from his chest and some of the tension in the room dispersed, or so was the hope anyway.

"There is someone at port in Alvadas I need you to get rid of." He spoke straight, not bothering to beat around the bush or speak in code. Just plain arrogant. "I'd ask you to be discreet. Normally I do my own wetwork, but I have other matters to attend to once we're on land again." The boat swayed unsteadily and so did he for a moment, perhaps tarnishing his image a little. The wind shrieked from the outside.

"In good faith, I'll pay you up front to keep your mouth shut." He righted himself sheepishly and jerked his head to one side, signaling the other man to get the goods. The second-in-command grinned in an unsettling way and departed. Presumably, he went into their actual room to fetch whatever it was they were hiding. How these men got on to the ship in the first place was a wonder all of its own.

"Trust me, it's an offer you can't deny." There was a wicked gleam in his eye.

When the other man returned, he had another in tow. It was a young girl with red hair and a gemstone arm of the same color. She was petite yet well-muscled and even ample in certain places, despite her small stature. He gripped her unceremoniously by the scalp, dragging her out from their room into the shadowy corner of the common area where the rest of them stood. She wore a dress made of dirty canvas and there was a scar across her nose.

The girl looked at her captor with pure contempt. She struggled against the shackles at her wrists vainly. But when she turned and her eyes fell on Noven, something changed in her demeanor. Her eyes widened in recognition and she cast off the pretense of rebellion entirely. The moment was practially suspended in time. Both brothers were aware of the atmospheric shift, the boss in particular raising an eyebrow.

"Noven?" She whispered, unable to contain the feeling.

"She speaks," drawled the brother. He cast her to the ground in front of the mercenary. "I thought you only spoke Isur, whore."

She was badly malnourished but refused to stay down. The gadgeteer clawed her way up from the floor. The kingpin watched her somewhat distantly. It was as if he were no longer attached in the slightest. She was just an object to be bartered with, nothing more or less.

"Take her. I purchased her in Kenash. She is very clever, if you can convince her to be. To me, she's useless. I have no desire for little trifles and I've had my fill of her other.... talents." He sneered at her. Amael elected to say nothing. She was watching Noven instead. She couldn't keep her eyes off him. There was no awareness in her of anything else, in that moment. Just searching his face endlessly, as if he were a memory or a ghost.

Her laurel eyes were filled with the same adoration as they had been the day they'd been separated. She was completely at his mercy, yet was heedless. The Isur merely stared. She could do nothing else.

"You two have a history. Even more reason to keep my secret. She can tell you, I bought her. I didn't enslave her. Some asshole gangbanger from Sunberth brought into the pens and I got her at a discount." He smiled with teeth.

"Damaged goods." There was a gash across her nose that hadn't been there before. It was a clean line. Whoever inflicted it had used a very keen blade. It added a certain earthiness to her face, as if it were a mark of experience. But in the slave market, it was something to haggle over. A matter of price.

"Keep her, sell her, I don't care. But if I give you the name, will you do it?" The brother brandished the hilt at his hip. He seemed to be anticipating trouble out of the boy, more so than his kingpin counterpart.

"No women, no children." He added, as assurance.

[Noven]

Noven hated ships.

They stank of brine and piss. They kept their passengers cramped like pigs in a pen. And they swayed so gods damned much that the man was sure there would be nothing left of his stomach by the time they reached Alvadas. The only relief he ever felt was in those precious few chimes right after he had Vexed the girl, and that brought a whole new plate of problems on it's own. This thrice cursed meeting was proof enough.

Luckily, Nov had chosen not to eat anything this morning. Or, rather he hadn't had the chance, since the first thing he did upon waking was find his ever mischievous waif of a traveling partner cornered by a certain, petty crime lord--the one and the same--as she spouted outrageous claims of what her bodyguard was capable of. Otherwise, the Sunberthian's face would have already turned a sickly shade of green by now, and he was having a hard enough time as it was tolerating the slimy kingpin's leers at Blondie. Who, on all, accounts deserved to face the consequences of her own actions.

