Session 107: Luca On The Second Floor
Somewhere within the Celestial Forge there waits a renowned airship designer, waiting for a rescue.
Somewhere within the Celestial Forge there lurks a mysterious stranger, pursuing unknown ends.
Right here in the Celestial Forge there proclaims a cult leader, spouting prophecies and shooting off at the mouth and hip.
We join our brave adventurers as the battle for the right to do drugs continues...
**
Orrey eyes the remaining enemy through the balance-shaped aura of Libra, assessing the situation. "Can't let this guy become a martyr for a lost cause," he mutters to himself as he prepares to cast. "But we can't leave him standing, either."
Orrey stands tall and launches another barrage at Tacit Approval. A larger explosion than the first one splashes outwards from the target, glowing a brighter purple and grey.
A shadow next to Orrey repeats the exact same motions, making the last few attacks a whole school of fish-shaped explosions.
"Please, please, consider the greater truth!" Tacit Approval laments in Orrey's general direction, reeling from the explosions.
"The truth that YOUR TIME HAS COME AND YOU SHALL BE REBORN IN THE FIRES OF ETERNITY!"
Bast steps back, lips curling in disgust at Tacit Approval's histrionic begging. "And you're supposed to be Koehnta's chosen? I've seen actors put on a better show!"
The fuming spoils his aim, and the crossbow bolt goes sailing past Tacit Approval's ear and is lost in the flame. As he ducks, a spinning shadow ducks under Bast's arm and lands a hit square in his chest, wisps of shadow boiling off the drill.
Tacit Approval cannot help but notice no one is going to be reborn in the fires of eternity, not even the viera who is very mildly scuffed. This is made worse by the fact that a shadow subsequently drills a hole in him. The arm snaps out reflexively, to beg forgiveness and lament the state of the world today... yet nothing happens. No words leave his mouth, no message is conveyed through the passions of his blood.
From above, Linnet yells "Oh just shut up about your fire already!" and buries the suddenly-speechless priest in twin streams of ice.
Tacit Approval shuts up. And since no Raise will be coming for him, Tacit Approval shuts up forever.
"Oh, nice," Yves says approvingly, and turns into bats to return to the balcony where he was earlier, now with his backpack all tidied up again.
Isa sheathes her sword, without any obvious cause for the look of disgust on her face. She settles her expression, and looks towards the hostages.
One person raises a shaky hand. The moogle woman has selected herself as the spokesmoogle for the group. "A-are you with the hero?" she quavers.
"The who?" Isa asks.
"Nah, we were walking by and heard you could use a hand. What hero?" Bast puts on an inquisitive look.
Yves says to the enormous shadowy serpent overhead, "As always, I appreciate the backup. You know, I bet there could be a whole sport based on turning into bats and--not your style, maybe? Oh well. Think about it, if you ever wanted to pep up game nights on board."
"We... only saw them for a moment, here. When the leader was... railing on about something or other. They assured us they would be back with reinforcements to free us all." She smiles wearily. "Very dashing." The smile falters, somewhat, upon seeing the general appearances of everyone converging on the stage instead, not to mention all the bats.
Orrey looks to Yves and Linnet, then waves down to Isa. "Should we come down there?"
"Not a bad idea," Yves says to Orrey, "maybe just in case. It's not like there are hostages up here." He turns into bats one more time to get back down. Again.
The first floor door to the hallway bursts open, but the drawn sword is quickly sheathed and the half-cape is swooshed back over the shoulder. The mask, however, remains on. "An unexpected development, but no less the welcome for it. Good work, my dear friends, and please accept my profligate thanks," they say as they walk up the aisle toward the stage.
The Mysterious Stranger has arrived.
Isa's hand falls back to her sword, and her eyes narrow, but she forebears.
"Wasn't much." Bast glances at the pile of ex-cultists on the stage, then motions the crew higher up to come join them before turning back to the newcomer. "Do you know if they've got anyone else?"
"I can assure you there's no one else here to worry about, and every last innocent is unharmed." They step past Bast and offer a hand up to the moogle, taking a moment to check them for any bruises or other discomfort.
