[OOC] Cirque D'étoiles (1x1, FxM, MxM, FxF)

This is for scenes regarding first meetings, the past, and other filler we come up with.

Timeline

1913- Lucien leaves France and comes to America, Meets Faolan

1922- Lucien and Faolan find Aurel
1926- Lucien and Faolan find Illyana
1931- Faolan disappears
1932- Lucien and Illyana find Ivory
- Akane joins the circus
1934- Lucien and Illyana find Cora
1935- Present Time, Geralt joins the Circus

[xivyxx]

It was very cold. Lucien tightly wrapped his coat around himself as he stood on the deck of the ship, looking out into the ocean, his eyes sparkling in excitement. It was the first time he had ever seen the ocean.. and he would soon be travelling through it on this very ship. Honestly.. he was completely out of his element. The man was currently twenty years old, but in terms of experiencing the world, he might as well have been a teenager, or even less. He had lived through an incredibly sheltered life. The man was no ordinary human, no. He carried divine blood in his veins. He was what many would call a nephilim. Son of a union between a human woman and an angel, neither of who he had ever had the chance to meet. He had heard the unfortunate tale from the priest who had taken him in. His mother had been thought to have gone insane from having thought she had given birth to a miracle child of the angel, and had been locked away because of it. By the time he was old enough to have gone to see her.. it was simply too late. She had left this world, without him having ever been given the chance to speak with her.

To this day, Lucien was unsure of what to feel of what the priests had told him. Part of him resented his father, for having abandoned them.. but another understood the danger he had attempted to keep him from. Most of his resentment.. came from the fact that his mother had not survived the sanitarium long enough for the man to have ever met her, because of the cruel conditions of the place the authorities had placed her into. All he had left were the priests who had taken care of him. He was grateful to them, he truly was.. but there was only so much of the world he could see from under their sheltered care. They were always so overprotective of him, panicked at the possibility that anyone could find out what he truly was and use him to fulfill their greed. It was that same fear that drove them to the current situation. The tensions of war filled the air.

They were afraid that Lucien would get pulled into the situation by being unable to avoid the draft. If his abilities were discovered, then there was no doubt that he would be used in the war effort, and none of them wanted that. This was what drove them to have Lucien leave the country before it was too late, to get him to safety before the flames of war ran across Europe. They managed to secure passage for him to America, and why he was currently on this ship, all alone. They had given him enough coin to make it through safety, and to use in case of emergencies. There was supposed to be someone else waiting for him upon his arrival, so they could show him how things worked there. Part of him looked forward to it, but another worried he would be going from one life of recluse to another, and that wasn't something he wanted.

Despite all of that, he still wasn't sure that things would turn out that way. It didn't stop the fact that he was finally going to get to see the world, even if it might be for only a small period of time. It was scary, yes, to be out here alone, but it was because it was the first time he was able to do something like this that he was looking forward to it. No one to tell him not to do this and that, he felt like he had achieved a small form of freedom. A small smile tugged at his lips as his golden eyes scanned the horizon one last time. Even though the cold didn't bother him as much as it would a normal human, he decided it was time to go back inside. He turned away from side of the ship and began to head down to the lower deck. That was when his shoulder bumped into an older rugged-looking man, who had been in current conversation with a few other men.

"My apologies.." He muttered, not quite meeting their gaze. The stench of alcohol hit his nose, making him scrunch it up slightly. He had been warned to not catch the attention of such men. They could be.. problematic. He had wanted to take his leave as quickly as possible, but the man he had ran into reached out and grabbed his arm, not appreciating his hurry to leave.

"Oi, I dun think I could hear ya." He said, slurring his words ever so sightly.

"I'm sorry for running into you. I'll.. just be on my way.." He repeated, attempting to pull his arm away. His grip was strong. It wasn't like he couldn't try to break free but.. he didn't want to cause any problems before his journey had even officially started.

"If it ain't a fancy lil frog. Couldn't tell at first glance." He squinted. Lucien's eyes looked up at him with slight confusion as to why he was being referred to as such, but he wasn't about to ask. Regardless, he hadn't gotten the chance to. "Ye sure yer a man?" He tugged on his arm. "Quite scrawny ain't he?" He asked his companions, who laughed at his insults before they surrounded him. He felt a strong push on his back, causing him to stumble slightly. Lucien's eyes darted from the man in front of him to the one who had pushed him, unsure of what he should do. Clearly an apology wasn't enough for them. He didn't want to do anything that would risk him getting kicked out the boat. The priests had worked hard to secure him this passage, and he didn't want to let it go to waste.

