Antarctic Termite — Roleplayer Guild

Deck.
The fox was soon gone, a limp white mass in its jaws at which the woman yelled but turned herself from to see Sidwell. Voices had followed him, though now their source was focused in a horn-like device more than they were easily discerned from the floorboards. Another child, this one thin with ominous red hair, looked to be seeing to them, but he didn't listen. The woman was his greater concern, and the growing wind was interfering with his ears. She spoke like the man with the arm markings, a loose hybrid of Anglish and components he didn't know. "You'll find your fox in heaven if your heart is pure," he accorded to scripture, but beyond that he could only nod back as she gestured to the voices. Save them. I can only try to help them save themselves now.

The woman Tamtam (Tamara? Perhaps the other names were merely titular) was quickly off in the direction of the fox again, which- Perhaps unknown to her- Was being pursued in turn by the same gleaming mouse as had been resting in Innocent's waking room. A second time he failed to go after it, leaving himself with the voices, of which a louder, male aspect had taken over, talking back to the child. Sidwell could see the burgeoning maelstrom in the sky, early and distant flickers of lightning shattered and reflected in the roiling water, but as he was still stepping back to the strange girl, a much closer voice turned both of their heads.

The girl with the red head reacted first, and aggressively, spouting a curse much harsher than Sidwell was comfortable with, the name of the Christ. He said nothing, and stood by watching the sails unfold as the girl disciplined a frightened, dirty boy who had screamed. Innocent supposed it was of interest that the boy had bluish hair and ears like a cat, but it was hardly less strange than the red haired girl, or the tall stories he'd heard third-hand from sailors. People from all parts of the world ended up dead and under judgement, to no surprise. The sails weren't like those he'd been told about. They certainly weren't canvas sheets hung between mast and rigging, and they certainly weren't glass. No glass could ever be so pure and clear, let alone supple. They were air made solid. The rising wind made Sidwell hold on to his hat. "Fly away then, cloudship," he murmured as the feisty red girl finished her tirade and whirled back, clearly expecting to see Tamtam still around.

Sidwell answered as if he'd been the addressee, though parts of the red girl's speech hiccuped in his translation. He could recognise the spoken word engin, cleverness, but the voice in his head insisted it meant 'device'. Both descriptions fitted his waking room, the one with the books and the brass contraptions. "There is a room with devices up there." Sidwell gestured to the structure from which the toy mouse had run, observing that its roof had opened up somehow, but hesitated before starting back. 

Save them too. That was the order he'd been left with, and it was a powerful command. He knew he'd just left that place. The voices were coming from underneath it. And now that the roof was open, it offered no shelter from whatever rain this storm could offer. "...But the people there aren't the ones we're looking for. They're below that. I think we should avoid this storm." It was against his grain to contradict himself, to make a suggestion other than the easiest route. But he'd been told to go save people, and he supposed Red Girl and Blue Cat Boy were part of that. The advice was good, though it wasn't meant for him- Stay with me. Gather folks together. Beckoning to the boy, who was in confusion or terror attempting to crush together more than one language, Innocent Sidwell turned his back on the waves and the storm and stepped towards the stairway where Tamtam had disappeared in her chase, gently resting his free hand on the trees as he walked.
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