08-05-2017, 11:48 PM
Aboard Le Dauphin at around noontime, the surging mass of passengers turned as one from the shoreline and, as if by some inexorable, magnetic force, strained to see out across the saltwater horizon. The ship groaned as it pulled out to sea bow-first, slicing easily as a knife through butter over tranquil waters, its colossal displacement causing a swell to build within the harbor that nearly wrenched several lesser vessels from their mooring cables.
Despite this near accident, the ocean-liner was nevertheless able to carry on with its nautical journey. The propellers picked up speed, increasing the momentum of the steel colossus as it stood against the wind and pushed on toward far-off wonders. Slowly but surely, the voyage began.
The rumors were incredible, wild, and completely manic. There was no good reason for it, as that sort of situation tended to go. The cabins were clean, the linens were fresh, the walkways were polished with so much wax that the grain of wood glimmered through like flecks of gold dust, and the crew was impeccably dressed; but none of these good things could have prevented the whispering.
“They say this boat is haunted,” said the more seasoned travellers, drifting along the outside walkways despite the playfully stubborn breezes that battled for dominance with their clothes. “One time an entire family clan vanished clear into the night without so much as a nose hair left behind on their pillows. All in third class, of course, or there’d likely be more of a stir. Hey, pass me that cue-stick, mate. Your reign as Shuffleboard King has come to an end!”
A blast erupted from the ship’s horn as it moved off, signaling its departure from Costa del Sol.
After capering down the wide promenade deck and arriving at their destination, Jade was quick to turn in her god-tier robes for an almost identical dress of a much less absorbent, but slightly springy material comparable to a wetsuit. The space before them was completely thrown open to the radiant blue sky and cottony clouds above, sunshine streaming down to dapple across the saltwater pool in pale slivers of light. Becquerel was quick to flop over in a shaded sitting area littered with umbrellas and black tables, correctly determining that he was no longer beholden to take part in the day’s activities.
At the Little Sister’s insistence, Rebecca was outfitted with a floppy sunhat that looked kind of like a sunny side up egg had been squashed over her head and her usual dress, and Jade helped her into the shallowest end of the pool, grinning helplessly as the girl whooped and splashed about like a porpoise. Bubbles and swells of water cascaded everywhere as they played, and Rebecca swooped down the slide at least a billion times; only a few other passengers were also enjoying the poolside experience so soon after boarding, so they practically had the entire space to themselves.
The owl lady, who Jade still had not learned the proper name of, sat on the edge of the pool, dabbling her feet into the water with a supremely cautious manner. Unsurprisingly, her toes were much like her fingers in that they each had a wickedly hooked talon on all of their ends, the sharp nails tapping out a scritch-scratchy pattern against the pool tiles. She seemed at ease enough, though, and Jade wasn’t about to pressure someone into swimming if they didn’t want to— that would just be a dick move!— so all she did was float over from time to time to talk, answering the unfailingly recurring question of ”Who?” to the best of her ability.
“Who?”
“That’s Rebecca. We’re not related, but she’s pretty much family, if that makes sense?”
“Who?”
“Are you asking about Bec? He’s a good dog, and my best friend. Although he’s doing a spectacular job as a lifeguard right now, too. Wait. No! Bec, nooo! Don't eat that, you don't even know where it's been!”
When at last they had exhausted the fun-ness factor of the pool (or, rather, exhausted themselves,) Jade hopped out and shook herself off in a way that was befitting of the percentage of her genetic makeup that was canine, droplets of water flying every which way. Her fluffy white ears pricked upward in a show of good humor, hair still dripping and already frizzling up as it dried in the sun. “Well, that sure was fun, guys! What do you wanna do now—“
“ESPERA!”
Jade startled at the unfamiliar, bellowed word. Whirling around, she was met with the sight of a curly-haired, olive-skinned man armed with a fiddle striding across the deck toward them, the long coattails of his red velvet jacket swaying with every impatient jerk of his legs. Sweat beaded quite prominently upon his brow and made his black hair all kinky-- a combination of the heat and the thick, heat-sapping fabric of his clothes. His gaze was locked pretty firmly on Jade's owl friend, lips tugging downward in displeasure and his dark brown eyes fraught with anxious twitching.
Reaching the owl lady's side, the man paused for a moment to regain his breath, the crisp white vest locked around his torso (and under the suit-jacket!) probably not doing him any favors. He took in the dainty parasol leaned against her shoulder, her talon-tipped feet dipped casually into the pool, and then fixed beseechingly upon the clouds above.
"Espera, how many -- *huff* -- times do I have to -- *huff puff* -- tell you, you cannot wander off like this! We have to be on the stage in the dining room in nine minutes. Nine! Minutes!"
The owl woman's head tipped to the side, cautious. Her black eyes stared blandly up at him. "Who?"