"Y-Yes, I am. I'm sorry to have bothered you, I would appreciate it if you could let go of me." He attempted to reason with them once more. Maybe it wouldn't get him anywhere, but it was worth trying.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan hated travelling by boat. Vast stretches of never-ending black water as far as the eye could see, cramped, tight quarters surrounded by other men, sick and weak passengers, livestock that were jammed into crates so tight they could barely move...yes, he much preferred his feet on the ground. Unfortunately, they hadn't yet perfected a plane that wasn't used for war, so he was out of luck if he wanted to get to America by air. The sea was in his blood, but he didn't have to like it.

Faolan especially disliked boats because of how cramped the sleeping quarters were, not to mention the lack of privacy. At six-foot-five, he was a beast of a man; broad shoulders and long legs made sea travel more uncomfortable for him that almost anyone else. During the trip, he would be spending most of his time on the upper decks with the sea air in his face. They would make everyone go inside when it was time to depart, but he wasn't about to waste a second of fresh air.

He was leaning over the side, looking out into the dingy streets of Bordeaux, happy to say goodbye. If ships were his least favorite places to sleep, cities were a close second. What did they think they were doing, anyway, covering up the green French countryside with monstrous buildings of brick and stone? A waste. Cool ocean breeze pushed his long red hair off of his forehead and sent it dancing around his shoulders.

The sound of a scuffle interrupted his thoughts. He didn't have to look to know what it was about, he could smell the alcohol on the breath of the Englishmen from the second they set foot on the dock. The young man, a native of France by the sound of his accent, had sparked their ire.

"Listen to 'im mates, what a puss! Could you let go of me...please? What tripe!" Faolan's lip curled at the sound of their rough accented mocking. They were pathetic, picking on someone nearly half their size.

Another of the men chimed in: "Haha yeah, a puss! What don't you make me let go, Frenchy?"

They was the sounds of more struggle behind him and Faolan's lip curled into a sneer as his paw-like hands gripped the freezing metal railing. The metal screeched quietly as it began to buckle. If those Black and Tan pricks said one more word...

"What're you gonna do, little froggy, cry? Where's your mummy, froggy, huh?"

That was it. Faolan turned on his heel and stomped with authority down the deck towards the commotion and called out to them in a thick Irish accent, "Oy, haven't you gobshite's had enough?" He towered over all four of the men, the Frenchman especially, and glowered down at them with bright green eyes that flashed with fury. That, however, wasn't the most intimidating thing about him. A massive circular scar, like a bite wound, peeked out from his shirt collar and curled around his neck and shoulder.

The Englishman who was holding the boy by the arm looked up at this giant of a man, startled, but did not let go. "What's it to you, Bog-Trotter?" He said with a sneer, trying to hide how intimidated he was.

"Yeah, this your girlfriend, eh?"

"I'd watch the next thing you say." Faolan's fingers tightened into fists.

The Englishman paused a moment, looking like they may be re-thinking their decisions, when the third and obviously least intelligent of them chimed in by spitting a glob of snot right at the Irishman's feet, "Pooffter."

That was enough for Faolan. He grabbed the third man by the shoulder and slammed his forehead down into his so hard the "crack" was audible to those nearby. The Englishman immediately crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Faolan pulled away, a small trickle of blood leaking down his forehead.

There was a moment of silence, of shock, before the Black and Tan let go of the Frenchman's arm, raised his hands and took a step back. Another beat passed before they English bent to grab their companion and dragged him off, his nose smashed and face bloody. The man who had started the fight kept his eyes on the ground, "Our apologies, sirs, we didn't mean nothin' by it...we'll be on our way."

Faolan watched them go in silence, his brow furrowed and his mouth set into a hard frown. He hadn't broken anyone's nose in a while and had nearly forgotten how good it felt to see British blood spilled.

[xivyxx]

It seemed like these British men had no intention of heeding his polite plead. He had a feeling they were insulting him, but he had no idea what the words actually meant. It wasn't like anyone in the church ever spoke so foully. The Frency comment he knew for a fact had to do with his ethnicity. He wasn't completely naive in the aspect that some Englishfolk had some problems with the French. He thought it unjust, considering he directly had done nothing to these men aside from run into one of them, and he had immediately apologized, on top of it.

