forum weathervane tyrant // oxo // closed

Started December 20, 2022 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

They eat dinner it relative joy and bustle, per usual. Svierk and Billi (mostly Billi) had presented a delightful roasted bird that was devoured in mere seconds. There's piles on piles of potato products, heavily salted jerky, pickled vegetables and more than enough alcohol to spare. Svierk converses loudly, boisterously with Gidror across the table. With both of their raised voices, it's quite difficult to pick out any other sort of conversation. Esteban and Mazirax speak politely with mostly gestures. Billi keeps grumpily to themselves. Ivanca had sometime appeared at the table, almost materializing out of nowhere and directly across from Finn.

When dinner finally wraps up, Svierk assigns Esteban and Finn to clean-up duty and then excuses herself–flanked by both Gidror and Mazirax–to the sterncastle for what she described as "sunset stabbing." Ivanca and Billi disappear through the back door towards the cabins and whatever else lurks below deck. Esteban seems completely unbothered by his new position as dishwasher. With a wave of his paw, the plates begin stacking together.

Through the small, round, and heavily fortified window looking out to the deck, Svierk and the twin masses climb the short steps to the raised sterncastle. Across from it, above the mess hall, sits the helm. She draws one of her dual cutlasses from its scabbard with a blinding grin. With a quick tap of her foot, their nightly routine of sparring atop the sterncastle begins. The sun has mostly dipped below the horizon by now, only a sliver of its golden halo still struggling to remain above water. From the east, the clouded navy of night begins to creep across the sky–still too light for stars.

"Sooo–" Esteban purrs as he drops a stack of magically floating plates into Finn's arms, blocking any sort of visual they might've had through the window. "How are you adapting to the ship so far? No one has killed you yet, so I suppose that's a plus."

Finn had begun to gaze out the window, taking in the outside of the ship and what little they could see from it. Though the stack of plates causes Finn's gaze to come back to Esteban. Washing dishes isn't too bad a job, and something Finn had done plenty of times since they live by themselves and do not have the means to hire a maid. Even if Finn could afford that, they probably wouldn't want to anyway for fear of the maid discovering something that Finn didn't want others to learn. They hoarded their knowledge as closely as a dragon hoarded their treasure, not wanting anyone to receive it without getting something in return. Most things in Finn's life worked as exchanging something for another, such as information or money. Even at dinner they had remained mostly quiet, taking in the other's conversations carefully, though they didn't actually learn anything of use. That was hardly a shock, but it was interesting to hear what sort of dinner conversations were normal here regardless. Finn could use that to their advantage, hopefully using dinner conversation as one way to speak to the crew-members and gaining their trust. This mission would not work unless Finn could gain their trust first, and while they were a great liar, they weren't always the best with people, particularly those with strong personalities. Sure, Finn could probably charm a cute bartender into a free drink or weasel their way into a game of poker, but trying to get an entire crew to like them was a much harder feat.

Finn went to work helping Esteban wash and put away dishes as soon as the plates touched their arms, brought back to reality. The man seemed friendly enough, but Finn knew appearances could be deceiving. Still, they had to be at least somewhat nice here if they wanted any sort of trust or friendship in the future. What a weird notion. Befriending someone just to end up killing them. Certainly not something that Finn had ever done before; most of their past marks were just one and done, but they never shied from a challenge.

"Well, I do prefer being alive," Finn responded conversationally, giving a small smile. "That was a hell of a messy room, but the ship itself is nice. It might take a bit to get used to, but I'm sure that it's nothing I can't handle. How long did it take you to get used to it when you first arrived?"

The tabaxi is careful not to let any of his fur touch whatever slop and grime is left over from dinner. He may be vain, caring more for his clothes and fur and whiskers than most, but he still refuses to let a job go undone. He's grown used to having to find odd solutions to simple problems to make his life a little better. With mindless, wordless commands, he maneuvers a mage hand to do most of the dirty work for him. Later, he might have a small headache from the exertion, but it's nothing a little wine and beer won't be able to fix.

Esteban hums and looks to the ceiling as a conga line of utensils and cups follow him to the back door. "Well, I've been with the ship since it was first crafted, so I guess that I never really had to grow accustomed to it." He laughs merrily as he gestures for Finn to follow him back to what could only be the kitchen. "However, you should've seen me the first few weeks I was on the ship. I was sicker than a dog!" He smiles, still unnatural like Mazirax's grin, but somehow much more inviting.

He claps his hands; oil lamps scattered across the windowless kitchen flare to life. A small flicker of pride fizzles deep in his chest. Oh, does he love being the vessel's sorcerer. He points to the sink, already bubbling to life with suds and water. He drops the utensils into the tub and motions for Finn to do the same with all the plates. "I am curious about you, warlock," Esteban says as he bobs his hands to get the dishware to soak and scrub. "Where did you come from, hmm?" He raises an eyebrow and twitches his nose.

This man clearly had some decent amount of magic if he was willing to waste it on washing dishes. Finn never used their spells for that sort of purpose, always carefully preparing just in case. They liked to conserve their energy for bigger issues. However, they could hardly fault the tabaxi for not wanting to get his hands dirty. Touching leftover food on a dish was a disgusting feeling. It was interesting that he was with the ship when it was crafted; he must be an original member of the crew then, likely holding a lot of trust and respect in the others' eyes. So far the only magic that Esteban had done in Finn's presence was a few party tricks, but since he was on a pirate ship, Finn highly doubted this was the extent of his abilities.

Finn didn't mind the presence of Esteban, perhaps even liked conversing with him, though the question about themself wasn't exactly something Finn would like to talk about much. However, if they declined to respond, that would look incredibly suspicious, so Finn supposed they would just tell the truth, or at least not lie. They had found that truths (or at the least, partial truths) were a lot more likely to gain someone's trust or get someone to like you than outright lying. Finn was a good liar, so they weren't entirely sure how people could tell. Well, perceptive people could. Utter fools were easily won over by pretty lies. These pirates would not have gotten this far if they were the sort of fools who fell for easy lies and pleasing words. No, Finn's best strategy here was to tell the truth as much as possible without giving anything away. They would only lie when they had to, mostly by omission.