Yves rubs the back of his neck, and looks at the masked figure thoughtfully. "You have the oddest way of handling hostage negotiations," he says, as if he has not himself just summoned a giant shadowy serpentine figure who turns people into bats as his preferred approach. But of course that's not an odd approach to this kind of thing. Very normal. Taught in all the best hostage negotiation classes.
"Oh, I didn't negotiate." They resume quietly reassuring the rest of the hostages here, who are all clearly ready to exit the scene.
Linnet jogs down the stairs, speechless upon the arrival of the Stranger. "You...you have one hell of a sense of timing, friend."
"I mean, you fused all those locks so no one could get out," Yves says, half to himself, "which isn't negotiating, and I'm not sure what you were up to while we were taking care of this, but maybe it's a tactics thing." He glances over to Isa, who can presumably determine whether or not this is a tactics thing.
"Overconfidence isn't a tactic," Isa says. "What would you have done if we weren't here?"
They consider this for a moment, finger silently stroking the corner of the ceramic mask they wear. "If you weren't here, I'd have had to come back and deal with this one myself as well. Honestly, I am incredibly thankful. It was so much more efficient."
Orrey trudges back to the stairs and makes his way to join his friends.
"Worked out well, in all." Bast puts out a hand to the stranger. "Bast, of the Starfall."
Upon seeing Bast being civil, Linnet grabs Yves by the lapel and pulls him aside, hissing in a whisper. "Efficient? Efficient? They were about a minute away from setting people on fire to prove a point! You just waltz in here after fusing all the damn locks so nobody could get out and you call us "efficient"?!?"
Then she remembers it's Yves she's chewing out, lets go of his collar, and breathes deeply. "Sorry. Had to let that out and the captain kinda stole the moment. Let's go, and if this turns out to be Marquez...we're in trouble."
"I mean, I don't know from hostage negotiation," Yves whispers back to Linnet, "but I think you're making a pretty good point. Maybe they just figured they'd revive anyone who died? And, uh, pay for therapy?"
"Thanks, Yves, you're a lot of help."
The Stranger takes Bast's hand eagerly. "A pleasure indeed, Bast of the Starfall. Luca Ficarra, eighth greatest sword fighter in Ducorde, and entirely at your service."
"Oh good, it's not our target," Linnet whispers to Yves. "So I can probably chew them out later."
Isa coughs.
Linnet turns back to Luca. "And how did you get involved in this - " she waves her hands expressively - "debacle?"
Not waiting for an answer, she turns away and begins fussing over the hostages that look the most in need of fuss.
One of the hostages coughs as well, but it's the cough of someone who is dealing with the last several hours of excitement hitting them all at once.
"I was traveling through the region and came across the commotion, like as you. The situation demanded action, and I would not be found wanting." They begin guiding the hostages out, indicating that the rest of the conversation can happen once everyone is fully secured.
Bast nods and steps out ahead of the party, clearing the way with crossbow in one hand. As he pushes open a door for Luca to take the hostages through, he speaks up again: "I don't suppose you've seen a crazy engineer around here? On the young side, hair all sorts of colors, we came by here because we wanted to talk shop and heard she was headed for the Forge."
Isa brings up the rear of the group, keeping her eyes open for leftover zealots that were not efficiently dispatched.
Luca chuckles not unkindly behind the mask. "Yes, I believe that I did."
The procession out of the forge is uneventful, save for Linnet's mutterings and various sounds of woe from the hostages. Luca throws open the doors to exit the Forge to the sound of thunderous applause and raucous cheers, sounds that only intensify when the hostages appear, safe and unharmed.
They turn and spread their arms to encompass the brave adventures who risked life and limb to rescue those in need, the cheer raining down on Bast of the Starfall and his intrepid crew.
"Oh for..." Isa mutters.
The arms raise higher, and if one looks up, one can see that the banner proclaiming the Moonfire Faire is once again covering the front of the Forge, heralding a time of celebration. Luca turns back to the crowd, looks side to side, and then takes a deep bow, just as one does for the final curtain call.
Orrey walks up to Luca bowing and raising his hands for quiet, calmly but loudly saying "hey, listen!"
"We have no idea who this one is supposed to be," Orrey orates, gesturing dismissively at Luca. "They certainly did nothing to help rescue hostages." Orrey pauses, shaking his head, and looks up at the crowd. "We, the crew of the Starfall, were happy to help, and are at your service." He waves over at the party. "May we never be needed again here in Koehnta."
