10-27-2017, 10:32 PM
It was a clear midnight. As the night slid into cold gales and icy seas, the warped clouds spread over the sky slowly lowered until they were tucked into thick, sweeping folds of darkness, all of it touched with the white specks of coolly burning stars. A shimmer like emerald-green electricity sparked tantalizingly over the white clefts of icebergs, crevices and fissures crusted over with salt reminiscent of the snowy world Jade Harley had left behind.
In numerous places the sundeck was stippled with crystalline dew, paper lanterns swaying faintly overhead like dozens of fireflies flashing and spinning among the limbs of trees. Purplish draperies smoothed over with the shadows of dusk shifted and shone as brightly as the warm orange-yellow of a hearth’s glow, dainty cloth butterflies fluttering in the faux sunshine. Women clad in frothy, wide-sweeping dresses coasted across the dance floor, their hair adorned with blossoms and soft metal circlets. Seemingly everywhere, darting beneath tablecloths and exchanging sweets on the sly, children with freckled impish noses and curled hair pranced cheerfully about in the well-lit twilight. Men sitting up proper upon barrels of ale smoked from long pipes and tugged at their overgrown beards, commenting upon sensible things such as the weather and the state of their familial assets.
This celebration was unlike anything Jade had ever seen— there was dancing, sampling of warm, juice-dribbling pies and orchard preserves stuffed with sweet jams, and common festival competitions such as pin the tail on the Wampa and whack-a-basilisk. A voluptuous chorus of sweet, trickling notes ran through the minds and hearts gathered over the deck, eddying from one place to another as surely as the ocean waves down below.
Despite the chatter of the party around her, Jade sagged against the table she and Rebecca had claimed as their own, her dark hair spilling over her face and the white table cloth in an absolute riot of curls. After the rough night she’d had, it was a colossal effort to even keep her eyes open. A band played up on the stage with a stringy-tuned instrument-- not unlike a banjo -- and the rare, but soulful whistling of a flute, bodies swaying gaily to the melody and sheltered beneath the canopy of the stars.
Espera, Montes, and Kelvin had apparently been spared the task of performing this night, though Jade had yet to see them all in one place since talking with Kelvin that morning. The man had taken one look at her face and known something was up, his eyes widening in concern and making Jade feel about ten times worse than she already did. Still, she refused his offer to let her return to her room while he looked after Rebecca— Jade refused to let the Little Sister become a burden, able to be passed along to others like a bag of contraband, so she’d powered through and made it through the day.
Now, if only she could stay awake!
Voices came from behind a weft of foliage thick with lupines and lusciously red poppies; Jade couldn’t help but pay attention to them, unwilling as she was. A trio of persons chattered over beside a table laden high with finger foods, their collectively baleful stink eye directed at a lovey-dovey pair wrapped around each other on the dance floor. One, a bird-nosed woman with reddish piebald skin, continually dabbed at her cheeks and throat with a handkerchief. It was as if she simply could not endure the thought of two people being happily in love.
“I just cannot fathom what she sees in him,” bird woman crowed, clutching at her aristocratically pointed chin. “That Deborah Jones should have chosen my son to wed— he has the loveliest coop of chickens, selected directly from Minas Tirth soil. Prime-summoned. Brilliant in pies.”
“Now, Mrs. Pigeonbrew—“
One of her companions ventured to butt in on her tirade but was soundly cut off. “And look at her now! Cavorting about with that— that farm boy!”
The impressively mustachioed man who had attempted to speak, a gentleman named Mr. Cline, sighed before tipping a bit more tobacco into his pipe. Mrs. Pigeonbrew was always on about those chickens of hers, wasn’t she? By golly, he couldn’t see anything about them that was so special. They were a little on the bony side, all feathers and no plumpness. Their gizzards weren't even that healthy, mucking about with the poor birds' digestion and such. And that flighty son of hers! Rumors were circulating, perhaps around this very party, that he had spent an evening with an elvish boy rather than the good stout human lad who had been after his hand since last spring’s harvest festival, and by golly would that make for juicy gossip come Sunday morn—
Something brushed lightly against his shoulder in passing, a touch of what felt like a thousand winters’ ice creeping up his arm in an almost painful numbing sensation during that brief span of contact. The man shuddered and shrugged inside of his light tan jerkin, glaring after the hooded stranger who had collided with him as they wandered past, clearly en route for the dancing grounds.