"Well, I came from my mother's womb," Finn joked, smirking for a moment before turning slightly more serious. "Not too far from the port where I boarded the ship, really. Or most recently, at least. I'm the sort who travels often, not really staying in one place for too long. Guess I just haven't found anything interesting enough to keep me rooted yet. I think that might change, though. Being on a ship is quite different from living on land, is it not?"

"Ah, a wanderer!" Esteban exclaims, still softly chuckling at Finn's joke. "I used to be one, you know. Before I was a sorcerer, I was a bard. Wanderlust and storytelling are simply in my nature! Tell me, tell me–" Esteban excitedly dunks the dishes a few times before gesturing to a dishrag for Finn to get to work on. An unspoken assembly line. Esteban will wash; Finn will dry. "What was it like? Everyone I know has had a different experience. Did you encounter danger? Strife? Had you always been alone or was there a partner at some point? Details, dear warlock, I require details!"

There's a reason an unspoken rule around the ship is to never mention a past around Esteban. The gossipy cat will pry for any sort of information. It's not for any sort of malicious reason, no. It's always been based on his natural bound curiosity and blatant extrovertism. Back in his bard days, all those years ago, he had encountered dozens upon hundreds of travelers in the taverns he would fleet between. He would write ballads and tales and spread a fair share of rumors, but hey! It was all good fun.

The tabaxi continues to move plates and utensils from the suds and into the dishcloths. Cleaning had never exactly been an issue for him, but it was always nice to have a helping hand and somebody to talk to. It's nice to have somebody that isn't immediately exhausted of his blabbering.

Finn blinked at the sudden barrage of questions. They had seen that Esteban was friendly, but gods was he extroverted. Not that it was a bad thing, but it was so different from the more strictly polite or outright cold attitudes he was used to. The rest of the crew seemed to display those sort of attitudes, so it was in Finn's comfort zone, but this tabaxi was entirely more energetic than most of the people Finn interacted with on a daily basis. It wasn't unwelcome, but Finn also wasn't sure if they entirely liked it. Having to explain their past was not something they were looking forward to, but they supposed they could recount a fairly accurate description without having to include the more…unsavory details.

They took a moment to think while taking the place Esteban had left them in the little assembly line. They had hoped their last remark would cause Esteban to talk about their experience on the ship or possibly their past, but instead the exact opposite was happening. Ah well. It wasn't as if Finn had any control over what Esteban said.

"Well, I hardly think it's that exciting, but I've largely been finding work as a mercenary," Finn admitted as they dried some dishes. "Ever since my contract with my patron I've been finding money in mercenary work. The magic makes most of that work quite easy, so it's rare that I find work that really interests me. So I travel in search of a job that would pique my interest, or a tome of knowledge that would be particularly enlightening. I've been trying to get my hands on any book I can relating to the things I'm interested in to learn as much as I can. As for danger, sure I've encountered danger, I was a mercenary. And I think I would be pretty idiotic to want to be part of the crew of pirate ship without having some sort of experience with danger and strife. The closest thing that I really have to a partner is my patron, I suppose. I've worked together with others for a few jobs, but nothing really stuck."

There. Finn had answered all of Esteban's questions. They had been deliberately somewhat vague in their answers, but they hoped they had shared enough to satisfy Esteban's desire for knowledge of Finn's past. There was quite a bit more that Finn had left out–mostly family issues and the exact jobs they did as a mercenary. Almost any part of Finn's past that had to do with others was a bit rocky; Finn had never been great at holding friendships or relationships, and usually didn't care to try. They rarely spoke to their family either, so the only things that they could share if they wanted to were probably not the exciting adventures someone like Esteban would care to hear about. Finn didn't like to air out their dirty laundry to others. Perhaps now Esteban would talk more about himself so Finn could learn about the man next to him.

"Oh, all understandable and noble causes!" Esteban announces, dunking the last few dishes into the water before handing them off to Finn. "My wandering days on foot are over, but I suppose seafaring is just as good as any. It's like being on a wagon, but the wagon is your house and all of your friends live on the wagon with you." Esteban gestures wildly with his hands as he speaks, moving them from point A to point B to further illustrate his point.

It's clear that his questioning is… somewhat getting to the warlock. Esteban has to bite his tongue. The last thing he needs is to drive Finn away. His outgoing, talkative nature can clearly be a lot for most people, and while he loves to meet new people, he tries to know when to draw it back. Esteban supposes that's why he was drawn to Svierk when he was younger. She had nodded along, contributed to the conversation, laughed at his jokes, and listened to Esteban when most would turn the mewling tabaxi around. The new crew is better than the old. Esteban's thankful that Mazirax and Svierk had allowed him to stick around. The Iron Zeppelin is his home, after all.

After clearing his throat, Esteban speaks up. "Please, if my chatter becomes too much you could always tell me to be quiet, and I'll oblige." He wrings his paws together and snaps his fingers. The mage hand drops and Esteban reaches to begin putting all of the dried dishes away. "And if you need to know where anything is, you can just ask me." He offers another half-smile with a twitch of his whiskers. "Svierk may be intimidating and quick to kill, but she really is a kind woman. I'm sure if you show her something worthy within your soul, she'll have you stick around for a while."

Finn was a bit taken aback by Esteban's sudden reticence. They felt almost bad for making him feel as though he needed to shut up. While Finn didn't care to talk about their past or themself in general, vastly preferring to discuss things like magic or combat or random things that they had learned through their study, they didn't mind conversation. Besides, how was the tabaxi supposed to know that Finn's past was something they disliked discussing? And if Finn wanted any sort of information about the ship, they would have to befriend these people, and Esteban was probably the friendliest so far. Standing and doing the dishes in silence probably wouldn't get them to bond at all, so Finn supposed some talking was in order here. It wasn't as if it pained them; they could just change the subject. There could be no trust if they didn't talk; simply standing next to each other hardly bred camaraderie.