Luca rises back to their standing position and regards Orrey.
Orrey meets their eyes.
Yves is digging through his backpack for something.
Before they can say or do anything, though, they are joined by another person of similar fashion intent, if not design sense. Short black hair splashed through with pink and purple, wearing a pinstriped vest that warrants (yet lacks) a shirt underneath, black hiphugger jeans with a skull-festooned belt slung low on her hips, one fingerless glove, and three-inch heeled boots. "I owe you one," she says, holding her fist out to Luca, "which I guess means I owe all of you, too. Snuffed out the flame, yeah?"
"The sacred one, no. The blasphemous one, yes," replies a startled Linnet. "Isara?"
"--where did you get that belt," Yves asks, because he keeps focused on the important things in any situation.
Bast's hand falls heavily on Orrey's elbow, digging in with more force than would be apparent to a distant observer. He smiles at the newcomer, pitching his voice to carry. "Glad we could do our part to keep this day from getting darker."
"Yep," Isara Marquez says to Linnet. Yves gets a glance, and then an up-and-down, and then a toothy grin. "Well all right," she says. "Belt's from a place in Saron called Hollow. Skulls're from all over. Put 'em on myself."
The guards come and escort the hostages over to an area where warm blankets, hot tea, and who knows what sort of relaxants await. There are other people there already, receiving relatively solid care.
Orrey looks at Bast with a bit of a flush of embarrassment and wisely shuts up.
Linnet looks for an exit. Isa looks for a drink.
Yves whips out a notebook and jots down the sartorial guidance. "I have got to start learning more crafts," he mutters sidelong to Linnet.
Isara snaps her fingers. "With me," she says, brooking no discussion. Luca follows.
"...did that include us?" Linnet blinks.
Isa watches them go. "That's who we're looking for, right?"
"That's the young lady you all wanted to meet with about the airship thingy." Linnet may have misplaced her notes.
Yves is already following. "What sorts of all around, for the skulls," he asks, his notebook still out.
Luca looks over their shoulder at Bast of the Starfall, then keeps following Isara.
Bast seems to take it as an invitation whether it was intended as one or not, and moves up to keep pace with Isara, keeping quiet for now.
"C'mon, Isa, let's get out of here. Maybe we can find a drink wherever they're going." Linnet waves at the hostages and stalks off after the irritating grandstander and the weird engineer.
"Malachi here," she says, pointing at the one right by the hip tattoo peeking up over the belt line, "came from this real shithole of a place in east Cardia. Lacquered it, scuffed up the front, point of pride. This was a commission from Alejandra." She sighs wistfully. "Hope she got out of that jail after all."
Isa nods to Linnet, pacing her while silently trying to calculate where she stands in the "sword fighters of Ducorde" rankings. From her expression, she doesn't seem thrilled with her place.
Thirty minutes later...
Many bars have long, drawn-out stories about how they got their names. This is not one of them. This is a bar that doesn't even have a sign. One finds it by following the sweet-smelling smoke, and one hopes one can wash that scent out later.
Luca looks quite confident about being able to wash that scent out later. They have not touched their drink, but they have been happily engaging anyone in conversation who seems interested, even offering Orrey a friendly tip about varying one's sentence lengths to better hold a crowd's attention. (Orrey accepts the advice with confusion.)
Isa has acquired a bottle, a pair of glasses, and a Linnet.
Yves is deeply interested in skull decor techniques. He has filled multiple pages with sketches and notes already.
Isara has one boot up on the table and the other idly trying to tip a fallen ashtray right side up on the ground. "You looked at me like you wanted something," she says to Bast, "and since I'm not currently burning to death, maybe I'm feeling charitable."
(Linnet has downed two shots and unbent very slightly toward Luca. Very slightly.)
Isa empties her glass, refills, and leans in to Linnet. "They're like....Apoc with a sword."
"Well," Bast pauses for a sip of his drink, "we have a project that we wanted to compare notes on. I tinker, I can fix most things up, make them run better than new for a while if you don't mind short, I don't exactly specialize. You? Have a downright luminous reputation when it comes to engines."
