[Darren]
The stampede of men could still be heard from the deck as Darren entered the ready, letting the door close naturally behind him. For a long moment he reflected upon the room, for once a real expression graced his features: Ambivalence. In the center of the room was a large war table, cluttered with charts and books and various scribblings from the captain. Underneath the disorder was the complete raised and realistic topography of Tyran. Obviously there had been some designs planned for this ship. Designs long since abandoned post pledging to the Mile. A lot of memories in here, planning and fighting and laughing and slapping Garret. He was gone now though and it was time to break in the new.
"Aye, settle in lass," he motioned to an empty spot--Garret's old desk which faced Darren's, much larger counterpart.
[Lylant]
At Darren’s entrance, she spun away from dabbling her fingers at his various trinkets and possessions — not in theft, but in curiosity of the man behind the Captain.
She wondered —as she often did with fellow crew-mates long into nights lit by candles and stars — just who he was when he was alone: plotting, thinking, planning. It was a meddling sort of thought; he was and always had been the man they all looked up to and relied on -- so familiar and yet there were times where she wondered if they really knew him at all.
“Aye,” she said, slipping herself into the offered seat so that her body lay poised at the edge and her fingers lay splayed upon the lip of the desk. “It looks like you and Garret had a lot of history here,” she observed, scanning the table, the designs. “Are there any current projects at hand?"
[Darren]
Before sliding behind his overburdened desk, Darren removed his stolen Imperial Navy overcoat and placed it on a hook--which promptly dislodged and fell to the floor. Darren stared at it and shrugged, "Right, because why impress a lady?" he whispered to the ship. Taking his place in the captain's chair, he responded to her while flinging off his boots. "Always projects lady Thorne, always projects. Sometimes its for the men, sometimes its for the Mile. Sometimes its a concert with the other fleets. And sometimes," he pointed to a huge array of tally marks running up and down the wall behind her, "We bet on how may scorpions ol Berry can eat before 'e pukes himself," he let out a mighty ha and slammed an open fist on the desktop.
He took a moment and locked eyes with hers. The way the intelligent side of her was both chasing and being chased by the chaos brooding within was like the love dance of two opposing serpents. Was like looking in a mirror. "I hear the crew calls you 'Jolly Mad'?" he raised a brow.
[Lylant]
A hearty laugh escaped her, unrestrained from the prison of witty tongues and clever dialogue — the very same that had granted her this opportunity to be here in this moment. Always, had she felt that she was seconded by the stronger and more hefty of her mates. To compensate, she became impassioned with her role and gave her title a gushing amount of exuberance.
“That ol’ Berry sure is good for entertain’! I’ve actually been a’ watching him while he eats them scorpions. I always bet against, though. It gives Hogarth somethin’ to clean up, which in turn, means less of us having to deign with his atrocious singing. He never sings when he’s got gut vomit to clean up.”
Her eyes met his, holding them with an intensity that spoke true to her ardent nature. A grin tucked a side of her mouth upwards, exhibiting a string of bone beneath.
“That’s right, Sir. ‘Jolly Mad Lylant’, they’ve been calling me! Ever since that day with the gleeful cannon fires that knocked me so hard back into the water, and even when I be coughing up salt water and crying from the joy of it, I laughed in the face of the risk. Was sure-fire fun."
[Darren]
Darren brought his hands together and adjusted the rings lining his left digits, each one taken from a memorable endeavor. His face pulled slightly right into a half-smile as she told him the tale of the Jolly Mad Lylant. "I remember that day! What was it the Jeffery had said to me? Ran in here head half aflame, 'Uh, cap'n sir, we've had a bit of a...a...friendly fire accident. HA! Damn near blew up three whole decks of my ship, you did. Garret said I should have had you kiss the wooden lady for that," he shook his head, "But I saw why you did it. Risky call. Takes real coconuts to pull that off. S'why I kept you instead of stringin you up," he laughed under his breath.
"Do you know why they call me Captain Darren the Black?" In truth, there were many answers. This was merely a matter of what she'd heard and what she thought to be true.
[Lylant]
A tender heat roamed the expanse of olive cheeks at his words, though her grin widened with a countenance of someone who was eminently proud and spirited.
“Ohh Cap’n, you wouldn’t’ve been able to keep me strung up, I think. Some of the other men say I got spiders in my trousers or something; can’t keep still. I’ve always got somethin’ to do.”