But hell, Nov just didn't like the filthy petcher lording arrogantly over them.

"Aye, it is," he growled in response. It was hard to hide his scorn, as Nov's particular breed of hatred for this oversized rat and the rest of his sodding, spineless kin was the sort only blood could quench. Lots of blood. Buckets of it. But he and the wench needed to survive a long, long way until they reached a city named Lhavit, and surviving for that long required coin. Enough coin to merit Nov holding his tongue, for once.

He rolled his shoulders to distract himself from his own contempt. "I might be. Depends on what kind of work."

The subject of business seemed to absorb all of the mobster's attention once more. Which was fortunate for him, because Nov's knuckles had begun to seriously itch. As the slimy bastard's gaze shifted to land on the mercenary, he was met with a cold, hard stare that all but said, "I would love nothing more right now than to gut you where you stand. But I need your coin more than I need you dead. So enjoy trying to sleep at night." If it bothered the thug at all, however, he showed no sign as he went on to explain the typical, vague nature of his less than honorable schemes. Somehow, even when Noven was hundreds of miles away from the Berth, the familiar scents of slumhood still followed him anyway.

It was then that boat lurched again. Nov's stomach lurched with it, but he remained stock still and held down the fresh wave of nausea through sheer will, the same of which could not be said of the rat standing across from him. A look of annoyance flashed across the mobster's face as he awkwardly re-adjusted his stance. The merc sneered in his own head, Kingpin my arse. More like King Pin Prick.

Well, no one said anything about mental tongues, now did they?

Noven had doubts about the man's claims. He'd learned the value of denying offers since he could first hold a pint and look up a whore's skirt. Not to mention there wasn't much left in the world that could tempt him. Not unless his tempter knew things no soul still living had any right to know.

But then Pin Prick's lackey returned, dragging some poor, unwilling girl with him. And Nov's heart all but stopped.

Mae.

He could not have mistaken her for anyone else. Not in a thousand years. There was no hiding her cascade of molten hair, the glistening of her gemstone arm, and least of all the force of vibrant, unyielding life that shone fiercely through her eyes. And when she whispered his name, his heart nearly burst at the wrenching familiarity of such a sound. Memories came flooding back all at once. Memories of soft sheets and even softer, porcelain skin, of a silken hand tracing the fevered edges of his face, of his name...of his name being whispered in this very manner.

The lackey shoved Mae onto her knees, and it was all Nov could do to keep his gloved fists curled tightly by his side, breath labored and uneven as he fought against the rage. He almost moved to help, only to find that his aid wasn't needed. The Isur managed to rise on her own in blatant defiance of her captors. Even beneath all the layers of dirt and pain and abuse, she had remained herself. He could see that as plain as day. It was no wonder Pin Prick had given her up for useless. He had wanted something dispirited and empty to shape to his own needs, a plaything to toy with as he chose. Gods above, how stupid this wretched little gobshite truly was.

Nov new a hundred different mobsters back in the Berth who would have loved to get their hands on the likes of Mae. A spirit worth breaking, they'd see her as, and the longer it took the better. They would have savored her, relished every moment leading right up to her spirit's death. And then they would have killed her as carelessly as they would have tossed a mealy apple once they were finished. That was how real monsters dealt with those they deemed useless.

But by some miracle, here she was. Dressed in nothing but a filthy canvas excuse for clothes, yet alive and breathing and standing there in the flesh nonetheless. And still herself. Oh, still so much herself, of everything he remembered. Still stubborn. Still beautiful. Still looking upon him with enough adoration to drown every passenger aboard this ship with her bottomless affection. Still, perhaps, even the mystical red headed Gadgeteer of great beauty and renown, as she was once advertised by a grimy little man named Erick.

Still Amael, the woman he had once loved and given up for dead.

