(no subject)

[an_evening_star]

Her hands had been first, secured once more behind her back, and she had tilted her chin and remained still as they tugged the manacles ("Getting all fancy, are we?") tight.

Then it had been the hood, drawn down over her eyes ("And miss this lovely view?") and she had only laughed at the further suggestion to muzzle her ("Now that is hardly original. I'm genuinely growing disappointed with this entire fiasco.") stalling and generally being something of an irritating nuisance in the best way she knew how.

Keeping their attention - however violent and disapproving that attention might be - on her meant an easier time for Tristran. (She hoped.) And it was not as though they could do any great amount of damage to her if they wanted any real hopes of selling her off to the highest bidder.

She is standing still, voice a low-level hum of continued sarcastic commentary, when the ship jostles - crashes and shakes with the impact of landing, of docking.

She can't quite decide whether or not this is encouraging progress.

Comments

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

"Come on, then."

One of them shoves her along, while there is the continuous sound of other goods and trinkets being hauled over shoulders, and dragged across the wooden platform.

And there is the sound of gulls cawing and of people and creatures alike chattering idly, bartering each other for the greatest deal, and amidst it all, there is the sound of slightly drunken laughter.

Pirates, the lot of them.

[tristranthorn]

Meanwhile, Tristran makes his way across the bottom level of the ship, in search of the stairs that will take him upwards.

Each time, he must duck into the shadows and the shallow crevices behind doors and barrels of food to avoid meeting any of the vultures that (annoyingly) decided they'd forgotten a bag of gold here, or a box of useless thingamabobs there.

(Luckily for him, one of the rooms he'd ducked into contained his sword, and a couple of other supplies they'd been robbed of.)



Beneath one of the ships grills, head tilted upwards, he watches as their captors head in one direction as a group until, moments later, there is almost complete silence.

Now, he thinks, is his chance.

[an_evening_star]

"Not if you're going to be rude about it," she grins, curve of it safely hidden under the shadow of the hood, eyes casting about what little of her surroundings that she can see. "Your manners really leave something to be desired."

The shove forward is a bit more forceful this time.

She would have wasted a few more moments feeling (and broadcasting) a great deal of self-satisfaction, but the sudden sounds of laughter catch her attention - head cocking slightly and trying to determine if the presence of a crowd can be used to her advantage.

If it's even the sort of crowd that would be remotely sympathetic.

(Chances, as it were, are probably not the best.)

[tristranthorn]

There are two things Tristran anticipates upon his venture upwards:
1) the possibility of being discovered by a straggling Vulture they'd left to 'guard' the ship, or
2) the bulk of the creatures return because they'd forgotten something, or their business is a quick enough affair that leaves him with very little time to discover the whereabouts of Yvaine and their general location.

Luckily for him, the first option meets him. It does not take him very long to cut him down, what with the return of his sword.

However, as he looks over the side of the ship, Tristran is discouraged to find that it is considerably more difficult now to locate Yvaine and figure out where in the bloody hell they are.

There are people and creatures. Everywhere.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

"I've found us the lightning catchers."

The one pushing Yvaine forward pauses, talons still clutching her cloak tightly.

"Good," he says. "We've run low on our supply 'n it ain't easy to come by. Organize a meetin'."

"Aye, sir."

"And get us the best price. We ain't made of gold. See if y'can't get this beauty involved - a bonus or somethin'."

He shakes Yvaine a bit to make his point.

[an_evening_star]

She stumbles awkwardly, caught in her skirts and temporarily stilling at (lightning catchers) the turn in conversation.

There's the improbable swirl of chance between her ears again.

It's not entirely unwelcome.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

The talons at the star's back press harder when she slows, a sharp and harsh pressure of pinpricks along the line of the her spine, the resulting indigant hiss inciting a low chuckle.

"Quit bein' so damn clumsy and you won't have any problems, milady."

[an_evening_star]

"Clumsy?" the star laughs, eyes closed - even in the continued darkness. "How dare you imply that I am anything but poised and graceful. Utterly, of course. You can tell them that I'm one hell of a dancer, yes? Taught by a professional."

She doesn't bother to regulate the volume of her voice, rude and loud, attracting as much attention as she can manage before silenced. She doesn't quite know whose attention she hopes to attract (Tristran, lightning catchers, the royal guard - a host of somewhat improbable options) but she can make do with something to play off of, if provided with anything suitable.

"A fine selling point."

[tristranthorn]

He thinks he can hear the sound of Yvaine's voice - or something like it, if the argument down yonder is any indication.

He ducks back down, nearly folding himself in half with his back to the edge of the ship's side, ruminating plans in his head.

If, indeed, the vultures do come back, there is very little in the form of hiding places for him on deck; but staying here will only mean the distance between him and Yvaine will grow bigger.

And soon he might not even be able to locate her anymore.

So, crouched as he is, he starts to shuffle forward.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Captain Johannes Alberic awaits the arrival of a group of businessmen for a meeting of sorts.

'Men', of course, is used in the loosest form possible.


He hates the Vultures.

They're precisely every reason he hates the goddamn creatures, from their crooked wings and beaks, to their sly, shifty glances. Their voices are filled with lies and manipulation (though they could never get past him), and they ooze with distrust and dishonesty.

He hates 'em.

But ... a deal is a deal, and one cannot be choosy about whom to sell lightning to these days. The markets aren't what they used to be.

[nosequels.livejournal.com]

"Capt'n," one of the sky pirates starts, as he dashes up towards him. "Capt'n, it seems the vultures 'ave arrived."

Alberic looks yonder. He nods.

"All right. We got the lightning ready?"

"At your call, sir."

Alberic nods again.

"And somethin' else, sir."

"What is it?"

"They've got a slave girl with'em."

"A slave girl?"

"Aye, capt'n." The pirate - Jackman - starts to grin a black-toothed, slightly lopsided grin. "An' I think you'll find she's ... quite valuable."