Her grin slowly faded so that her face fell into contemplation at his at his question. There were many stories, of course, and some she felt hesitant to reveal. “I’m not familiar with the truth, sadly told,” she offered. Her arms gained confidence at her torso where a belt took in the vibrant red of a sea-worn jacket; hands folded into the arm bend where they pillowed themselves in a speculative gesture.
“Some say your soul is black. Some say the name came from that night that seemed not to end; the one where the stars winked out and you captured an assailing rival ship.” She watched him, head angled in inquisition. “There’s even the story about how you tried to eat a squid for dinner and got its ink stained all over your teeth.”
“Will you be tellin’ me the true story?"
[Darren]
His eyes narrowed, how did she know about that squid? He would have to remember to poison Garret--just enough to make the point. What exactly was that point? That Darren was impressed Garret had chosen to share the story after instruction not to... and not to screw with him in such a way. The captain let his hands fall into his lap, legs swinging the attached feet onto the desk.
"Who truly knows? The naming ceremonies of captains are held in secret," arms raised to link hands behind his head, "What I can say is this--When the night is darkest, only we can light it up," he let that free floating statement do just that, float. "I once read that men are what you make of them, what history records them as," he nodded to the mountains of books lining the shelves, "Ive read 'nuff history to know that you, me, this fleet... We are heroes, to certain people. The people of the Mile, if specifics are in order," he stared up at the ceiling, as he continued, "Godsend to the likes of men who believe in making their own life forged with their own hands--unbridled by the laws of knuckle-dragging lords. Tell me, firsty Thorne, are you one for the Mile?
[Lylant]
She brushed back a lock of loose nutmeg hair, uncloaking her face as she did so. She listened and pondered his words, all the while appreciating the new side of Darren she had not yet come to know. He was more deliberate with his words than she had initially thought.
As he spoke, she uncrossed her arms and lay an elbow pivoted upon the desk in front of her, hand bent at the wrist, and chin cradled within the petaled run of gloved digits. She thought of his title and wished for an answer, though she knew the ways of the captains were often held captive from one such as she; one who had not fully won the full trust or disclosure of personal histories.
“The closer one gets to the light, the greater their shadow becomes,” she responded in turn, seeming to remember the quote from somewhere. “I’m fascinated to know that there are those who would call us heroes in the Mile. Am I one for it?” She paused and thought, silence drowning her tongue. She looked to the books, thought of the histories, glanced to the war table, thought of Garret and Darren, then returned her eye to her Captain; the man she would risk her life for.
“Yes. Our lives, our purpose, it’s what we make of it. We craft our own fortunes — and steal others — but mostly we take and fight for what we believe in; and never mind the law abiders. Most of them are pompous nits.
[Darren]
Darren laughed so hard he nearly broke the chair, "Oh lady Lylant, I speak in nonsense and you follow me in the black of it," a dashing grimace beamed towards her, "You and I will get along handsomely." His tone was one of jest, but perhaps he was using the humor to hide a truth about following him into the black. The places this crew had been were places few ships dared tread water. There was a kinsmanship among the fleet, one that was born from trial and burned as hot as metal fresh on the anvil. The black was a place this crew knew all too well.
"Now c'mon, there is a certain lady lordship of the abyss that will need to know one of her captains has a new first mate. And uhm," he spun to face after he grabbed his coat from the clump it was resting in, "Bring that brown book over there, would you kindly?" Partially obscured by an overflow of papers were the edges of the book he needed. "Lets go meet the Governess. Bring your hat too."
Lylant jumped up from her chair and rummaged through the papers for the book. “Cap’n be needin’ to do some organizing,” she muttered, drawing the spine out from underneath and half-hazardly pushing the pile back in place. “I sure hope that’s not why you’ve got yourself a lady First Mate.”
The Governess was a legend to her, a woman that she both feared and admired. Meeting her would be an interesting feat after the excitement from earlier. Her fingers curled around her hat and placed it atop her head; the rim shaded her eyes.
The notion of ‘the black’ that Darren mentioned was not lost to her. She was keen enough to puzzle it beside his moniker.
She didn’t speak again, but rather, followed him on the path that would lead them to the Governness.
[Darren]
As they rounded the end of the gangway, the Master Rigger shouted from the deck, "Captain Darren and first mate Thorne ashore! Master Rigger Arnolds assuming command!" It was good to know that even aboard a ship such as this in a place of as much ill repute as this that a certain level of order was maintained. Arnolds was a capable enough man to head up the operations of the ship while the two were out strolling the Mile.