"Or that guy on the train." Isa frowns. "What was his name."
"Nah, they're better with the sword than Apoc. I've seen him. Give them that much credit. The bluster, though, the sheer gall...they can match Kurt Whatsit for that, certainly."
"KURT!" Isa says, too loud.
"Kurt" Orrey mutters like a curse. He's been nursing his drink ever since it arrived, taking small sips and mostly listening.
"Can you imagine if we'd gone along with his plans?" Linnet swirls whatever horrible rotgut she's drinking and stares at it pensively.
"The captain is being modest," Yves says to Isara cheerfully. "He does amazing things with his so-called tinkering. I can juice an engine or engineer some juice, but it's not the same."
"...lucky for you I--" Isara pauses to look over at Isa, then shrugs. "Lucky for you I like four kinds of wordplay, and I might have even said those in the right order." A third of her bottle goes. "You're not up with the sun, I can tell that. More of a... night flier, was it?" she says, casting aspersions in Orrey's direction.
"I mean, we can be up with the sun, if there's something urgent. Or if I'm baking for breakfast." Linnet shrugs.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Orrey asks Isara.
"But no, nothing to do with that sort. All the way on the other end of the day, by preference." Bast smiles into his drink.
"And yet you're after some bright ideas of your own."
Linnet's eyes go very wide as she finally gets the reference. "OH. Yes, and we figured, why not fly straight for the candle?"
(She then squints into her drink.) "That was meant to be a compliment."
Orrey gives up on trying to follow the conversation and pulls out his sketchbook to sketch Luca and Isara. He hesitates before beginning. "Mind if I draw you two?"
"So. Something you might be interested in, or are you on to more exciting things these days?" Bast tips his glass, slowly swirling the liquor.
"Yep," Isara says.
By way of answer, Luca slowly removes the mask. It is a noble face, lean and sharp, but blue eyes bright and open and a quick and easy smile.
Orrey gets to work, drawing Luca both with and without the mask on.
"...that was an either/or question rather than a yes/no question, I think. But let's assume we're moving forward." Linnet shrugs.
"That was to both of you, by the way," Isara says. "Yes, I mind being drawn, thanks for not doing it," with genuine gratitude to Orrey shifting to Luca, "and yes, I'm interested in fine-tuning the Engine. You've got a ship, you've got an engineer."
"With," she adds, raising a finger.
"Them," she finishes, lightly jabbing Luca in the shoulder.
Isa's face is stone as she refills her and Linnet's glasses. (Linnet downs it.)
"Why were you fusing the locks?" Orrey asks Luca as he puts the finishing touches on the sketch.
"Hostages," Luca says. "Our villains separated themselves. Not everyone was fortunate enough to be near an exit--"
"Just some of us," Isara says with a raised hand.
"--so I ensured that they couldn't be happened upon with their captors compromised. Once the leader was defeated, a simple matter to escort the remainder free. As we did," they finish.
Bast's glass is cradled loosely in his hands as he listens, quiet for the moment.
"Efficient," Isa grudgingly acknowledges.
"Please don't go fusing anything on board. The Captain doesn't need more projects," comments Linnet.
Luca looks expectantly at the captain, waiting for the official welcome aboard.
"Then I hope you'll accept my apology for my rash words in front of the Forge." Orrey says, offering Luca the drawings.
"I think you might be in for some very interesting conversations with our smith." Bast smiles and downs the last of his drink. "Anything you'll need to wrap up here?"
"Oh gods, what's Artemicion going to make of these two..." Linnet mutters to Isa.
"Accepted, forgiven, and forgotten." Luca gladly accepts the sketches. "This is a marvelous likeness, and my awareness of how vain that makes me sound should in no way diminish my opinion of your skill."
"Your vanity was quite obvious from the get go." Orrey says, smiling.
"Nah," Isara says in response to Bast's question. "Faire's not gonna top the last two hours, that's for sure."
Linnet considers the pair. "Well, at least you'll fascinate our costume designer." She raises her glass and empties it. "To new friends and new opportunities."
"Artemicion?" Isa asks, "I want to see them in the same room as our actors." When, precisely, they became "our" actors is anyone's guess.