“Excuse you,” Cline bit out, rubbing agitatedly at his chilled arm.
His face then screwed up in confusion. The tart redberry wine had loosened his tongue, but certainly not his senses. He didn’t recognize whoever the person was, clad all in dark clothing as they were with a ratty hood tied fast around their neck. What seemed to be some sort of grotesquely grey mask concealed their face; perhaps they were an entertainer?
No matter. He turned his face to regard Mrs. Pigeonbrew, her lips flecked with spittle as she prattled on about the unwise decisions of youngsters these days, when the flute-blowing and banjo-stringing unexpectedly fell away, replaced with an enormous, high-pitched shriek of POOM-FOOM-POOM.
All cheery activity ground to a halt. The women stopped dancing, the children ceased playing, and the men set down their pipes for a moment’s pause. Slowly, as if by gravitational force, all eyes swiveled towards where the band had stopped playing— and, by extension, to the spectacle breaking out over the sky.
The crackle of fireworks blasting across the sky, combined with the vibrant flares of color, was what finally roused the musicians on stage from their stupor. The tiny traveling band played its heart out, notes swelling and stuttering as delightfully as a heartthrob.
Like Mr. Cline, Jade stared up at the sparkling display in open wonder, but was briefly distracted by something that appeared out of the corner of her eye. It was, in fact, the same hooded person who had bumped shoulders with Cline mere seconds ago. The figure appeared like a thin siphon of coal smoke etched between the well-dressed dancers, tall and sketchily limber with lengthened evening shades clinging to its skinny frame.
Much to Jade’s surprise, her telekinetic sense couldn’t get a lock on the person’s position, the space that it occupied seeming empty and void much like a narrow crawlspace between the stars. Her brain continued to grasp at the figure, but it was as fruitless as trying to scoop black oil out from water. If it were not for her eyes, Jade would have had no idea a person was standing there.
It was particularly odd, the mask which the hidden personage wore, something Jade noticed as its head inclined towards her. It very nearly glowed, this mask— not quite wood and not quite metal, but as something wrought from an ancient bone might under the torchlight of a mausoleum. The creased shades upon it appeared to lean and stretch, extending into deep, unearthly grooves along its smiling cheeks. Black shadow crawling like bracken warped along the smooth, almost reptilian imitation of skin, golden-yellow candlelight cresting in various places about the person’s features. It sent shivers down her spine, the dog-eared girl curving into herself to ward off the chill.
Shaking her head roughly, Jade huffed through her nose as if attempting to expel a foul odor. "You're tired and seeing things," she chided herself, frowning at her own silliness, "That person's obviously got a pretty serious skin condition and you're over here being a total butt-face about it! It's nothing!"
Still, Jade grabbed her glass of water and looked towards where she had last seen the figure standing, feigning a casual glance-over as she tipped the glass to her lips. This whole charade didn't go nearly as smoothly as she would have liked, however, and Jade almost chipped a tooth from smacking her mouth too ardently against the glass, letting loose a small yelp of 'ow!' and a string of muttered curses.
"Jade! Are you okay?" Rebecca cried, appearing at the most inopportune of moments like some kind of reverse fairy godmother.
"Fine! Just whacked myself in the face," grumbled Jade, clutching at her possibly split lip and glaring at the glass that had betrayed her. She noticed Kelvin hovering over Rebecca's shoulder and started, promptly forgetting all about the weird person in the mask. "Oh! Hey Kelvin!"
Leaning forward, the muscled musician cast her mouth a critical look. Predictably, he completely ignored her greeting. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Jade removed her hand from over her mouth, grimacing a little at the slight sting the change in pressure brought on. She licked the front of her teeth, already picturing the ugly bruise that would form. "Bleugch. My pride really took the fall here, if anything. Don't worry, guys. It'll heal!"