"I would rather not resort to such methods.." He muttered. The man began to contemplate his options, attempting to ignore the insults being thrown his way. Should he give them money so they would leave him alone? No.. he felt like that might make things worse. Maybe he would offend them. He honestly wasn't sure anymore.

The final comment snapped Lucien out of his thoughts, eyes shifting back up to stare at the englishman with a furrowed brow. He clenched his fist, a bit of anger beginning to boil inside of him. A hard thing to accomplish. That stung, considering his circumstances. Sure they would have no way of knowing his mother had passed, but that certainly did not excuse them bringing her into this. He was about to sharply tug his arm away from the man grabbing him when someone else joined the fray. An incredibly tall man, who compared to the other three men, was definitely much more intimidating. His eyes were drawn to the huge scar on his neck, but he wasn't given too much time to process the sight. It was clear he meant to interfere, so he held himself back from doing what he would have, unsure how this exchange would turn out now that someone else was involved. The man was clearly angry. Worried about what this may lead to, he was about to speak up to attempt to calm the situation, but did not get the chance to. The larger man snapped at what the third man had done. Everything happened so fast. He winced upon hearing the clear and audible sound of the clashing of foreheads. It sounded incredibly painful, but that was enough for them to want to hurriedly take their leave. Their attitude took a completely different turn. Was resorting to violence necessary? He didn't like the idea that the only way to get them to leave him alone was for someone to have ended up getting hurt. He truly hoped not everyone was like this.

Lucien glanced up at the man who had helped him. Despite how intimidating the man appeared, he had could not deny the fact he had provided him with aid. He had noticed there were other people on the deck that had noticed what was happening, but it didn't seem like they had wanted to get involved. He didn't blame them. It wasn't like he had wanted to drag other people into his problems. Still, he was grateful for what the man had done.

"Thank you for helping me." He told him with a small bow of his head. The nephilim then began to fumble a bit with the pockets of his trench-coat. He pulled out a handkerchief, and extended it to the man, concern in his expression. He was unsure of whether the blood on his forehead was his, or the other man's. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

"Here.. please take it... for the blood.." He urged, unsure of how the man would take it if he attempted to wipe the blood away himself.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan glanced down at the Frenchman before him. The English has been right, he was scrawny and pale, and quite effeminate. If one looked at him from a certain angle, they may even think him a woman at first. Although, that wasn't exactly unusual for the French. There was something about him though...the longer he looked the more he felt it. Some light shimmered in the air around him, and his eyes were certainly an unusual color. Faolan took a breath and smelled cool, clean air around him; no salt, no wood, no decay, just fresh air.

Faolan's brow furrowed even more. He couldn't quite place it, but there was something special about this kid.

At the Frenchman's thanks, he simply grunted. Deserved it. He thought. He had wanted to stop the Englishman simply because they were foul and vulgar, and a pack of bullies. Faolan didn't like bullies, he didn't think he deserved much thanks, since the attack had given him a small amount of gratification, but he could see why the Frenchman was grateful.

He was about to turn away when he was offered the handkerchief. "Hm?" He tilted his head, and touched the tips of his fingers to his forehead. There was blood, alright, and a small cut that he hand't even notice, but it was healed by now. Cuts didn't last long on him. He hesitated before reaching for the handkerchief, it was nice material, white with not a drop of filth on it. He raised a hand and wiped the blood with the back of his already dirtied sleeve, leaving a smudge of black behind in the process. "No, thanks, wouldn't want to stain your lace."

Normally, Faolan would have made himself scarce already. He wasn't looking for charity, and he hadn't really done anything for the sake of the Frenchman so much as to satisfy his itch and get rid of an annoyance. But, there was something strange about this boy, and Faolan could tell he was green. So, instead of leaving, he spoke again, "Might want to avoid anyone bigger'n you on this trip. Lots of sailors don't take kindly to, well..." he looked him up and down, "people like you...on their deck." Faolan had never considered himself a wordsmith, and that was clear, but he didn't want to outright offend anyone either. He had been raised with some manners, despite his appearance and the deep and gravelly sound of his voice. His accent alone would have been enough to tilt some ears in this part of town, but his size and tough demeanor kept people from causing trouble with him. Good for them, he was his usual thought. The smart ones left him well enough alone, it was the gobdaws like this pack that usually brought trouble their own way. He was always quick to end these scuffles, but he never wanted to draw much attention to himself. This conversation was out of the ordinary already for him, but something told him his advice would be harder to abide by this Frenchy than he might've thought.