"Actors you'll get to know one way or another." Bast is fighting a smile as he sets down his glass and gets up. "Wait until you see the ship."
Somewhere within the Celestial Forge there lurks a mysterious stranger, pursuing unknown ends.
Right here in the Celestial Forge there proclaims a cult leader, spouting prophecies and shooting off at the mouth and hip.
We join our brave adventurers as the battle for the right to do drugs continues...
**
Orrey eyes the remaining enemy through the balance-shaped aura of Libra, assessing the situation. "Can't let this guy become a martyr for a lost cause," he mutters to himself as he prepares to cast. "But we can't leave him standing, either."
Orrey stands tall and launches another barrage at Tacit Approval. A larger explosion than the first one splashes outwards from the target, glowing a brighter purple and grey.
A shadow next to Orrey repeats the exact same motions, making the last few attacks a whole school of fish-shaped explosions.
"Please, please, consider the greater truth!" Tacit Approval laments in Orrey's general direction, reeling from the explosions.
"The truth that YOUR TIME HAS COME AND YOU SHALL BE REBORN IN THE FIRES OF ETERNITY!"
Bast steps back, lips curling in disgust at Tacit Approval's histrionic begging. "And you're supposed to be Koehnta's chosen? I've seen actors put on a better show!"
The fuming spoils his aim, and the crossbow bolt goes sailing past Tacit Approval's ear and is lost in the flame. As he ducks, a spinning shadow ducks under Bast's arm and lands a hit square in his chest, wisps of shadow boiling off the drill.
Tacit Approval cannot help but notice no one is going to be reborn in the fires of eternity, not even the viera who is very mildly scuffed. This is made worse by the fact that a shadow subsequently drills a hole in him. The arm snaps out reflexively, to beg forgiveness and lament the state of the world today... yet nothing happens. No words leave his mouth, no message is conveyed through the passions of his blood.
From above, Linnet yells "Oh just shut up about your fire already!" and buries the suddenly-speechless priest in twin streams of ice.
Tacit Approval shuts up. And since no Raise will be coming for him, Tacit Approval shuts up forever.
"Oh, nice," Yves says approvingly, and turns into bats to return to the balcony where he was earlier, now with his backpack all tidied up again.
Isa sheathes her sword, without any obvious cause for the look of disgust on her face. She settles her expression, and looks towards the hostages.
One person raises a shaky hand. The moogle woman has selected herself as the spokesmoogle for the group. "A-are you with the hero?" she quavers.
"The who?" Isa asks.
"Nah, we were walking by and heard you could use a hand. What hero?" Bast puts on an inquisitive look.
Yves says to the enormous shadowy serpent overhead, "As always, I appreciate the backup. You know, I bet there could be a whole sport based on turning into bats and--not your style, maybe? Oh well. Think about it, if you ever wanted to pep up game nights on board."
"We... only saw them for a moment, here. When the leader was... railing on about something or other. They assured us they would be back with reinforcements to free us all." She smiles wearily. "Very dashing." The smile falters, somewhat, upon seeing the general appearances of everyone converging on the stage instead, not to mention all the bats.
Orrey looks to Yves and Linnet, then waves down to Isa. "Should we come down there?"
"Not a bad idea," Yves says to Orrey, "maybe just in case. It's not like there are hostages up here." He turns into bats one more time to get back down. Again.
The first floor door to the hallway bursts open, but the drawn sword is quickly sheathed and the half-cape is swooshed back over the shoulder. The mask, however, remains on. "An unexpected development, but no less the welcome for it. Good work, my dear friends, and please accept my profligate thanks," they say as they walk up the aisle toward the stage.
The Mysterious Stranger has arrived.
Isa's hand falls back to her sword, and her eyes narrow, but she forebears.
"Wasn't much." Bast glances at the pile of ex-cultists on the stage, then motions the crew higher up to come join them before turning back to the newcomer. "Do you know if they've got anyone else?"
"I can assure you there's no one else here to worry about, and every last innocent is unharmed." They step past Bast and offer a hand up to the moogle, taking a moment to check them for any bruises or other discomfort.
Yves rubs the back of his neck, and looks at the masked figure thoughtfully. "You have the oddest way of handling hostage negotiations," he says, as if he has not himself just summoned a giant shadowy serpentine figure who turns people into bats as his preferred approach. But of course that's not an odd approach to this kind of thing. Very normal. Taught in all the best hostage negotiation classes.