"Damaged goods."

That was all Nov heard by the time he remembered anyone else existed in the cabin. He felt suddenly grateful for the violent swaying of the ship. Because if he wasn't struggling so much to keep himself from looking a fool in front of these human coin purses, the wooden planks would be marinating in their blood right fucking now.

"I'll do it," he consented through clenched teeth. If looks could kill, Pin Prick's brother would have long since lost the need for the sword at his hip. Any value or thought in mizas were now forfeit, replaced instead with the desire to maim his human-coin-purses-turned-vermin. In fact, Noven was currently considering relieving both men of their swords. For good. The swords that they had clearly been doing their thinking with upon purchasing another human being.

Death sounded too kind after what they'd done to Mae.

No, not yet, the merc snarled to himself. A dangerous glint flashed beneath his gaze. Not until I know whatever they know. And when I do, I'll kill every last petcher who had a part in this.

Against every fiber of his being screaming to drop to the ground beside Mae and demand to know what they'd done to her, who had done this to her, Nov resisted. Ignored the desperate fury roiling inside of him. Instead, he placed both of his hands inside the pockets of his wool coat and cocked his head to one side. This allowed the brother with the sword to relax some, though not entirely.

"How will you know once I've done the job?"

[Felicity]

Felicity had never traveled on a boat before, which if she thought about it was perhaps odd given her home was a city known for its ships and sailing. It had never come up though, and despite being so near to the sea Felicity had never felt an urge or need at all to travel beyond the dirty streets of her home. Noven, however, seemed intent to leave, and what could she do? He was her source of entertainment, of fulfillment, and the thought of him leaving forever made a weird tightness begin to form in her chest. At first the woman had tried to understand that feeling, to see it for what it was but, despite all efforts, she could not quite place that foreign sensation. It just meant she couldn't let Noven leave, not on his own at least. With him gone who else could satisfy her? There were no blades sharp enough, and even the roughest men did not quite compare to what this beast had shown her.

Thus she was here, standing on a deck of a ship destined for... Well she could not quite remember that. Noven had told her she was sure, but it was while she was busy toying with a deck hand as they boarded. It had been of a very slight amusement to see him dance for a tick or two as he felt hot coals beneath his feet with each step. What a funny man he was. Maybe she would visit him later.

Then those men appeared, thug one and thug two, both equally boring and crass for no apparent reason. Felicity would have paid them no mind at all, but for whatever reason Noven had been drawn in. Now they were in a cabin beneath the rolling deck, and while they exchanged serious looks Felicity smiled to herself as she played a little game of trying to see how long she could stand on one foot before a sudden shift of the planks made her rock too far back and she was forced to balance herself with both feet once more. Out of the corner of her eye Felicity saw one of the men give her a typical up and down glance, and in response Felicity proceeded to stick out her tongue at the man before moving closer to Noven to wrap herself around one of his strong arms. Not that that helped at all, he was even less steady than she was.

There was something about a job, a weird sounding city that started with an A that Felicity thought was their destination, but wasn't quite sure. More scary stares as the men held a pissing contest with their words instead of the interesting points, and without meaning too Felicity yawned, very quickly losing interest with the situation entirely. Then what kept her close to Noven? Kept her from simply walking out or away? It was the look in his eyes. The dark, murderous look that she had not seen before. It sent a chill down the woman's spine, and made her want to press her body all the closer. This man, he never ceased to be interesting.

A few words about killing made Felicity's ears perk up, though she watched with a bit more interest as one of the men ventured back inside their room. A payment they couldn't refuse? Somehow Felicity doubted that existed, but the potential of it made the doll intensely curious. What could it be? Jewels? A severed head? A tropical fish? The truth of the matter was far less that what the woman had expected, and her expression visibly dropped when she saw what the 'payment' was. Just a woman. A short woman at that, with a weird colored arm. How dull, and of course they would not accept...