[xivyxx]

It seemed the man had not even realized there had been blood on his forehead. In a way that was relieving, because it meant that the blood wasn't his own. Someone else getting hurt on his behalf did not particularly sit well with him, so he was glad it didn't seem like he had been hurt. His handkerchief had been denied, but his forehead hadn't really gotten any cleaner.

"I insist you take it, I don't really mind if it gets dirty.. plus.. I think you still need it.. there's still a little.." He trailed off, hesitant as he motioned to his own forehead in an attempt to let him know it was still dirty. He was unsure of how the man would take his insistence but, he also was not sure if he would mind walking around like that.

Lucien was honestly a little surprised to have received a warning from the man, but then again.. he had helped him, so maybe he was nice after all. He was probably the first person he had engaged in actual conversation with since leaving the church. His following words however, confused him.

"What do you mean.. 'people like me?' I didn't really do anything. I apologized, and simply wanted to be on my way.." He asked. Did.. they know what he was? Was that why they didn't like him? No, that shouldn't be possible. He hadn't done anything that would give him away. All he had done was accidentally run into one of them. If people out here were really that hard to anger then he really did have to be careful. Getting into a fight out here would definitely bring attention to him. After all, had those men actually gotten physical with him, the fact they would not have been able to hurt him would have definitely given away that there was something different about him. He had underestimated the priests' warnings. Still, the man's words were a little contradictory.

"You are certainly bigger than me, but you still helped me. Doesn't that mean I shouldn't judge everyone by their size and appearance alone?" He asked. It made sense to him. He had been told to be wary and keep his distance from drunks, that he completely understood, but was it necessary to avoid literally everyone that was bigger than him? He supposed if he was to keep a low profile.. then avoiding contact with everyone he met would be ideal but.. that sounded lonely.

[FreckersFrog]

It seemed this little Frenchman was more insistent than Faolan had anticipated. He sighed as the handkerchief was forced on him, and took it begrudgingly. He'd rather wipe his forehead with the fancy cloth than endure more "advice". Taking the white lace in his huge paw-like hand, he spit on it and rubbed it against his forehead to extricate the blood and filth that had lain there. It came away a dingy brown-gray, and he continued to wipe his hands and face with it as he spoke.

He grunted at the question and smirked knowingly, "You're small, you're alone, and not so...tough lookin'." He said, letting his eyes slide out toward the city once more and nodded towards the smog-filled sky. "It's obvious your rich, or fancy, or some combination of both, from the city." His eyes then fell to Lucien's feet, "You don't know your way about a ship, judging by your boots," and his eyes moved back up to the young man's chest and arms, "and you're scrawny. No scars, no callous on the hands, you smell clean, and your hair is freshly washed." Faolan sniffed the air instinctively, "And that incense and candle wax wafting off your clothes...You're a church-boy, and they won't like that either." He finished wiping himself and thrust the handkerchief back toward the boy. Contact with his skin had left a large dingy brownish-gray stain in the center of the cloth, and Faolan hardly looked any cleaner for it.

[xivyxx]

Lucien was glad the man had decided to take it. For a moment he had thought he might be a little more stubborn about it. As he began to explain his reasoning, the man furrowed his brow a little.

"I'm tougher than I look." He protested, though he had no actual way of backing that up without showing him, and he knew that was something he probably shouldn't do. Still, he couldn't help himself but get a little defensive about his 'observations' of him. He had to admit he wasn't wrong about a lot of things. In all honestly he was surprised that he could even deduct that much about him even though he hadn't known him for very long.

"I.. must admit your powers of observation are quite good. This is my first time travelling, I've never been on a ship before but.. I wouldn't call myself rich or fancy in the least.. I was raised in a church, I was simply taught to be polite to people.." He said a little defensively. The church he was from was not rich by any means, they had gathered the money they had to allow him to this passage. He hoped to one day be able to repay them that favor.