"Oh, no, I don't mind the conversation," Finn responded, glancing at the tabaxi. "I appreciate the kindness. I'm just not the best conversation partner, is all. I dislike talking about myself, to be honest. As someone who doesn't have a lot of friends, I usually just talk about work or combat or what have you. I'm sure I'm not the only one, so perhaps you understand the sentiment? And I appreciate your offer, since I am not the most familiar with this ship or ships in general, but I am more than willing to learn. I want to be an asset to this ship and learn as much as I can, after all."

Hopefully that seemed natural enough, since, like before, it was all true. Finn didn't have a lot of friends and they didn't really talk about themself much, mostly because they hated it. It felt awkward and forced, and many times they didn't want to admit to some of the things they had done as a mercenary. They were probably a decent person once, but that was before they met their patron. She had plans and Finn had a growing desire for knowledge and adventure, so it was a mutually beneficial relationship. However, some of her plans involved less than ideal jobs, which Finn mostly blocked out of their mind. They had gotten good at that, shutting off their emotions when necessary. They had read a little about the mind, seeing at that was another topic that quite interested them, and they could compartmentalize their emotions in order not to deal with them. Surviving was the most important thing, other people be damned. Finn knew they weren't a good person, but they were far from the worst to walk this plane. They would be doing everyone a favor by killing these pirates, and they had to remember that. The pirates could be nice at first glance, but surely the tales Finn had heard had a grain of truth to them. Besides, it was what his patron wanted, and she would protect Finn as long as they tried to carry it out.

Shoulders raising and a smirk returning to his face, Esteban levels Finn with a glance. Whatever the crew may say about the newcomer, they aren't nearly as bad as Billi or Svierk may make them out to be. Call it respect or common courtesy or just simply repaying the favor of listening, Esteban will defend this warlock. (Of course, to an extent. The crew and the ship must fall above all potential relations.) The tabaxi nods. "I appreciate you listening to me, my dear warlock. It's not too often I get an apt listener for a comrade."

Finn's past, of course, is entirely understandable. Hell, Esteban's been unable to wrangle even the smallest details of a past from some of his other shipmates. Ivanca is nothing but a silent specter of the ship; Billi clams up whenever the smallest question is aimed towards their history; Svierk and Mazirax, no matter how long Esteban has remained with them, have refused to even offer up the smallest bits of information. Gidror is no secret to most of the ship. They were all present when they had rescued the half-orc from a life steering towards nothing but barbaric, brutish vigilantism. Esteban could see it within Gidror's acid-green irises–the half-orc was overjoyed that he was no longer the newest member, but Gidror was also no fool to get his hope up. The last four potential residents of the Iron Zeppelin had all met a watery grave at the hands of Captain Svierk Greyy.

"I won't press if you don't want to speak of your past," Esteban continues as he puts away the last of the plates. "I understand plenty of topics can be difficult to talk about." He smiles with a short laugh. "We all have our secrets. What would a pirate be without a few skeletons in their closets, hm?" The joking twinkle in Esteban's eyes may be genuine, but he supposed one would have to be a fool to think that he were lying. The tabaxi is a showman, a bard, an alhoholic, a storyteller, a magician–but he is not a liar.

Finn smiled back at Esteban, relieved that their own prickliness hadn't deterred him, and also that Finn was no longer being asked a barrage of questions. They would match rather talk about something they were more comfortable with, or perhaps even listen to Esteban talk. His tact was refreshing; many of the souls Finn had the displeasure of meeting didn't have the charisma or friendliness of the tabaxi. Already they were warming to the man, which was good and bad. But Finn could deal with the semantics later. Right now, they needed to befriend Esteban and try to win his trust.

"I like to think that I'm a good listener," Finn responded with another smile. "I'm happy just to hear your tales or talk about most things. Thank you for the understanding. And I suppose you're right. I highly doubt any pirate has had a perfect life, and the same goes for most mercenaries. These aren't the sort of jobs that those people tend to want. Dangerous jobs are for people who feel like they have less to lose, in my experience." They shrugged.

Perhaps Finn could allude to their past without getting too uncomfortable, but keeping it vague was much more in the range of things Finn enjoyed. Anything too detailed was not only difficult to talk about, but may raise suspicion with their newfound comrades. The last thing they wanted was for their marks to be suspicious of them; it could derail the entire operation, and that would be bad. Not just bad, possibly the end of Finn's life bad. Svierk clearly would not hesitate to kill Finn if pressed, and while Finn's patron could protect them to an extent, there was only so much she could do. However, Finn had been in dangerous situations before, so they would just shut off their emotions like always and do the job. It wouldn't help to dwell on it, even if meeting the crew was beginning to make them realize just how difficult of a job this would be, and just how deep they were. No wonder the reward was so promising. Finn would do everything in their power to come out of this alive, and they would. They had never failed a mission, and this would not be their first.

Esteban laughs softly, wiping his paws on the sides of his pants, though there wasn't anything to clean to begin with. "Well, I thank you entirely for your listening ear. It's not often I come across one that hasn't heard all of my tales." He smiles thinking of the campfire nights the crew would spend together, the chorus of light-hearted groans whenever Esteban would begin a half-true retelling of some adventure he had in his youth. "I look forward to speaking to you more, Finn, but now we must make our way to the main deck. Captain might have some closing orders for the night, if not, we go to bed."

Hmm. Esteban wonders where they'll manage to put the newcomer. Mazirax and Gidror already take up two hammocks each, the rest of them taken by other crewmates. Svierk stays in the captain's quarters alone, but Esteban hardly thinks she would even consider allowing a stranger to share her space. Oh well! That's not Esteban's problem. If anything, it'll probably be Billi's.