When she spoke his name with that whispered familiarity Felicity's eyes widened, and then she looked up to Noven's own eyes and saw something there she did not expect. Could it be, they knew each other? That tightness began in her chest then, something dark and burning that filled the emptiness in her breast as her eyes lighted on the woman once more. That red hair that fell to her shoulders, a cut across her features, were it not for her silly arm she would be nothing special. Not someone that Noven should even care for, or think about. Felicity certainly didn't want her, and just as she was about to state this simple fact to Noven he had already spoken.

"I'll do it,"

Straightening Felicity let one hand linger against the man's arm, a possessiveness in her touch as she stared at the Isur woman with a stare that was a neutral mask, but behind that mask a coal had started to catch flame. This feeling, the one feeling Felicity had truly come to understand, then bubbled up to her recognition. Felicity hated this woman. Then her eyes shifted back up to Noven and she saw that same hatred reflected in his eyes, but his were looking at the men. He hated them.

That hand that touched Noven played along his triceps, sliding down toward his hip to run over the grip of the man's Tamos.

"Why not just kill them..." Felicity whispered, just barely above a breath as the cold fire flickered behind her eyes as she went from the men to the women. "I know you want to. Just kill them." she said just a little louder.

That was what she wanted. Kill them. Kill the stupid men who bothered them, and in the fighting maybe the woman would die too. The thought of it gave a slight relief to the tension in her chest, and Felicity could almost recognize that as 'excitement' or perhaps 'joy'. No problem could last past death, and then Noven and she could continue on their journey. Alone.

A warmth spread from the mark on the back of her neck as felicity stared at the men, and she sent them something that, perhaps, would do the trick. A feeling of of a body pressing close at their backs, and cold steel pressing against the flesh of their skin, poised to slit their throats.

[Amael]

Both men recoiled. With a steely hiss, the brother started to unsheath his blade. Mr. Kingpin was either a tiny bit smarter or too seasick to care. Either way he turned to his counterpart, eyes wide.

"Grett," he said slowly. "We'll all be tossed overboard." The two of them exchanged significant glances, the brother in particular looking between the boss and Noven, as if he were ready to strike at any moment. It was entirely irrational. Neither man could place it, but both suddenly felt like cornered animals. There was literal fire at their backs and iron at their throats. The Kingpin was wound so tightly, it looked like he might very well fly apart.

Time passed. Grett glowered at Noven for a few moments more before finally staying his blade. Rationality had won the day, or so it seemed. The two men continued to sway uneasily while the boat groaned and shook. They carried on an unspoken dialogue, moment after tense moment. It was obvious that there'd be some leftover animosity between them, no matter the outcome. Further, the tension wasn't limited to one side of the vessel.

Amael felt her heart crumbling. It'd been so long. Too long, apparently. On his arm was a blonde waif of a woman, delicate in all the ways the hearty Isur was not. Felicity looked upon the gadgeteer with an even mask, but beneath it she could guess what was hiding. Pity, perhaps. Undoubtedly contempt. Either way, for the first time she tore her eyes away from Noven and cast them at the ground. Tears stung and fell, openly and bitterly. Out of all the things she had been forced to experience, heartbreak was among the worst.

The men were temporarily done with one another. "I'll know when you've done it," the Kingpin answered. "That's how."

"The bloke goes by Scrivener. When you get into town, go by the Stallion's Rear. Tell the barkeep that Grett sent you." Mr. Kingpin clearly wanted to keep his own name out of it. As if the matter were concluded, the two made to depart.

"Don't speak to us for the rest of the journey. I don't know you and you don't me. And if I catch blondie snooping in our cabin, I'll have her any way I like her. Understand me?" With that, he tossed the key to Amael's shackles and left.

Amael merely stared at the floor, memorizing the lines in each wooden beam. The tears simply came unbidden. It caused her deep shame that she was unable to hide her face, to leave his side. Quietly, she said a prayer to Izurdin to give her strength.