As they made their approach, a man exited one of the Mile's many bars in a state of hurry, bumping right into Darren. The captain, easily having at least a hundred pounds on the man, was not moved by the assault. Instead, the other came to an abrupt halt and slowly took a step back. His legs started to shake as he realized who he had just rammed. Darren leaned down and pressed his forehead against the other, "Boo," was all he said--but it was enough. The man panicked and jumped into the water below. Darren looked to Lylant, "Seems a bit dramatic, no?" a laugh followed by a slap on the shoulder blade.
Working the path through the wooden and narrow passages ways , he gave her prompt, "This way, you wretched hag," Darren teased with a wink, guiding her by the small of her back towards the stairs that would descend into the Belly.
[Lylant]
Lylant laughed at the exaggerated conflicts the man had been possessed with. She so did adore how easily her Captain could intimidate the likes of him. She dared to hope that standing beside him, she was able to put on the same air of authority in her much smaller figure. Her fierce fame came from the deepness of her gaze, which often was like staring into the eyes of an uncaged beast.
She nearly toppled over at the clap to her back, her pale leather boots skidding against the dank streets that occupied beneath. “Aye, a bit dramatic,” she agreed, readjusting her hat; perfection was important to meet their Governness. “Oh but how priceless and gratifying it is to watch them squirm like pig lice.”
She picked and pattered her way forth, meandering through the passages that Darren led them through. “Any advice on what to say to the formidable lady, sir?”
[darren]
Darren paused just outside the door, "Yes," his head looked right and he answered his first mate over his shoulder, "Say nuthin to her until I introduce you. Also," now he fully turned to face her, "And this is important--Be yer normal half-cocked self. You will see things in the Belly unlike anywhere else in the Mile. If up there is the shit of it all, this is where it runs to. And the Governess is queen 'ere. Inside are the wicked delights of the city, partake if you wish. But show even one crack lass," he seemed almost prideful when speaking on the way the Mile treated its guests, "And this place'll rip you open, nasal to navel."
He spun on a heel, but stole a moment to straighten his own tricorne. This was Belle he was going to see. Needed to look his best. Once he was satisfied with his swagger, he pressed the hatch open. "Welcome tob the Belly, mate," he whispered to her while scanning for the Governess.
[The Governess]
Belle's eyes shifted towards the hatch and connected with Darren's immediately. His hat was at the perfect angle, his appearance as dashing as ever. She smirked, satisfied...and then she spotted the woman. A simple lift of her brow, the only reaction she gave. One would have to be much closer than they to note the fiery flare in her eyes.
Her gaze slid away from the pair to openly admire Captain Robin and his bonny First Mate, along with the collection of dolls tending to him on his claimed crate. There was little doubt that she was enjoying what she watched, or that her imagination was running wild in the gutter.
She quite deliberately did not look at Captain Black.
[Darren]
Darren caught her eyes and saw them just long enough to catch a piece of that fire as Lylant had come into view, the captain threw his first mate a mock frown before striding confidently to the edge of her pillow palace. She wouldnt look at him though, instead her attention was caught on Jace, another captain in the fleets of the Wretched Mile. Good guy, a bit broody, but a fair captain nonetheless. Darren licked his lips, a devilish grin forming, "You certainly know how to spark a man's jealousy, dear Governess," his words smooth and calling, "Surely there is something I can do to regain your favor?" he reached for her booted leg, raising it up to massage her calf.
He hadnt forgotten about his first mate, but this was a delicate situation...
[The Governess]
She waited precisely five seconds while she allowed an honest heat to fill her gaze, although the smile she eventually turned on Darren was hard like ice. "Perhaps," she purred, but this time the sound was dangerous. Belle canted her head as he massaged her calf, not quite ready to be so quickly mollified. "Give me your hat. Then introduce me to your woman. I taught you better manners than that."
Only then did she turn towards Lylant, her expression cold, her fiery eyes intense and mind sharper than the dagger in her boot.
[Lylant]
Lylant’s eyes lifted and struck the Governness in their midst. She was nearly floored by the woman’s beauty — stories couldn’t capture the reality of it. She looked as if she had all the confidence in the world; flame in her eyes, promises at her lips.
She felt stunned and paralyzed, a juxtaposition of admiration and concern at her vexed expression directed towards her.