"I'm surprised you were able to smell all that.. Your sense of smell must be quite good." After all, Lucien could hardly smell either of those things from his own clothes anymore. The smell of the sea was much stronger to him. He glanced down as the handkerchief was shoved back into his hands. He hadn't actually expected to get it back, but he felt like telling him to keep it after he had returned it might seem rude, so he simply folded it and put it back into his pocket. He could clean it later. At least for the most part, it seemed to have done its purpose.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan couldn't help but smirk and let out a gruff, quiet chuckle as the young Frenchman responded to his assessment. "Hm. Thought you might have swept the steps or helped people read their prayers." The Frenchman hadn't been wrong at all, Faolan's sense of smell was his strongest, seconded only by his hearing. It could be overwhelming at times, but it was helpful in a hunt, but most of the time these things just came to him. Not like anyone would have to try to smell that incense, it was overpowering.

He waved a hand at the boy and turned to leave, "It comes with the territory. Take my advice or leave it, just know this won't be your last scuffle if you don't watch yourself."

A small part of him, just the smallest tiniest part, felt a little bad for the boy. He was out of his element, but at least he had been honest about it. While that transparency got him far with the Irishman, it wouldn't with others on the boat. He stuck out on the deck of this ship just as much as Faolan did on a city street. A wolf in the forest was an apex predator, a wolf in the city was the prey. This kid was no wolf, but he was a small fish who's stream had just opened to sea. There was a lot ahead for him, if he made it as far as America.

But that was none of Faolan's business. He was on his own journey, didn't have time for whelps that didn't know their place.

[xivyxx]

Lucien wasn't sure whether he wanted to feel annoyed by his reaction. He wasn't sure if he had that look on his face because he was mocking him. "I helped out sometimes but no, not particularly.. I'm not all that religious.." He had his own reasons for that. After all it was by the laws of their so called God that his father and mother weren't able to be together. He didn't necessarily hate it, but he had developed enough at a young age to know not to believe everything he was told in regards to that. He held his own opinions about it, but it didn't mean he still wasn't grateful for the fact the priests had taken him in. He wasn't resentful toward them, after all it wasn't their fault that things had happened the way they did.

He glanced up at the man again as he spoke. Honestly he felt like he was being treated like a little kid. He supposed he might look like a teenager to most people. His features didn't really make him look his age. It was unfortunate really, that he still looked like he was a seventeen year old when he was actually in his twenties. Well, twenty to be exact. Why couldn't he just keep rapidly developing until he seemed to be twenty one? Maybe then people would stop confusing him for a woman. The same thing used to happen to him at the church. He honestly just hoped he would keep growing. The idea of being stuck like this didn't seem particularly appealing.

"Thank you.. for the warning I suppose.." For a moment, he watched the man go, but he was conflicted. He knew the voyage to America was a long one. While he wasn't necessarily scared of being alone, he felt like having the company would be nice on a trip like this. The man didn't particularly seem approachable. Didn't that mean that he would be alone on this voyage as well? He didn't really see the harm in sticking together. Determined, he quickly ran to catch up with him.

"This.. trip is supposed to be long isn't it? If we're headed for the same place.. I don't think there's much harm in having a little company. If I'm suppose to avoid anyone that's bigger than me while I'm here then, being with the biggest man around is the best option right?" He asked a little jokingly, glancing up at the man. "Ah.. my name is Lucien, by the way." He added, realizing he hadn't been polite enough to introduce himself sooner. He figured the least he could do was offer his name if he hoped to travel with him.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan merely grunted at the young man's thanks as he made his way back toward the edge of the deck. He was of few words, which his new would-be companion seemed determined to challenge. He had been in similar situations with people before; when he "saved" them or intervened just to make himself more comfortable, they usually started with thanks and offers of various kindnesses. Usually they backed off when the realized that Faolan was not much for company, but this one had apparently not gotten the hint.

He reached the edge of the ship with the Frenchman still in tow, and stared out across the city streets, unconsciously trying to memorize them. He was sure it was the last time he would see them, and while he wasn't especially aware of caring. Being the type of man, the sort of traveler he was, he didn't really feel sentimental as each brief 'home' was just a stepping stone. If he kept up the way he was going, no home, no attachments, his whole life would be a stepping stone.

"Mm." He felt himself nod in agreement, "About 15 days, week and a half if we're lucky...month if we're not." He cringed inwardly as memories of last night's...activities filtered into his mind. Running, sweat, the taste of blood in his mouth, the smell of death and dirt, earth and bark under his fingernails...