The duo exit the kitchens, then through the mess hall and through the door to the main deck. Mazirax is sitting below the sterncastle, nursing what looks like a relatively decent slash through their armored bicep. However, he looks entirely unfazed by the injury and instead spends his energy talking calmly with Billi. Billi looks somewhat irritated, tapping a hoof on the ground and rolling their large, brown eyes. Above them, brawling on the raised deck of the sterncastle, is Svierk and Gidror. They're both smiling wide, the captain and the muscle locked in tight combat with a cutlass and pike.

"Ooh, looks like the Captain took Mazirax out early tonight," Esteban muses with a light chuckle before rubbing his paws together. A white glow emits from his hands as he approaches the coxswain. The dragonborn, still locked in conversation with the satyr, merely nods at Esteban and allows the tabaxi to lay his hands upon the laceration. Almost instantly, the wound knits back together as if it had never been there to begin with.

Ah, healing magic. Was that the sort of thing Esteban specialized in? It was always good to have a healer around in case one got into trouble. Of course, it was possible that was just another of Esteban's many talents, so Finn would have to make sure not to underestimate them. In fact, Finn had already underestimated the crew at first, before realizing that would be much more of a challenge than they had let themself imagine. Their last mission had been a piece of cake compared to this, and even that mission had required some effort. It was interesting to see the crew interact with each other though; it seemed most of them had known each other for some time. The thought might have been heartwarming had Finn cared, or not been actively working to switch off their emotions now. No more emotions, no more attachment. They could only afford to be observant, to be charismatic enough to get the others to befriend them, and then do what they had set out to do. Too much ruminating on it would be the opposite of helpful.

Finn didn't really have any comments to make to the trio they were standing with now, so instead they gazed upward to watch the fight. Both of them certainly had a lot of combat practice from what Finn could tell, moving about like practiced fighters, which Finn supposed they were. It was interesting to watch. They both had skill, as well as determination, though they were clearly enjoying themselves. People who loved to fight could be quite dangerous, since they were not hindered by the drudgery of doing a task when practicing. Finn themself enjoyed combat, though physical combat was hardly their strong suit. They preferred the elegance and fluidity of magical combat, making it almost like a dance with the special effects of spells whizzing through the air. Finn may not be especially gifted in physical combat, but they treated that like a dance as well. Once, Finn had been good at dancing, and quite enjoyed it, but they hadn't practiced in a while. Their time was better spent learning things or preparing for whatever job they were taking next.

After watching the fight play out for several seconds, Finn's eyes cut back to Esteban. "Do they do that every night?" Finn mused, curious. They glanced over Mazirax and Billi as well before looking back up at the two who were fighting once more. It was certainly a good way to train, and they didn't have to worry about minor wounds with a healer on board. Finn wondered how far Esteban's healing skills extended. Was he the type who could heal more extensive injuries as well, or was healing just a side hobby he could do in a pinch?

Esteban hums and raises an eyebrow. "Who? Svierk, Mazirax and Gidror?" Esteban points to the fight still occuring–wait no. Svierk drops to the ground, avoiding a swipe of Gidror's pike, using her cutlass to hook Gidror's ankle and knock him to the ground. "Yes, this is a nightly occurrence. Sometimes Ivanca joins them, but it seems she wasn't quite up to brawling tonight." Esteban sighs, almost wistfully, and studies the fallen half-orc to ensure that he won't need any sort of healing. The orc groans and rolls to his feet with a helping hand from the captain. He seems just fine, so Esteban saves his energy for when it might be better needed.

"That was a good time," Svierk says through a smile, hardly even winded. "Gid, you need to watch your weight. I'm not saying that you need to lose any, but you just need to be aware of how opponents can use your weight against you." Gidror nods, smacking a fist to his chest in some orcish sign of respect. "Maz–my wonderful coxswain–" She says the words with a grimace. "Why did you allow yourself to be taken out so easily?"

The dragonborn shrugs, looking from Billi and straight to Finn. "I'm afraid different matters were on my mind. I apologize, captain."

Svierk shrugs and steps up onto the railing of the sterncastle. "Iron Zeppelin!" She calls, gathering the attention that was already directly on her. Ivanca practically materializes from below-deck. "For tonight, Finn will be sleeping on the floor in your quarters. Don't kill them in their sleep unless it's really funny or there's an emergency." That gains a small chuckle from both Esteban and Gidror. "We'll find a hammock and place for them eventually, but it's late, and we have a destination to approach. Clear?"

"Aye-aye!" Comes the chorus.

Esteban turns to the warlock. "Come now, Finn. I'll show you to the sleeping quarters."

While sleeping on the floor didn't sound pleasant, Finn could handle that. It would hardly be the worst thing they experienced. They were curious about what matters exactly had been on Mazirax's mind during the fight, mostly because they clearly pertained to Finn themself. At any rate, Finn could think about it on the way there. They glanced at Esteban and nodded. "Alright."

It was interesting that some members of the crew brawled every night, and certainly not a bad idea. It would make them tougher opponents, especially if they ever faced Finn in such a brawl, leading them to anticipate Finn's fighting style. Considering Finn liked to fight with magic rather than weapons most of the time, they doubted that would happen, and if it were, they would likely practice their fighting with weapons. They suspected they would almost certainly lose in a no-magic fight, but that was alright. Better for their practice, anyhow. The crew really did seem close, which was almost sweet, if not for everything they had apparently done. Finn themself was no saint, but the stories they had heard of this crew were really something else. Though it was possible they were exaggerated…

At any rate, that didn't matter at this current moment. Finn could dwell on that until their head hurt later, but right now they needed rest. Being apart of the crew was certainly different, and fascinating. They could study the crew's habits for sleeping as well now. Every little detail might be of use, so they would do their best to pay attention while seeming like they weren't. That was a skill they had gotten quite good at, as was lying. Still, they didn't want to go too far in their observation, especially so soon after boarding when everyone was suspicious of them. It annoyed Finn a bit, but it wasn't as if they were wrong at all, so Finn could hardly fault them for it. They would be stupid not to have at least a little doubt about the newcomer.

