Seven(?) against the Convergence

[Graybeard]

[OOC: Sorry to disappoint Desiree, and as regards food and sexual innuendo, this is about the best I can do, which isn't great...]

"Is there a dining room on this thing? I'd like to grab a snack before we bed down."

Sister Rose suppressed a guffaw. "I can just imagine what Amalric would say if I asked him that question. 'Sister, I have already told you that we are not operating a luxury liner here.'" She'd managed to mimic the old general's crusty tone perfectly. She'd also exactly gauged his response. "So no, I'm pretty sure there's no dining room. But I bet there's a galley of some kind. Even Amalric can't exist on pure cussedness."

There was indeed a galley, as no more than two or three minutes' investigation revealed; a remarkably tiny one no larger than a good-sized broom closet. Rose frowned at this extremely minimal kitchen. "Can't see how you can prepare much here," she muttered, and opened a door, getting a blast of cold air for her trouble. "Looks like they have some things in here, anyway, but they're all frozen." She extracted one, a cylindrical pastry of some kind that seemed to have meat sticking out of the ends, and placed it on the tiny table to decide what to do with it.

Magic flared, quite startling her. It played over the surface of the pastry for perhaps ten seconds, then subsided. By this time the item was no longer frozen; indeed, it was piping hot ... and emitting an aroma that left Rose, who'd had nothing to eat for the last several hours other than a bit of soup and the rolls that had arrived before her steak went missing, with her mouth watering and her stomach growling.

"Try this," she said, handing the suddenly delectable item to Desiree. "If I can do it without der Kapitän noticing, I think I'll fix one later myself, to share with Argus."

[OOC: And thus does the microwaveable breakfast burrito come to the Errant World. Incidentally, you have not lived until you have had a bacon/green breakfast burrito from this place, which is precisely what we're going to do in about eight hours. Best breakfast burritos I've ever had, and with an international reputation. Gads, I'm getting hungry just thinking about it!]

[Alberich]

"What a wonderful invention!" said Anfisa. "Very good for unmarried men, especially if there's no room for servants, and no smoke to choke on. Though I guess you wouldn't want your dancers jumping over it like a firepit. It would cook them where it hurts..."

She thought Rose, like her darling Desiree, didn't really have a head for intrigue. If "der Kapitän" knew they were up and about, even though they hadn't met him, that meant he probably was watching or listening. If they had strange magic for cooking food up in a second, how much easier to have magic to watch and listen to every part of this cramped little ship. Which meant he would probably be watching her love-play with Desiree. She suppressed a giggle at the thought. That was fine with her. Poor old fool could sit in his cockpit and play with his cock while watching what he could not have. She'd lost that kind of shame a long time ago.

Anyway, they wouldn't be able to say anything more overt until he was asleep, and he did have to sleep sometime. Or maybe not even then. Even asking about when he would sleep would be suspicious. And the capabilities of this galley itself might be of interest, if the Veracians were generally a nonmagical people, and the Tsuirakuans concerned to know what the latest was they had. Even artisans' marks or other writing would be interesting, so she would make a note of these things while she made a perfectly understandable exploration of this kitchen.

"What else is there?" she asked with enthusiasm, looking for other kinds of foodstuffs and ways to make them ready. And when they'd enjoyed their meal she could ask if they had a chess room or a place to relax. Or better still, a place to bathe before they went to bed. That wouldn't sound suspicious. And who knew what magic it would reveal?

[Graybeard]

"What else is there?"

"Not much," Sister Rose frowned, thinking Anfisa meant structural creature comforts rather than food items in the freezer (as she might have). In fact, there was amazingly little to the ship, as far as she could see. There was certainly nothing like a lounge where passengers might enjoy themselves. Other creature comforts were also lacking: no well-appointed toilets, no smoking lounge (none of the party smoked, of course, but Rose was well aware that the habit wasn't dead in Veracia, particularly among the military's enlisted men, and open flame on an airship would be taboo except in the places prepared for it), no bar, no large windows where passengers might enjoy views of the countryside, other than those on the bridge. There were also no signs of controls for weapons, no damage-control stations, no obvious places for an extended crew to stand watch, no place for a navigator to take star sightings or anything else involved in his craft. About the only concessions to functionality outside the bridge were the galley -- even on the most ascetic warship, the crew had to eat -- and a small table that might double as a mess hall and a place for a navigator to spread out maps.

And there was no room for even the tiniest altar to Luminosita.

She shook her head. "It's a lot more like a warship than a cruise ship, but it's more like a lifeboat than like a warship. I don't get it: what's the rest of this thing, all the space in the lifting body, used for? I just don't know, but the ship is just as stark and barren as Amalric himself." There was intended to be some humor in that summary, but Rose found that she wasn't in the mood for laughing once she listened to her own speech.