"Oh, I didn't negotiate." They resume quietly reassuring the rest of the hostages here, who are all clearly ready to exit the scene.
Linnet jogs down the stairs, speechless upon the arrival of the Stranger. "You...you have one hell of a sense of timing, friend."
"I mean, you fused all those locks so no one could get out," Yves says, half to himself, "which isn't negotiating, and I'm not sure what you were up to while we were taking care of this, but maybe it's a tactics thing." He glances over to Isa, who can presumably determine whether or not this is a tactics thing.
"Overconfidence isn't a tactic," Isa says. "What would you have done if we weren't here?"
They consider this for a moment, finger silently stroking the corner of the ceramic mask they wear. "If you weren't here, I'd have had to come back and deal with this one myself as well. Honestly, I am incredibly thankful. It was so much more efficient."
Orrey trudges back to the stairs and makes his way to join his friends.
"Worked out well, in all." Bast puts out a hand to the stranger. "Bast, of the Starfall."
Upon seeing Bast being civil, Linnet grabs Yves by the lapel and pulls him aside, hissing in a whisper. "Efficient? Efficient? They were about a minute away from setting people on fire to prove a point! You just waltz in here after fusing all the damn locks so nobody could get out and you call us "efficient"?!?"
Then she remembers it's Yves she's chewing out, lets go of his collar, and breathes deeply. "Sorry. Had to let that out and the captain kinda stole the moment. Let's go, and if this turns out to be Marquez...we're in trouble."
"I mean, I don't know from hostage negotiation," Yves whispers back to Linnet, "but I think you're making a pretty good point. Maybe they just figured they'd revive anyone who died? And, uh, pay for therapy?"
"Thanks, Yves, you're a lot of help."
The Stranger takes Bast's hand eagerly. "A pleasure indeed, Bast of the Starfall. Luca Ficarra, eighth greatest sword fighter in Ducorde, and entirely at your service."
"Oh good, it's not our target," Linnet whispers to Yves. "So I can probably chew them out later."
Isa coughs.
Linnet turns back to Luca. "And how did you get involved in this - " she waves her hands expressively - "debacle?"
Not waiting for an answer, she turns away and begins fussing over the hostages that look the most in need of fuss.
One of the hostages coughs as well, but it's the cough of someone who is dealing with the last several hours of excitement hitting them all at once.
"I was traveling through the region and came across the commotion, like as you. The situation demanded action, and I would not be found wanting." They begin guiding the hostages out, indicating that the rest of the conversation can happen once everyone is fully secured.
Bast nods and steps out ahead of the party, clearing the way with crossbow in one hand. As he pushes open a door for Luca to take the hostages through, he speaks up again: "I don't suppose you've seen a crazy engineer around here? On the young side, hair all sorts of colors, we came by here because we wanted to talk shop and heard she was headed for the Forge."
Isa brings up the rear of the group, keeping her eyes open for leftover zealots that were not efficiently dispatched.
Luca chuckles not unkindly behind the mask. "Yes, I believe that I did."
The procession out of the forge is uneventful, save for Linnet's mutterings and various sounds of woe from the hostages. Luca throws open the doors to exit the Forge to the sound of thunderous applause and raucous cheers, sounds that only intensify when the hostages appear, safe and unharmed.
They turn and spread their arms to encompass the brave adventures who risked life and limb to rescue those in need, the cheer raining down on Bast of the Starfall and his intrepid crew.
"Oh for..." Isa mutters.
The arms raise higher, and if one looks up, one can see that the banner proclaiming the Moonfire Faire is once again covering the front of the Forge, heralding a time of celebration. Luca turns back to the crowd, looks side to side, and then takes a deep bow, just as one does for the final curtain call.
Orrey walks up to Luca bowing and raising his hands for quiet, calmly but loudly saying "hey, listen!"
"We have no idea who this one is supposed to be," Orrey orates, gesturing dismissively at Luca. "They certainly did nothing to help rescue hostages." Orrey pauses, shaking his head, and looks up at the crowd. "We, the crew of the Starfall, were happy to help, and are at your service." He waves over at the party. "May we never be needed again here in Koehnta."