There was a pause again as he looked out over the city, the roar of the ship's horn barely registering in his mind. "Lucien, huh? Sounds as fancy as you look." He was considering the young man's offer without really considering it. Maybe it was being on the water instead of the earth, or maybe it was the rush of adrenaline from last night, but he was having a hard time focusing on refusing, as he normally would. Maybe it would be so bad after all, having someone to watch out for.

"Faolan." He heard himself saying as his eyes scanned the horizon.

[xivyxx]

Lucien was glad he was not denied. At least now he could make this trip in the company of another. He stopped next to the man as he looked out into the city streets. He hoped this would not be the last time he would see it. Honestly.. he hoped that everyone would be alright. If possible, he wished they would have been able to go with him but.. they wanted to stay. He let out a small sigh. Despite his excitement upon being able to leave and travel for the first time.. he was still a little saddened to leave.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the man speaking again. "Er.. thank you.." He said, though he felt that this might not be intended as a compliment.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Faolan." He said, glancing up at him. Now that he thought about it, the man's accent did not sound particularly familiar to him. It wasn't one he had heard around the church goers, so this made him curious.

"I.. don't recognize your accent. Would you mind if I ask where you're from?" He asked.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan nearly chuckled again as a second blast of the ship's horn rumbled out over the harbor. He shook his head, "You're having me on. Oh lad...you must be Fancy if you can't recognize an Irish accent." This particular southern dialect would have been very noticeable to any other Frenchman, Englishman, American or what-have-you. "Must be from a protestant church...Is it your first time outdoors as well?"

[xivyxx]

Lucien shifted his gaze downward at his words. He was a little embarrassed to not have known but.. there was not much he could do about that. He had studied a lot while at the church, so he knew where Ireland was, and how tense the situation was with England. In fact he had all sorts of historical knowledge, he had no lack of books to read growing up. Considering he didn't really have much else to do. If he wasn't in the church courtyard he was studying in his room or attempting to help out whenever he was able.

"Catholic, actually.." He said before he lifted his gaze once more to look out into the city. "It's.. my first time outside of the general area of the church.. yes.. I.. wasn't really allowed out very much." He muttered.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan had guessed correctly after all, but he was surprised to learn the boy was Catholic after all. Maybe the Irish didn't trust French churches, that he could understand. If this was true, however, that the boy had been cloistered his whole life, the two men were almost complete opposites. Faolan had spent his entire adult life outdoors, and most of his childhood as well. He had grown up on a farm, learning to fend for himself from an early age. His home was the field and the forest, it didn't necessarily matter where exactly the greenery was located.

Faolan felt a pang of disappointment for the boy. A sheltered life was no life at all...perhaps that's why he was leaving. Maybe this was some form of escape? Faolan could relate if so. He grunted, his eyes rolling to land on the boy at his shoulder, "Didn't mean any offence. Just...you don't hide it well." Although, he was curious, "They keep you locked up or something?"

[xivyxx]

Lucien shook his head. "None taken, I guess I'll just have to be more careful.. I didn't really think it would be this much of a problem." While he had been warned, it had been more of a 'try not to draw attention to yourself and avoid certain people,' but that was easier said than done. That much he had learned quickly.

His next question caught him off guard a little. He hadn't thought he'd ask about that. Perhaps he should have thought twice before mentioning it. "No.. it was nothing like that. There were just.. extenuating circumstances. They were simply being protective." He said, letting out a bit of a nervous laugh. That was the most amount of detail he could give without completely giving himself away. Taking note of the fact the ship was finally setting out to leave, he decided to quickly change the subject.

"So.. what brings you to America?" He asked.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan simply grunted again and breathed out hard through his nose at the question, slightly turning his head away as the ship's horn blasted for it's third and final time. "Nothin' left for me here. Thought I might fair better in the states. Big, open spaces..." He let his fingers slide from the rail and leaned away as he felt the rumble of the engines and watched steam belch into the sky. "I'm not much one for stickin' around places, anyway." This much was certainly true. Even if he was land-locked for a time, Faolan never stayed too close to the same city for more then a month. There were usually...extenuating circumstances.

There was another pause in their conversation as the sea air whipped around their faces and shoulders, pulling Faolan's long hair in all different directions. "Well, we better head below 'fore they come and make us."