[Alberich]

Anfisa did not show the slightest interest in these answers of Rose's (which in fact she was heeding carefully). In fact she didn't even watch Rose's face as she continued to hunt through the foodstuffs. "But do you think they have any sunflower paste? Or caviar pancakes? Oooh, and maybe a place to take a bath after? I'd love to stretch out in a nice warm tub..."

There was policy in this change of subject. If Kapitän Starkenbarren was hearing every word and fuming at it, he might thunder down and stop this naive tale-teller from telling any more tales. But if he thought the foreign passengers weren't listening, and that besides he'd have a chance to spy on some naked flesh in a minute, maybe he'd let things ride the way they were. That was Anfisa's theory anyway.

[Graybeard]

"But do you think they have any sunflower paste? Or caviar pancakes? Oooh, and maybe a place to take a bath after? I'd love to stretch out in a nice warm tub..."

Sister Rose, who of course was unaware of Anfisa's theory, couldn't prevent a quick rolling of her eyes. "Uh, no, I don't think they have any of that," she said patiently but neutrally. "Whatever creature comforts you find in your cabin are probably the only ones on the ship." And that wasn't much. As far as she could tell, the cabin she shared with Argus didn't even have a shower, although it did have a small lavatory. The magical galley might solve one mystery about the cabin, though: when they first entered the cabin, she'd noticed a small pulse of magic directly above the lavatory. It would make sense, she thought, for that to be a "canned" Hygiene spell comparable to the cooking magic in the galley. She'd check on that when she went back into the cabin, but she'd left Argus there preparing to stack some Zs and didn't want to wake him up. (Well, she wanted to -- company more enjoyable than Amalric's would be nice in the hours ahead -- but priorities.) [OOC: D, if you're available and want Argus to be more active than this, feel free, Rose didn't do anything to put him to sleep -- yet. /OOC:]

She mentioned the hypothesized (and accurately imagined, as it turned out) Hygiene thaumatic gadget to the young women and left them to return to their own cabin, as she made her way back toward the bridge. On the way, however, she paused for a bit of spell casting. All that dead space... It almost feels like there might be a concealed cabin with a clandestine group of soldiers hidden in it, or something. Clandestine, and remarkably quiet.

Like the Peaceful Dead at Gervasiel. The thought gave her cold chills.

Staying away from the bridge so that Father Amalric (who had cautioned her against magical snooping) wouldn't see her, she put on the Empathy magic, and turned to the blank, featureless walls. Unless there were magical barriers against detection spells, which there didn't appear to be, she should be able to get a sense of the emotional state of anyone concealed beyond those walls, out to a distance greater than the outside dimensions of the airship. Instead, she got -- nothing. There wasn't a sapient being anywhere on the airship except the ones she knew about, and of course, she would not turn the magic on her friends. Amalric, on the other hand, wasn't exactly a friend ...

She decided to risk turning the detection magic on the old priest, out of her sight (and she out of his) but well within range of the spell; at least she'd want to know if the magic was working properly here. It was. From Amalric she got back a strong sense of cold, steely determination ... and impatience. This was hardly surprising, and hardly informative. Not for the first time, she wished the Empathy magic would allow her to read the man's actual thoughts, not just his emotions. However, it wouldn't.

She dismissed the spell at returned to the bridge, more puzzled than when she'd left, and settled in beside Amalric, sitting bolt upright in his command chair on the bridge in exactly the same posture as when she'd last seen him.

[Drusia]

I'm not really hungry at the moment, but I sample the food anyway just to be polite. It is tasty enough. Still, not something that will keep in our room. It seems we'll have to brave bumping into the unpleasant captain in the morning after all.

Anfisa asked a lot of questions - innocent enough, in context, but a tad more overt than I would have liked. I keep quiet and listen to the answers. I'm reminded of Anfisa's initial comment - it is very small in here considering how large the ship is. There were more, larger rooms on previous airships of a similar size. However, we weren't asked to discover what they're hiding in there - just to see what we see and report it. I think we've got plenty for our patron at this point.

Rose is heading off, so I turn to Anfisa and say "Do you want to head back to our cabin?"

-- Desiree

OOC: Not much else to do on my end.

[Graybeard]

[OOC: Yeah, D, a little slow while we get the scene set, sorry. It'll speed up soon, possibly as soon as when Tim comes on for his watch shift. To that end:]

The watch duty, Sister Rose reflected as day in the skies above Farrel became night, was hardly taxing. The skies were practically empty -- on a few occasions she saw passenger airships in the distance, traveling their own flight paths, but never approaching this ship, let alone posing a threat -- and the countryside below them seemed oblivious to their passage. For a while Rose, who had never been to the interior of Farrel, amused herself by watching the scenery, but the fields and low ridges offered less to the eye up here than on the ground. Too bad we're not heading for that volcanic region in the middle of the continent; that would be something to see from up here, she thought, particularly in view of the reports of an eruption there. (The connection between that eruption and the frightening Wilbur Hamael was not known to her.) However, the safety implications of that eruption were obvious, and besides, the central mountains were too lofty for safe passage of an airship. Father Amalric was giving them a wide berth, and correctly so.