Luca rises back to their standing position and regards Orrey.
Orrey meets their eyes.
Yves is digging through his backpack for something.
Before they can say or do anything, though, they are joined by another person of similar fashion intent, if not design sense. Short black hair splashed through with pink and purple, wearing a pinstriped vest that warrants (yet lacks) a shirt underneath, black hiphugger jeans with a skull-festooned belt slung low on her hips, one fingerless glove, and three-inch heeled boots. "I owe you one," she says, holding her fist out to Luca, "which I guess means I owe all of you, too. Snuffed out the flame, yeah?"
"The sacred one, no. The blasphemous one, yes," replies a startled Linnet. "Isara?"
"--where did you get that belt," Yves asks, because he keeps focused on the important things in any situation.
Bast's hand falls heavily on Orrey's elbow, digging in with more force than would be apparent to a distant observer. He smiles at the newcomer, pitching his voice to carry. "Glad we could do our part to keep this day from getting darker."
"Yep," Isara Marquez says to Linnet. Yves gets a glance, and then an up-and-down, and then a toothy grin. "Well all right," she says. "Belt's from a place in Saron called Hollow. Skulls're from all over. Put 'em on myself."
The guards come and escort the hostages over to an area where warm blankets, hot tea, and who knows what sort of relaxants await. There are other people there already, receiving relatively solid care.
Orrey looks at Bast with a bit of a flush of embarrassment and wisely shuts up.
Linnet looks for an exit. Isa looks for a drink.
Yves whips out a notebook and jots down the sartorial guidance. "I have got to start learning more crafts," he mutters sidelong to Linnet.
Isara snaps her fingers. "With me," she says, brooking no discussion. Luca follows.
"...did that include us?" Linnet blinks.
Isa watches them go. "That's who we're looking for, right?"
"That's the young lady you all wanted to meet with about the airship thingy." Linnet may have misplaced her notes.
Yves is already following. "What sorts of all around, for the skulls," he asks, his notebook still out.
Luca looks over their shoulder at Bast of the Starfall, then keeps following Isara.
Bast seems to take it as an invitation whether it was intended as one or not, and moves up to keep pace with Isara, keeping quiet for now.
"C'mon, Isa, let's get out of here. Maybe we can find a drink wherever they're going." Linnet waves at the hostages and stalks off after the irritating grandstander and the weird engineer.
"Malachi here," she says, pointing at the one right by the hip tattoo peeking up over the belt line, "came from this real shithole of a place in east Cardia. Lacquered it, scuffed up the front, point of pride. This was a commission from Alejandra." She sighs wistfully. "Hope she got out of that jail after all."
Isa nods to Linnet, pacing her while silently trying to calculate where she stands in the "sword fighters of Ducorde" rankings. From her expression, she doesn't seem thrilled with her place.
Thirty minutes later...
Many bars have long, drawn-out stories about how they got their names. This is not one of them. This is a bar that doesn't even have a sign. One finds it by following the sweet-smelling smoke, and one hopes one can wash that scent out later.
Luca looks quite confident about being able to wash that scent out later. They have not touched their drink, but they have been happily engaging anyone in conversation who seems interested, even offering Orrey a friendly tip about varying one's sentence lengths to better hold a crowd's attention. (Orrey accepts the advice with confusion.)
Isa has acquired a bottle, a pair of glasses, and a Linnet.
Yves is deeply interested in skull decor techniques. He has filled multiple pages with sketches and notes already.
Isara has one boot up on the table and the other idly trying to tip a fallen ashtray right side up on the ground. "You looked at me like you wanted something," she says to Bast, "and since I'm not currently burning to death, maybe I'm feeling charitable."
(Linnet has downed two shots and unbent very slightly toward Luca. Very slightly.)
Isa empties her glass, refills, and leans in to Linnet. "They're like....Apoc with a sword."
"Well," Bast pauses for a sip of his drink, "we have a project that we wanted to compare notes on. I tinker, I can fix most things up, make them run better than new for a while if you don't mind short, I don't exactly specialize. You? Have a downright luminous reputation when it comes to engines."
"Or that guy on the train." Isa frowns. "What was his name."