[xivyxx]

Lucien was glad the man didn't pry any further. He glanced up as the ship's horn blasted for the last time, and he felt the ship sway. They were leaving now. It seemed that this man was the complete opposite of him. He was certainly much better traveled than he. It made him curious of all the places he could have possibly been to. Honestly, he was a little jealous. At his following suggestion, Lucien nodded, giving the port city of Bordeaux one final glance before he headed down below with Faolan.

-

The first week of travel had gone by slowly. It was certainly different for him, to spend so many days in a place so unlike the church, crowded with so many people. He was sure some people would dislike such things but.. for him it was an entirely different experience, and he didn't particularly mind it. Faolan didn't seem to be that fond of staying below deck, so he always had plenty of chances to get a beautiful view of the open sea. A sight he felt he would never tire of. When Faolan was off working in the ship, for the most part Lucien stayed below deck, to avoid trouble as Faolan had suggested. During the days his shifts were the longest however, he grew a little restless. Staying inside while he knew they were sailing the open ocean was difficult, after all he wanted to enjoy as much of it as he possibly could. Just.. a little while wouldn't hurt, right? Is what the nephilim told himself.

It was then that he decided to make his way above. Unfortunately, Lucien did not make it there. He felt a strong force collide with the beck of his head, sending him stumbling forward to the ground as he had not been expecting it. The strength of it sent him to the ground, where his vision blurred as he attempted to get a grip on his surroundings. He felt shuffling in his clothes, and what he could vaguely register as the voices of Englishmen before then there was nothing.

"Ain't so tough without yer boyfriend are ye?" That was the only thing he was able to register, and just like that they were gone. It took a little while for Lucien to regain himself. This was the closest he had ever gotten in his life to getting hurt, but what he felt wasn't pain, it had mostly been the shock of having been taken by surprise. He forcibly blinked a few times, before he felt the back of his head. No blood, he was fine. Lucien rose to his feet, by now completely regaining himself. His coat had been messed with, and feeling through his pockets, he realized his pouch of coins was missing. The money the priests had entrusted him with. That however was not what the nephilim cared for. The necklace he always wore, the only thing he had of his fathers, it was gone. At this, he immediately grew alarmed. This was the one thing he could not part with. Panicked, Lucien ran back down, heading below deck. It had to be those men from before, it was the only thing he could think of. Upon running through the halls, he caught a flash of red hair, a familiar red. He quickly stopped, and backtracked. Normally he wouldn't have wanted to bother him with this, but this relic was too important to lose.

"Faolan! I-I need your help!"

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan has made a slow and steady trek back up to the cabins, holding his side and limping slightly. He needed privacy, and this was the only place he could get it. He'd entered the room and noticed Lucien wasn't there, even better, no need to worry the pup.

He'd taken a seat on his cot, bent over and breathing heavily, and that is how Lucien had found him. He turned his soot-coated and sweat-stained face toward Lucien as he registered his voice, his brow furrowed and his eyes half-shut as his pulse throbbed.

"Mm...what happened?" He grunted and winced, then looked down at the hand that was still clutching his side. A pool of dark red blood had begun to seep and drip through his fingers and stain his already filthy shirt. He pulled his hand away, revealing the shiny end of the broken blade that had punctured him.

He'd been at a hard day's work in the engine room, shoveling coal for four hours with the other boys. He had hardly tired by the time he could take a break. Four of the men had already passed out from inhaling the fumes, and had been taken away on stretchers to the infirmary. He had shoveled twice as fast, and barely showed signs of stopping when his shift lead told him to drink some water. He was dripping in sweat, covered in black soot, and heaving for air, but felt good. It was nice for him to have his body working, it took his mind off of the oppressive space he had been forced to call home.

He was sitting on a crate, alone, splashing his face and drinking from a pale of fresh water when two men entered the space. He recognized them instantly, both by stature and smell. They were two of the men from the deck on the day the ship had taken off, the ones who had attacked Lucien. He stood immediately, and was about to warn them when the first lunged at him. His hand came up to stop the punch the man was throwing, and he paused, for just a moment before breaking his arm.

It was during this pause that a sharp ringing pain shot from his side, up to his shoulder and into his brain. He howled in pain, and twisted around to face the man. He'd been stabbed, which normally wouldn't have been a problem, his skin was tougher than most blades. That was excluding silver ones, which this shooting pain told him was the case.