Kelvin nodded, seeming appeased. "If you say so, Miss Harley. There was something I meant to ask you-- I'm very lucky Rebecca here found me and led me to you, otherwise I might have never located you. Are you ready to go?"
"Go?" echoed Rebecca. She glanced between the pair of them worriedly, seeming particularly lost as she hugged Becquerel's neck where he lay sprawled over the planks. Kelvin turned to look at her just as Jade did, the very picture of adults talking over the heads of children to keep them content. Even Bec seemed worried, his ears standing rigidly atop his head.
Jade could have smacked herself. How could she have forgotten to tell Rebecca about Kelvin's plan? Deciding to play damage control, Jade crouched down in front of the Little Sister and hurried to explain, her expression bright despite the apologetic twinge to her words.
"Just for a little bit. I'm gonna go investigate something reeeeeeal quick and then I'll be right back here with you!"
The Little Sister blinked, her yellow eyes wide. "But I... do you have to? I don't want to be alone..."
"You won't be alone, Rebecca, because I will be with you!" Kelvin boomed, smiling broadly. "And Montes and Espera, too, of course."
Voice filled with her sincerity, Jade nodded. "It'll be alright, 'Becca. Promise."
Rebecca's bottom lip wobbled a bit, nearly sending Jade into full-on cardiac arrest as she floundered on unfamiliar emotional ground, but she eventually nodded in acceptance. A quiet sigh of relief heaved through Jade, the teen reaching out to ruffle Rebecca's hair fondly.
"Excellent!" Kelvin rubbed his big hands together, looking to Jade in obvious satisfaction. "Now, all you have to do is take the crew stairwell over beside that table, go down as far as you can go, and then you'll find yourself in..."
As he continued speaking, Jade couldn't help but notice the way Rebecca was watching him. Her eyebrows had a tiny worried crease between them, her hands digging furiously into Bec's fur as she seemed to scrutinize Kelvin's words, his brilliantly white smile, and the subtlest gestures he made whilst explaining what Jade needed to do. She looked supremely concerned. For a moment, Jade wondered if she really was the best decision maker in this situation or not.
In numerous places the sundeck was stippled with crystalline dew, paper lanterns swaying faintly overhead like dozens of fireflies flashing and spinning among the limbs of trees. Purplish draperies smoothed over with the shadows of dusk shifted and shone as brightly as the warm orange-yellow of a hearth’s glow, dainty cloth butterflies fluttering in the faux sunshine. Women clad in frothy, wide-sweeping dresses coasted across the dance floor, their hair adorned with blossoms and soft metal circlets. Seemingly everywhere, darting beneath tablecloths and exchanging sweets on the sly, children with freckled impish noses and curled hair pranced cheerfully about in the well-lit twilight. Men sitting up proper upon barrels of ale smoked from long pipes and tugged at their overgrown beards, commenting upon sensible things such as the weather and the state of their familial assets.
This celebration was unlike anything Jade had ever seen— there was dancing, sampling of warm, juice-dribbling pies and orchard preserves stuffed with sweet jams, and common festival competitions such as pin the tail on the Wampa and whack-a-basilisk. A voluptuous chorus of sweet, trickling notes ran through the minds and hearts gathered over the deck, eddying from one place to another as surely as the ocean waves down below.
Despite the chatter of the party around her, Jade sagged against the table she and Rebecca had claimed as their own, her dark hair spilling over her face and the white table cloth in an absolute riot of curls. After the rough night she’d had, it was a colossal effort to even keep her eyes open. A band played up on the stage with a stringy-tuned instrument-- not unlike a banjo -- and the rare, but soulful whistling of a flute, bodies swaying gaily to the melody and sheltered beneath the canopy of the stars.
Espera, Montes, and Kelvin had apparently been spared the task of performing this night, though Jade had yet to see them all in one place since talking with Kelvin that morning. The man had taken one look at her face and known something was up, his eyes widening in concern and making Jade feel about ten times worse than she already did. Still, she refused his offer to let her return to her room while he looked after Rebecca— Jade refused to let the Little Sister become a burden, able to be passed along to others like a bag of contraband, so she’d powered through and made it through the day.