It didn't help any that Amalric was completely resistant to chat. At one point she tried to engage him by asking what he would be doing while the party looked for Therese, and what she got for her efforts was a typically cold glare and a curt "What needs to be done," after which the old man turned purposefully away. The first time she saw an airship in the distance, she'd pointed it out to him, and he'd replied, "Yes." That was the extent of it. The second time, he'd just grunted. The third time, he'd said in his usual tone of voice, "My eyes still work, Sister." Reproached, Rose didn't even bother mentioning the fourth airship.

It was therefore with some relief that Rose noticed Tim approaching to take the second watch shift, particularly since night had now fallen and there wasn't much light for watching the scenery; even the lights of farm houses below were few and far between. "Let me show you the galley," she said to the younger man. "You'll want to grab something for dinner before you go on duty, and I want to pick up something for myself and Argus." Besides, it gets me away from Old Sourpuss for a few extra minutes.

[Alberich]

"Do you want to head back to our cabin?"

"Mmm-hm!" purred Anfisa with sex-kitten enthusiasm. She was playing a role here, and as her line was true, it didn't strain her acting abilities. She took her lover's hand and led the way.

To her mind, her questions had been of the kind a silly, gawky girl might ask, not straying near anything military, and thus not the sort to excite the suspicions of the silly old half-man in the pilot's seat, especially since she was taking the time to excite his other parts. She didn't articulate these thoughts in her mind, though she could've if she'd had to. She was running largely on instincts. But they were instincts born of a peril she knew well, and perhaps they'd be enough to carry off the business.

She chattered happily as they made their way back to the cabin. As they got the door open, she seemed to notice the walls for the first time. "Look how smooth they are," she said, running a finger down the wall. "So smooth." She stroked the half-elf's ears, and drew her in for a kiss. If her gestures signified something, Desiree would have to work that out for herself. She would not speak of their mission, and any efforts to do so would likely be blocked by a darting pink tongue.

On the other hand, Anfisa's lovemaking would prove languidly uninhibited, as if they were enjoying each other on a secret island only they knew. Or in the middle of a crowded city before a lecherous old voyeur who'd paid very well for the show. Whichever.

* * *

"Let me show you the galley," she said to the younger man. "You'll want to grab something for dinner before you go on duty, and I want to pick up something for myself and Argus."

"At once," said Tim, and followed with alacrity. He wasn't going to start any conversational gambits, but if Rose wanted to raise something, he meant to be frank and straight. Father Amalric's orders had been to devote his entire energies to this mission, and he meant to obey those orders to the best of his ability. To his own mind, his efforts to get the girls safety through the gate had been a part of that, but he had lost that fight and was in no position to fight it again.

[Graybeard]

"It's easy to use," Sister Rose said, pointing to the "cooking" surface. "Just pick what you want from the freezer, put it there, and it cooks." She found another of the "pastries" and heated it up to demonstrate; she'd split it with Argus shortly.

"I don't envy you the overnight watch," she told Tim while the magic worked. "Amalric is -- not very conversational, at least not right now. And I also have the feeling that there's something going on here that he's not telling us about. If you can get anything out of him about what his plans are for once we've found Therese, I'd love to hear about it."

Funny I put it that way, she thought as she went back to the cabins and left the now delicious-smelling dish in her and Argus' berth. It's almost like I'm accepting that Amalric is in charge here. Well, he's not. He's still supposed to be doing what I ask him to.

If I had any idea what to ask for, anyway.

So why does he know what he wants to do, and I don't?

She left the pastry to Argus for the moment, and went to knock on the door of the cabin containing Desiree and Anfisa; maybe talking to them would break her out of this funk. "Desiree? Anfisa? Am I interrupting anything?" And no, I'm not interested in a threesome....

[Alberich]

Tim nodded. He doubted his ability to get much from the short-tempered older priest, but he'd do his duty.

He gobbled his quick meal, less impressed than Anfisa had been by the labor-saving magic. True, it was quick and convenient, but to a man who was used to fresh victuals straight from the farm (or even his own garden) it was but a pale imitation.

Once he reached the pilot's room, he genuflected. "Reporting for watch duty, father," said he. "Is there anything I should be watching for?"

In fact, Tim had loved airships since he'd first set foot on one, and would be delighted to learn how to fly them himself. But nothing about Father Amalric's demeanor suggested this was a good time to bring that up.

[OOC: I think I'll let Desiree answer that other question. If I understand a few hours have passed since they reached their cabin.]