Esteban speaks quietly with Mazirax as the group moves in a small huddle towards the stern and then below deck. The short staircase stops at one level before going down to the newly-organized storage room. In the narrow hallway–Mazirax and Gidror barely being able to slide through–there are three doors. One is the washroom, full-plumbing, hot water, and a box of holding for everyone included thanks to Esteban's sorcery, and the other two are bunks. Billi, Ivanca, and Esteban make for one, Gidror and Mazirax pausing in the door to the other.

"Where are we going to put them?" Gidror grumbles, jabbing a thumb in Finn's direction.

"Ugh," Billi grumbles, smacking their forehead against their doorframe. "Well. How about we give them a choice?" They enunciate their words painstakingly, the exhaustion of the day clearly seeping into their tone and expression. The satyr claps twice. "Listen, do you want to stay with Maz and Gidror? Or would you like to stay with us three?"

"Our room is bigger and doesn't smell like sweat!" Esteban adds, pointing a clawed finger to the ceiling.

"Yeah, but ours isn't plagued by your shitty singing," Gidror retaliates.

Esteban actually looks offended, but before anything can come of it, Mazirax slaps a massive hand against the wood and clears his throat. "I think we're all just a little tired and stressed at the moment. Calm down. Finn, where would you like to stay?"

Well, wasn't this a doozy. Finn was not entirely sold on either room, but they supposed they had to pick one.They stood there for a few moments, debating their options. If they went with Mazirax and Gidror, there would be less people, though both of them were much bigger in size than any of the other three. And Esteban's singing was not exactly something Finn wanted to hear as they tried to sleep, whether he was shitty or not. Finn disliked hearing other people sing unless it was at a tavern or something similar. But Finn was also somewhat fastidious about their hygiene, and hearing that the one side smelled like sweat was enough to turn them off of it completely. That combined with the fact that they did not like Gidror–the feeling was clearly mutual–sealed the deal. They would rather put up with Esteban being loud than have to smell sweat and be around someone they already quite disliked.

"I'd like to stay with the three of them, thanks," Finn replies to Mazirax, gesturing the side where Esteban and the others were standing. They didn't want to delay this too long, as everyone would likely get annoyed at Finn for getting them less sleep. At least Finn would be, if the roles were reserved, and as they had realized earlier, it would be best to avoid getting any more crew members to dislike them.

Hopefully, Esteban would be quiet enough that it would allow Finn to get some decent rest, but they supposed they wouldn't know until it was too late. Either way, they'd made their choice and they would stand by it. It wouldn't be the first time they had to share a room with people they weren't overly fond of, and they doubted it would be the last, but hopefully it would at least be bearable. That was all Finn could ask.

"Fine by me," Gidror grumbles, kicking the door to his cabin open before striding in. Mazirax offers what seems to be a semi-apologetic shrug and follows his half-orc companion into the room. The heavy oak door swings shut behind them, the latch locking with a loud click. When Esteban looks back over to Billi and Ivanca should be, only to find both of them already within their hammocks. Ivanca lays mere inches away from the ceiling, her hammock strung taught from two of the beams. Esteban has to wonder how she hasn't whacked her head on the ceiling yet. Billi's curled up in their own loose hammock, which looks more like a hanging chair than anything else.

"I have a blanket you can use," Esteban pats Finn's shoulder and leads them to where the final unoccupied hammock is laying. Unlike the other two, Esteban's is a florescent purple, embroidered with gold along the seams, and much larger than the other two. From the confines of the hammock, Esteban produces a thick quilt the same shade as the hammock. "I hope the floor doesn't smell like piss and shit, and I apologize if it does." The tabaxi climbs into his own hammock, swinging it slightly with every movement.

With a few swipes of his paws, Esteban produces a golden runic symbol above his head. A simple protection ward for the ship, a routine Esteban has gotten into every night aboard the Zeppelin. With his palm, he presses the rune up, watching it float to the ceiling with widened pupils. Once it hits the wood, the runes dissipate into the structure.

"Good night then, Finn," Esteban says quietly. "I hope you sleep well."

(sorry about the brief hiatus!)

A protection rune. That made a lot of sense, considering how much harder it would be to defend the ship when all of the crew were sleeping. Though from what Finn could tell, it wouldn't do much from anything inside the ship, which was good for Finn. They did appreciate the blanket from Esteban, giving a quiet nod of thanks as they took the quilt. They tried not to wince at the mention of the smell on the floor, but perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as Finn was fearing.

At Esteban's words, Finn started to settle down on the floor. They weren't right to Esteban, but closer to them than the others. "Night," they murmured, trying to be quiet for the sake of the others in the room. Weird that cared about common courtesy like that when they were going to end up ending the lives of these people in the future. Yet for some reason they didn't want to annoy the others. Eh, they did need the crew to like them for this mission to be carried out. They couldn't exactly complete it if they were killed by the pirates first.

As they lay on the floor, their eyes began to feel heavy. This day had been a tiring one, and sleep was calling their name. Perhaps their patron would visit them in their dreams tonight.

(no worries!)

The crew of the Iron Zeppelin falls into an easy slumber. Light doesn't dare to filter through the cracks of the wooden planks, not a sound brave enough to disrupt any of the pirates' sleep. Esteban hums in is sleep, rolling over in his hammock. Ivanca is corpse-still from her place near the ceiling. Billi snores softly, a few small bells clutched tightly to their chest.