Now, if only she could stay awake!
Voices came from behind a weft of foliage thick with lupines and lusciously red poppies; Jade couldn’t help but pay attention to them, unwilling as she was. A trio of persons chattered over beside a table laden high with finger foods, their collectively baleful stink eye directed at a lovey-dovey pair wrapped around each other on the dance floor. One, a bird-nosed woman with reddish piebald skin, continually dabbed at her cheeks and throat with a handkerchief. It was as if she simply could not endure the thought of two people being happily in love.
“I just cannot fathom what she sees in him,” bird woman crowed, clutching at her aristocratically pointed chin. “That Deborah Jones should have chosen my son to wed— he has the loveliest coop of chickens, selected directly from Minas Tirth soil. Prime-summoned. Brilliant in pies.”
“Now, Mrs. Pigeonbrew—“
One of her companions ventured to butt in on her tirade but was soundly cut off. “And look at her now! Cavorting about with that— that farm boy!”
The impressively mustachioed man who had attempted to speak, a gentleman named Mr. Cline, sighed before tipping a bit more tobacco into his pipe. Mrs. Pigeonbrew was always on about those chickens of hers, wasn’t she? By golly, he couldn’t see anything about them that was so special. They were a little on the bony side, all feathers and no plumpness. Their gizzards weren't even that healthy, mucking about with the poor birds' digestion and such. And that flighty son of hers! Rumors were circulating, perhaps around this very party, that he had spent an evening with an elvish boy rather than the good stout human lad who had been after his hand since last spring’s harvest festival, and by golly would that make for juicy gossip come Sunday morn—
Something brushed lightly against his shoulder in passing, a touch of what felt like a thousand winters’ ice creeping up his arm in an almost painful numbing sensation during that brief span of contact. The man shuddered and shrugged inside of his light tan jerkin, glaring after the hooded stranger who had collided with him as they wandered past, clearly en route for the dancing grounds.
“Excuse you,” Cline bit out, rubbing agitatedly at his chilled arm.
His face then screwed up in confusion. The tart redberry wine had loosened his tongue, but certainly not his senses. He didn’t recognize whoever the person was, clad all in dark clothing as they were with a ratty hood tied fast around their neck. What seemed to be some sort of grotesquely grey mask concealed their face; perhaps they were an entertainer?
No matter. He turned his face to regard Mrs. Pigeonbrew, her lips flecked with spittle as she prattled on about the unwise decisions of youngsters these days, when the flute-blowing and banjo-stringing unexpectedly fell away, replaced with an enormous, high-pitched shriek of POOM-FOOM-POOM.
All cheery activity ground to a halt. The women stopped dancing, the children ceased playing, and the men set down their pipes for a moment’s pause. Slowly, as if by gravitational force, all eyes swiveled towards where the band had stopped playing— and, by extension, to the spectacle breaking out over the sky.
The crackle of fireworks blasting across the sky, combined with the vibrant flares of color, was what finally roused the musicians on stage from their stupor. The tiny traveling band played its heart out, notes swelling and stuttering as delightfully as a heartthrob.
Like Mr. Cline, Jade stared up at the sparkling display in open wonder, but was briefly distracted by something that appeared out of the corner of her eye. It was, in fact, the same hooded person who had bumped shoulders with Cline mere seconds ago. The figure appeared like a thin siphon of coal smoke etched between the well-dressed dancers, tall and sketchily limber with lengthened evening shades clinging to its skinny frame.
Much to Jade’s surprise, her telekinetic sense couldn’t get a lock on the person’s position, the space that it occupied seeming empty and void much like a narrow crawlspace between the stars. Her brain continued to grasp at the figure, but it was as fruitless as trying to scoop black oil out from water. If it were not for her eyes, Jade would have had no idea a person was standing there.