She observed Darren’s call to her; his near servitude to the woman’s whims, and then to the intense gaze in which the Governness spoiled her with. A heated jealousy rose within her, burning the light, feeding the dark. She kept her mouth silent, but it tightened visibly.
Fingers clenched into curled fists at her sides, yet she bowed her head in greeting. Perhaps also to hide her gaze.
[Darren]
"So you did my lady, so you did," he gently returned her leg to rest. Picking the hat from his crown, he bent slightly and offered it to her with an extended arm. "This, my fairest Governess, is the new first mate of the Dread Star," he returned to his full height once she took the tricorne from him, "Garret's time had come, lieutenant aboard the Pale Horse now. Lylant tis an inside hire, prior gunner." The way he spoke to Belle was not only respectful, but familiar. It would be obvious to Lylant that the two must have known each other longer than the current exchange. Much longer in fact. A story for another time perhaps.
[Lylant]
The shock of the familiarity between Darren and Belle was swaggering to her. She could barely contain the mess of emotions that rattled within. Just that day, she had been pulled from the crowd of many to be titled with First Mate, feeling as high and splendid as the Governness.
And now. Now she felt dirty and useless, like a speck that trailed after her Captain’s shoes. Her dark eyes held a budding acrimony, spawned by pure envy, which horrified her all the same. She had expected to fall and love on this woman like so many others had before her. Like Darren did.
But no. Her skin was darker than Belle’s, her hair less cared for and dark like sorrow. She was curvy only in her mouth and the shape of her eyes; her body, however, was far more rectangular; slim, and not inherently obvious beneath the white cotton top and loosely belted jacket.
[The Governess]
Belle kept her eyes on this Lylant as she casually collected the hat and placed it upon her own head at a jaunty angle. That pinch around the wench's lips, the dilated pupils caught before she dropped her gaze. "Aww, Darren, I do believe your First Mate has a crush. How sweet."
And then her smile disappeared. In a blur of movement she drew the blade from her boot and sent it flying to the floor to land with a thud and a quiver in the floor a cunt hair away from Lylant's toe.
Belle smiled sweetly, her eyes narrowed. "Make sure Bookie knows of the promotion and her favors are up to date. I'd take one away just because I can but I believe I'll do this instead..." She grabbed Darren by the collar and pulled him down for long, thorough, tongue-swallowing kiss that only ended when she decided, as she wasn't about to let go of his collar before then, and it ended with her roughly biting his lower lip.
Still holding him down, she smiled at him intimately, but he'd see the anger in her eyes. "Your bird has ruffled feathers, my dear. Get those smoothed, hmm? Before I decide I want poultry for dinner." Then she let him go and wiggled her fingers at the woman. "Congrats on your promotion. I trust you'll serve my Captain well."
She dismissed them silently, turning to her bottle of rum and going right back to admiring Jace and Shrike from her cushioned perch.
[Lylant]
Lylant was infuriated by the Governness.
Her face became hot and reddish, flooding upwards and smacking her neck with color. Her hackles rose. Her teeth bit down into her cheek so rough, she could taste the blood dripping onto her tongue. If it wasn’t a risk of her life, she would’ve lashed out at Belle.
But, she knew her place.
She ripped her gaze from them as Darren was pulled into a deep kiss, one meant to further poison her. “A pleasure.” She hissed neatly, the words gritted through her teeth like muck through a sewage drain. “Thank you. I ALWAYS will serve My Captain well; he can trust me not to toy around.”
The words settled in the air, before she added, “Toy around with the job. Ma’am."
[Darren]
After the spit-swapping mouth action, passionate and message-sending, he whispered to her while she held his collar, "Truly, the devil hath no fury..." When she released her grip, he didnt even attempt to fix his neck-line. Why would he? He had already met the Governess and nobody gave a shitall what anybody else here looked like.
The playground rules had been set by the power play the Governess had brought to bear on his first mate. If anybody thought that they would slink away after this so Darren could explain what had happened to make her feel better, they would be sorely mistaken. He wasnt that sensitive and neither would he treat his firsty as weak and unable to understand what had just happened. There was a certain dance to all of this. It was a thin line all of them walked. To stay ahead of the Navy. Ahead of each other. Ahead of the Mile. Ahead of death. At the pinnacle of it all, was the Governess. A point made clear by tonight's display. Had Darren actually enjoyed the presence of the Belle though? Well, a gentleman would never kiss and tell...