In the room over, Mazirax and Gidror breathe deeply and in unison. It's exceptionally warm in there from Mazirax's volcanic breathing and Gidror's radiating body heat. Neither of them mind, too accustomed with each other to even notice.

Moments before the sun rises, when the sky is dyed a lovely shade of lavender from the civil twilight, Svierk emerges from the captain's quarters. Her eyes are heavy and her jaw is set. Leather boots make no sound as she ascends the staircase. It's deathly quiet. With a heavy sigh, the woman climbs the netting to the crow's nest, a map and compass tucked beneath her arm. She unfurls the map across the banister, using the compass as a weight to keep it from curling. With the tip of her taloned nail, she crosses an "x" over the place they had just came from. From where her nail touched, a bleeding mark appears to match the dozens of other marks that only signaled another dead end. She scratches her head and squints. The weathervane has to be somewhere.

Finn slept like a rock that night. They did not dream, and their patron did not visit. As soon as their lids closed, everything faded to black. It was restful, at least, which was good and definitely not unwelcome. That was a relief to the eladrin warlock, slumbering away.

They awoke groggily the next morning, blinking awake slowly. For a moment they had to adjust to the scenery of the ship, missing having an actual bed rather than sleeping on the floor. They had managed to kick the blanket off during the night, being the type to be a bit restless in their sleep, despite what sort of dreams they had, tossing and turning as they slumbered. A chill was beginning to creep in from the lack of any sort of covering, and Finn grabbed the blanket back from its position nearby. They rolled their head, neck feeling uncomfortable. Their back didn't feel amazing, either. Yep, they could definitely tell that they had been sleeping on the floor. It was not the most pleasant feeling, but at least they were on the ship, making headway with their mission. They could be comfortable later.

It didn't seem as if the others were awake yet, and Finn wasn't sure what to do once they woke up. Perhaps it was still the middle of the night. The room was dark enough that it easily could have been. They supposed that they would just go back to sleep until someone else woke them up or the others woke up. They didn't want to get up and explore yet, lest they be deemed even more suspicious. They could learn the ship as they continued to stay here. For now, they wanted as much sleep as they could get before starting the next day. Finn had always been the type to prioritize their beauty sleep.

With her compass and using her nail as a ruler, Svierk maps out their next point of attention. There hasn't been any disastrous storms nor weather in the area, odd for it being an entirely coastal village… but, she also thought the same for the last three ports they plundered. This expedition is growing tedious, no longer just a joyful jaunt and treasure hunt. The Weathervane Tablet is… something of great importance. If she doesn't get her hands on it soon, it could mean the end.

Deciding that brewing alone won't help, Svierk shakes her head and rerolls the map. Her hair isn't braided, hanging loose around her lavender skin. Her signature three-pointed hat is missing as well, her twin horns jutting uncovered out of her forehead. She sighs aloud, taking a moment to feel the cool pre-sunrise air. After her brief moment, Svierk then launches herself over the side of the railing. She catches a rope and uses it to lower herself to the ground with a solid thunk. It should've awakened her crewmates. Svierk needs some conversation to jolt her out of her stressed and sleepless morning stupor.

Before Finn could fully drift off again, a loud thunk somewhere on the ship woke them up. Curse their sensitive elven ears. They had always been a bit of a light sleeper due to their impeccable hearing, but that was usually a good thing in their profession. One could never be too careful. They slowly stretched, shoulders popping a bit as they adjusted (gods, sleeping on the floor was uncomfortable), and then stood. They were still a tiny bit cold, but they supposed they would just have to deal with it.

If someone else was already clearly awake on the ship, Finn figured that meant they were okay to be awake and moving around as well. They didn't want to look suspicious this early in the game, so they merely wandered in the direction of the noise, curious. At the very least, if anyone else was confused at them for being up and about they could be honest.

As they climbed onto the deck, they took in the beautiful early morning shade of the sky. Finn didn't often wake up this early, sleeping through the night when they had the chance and striking under the cover of darkness when they did not, so seeing the world all quiet before the sunrise wasn't a regular sensation for them. They blinked after several moments, realizing that they had been looking around at the sky for too long instead of trying to find out what caused the curious thunk.

Svierk's pointed ears twitch, fascinated with the sound of unfamiliar footsteps climbing the stairs from the crew's quarters. It's far too early for any of her mates to be up and at it. Usually Svierk has to steal a few things, kick a hammock, and find a horn to honk in the center of the rooms. Well, that only leaves Finn. With a sigh, Svierk combs her fingers through her hair and leans up against the main mast. She had anticipated at least another few minutes of solitude, but now she has to sacrifice that. If she disappears the second the new employee surfaces, what impression could that possibly leave? Surely not a good one.

Tucking her search for the Weathervane Tablet deep into the back of her mind, she crosses her arms and stares off the rail of the ship. The ocean is lavender with the wisteria skies. Svierk has always enjoyed the color purple–calming, something from memories buried.

As a breeze flutters through her hair, the door at the top of the staircase creaks. "Good morning, Finn," she says quietly, turned away from the warlock. "Pleasant dreams?" She inquires, keeping her eyes locked on the rolling waves decorating the horizon. She supposes she might look odd missing her long, signature braid and leather tricorne. Her eyes are tired; her smirk is sluggish; her fingers are tapping rhythms onto her biceps. Not everybody sees her like this.

It was a bit disarming to see the captain like this, so early in the morning. Though to be fair, Finn hadn't seen her much even with her regular attire, so it was possible that she just didn't feel like plaiting her hair or wearing her fancy captain hat today. At any rate, that wasn't what it felt like. She felt more…unguarded, more open. Though Finn doubted she felt open enough to just share any secrets with them, but still. This felt different than yesterday, and, for the first time since first seeing her, Finn was struck by just how beautiful she was. Without all of the trappings that she had worn yesterday, some of the edge was taken off of her stare. The lavender lighting only served to further soften her features, lending her a warm glow that was only possible during the early morning hours. Waking up so early this morning seemed to be worth it so far.