The world she'd longed to see was a cruel, cruel place.

[Noven]

After nearly an entire season of Blondie following him around day in and day out, pestering him relentlessly for the next Vexation, Nov had grown used to her wayward presence. He was even accustomed to the way she occasionally clung to him, shrugging off her more emboldened advances only when necessary.

But loosening her leash also meant he was wise to her ways. He knew when she would run and how far she'd get. The mischievous lass was less disciplined than any of the runts he'd known back home, than even his Gibbat pup, and any which way she could spell trouble she did. He had agreed to let her join this meeting solely because he didn't trust what she might do if he left her alone above deck. It was tiresome at times and completely maddening at others. But without her, he would most likely die. Miserably, gruesomely, and agonizingly. So what choice did he really have?

"Melody..." he warned under his breath as he felt slim hands snake toward his belt. The Vexer only used that name when he knew she was up to absolutely no good. "Don't even think about--"

The two thugs before them suddenly stood rod straight, eyes wide with fear and alarm. Noven's own posture tensed instantly in response. Tension corded his shoulders and arms, ready to pull Mae out of the way should one of the brothers break. For a good few ticks, no one moved, breathed, or said a word. Then Pin Prick called the other Grett and reasoned they'd be tossed overboard. To Nov's surprise, Grett actually accepted his brother's reasoning and lowered his weapon. All three men were still poised in aggression, but they no longer teetered at the very edge of violence.

The Sunberthian had no idea what Blondie just did. But he knew that whatever had given cause for these two thugs to attack, she was responsible for it. He could practically feel her amusement prickling the back of his neck.

Eager to get business done, Pin Prick broke the silence first. His answer was less than helpful. Not that Nov had expected much to begin with, but at least his instructions were simple enough. A bloke named Scrivener. Stallion's rear. Sent by Grett. Easy to the point where it only needed to be said once. The brothers then turned to leave, though not before Mr. Kingpin and his tiny prick imparted a few last words.

Noven grinned in reply. He found himself sincerely hoping Blondie would do exactly that. Because it would give him the perfect excuse to watch both of their ugly mugs twist in pain beneath his mark, their tears and pleas wasted on deaf ears.

It took every ounce left of his will to wait, the merc not trusting himself to move until their footsteps had receded into obscurity. The moment they were gone for good a whoosh of relief escaped from his lungs. And then he was on his knees, his hands cupping Amael's tear-drenched face firmly but carefully, eyes searching hers to confirm that this was in fact real and not some petched up, ill humored dream.

"It's really you," he blurted, voice burdened with too many emotions to count. His thumbs absently wiped as many tears from her face as they could. "You're really here, right now. And you're not dead. And I'm not just completely losing my fucking mind. Tell me I'm right, Mae."

He started to check her hands, her arms, her anything to make sure she wasn't hurt. But it was made clear enough in a matter of ticks the kind of treatment she had suffered for gods knew how long. The man found himself at a total loss for a plan. What should he do? Where should he take her? Should he abandon his mission entirely and return to...well, there was no where to return to. The only way was forward, and for the moment no one in the cramped little cabin had any choice but to follow.

"You're safe now," was all he could think to say, bringing his forehead to rest against her's as he spoke with as much conviction as he could muster. "You're safe and you're not going back. Those bloody bastards are never laying a finger on you ever again. I promise you this."

Rising shakily to his feet, Nov withdrew his hands and turned back to glance at his impish companion.

"Time to go, Blondie. We get to our cabin and figure out the rest there. And not a peep of trouble, you hear? I'm in no mood for games."

He then offered a hand to each lass. One for comfort and security, the other as a physical placation and leash. Nov didn't exactly look forward to returning to their tiny quarters and trying to fit three adults and one dog comfortably inside. Nor did he relish whatever mayhem Blondie would no doubt sow the moment she found opportunity to do so. But for now he focused on a single task: get Mae to safety.

So to their cabin they went.