He caught the second man by the throat, squeezed and tossed him aside like a rag-doll. This would have killed the man, if Faolan's strength hadn't immediately been sapped by the silver's contact with his blood. He whirled around again as the second man turned and fled, clutching his wrist, and called out to his friend. By the time Faolan turned again, both had run back up the stairs and out of sight. He reached for the blade and found nothing, and the clatter of metal brought his eyes to the floor. The handle of the knife, a tiny letter-opener, lay at his feet.

From here, he'd limped to his cabin, clutching his side and fading in and out of focus. The pain was immense, and it was spreading to his legs and his other arm now. Adrenaline pumped his blood through his body, carrying the silver's deadly toxins towards his heart. He needed this blade out, but there was no bit of it that he could reach without cutting into himself, and for that he needed his bag.

It was in this state that Lucien found him, blinking hard and sweating, with black veins stretching up from under his collar and onto his neck.

[xivyxx]

Lucien was about to explain what happened, but it was cut short as he took note of his friend's state. He followed his gaze to the wound that Faolan had then revealed. He paled and quickly rushed to him, his expression stricken with worry. He completely ignored his question, this being much more important than that. Taking a closer look at the injury, he could see something shiny sticking out of it. Who had done this to him? At this time Faolan shouldn't even have been in their room, but working. Had the same men gotten to him too? He shook his head, shifting his focus. At this point trying to conceal himself was the last thing on his mind. Faolan was hurt, and he could see these strange, dark veins spreading up the side of his neck. Had the blade been poisoned? The wound didn't seem that large, but it was clearly heavily affecting him. He wasn't sure how his healing ability worked with something like this, but he had to try.

"Try not to move." He told him as went down on his knees, getting a better look at the bloody wound. The other half of the object was clearly still embedded inside of him. He didn't want to dig it out. If.. he focused his healing on the inside first, perhaps the force of it would shove the small knife out. He ignored Faolan's protests, his expression becoming much more focused as he placed his hand over the wound. He could tell the larger man had been incredibly weakened, considering at his normal strength he would have easily been able to push him away.

Lucien focused on Faolan's injury, his hand beginning to radiate a small amount of light that seemed to emanate warmth. He could feel the shift of the skin and the blade within it as it slowly began to heal. He had been correct in his assumption. He grimaced slightly, knowing this was probably incredibly painful, but there weren't any other options. Pulling the small blade out might only increase the bleeding. The process felt like it was taking longer than he would have liked, but this was also the worst injury he had ever had to heal. Eventually, what he had thought to be the end of the knife clattered to the ground, but Lucien didn't pay it much attention, immediately rising to his feet once more and looking his friend over with worry for any other sign of injury.

"A-Are you alright? Did they hurt you anywhere else? Was that poisoned?" His questions came out much faster and rushed than normal as he tried to get a better look at the darkened veins in his neck.

[FreckersFrog]

Faolan was in a daze as Lucien knelt beside him. He raised a hand to push the boy's hands away, but didn't have the strength to resist. Every little movement brought the silver closer to his heart, and him closer to paralysis and death. The walk up here had done more than enough damage, and he was growing weaker by the second as the pain increased.

He felt warmth then, which at first was soothing. Instinctively, he tried to relax his muscles to make the healing process easier, but a burst of agony caused them to tense again. White hot pain erupted from the wound, and he could feel the toxin begin pulled from his veins. The pain was immense, strong enough to cause him to growl deep in his throat. His hand shot down to grip the frame of his cot and his arm began to shake with the effort of staying quiet. Sweat dripped from his skin, and his legs were shaking. His vision blurred, and he felt like the pain would never end.

And then, suddenly, it ended. He heard faintly the clang of the knife as it fell to the floor and he blinked to clear the fog from his eyes. He had been wheezing, but he fought to return his breathing to normal. After a moment, he felt his strength returning, but he was still a bit wobbly.

At Lucien's question, he shook his head. "Silver." He kicked the blade away from him and it skittered across the wooden floor. "Throw it overboard." He nodded toward the blade and clutched his side. He was sore, but the pain had subsided and he felt his focus returning. Whatever the boy had done, it had neutralized the poison.

As Lucien moved passed him to retrieve the blade and follow his instructions, Faolan's hand shot out, still stained with a mixture of soot and his own blood, "What did you do?" Both his grip and his voice were intense, and his green eyes blazed as he looked up at the Frenchman for once.