"Even less than that, now! Eight minutes!" The fiddler exclaimed, his tone of voice rapidly approaching hysteria.
Despite this near accident, the ocean-liner was nevertheless able to carry on with its nautical journey. The propellers picked up speed, increasing the momentum of the steel colossus as it stood against the wind and pushed on toward far-off wonders. Slowly but surely, the voyage began.
The rumors were incredible, wild, and completely manic. There was no good reason for it, as that sort of situation tended to go. The cabins were clean, the linens were fresh, the walkways were polished with so much wax that the grain of wood glimmered through like flecks of gold dust, and the crew was impeccably dressed; but none of these good things could have prevented the whispering.
“They say this boat is haunted,” said the more seasoned travellers, drifting along the outside walkways despite the playfully stubborn breezes that battled for dominance with their clothes. “One time an entire family clan vanished clear into the night without so much as a nose hair left behind on their pillows. All in third class, of course, or there’d likely be more of a stir. Hey, pass me that cue-stick, mate. Your reign as Shuffleboard King has come to an end!”
A blast erupted from the ship’s horn as it moved off, signaling its departure from Costa del Sol.
-
After capering down the wide promenade deck and arriving at their destination, Jade was quick to turn in her god-tier robes for an almost identical dress of a much less absorbent, but slightly springy material comparable to a wetsuit. The space before them was completely thrown open to the radiant blue sky and cottony clouds above, sunshine streaming down to dapple across the saltwater pool in pale slivers of light. Becquerel was quick to flop over in a shaded sitting area littered with umbrellas and black tables, correctly determining that he was no longer beholden to take part in the day’s activities.
At the Little Sister’s insistence, Rebecca was outfitted with a floppy sunhat that looked kind of like a sunny side up egg had been squashed over her head and her usual dress, and Jade helped her into the shallowest end of the pool, grinning helplessly as the girl whooped and splashed about like a porpoise. Bubbles and swells of water cascaded everywhere as they played, and Rebecca swooped down the slide at least a billion times; only a few other passengers were also enjoying the poolside experience so soon after boarding, so they practically had the entire space to themselves.
The owl lady, who Jade still had not learned the proper name of, sat on the edge of the pool, dabbling her feet into the water with a supremely cautious manner. Unsurprisingly, her toes were much like her fingers in that they each had a wickedly hooked talon on all of their ends, the sharp nails tapping out a scritch-scratchy pattern against the pool tiles. She seemed at ease enough, though, and Jade wasn’t about to pressure someone into swimming if they didn’t want to— that would just be a dick move!— so all she did was float over from time to time to talk, answering the unfailingly recurring question of ”Who?” to the best of her ability.
“Who?”
“That’s Rebecca. We’re not related, but she’s pretty much family, if that makes sense?”
“Who?”
“Are you asking about Bec? He’s a good dog, and my best friend. Although he’s doing a spectacular job as a lifeguard right now, too. Wait. No! Bec, nooo! Don't eat that, you don't even know where it's been!”
When at last they had exhausted the fun-ness factor of the pool (or, rather, exhausted themselves,) Jade hopped out and shook herself off in a way that was befitting of the percentage of her genetic makeup that was canine, droplets of water flying every which way. Her fluffy white ears pricked upward in a show of good humor, hair still dripping and already frizzling up as it dried in the sun. “Well, that sure was fun, guys! What do you wanna do now—“
“ESPERA!”
Jade startled at the unfamiliar, bellowed word. Whirling around, she was met with the sight of a curly-haired, olive-skinned man armed with a fiddle striding across the deck toward them, the long coattails of his red velvet jacket swaying with every impatient jerk of his legs. Sweat beaded quite prominently upon his brow and made his black hair all kinky-- a combination of the heat and the thick, heat-sapping fabric of his clothes. His gaze was locked pretty firmly on Jade's owl friend, lips tugging downward in displeasure and his dark brown eyes fraught with anxious twitching.
Reaching the owl lady's side, the man paused for a moment to regain his breath, the crisp white vest locked around his torso (and under the suit-jacket!) probably not doing him any favors. He took in the dainty parasol leaned against her shoulder, her talon-tipped feet dipped casually into the pool, and then fixed beseechingly upon the clouds above.
"Espera, how many -- *huff* -- times do I have to -- *huff puff* -- tell you, you cannot wander off like this! We have to be on the stage in the dining room in nine minutes. Nine! Minutes!"
The owl woman's head tipped to the side, cautious. Her black eyes stared blandly up at him. "Who?"
"Even less than that, now! Eight minutes!" The fiddler exclaimed, his tone of voice rapidly approaching hysteria.
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Gamzee Makara Wrote:S’aight. After all, dogs have a tendency to motherfuckin’ bite.