The only real difference in Finn's appearance from the day before was that they had taken their hair out of its half-up style. It was too short to really do anything else with, so they had ditched the half ponytail in favor of letting their hair hang loose around their ears, barely reaching their chin in length. They mostly just hoped that the lavender palette of the sky didn't clash with their fiery coloring.

Though they shouldn't get distracted by the splendor of the early morning and its way of softening everything in sight. They did have a mission to fulfill, and every move had to be towards their end goal, however long it took. At her question, Finn couldn't help but a snort a little. It wasn't as if she knew the subject of their dreams. Usually Finn didn't have any, and when they did it was either Finn's patron's way of speaking to them, or something more akin to a nightmare. Finn preferred it when they didn't dream. Even their happiest dreams were more confusing than fulfilling.

"Slept like a rock," Finn answered, blinking out of their early morning trance. Perhaps it was the tiredness from not sleeping in as much as usual. Sleepiness led to sloppiness, and that was something Finn could not afford. Maybe it was better to miss the lilac dreamland and wake after the sun. The purple lighting made everything feel hazy and soft, almost like a dream itself. Finn would have to actively work not to let the dreaminess get the best of them until they awoke more fully. "And yourself?"

Svierk turns, her arms crossed over her chest. It's quite chilly, the sun yet to warm the ocean with the day's light, but she's unaffected due to the infernal blood coursing through her veins. Her parents had been imps, living deep within the mountains next to a Dwarven village. The sunrises there were amber rather than violet, dying the fields and mountains in blood instead of ink. Svierk prefers the ocean to mountains. She can't be cornered and killed when there's nothing but open sea in all directions.

"Hm," She hums, allowing her head to fall back as the very first ray of golden light slices through the lavender skies. "I didn't sleep," she answers truthfully. For the entirety of the night she was translating plundered scrolls and crafting the next plan of action. The Weathervane Tablet has evaded her for nearly three years now, and the novelty of her voyage is wearing thin. She's been growing impatient. Impatience will get her killed. "There's far too much work to do to prioritize sleep."

It feels odd speaking with the newcomer in the isolation of the daybreak. Normally there's activity from all corners of the ship as the seven of them race to finish their tasks, getting distracted and a little violent every few minutes. The air feels much more still than the afternoon. Svierk isn't sure if it's easier or harder to breathe. "Tell me, Finn, how long were you working alone before this?" She finally breaks her stare with the horizon and turns to the warlock, noting pleasantly how their hair seems to glow in the first shreds of dawn.

As the first rays of sunrise cut through the air, Finn once again understood why people seemed to extol the virtues of sunrises and sunsets. They had seen plenty of the latter, but the former was what they had heard several people say was superior. Finn wasn't sure about that, as the evening air seemed to be warmer and more inviting than the crisp air of early morning, but there was still something to be said about the beauty.

It was only their second day aboard the ship, but Finn wondered if speaking this early with the captain would ever feel normal, assuming they awoke early enough to do this again. Finn put aside the thought, not wanting to think too much about speaking to the others aboard the ship or growing close with them. They had one job to do, and they would do it. Actually letting these people in was not part of the job description. However, it would be somewhat uncomfortable for them both to just stand in silence, so Finn was not surprised that Svierk was trying to make conversation. It wasn't unwelcome, though. If anything, Finn would say it was pleasant, or at the very least, bearable. Though Svierk was as hard for them to read as ever. They vastly preferred people whose expressions made their every thought clear, but in Finn's profession those sort of people were few and far between. One didn't last long if they didn't know how to hide their emotions.

Finn wasn't sure if they would have immediately pegged Svierk as an insomniac, but it explained why she was awake so early. Surely no one wanted to up before the sun if they could help it. Finn was just too damn curious for their own good. As she spoke, Finn did notice she had a conviction about her, though that was obvious from the moment they had first set eyes on her. She was on a mission of her own, whatever it may be. She had a fire in her eyes that only those looking to accomplish something did.

Why did people always want to ask Finn about themself? They supposed it was a natural part of getting to know someone, and this crew really thought that Finn was one of them. Well, that they would be eventually since several of those on the crew still didn't seem to like or trust them. They would have to answer, but as they thought about it, they honestly weren't entirely sure of the answer. Did they start when they took small jobs before leaving home or after they had officially become a full-time mercenary? They had always been self-sufficient, even from a young age Finn had valued independence.

"For a long, long time," Finn admits, scratching at the back of their neck. "Even as a kid I wanted to be independent, so I started doing small tasks for pay. Things like cleaning or delivering small packages or whatnot. I have worked with other people before, but it was on and off. Guess I never really found the ones that I clicked with." They shrugged nonchalantly. "Did you always know that you wanted to be a pirate?" They weren't sure where that question came from, but they found they were suddenly curious. They didn't want to be the only one sharing here.

She listens to Finn for a moment, taking into account their syntax, diction, and tone to fully analyze the depth of the sentences. The analyzation of simple small talk was an unexpected skill Svierk picked up over her years on the high seas. She's been able to catch plenty of rats and bastards from just listening. She's had them all killed before they could even initiate their nefarious schemes. An independent crew member could be dangerous–especially a new one who doesn't quite care to share shady details from their past. Well, Svierk can't really expect them to open up if she pries. It's a waiting game. And it's one Svierk intends to win.

Has she always wished to be a pirate? No, the simple answer is no. As a child, she dreamed of following in her grandmother's footsteps, to join the guard, to fight for a cause, to protect others without abandon. Her parents had been concerned for her. No child should be so willing to put their life on the line from such a young age. However, the whole savior arc never lasted too long. She had been twelve when her life changed for the worse. When the ground crumbled and the temples collapsed and hell rose up from the cracks dividing the earthen crust. She can't protect what's already dead.