"Nah, they're better with the sword than Apoc. I've seen him. Give them that much credit. The bluster, though, the sheer gall...they can match Kurt Whatsit for that, certainly."
"KURT!" Isa says, too loud.
"Kurt" Orrey mutters like a curse. He's been nursing his drink ever since it arrived, taking small sips and mostly listening.
"Can you imagine if we'd gone along with his plans?" Linnet swirls whatever horrible rotgut she's drinking and stares at it pensively.
"The captain is being modest," Yves says to Isara cheerfully. "He does amazing things with his so-called tinkering. I can juice an engine or engineer some juice, but it's not the same."
"...lucky for you I--" Isara pauses to look over at Isa, then shrugs. "Lucky for you I like four kinds of wordplay, and I might have even said those in the right order." A third of her bottle goes. "You're not up with the sun, I can tell that. More of a... night flier, was it?" she says, casting aspersions in Orrey's direction.
"I mean, we can be up with the sun, if there's something urgent. Or if I'm baking for breakfast." Linnet shrugs.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Orrey asks Isara.
"But no, nothing to do with that sort. All the way on the other end of the day, by preference." Bast smiles into his drink.
"And yet you're after some bright ideas of your own."
Linnet's eyes go very wide as she finally gets the reference. "OH. Yes, and we figured, why not fly straight for the candle?"
(She then squints into her drink.) "That was meant to be a compliment."
Orrey gives up on trying to follow the conversation and pulls out his sketchbook to sketch Luca and Isara. He hesitates before beginning. "Mind if I draw you two?"
"So. Something you might be interested in, or are you on to more exciting things these days?" Bast tips his glass, slowly swirling the liquor.
"Yep," Isara says.
By way of answer, Luca slowly removes the mask. It is a noble face, lean and sharp, but blue eyes bright and open and a quick and easy smile.
Orrey gets to work, drawing Luca both with and without the mask on.
"...that was an either/or question rather than a yes/no question, I think. But let's assume we're moving forward." Linnet shrugs.
"That was to both of you, by the way," Isara says. "Yes, I mind being drawn, thanks for not doing it," with genuine gratitude to Orrey shifting to Luca, "and yes, I'm interested in fine-tuning the Engine. You've got a ship, you've got an engineer."
"With," she adds, raising a finger.
"Them," she finishes, lightly jabbing Luca in the shoulder.
Isa's face is stone as she refills her and Linnet's glasses. (Linnet downs it.)
"Why were you fusing the locks?" Orrey asks Luca as he puts the finishing touches on the sketch.
"Hostages," Luca says. "Our villains separated themselves. Not everyone was fortunate enough to be near an exit--"
"Just some of us," Isara says with a raised hand.
"--so I ensured that they couldn't be happened upon with their captors compromised. Once the leader was defeated, a simple matter to escort the remainder free. As we did," they finish.
Bast's glass is cradled loosely in his hands as he listens, quiet for the moment.
"Efficient," Isa grudgingly acknowledges.
"Please don't go fusing anything on board. The Captain doesn't need more projects," comments Linnet.
Luca looks expectantly at the captain, waiting for the official welcome aboard.
"Then I hope you'll accept my apology for my rash words in front of the Forge." Orrey says, offering Luca the drawings.
"I think you might be in for some very interesting conversations with our smith." Bast smiles and downs the last of his drink. "Anything you'll need to wrap up here?"
"Oh gods, what's Artemicion going to make of these two..." Linnet mutters to Isa.
"Accepted, forgiven, and forgotten." Luca gladly accepts the sketches. "This is a marvelous likeness, and my awareness of how vain that makes me sound should in no way diminish my opinion of your skill."
"Your vanity was quite obvious from the get go." Orrey says, smiling.
"Nah," Isara says in response to Bast's question. "Faire's not gonna top the last two hours, that's for sure."
Linnet considers the pair. "Well, at least you'll fascinate our costume designer." She raises her glass and empties it. "To new friends and new opportunities."
"Artemicion?" Isa asks, "I want to see them in the same room as our actors." When, precisely, they became "our" actors is anyone's guess.
"Actors you'll get to know one way or another." Bast is fighting a smile as he sets down his glass and gets up. "Wait until you see the ship."
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