Was Darren a gentleman though? Hell no. Youre damn right he enjoyed it. The same way Jace was over there enjoying his fancies. This was the Mile. Take, or be taken from.
[Lylant]
Lylant turned to look over her Captain.
Her doll-pouted mouth was pulled thin, nearly vanishing into her face with a taut hostility. It wasn’t directed at Darren, but the lasting effect of it hovered around her like a vengeful spirit. “I didn’t know you knew her, Sir.”
She smoothed out her jacket; the rips and tears more obvious to her now. “Will you be mindin’ if I indulge myself a bit?"
[Darren]
Darren closed the gap to Lylant. His was a commanding presence, even without words or amusing half-threatening quips. He let his persona fill the space between them as a few heartbeats passed. The captain searched the eyes of his counterpart, deep into that pit of ire and rage. Good. Darren now knew she had that within her. If she was going to lead in his absence, she would need the full spectrum of personalities to call upon. More importantly, he knew she was in control--even if just barely.
With a calming satisfaction, he answered her, "Not at all, my Jolly Mad Maiden, not at all." The smile he offered her was one of the Mile. Opportunity at a cost and que sera, sera. And perhaps too, underneath the layers, there was a flicker of respect for her. "What sort of pleasure calls to you?"
[Lylant]
As Darren approached her, her rage was seemingly quelled, though it still toiled within her like a spider that scitters around beneath a caged glass. She looked up at her Captain, reminded of all the reasons she admired and respected him. He stood taller than her, much taller, actually — that it might’ve been intimidating under different circumstances.
She dropped her gaze, letting her tensions uncurl her fingers and finding calmness in his proximity. She scanned the room with seeking eyes, catching the other woman’s waggled gesture towards her. “I think I’ll try… what’s that word? Minglin’? You know… the way Borus used to before he drank himself to death.”
A hand was raised to Braelyn in reply, curious about her role in the midst of those stationed within.
[Darren]
Darren threw a glance to Robin and shrugged his indifference in the matter. The two first mates could converse if they so desired. Was a pity this was her first day though... Her insight into his conquests, female or otherwise, was a tad more limited than Garret's was.
[Jace]
If the Captain cared, he certainly didn't act it. He gave the other Captain a nod and a half smile before Rosa made her way over incredulous at the change of heart. The woman reached out and slipped hands over the rake's shoulders before straddling his lap.
An idle grab of the woman's ass and The Revenant showed that rare full smile- a grin outright. "To the Mile..." he said low to Rosa as he took the rum she had the sense to bring upon her return to him.
[Lylant]
“Thank you, Cap’n Sir. I’ll be makin’ sure to meet you in an hour, or the likes.” Lylant bowed her head in courtesy. She felt almost foolish at her irate nature. Not even a day had passed since the First Mate’s hat had been bestowed to her crown, touched now in reminder, and already she threatened her credibility. But she had a spark. The cannons knew it, and now he did too. Perhaps they all would someday.
She caught Braelyn’s approach and was prompted forward to meet her halfway. She took her in fully and found solace in the body that resembled her own much more than the provocative curves that tantalized the eyes of men.
“Oi, allo” she said in greeting, bowing her head so that the shadows on her face — teased by the rim of her hat — collected there on the olive surface and masked her temper
[Darren]
Having made the necessary introductions, Lylant would now be able to move freely in the Belly of the Beast. With or without him. Pleased with the events of the evening, he shimmied between other, not always clothed, patrons--placing himself directly behind Belle. With his thick and hairy fingers he worked her shoulders, leaning in to whisper something. Something important. Another sighting of an unidentified vessel had washed up along the southern edge, bearing the same strange banner as the one before it.
When he was done delivering the message, which was the real reason they were docked at the Mile, he retrieved his hat from her head and kissed her temple. He uttered one last sentence that nobody except Belle caught. Now it was time to make sure the books were updated with Lylant's name. There was enough time for Darren to get everything squared before they needed to be underway again, but Darren would accept any excuse not to go see those smelly book folk. Unfortunately, it was a task that needed doing. And for his new first mate, he surely would.
However she felt about tonights dealings, whatever she thought, there was one thing that remained true. The Governess may not respect her or even like her yet, but she was alive. And after she had been just shy of flippant with her anger, the Governess hadnt killed her. Hadnt even scratched her. And that was something in and of itself. He was proud of Lylant, she was really--"Oh cut this sappy shit out," he muttered to himself as he left the Belly to get her registered.