"Well, at first I wanted to be a dragon," she answers with a shrug and slow stride towards the warlock. It's not quite a lie. "However, I don't have the wings nor spit fire capabilities." She smiles at that, an impish thing that reaches her eyes. "I chose the next best thing. Pirating comes with many benefits. Terrorizing, stealing, hoarding, plundering, voyaging without a single material tie in the world." She lists the options out on her fingers. There's a duo of rune-embedded silver rings on all of her digits. Twenty different spells she's stolen from her years on the sea. Well, save for the one at the base of her left ring finger. Svierk didn't steal that one. "A regular trade job wouldn't suit my adventurous nature, would it?"

Finn should have expected as much from her answer. Finn themself had wanted to be a magic-user when they were a child, casting magic left and right, which they were able to attain. But for all their research, the one thing they had failed to do was consult other warlocks before calling upon a patron to make a bargain with. They had wanted freedom, and ended up walking into more machinations. Though of course they had known that was a possibility at the time, though there were many more factors at play than just Finn's thirst for knowledge. At this point, Finn had realized that they would likely never be free of other people's schemes, so they might as well stand to gain something from doing others' dirty work. If that was to be their role, they would make sure to profit from it, and profit they did. Just like this venture.

However, Svierk truly seemed to be free, or at least compared to most of the people Finn had associated with she was. Many of Finn's acquaintances had debts to settle or a family to support, ties that bound them in place and wouldn't allow them to truly adventure. And as much as Finn wandered and adventured and learned, they knew that they could never fully be free of all of their ties either. Once again, they realized that their mind was wandering too far out of the realm of the conversation, trying to get themself back on topic.

Pirating did sound nice. Though even Svierk couldn't avoid having ties and being involved with others' schemes, or Finn wouldn't be here. Even if it was just out of fear, others would always want to use you for something. Still, Svierk was different from a lot of people that Finn had met. She truly did seem to have an adventurous spirit, like she claimed. But there was something deeper about her, something fascinating that Finn couldn't quite put their finger on. They wanted to know what she knew.

"I suppose not," Finn agreed with her, a small smile spreading onto their delicate fae features. "There is something to be said about the freedom that comes with being a pirate. Although being a dragon would certainly be an exciting prospect. I know that I've wanted to use magic from a young age myself, which is something that did come to fruition."

(oh my god I'm so so sorry its been this long. I've been grinding hard on some special limited time events for the past 2 weeks and i haven't had the time to get out a quality response for this. I promise im not abandoning this, I just consider this a high-quality rp and I need to set aside a good chunk of time to get out a good response akjfksk I'll try my hardest to be much more active)

Svierk smiles softly, her lips closed and a small twinkle reaching her eyes. She remembered the way her grandmother would describe the beautiful golden dragons that she used to see as a child, their golden wings not unlike the shade of Finn's hair in the morning sun. It's the dawns like this that cause nostalgia to swarm Svierk's senses and drawn her in memories. If she squints, she can almost see her twin uncles laughing in the sunrise.

Her village used to be the village of the first light, swarmed with devils and angels alike. They lived within the snow-capped mountains, a sweltering caldera a stark contrast to the frigid air of the surface. There had been skylights, slivers for vents that allowed them to watch the rising sun in the east. There had been lilac and amber temples, clergy who would always give little tiefling girls fruit from the surface whenever they asked. Fruit tastes much better below ground.

It's funny how she wound up a pirate when she once wanted to be as noble and selfless as her grandmother. Motivations change. Lives change. Situations change. Svierk is glad none of the fruit-giving priests are alive today to see what she had become. The daybreak always leaves a sickly sweet taste in the back of her throat. It tastes like apples and berries.

"Well, I'm glad that you managed to fulfill your childhood dreams," she says smoothly, taking one step forward and ducking her head to be right in Finn's face. Her pointed nose is barely an inch from the warlock's, the warm heat radiating from them borderline pleasant. When she speaks next, her voice is low and husky. "That makes one of us." She punctuated her sentence with a smirk before stepping back and uncrossing her arms. Below deck, the bustling of the crew echoes. "Now, if you don't mind me, I have to get ready for the morning." She turns, maroon hair swirling around her shoulders, and she disappears through the opposie door to her quarters.

(don't worry about it dude! it's all good :))

As Svierk got closer, Finn found themself frozen, unable to look away from the captivating stare of the pirate in front of them. It had been a while since they had been that close to someone, since they had few companions and typically fought at more of a distance due to their magical abilities. It wasn't unpleasant, though they didn't want to admit that. Something about the way she spoke sent shivers up Finn's spine–or was it her words? It wasn't as if being trapped within a web of schemes and machinations of both their patron and those around them was Finn's childhood dream, though of course everything had been simpler then. They hadn't exactly wanted to be a mercenary as a child, so they had really only fulfilled that dream in the broadest sense possible. At least their younger self would respect their current self, of that they were sure.

The moment seemed to stretch longer, with Finn's mind torn between the closeness of the two of them and ruminating on that statement. Though soon enough, Svierk leaned back and then left to her quarters. For several moments, Finn merely stood in place, mind whirring at top speed as they thought back to their childhood. It certainly hadn't been an easy one, with their playful antics quickly turning into more serious enterprises and a need to escape their home. They had not had the loving parents that they had wished for, instead practically fending for themself by the time they were old enough to get any sort of job.

After a bit, Finn shook it off. They didn't need to dwell on the past; now was not the time nor the place. They glanced back at the sunrise, seeing how it tinted the world in bright, rosy shades with a small smile before heading back belowdecks. They might as well get ready for the day themself, having only come above deck to investigate the noise. They had to stay focused. Just because they were able to catch Svierk off guard in the morning did not make her any less of an enemy. They had to remember that. No matter how nice or unguarded or relatable Finn found the crew, that would not waver them in their course. They had come here for one thing and one thing only, and they would complete their mission. Nothing would stop them from that goal.