It was particularly odd, the mask which the hidden personage wore, something Jade noticed as its head inclined towards her. It very nearly glowed, this mask— not quite wood and not quite metal, but as something wrought from an ancient bone might under the torchlight of a mausoleum. The creased shades upon it appeared to lean and stretch, extending into deep, unearthly grooves along its smiling cheeks. Black shadow crawling like bracken warped along the smooth, almost reptilian imitation of skin, golden-yellow candlelight cresting in various places about the person’s features. It sent shivers down her spine, the dog-eared girl curving into herself to ward off the chill.
Shaking her head roughly, Jade huffed through her nose as if attempting to expel a foul odor. "You're tired and seeing things," she chided herself, frowning at her own silliness, "That person's obviously got a pretty serious skin condition and you're over here being a total butt-face about it! It's nothing!"
Still, Jade grabbed her glass of water and looked towards where she had last seen the figure standing, feigning a casual glance-over as she tipped the glass to her lips. This whole charade didn't go nearly as smoothly as she would have liked, however, and Jade almost chipped a tooth from smacking her mouth too ardently against the glass, letting loose a small yelp of 'ow!' and a string of muttered curses.
"Jade! Are you okay?" Rebecca cried, appearing at the most inopportune of moments like some kind of reverse fairy godmother.
"Fine! Just whacked myself in the face," grumbled Jade, clutching at her possibly split lip and glaring at the glass that had betrayed her. She noticed Kelvin hovering over Rebecca's shoulder and started, promptly forgetting all about the weird person in the mask. "Oh! Hey Kelvin!"
Leaning forward, the muscled musician cast her mouth a critical look. Predictably, he completely ignored her greeting. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Jade removed her hand from over her mouth, grimacing a little at the slight sting the change in pressure brought on. She licked the front of her teeth, already picturing the ugly bruise that would form. "Bleugch. My pride really took the fall here, if anything. Don't worry, guys. It'll heal!"
Kelvin nodded, seeming appeased. "If you say so, Miss Harley. There was something I meant to ask you-- I'm very lucky Rebecca here found me and led me to you, otherwise I might have never located you. Are you ready to go?"
"Go?" echoed Rebecca. She glanced between the pair of them worriedly, seeming particularly lost as she hugged Becquerel's neck where he lay sprawled over the planks. Kelvin turned to look at her just as Jade did, the very picture of adults talking over the heads of children to keep them content. Even Bec seemed worried, his ears standing rigidly atop his head.
Jade could have smacked herself. How could she have forgotten to tell Rebecca about Kelvin's plan? Deciding to play damage control, Jade crouched down in front of the Little Sister and hurried to explain, her expression bright despite the apologetic twinge to her words.
"Just for a little bit. I'm gonna go investigate something reeeeeeal quick and then I'll be right back here with you!"
The Little Sister blinked, her yellow eyes wide. "But I... do you have to? I don't want to be alone..."
"You won't be alone, Rebecca, because I will be with you!" Kelvin boomed, smiling broadly. "And Montes and Espera, too, of course."
Voice filled with her sincerity, Jade nodded. "It'll be alright, 'Becca. Promise."
Rebecca's bottom lip wobbled a bit, nearly sending Jade into full-on cardiac arrest as she floundered on unfamiliar emotional ground, but she eventually nodded in acceptance. A quiet sigh of relief heaved through Jade, the teen reaching out to ruffle Rebecca's hair fondly.
"Excellent!" Kelvin rubbed his big hands together, looking to Jade in obvious satisfaction. "Now, all you have to do is take the crew stairwell over beside that table, go down as far as you can go, and then you'll find yourself in..."
As he continued speaking, Jade couldn't help but notice the way Rebecca was watching him. Her eyebrows had a tiny worried crease between them, her hands digging furiously into Bec's fur as she seemed to scrutinize Kelvin's words, his brilliantly white smile, and the subtlest gestures he made whilst explaining what Jade needed to do. She looked supremely concerned. For a moment, Jade wondered if she really was the best decision maker in this situation or not.
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Gamzee Makara Wrote:S’aight. After all, dogs have a tendency to motherfuckin’ bite.