Itzi Ku & Puskurunuwa Petrides
Co-write between @InfamousGuy101 & @Tackytaff
The ladder up into the spine of the ship creaked beneath her boots, Itzi tilted her head, listening the groan of the airframe. A faint hiss of the gas cells shifting overhead and tucked somewhere in that vast dark lattice, the faintest rustle that didn’t belong to machinery.
She sighed under her breath.
So this is where he’s been hiding. Part of her still turned over Carter’s words from earlier, the strange calm in him after all they’d survived as well as how nonchallant he was about a possible violent confrontation over the gold. It gnawed at her a little, that numbness, though she understood a bit more of his reasonings. Neverthless she wasn’t about to stew in it tonight, not when there was the promise of music, drink, and something close to normal from what Miss Zoe had told her.
The rafters opened into dim shadows, netting and beams crisscrossed like a forest canopy. Sure enough, there was a little hollow made of tarps and spare canvas, somewhat of a nest carved out among the gas cells.
Itzi smirked at the sight, “Well, well. And here I thought you'd jump into my cabin sometime soon,” she called up lightly, voice teasing as she balanced on the beam.
She crossed her arms, tilting her head, dark eyes glinting in the half-light, “You hiding from the work crew, or just waiting for someone to invite you to a proper party, though perhaps you ought to be the one inviting me?”
Despite numerous warnings and lectures from other crew-mates, Nuwa was again using the ship’s gas cells as jumping mats. He was close enough to hear Itzi’s arrival and preformed his final launch with a small flip, landing in-front of her, arms extended more for presentation than keeping balance.
His face fell when he noticed she’d arrived empty-handed, then further still at her suggestion. “Most ‘those boots downstairs wouldn’t know a party if it fell on their face.” He grumbled, turning to the small pile of his possessions and rummaging through the disorganized mess to find a pair of gloves. “Bring tea if you want a visit next time. Gets cold as an Elgan’s ass up here when the sun goes down.”
Itzi arched an eyebrow as Nuwa landed in front of her, arms thrown wide like he’d just leapt from a stage instead of the rafters. She gave a small smirk, crossing her arms tighter as if unimpressed, though truth be told, she was more than a little amazed. For once, his boasting about the circus didn’t sound like a charade, he moved like someone who’d lived their life off the ground.
“Not bad,” she drawled, letting the words come off just a shade too casual. “Almost makes me believe that circus talk of yours.”
She glanced at the little pile of his belongings and let out a quiet laugh at his grumbling, “Tea, huh? If it gets that cold up here, maybe you ought to think about jumping into an actual cabin for once. Plenty to go around.” Her eyes glinted with mischief as she added, “Or you could just jump back into mine. Seems you’ve got practice at that.”
The playful edge in her tone softened as she stepped closer, slipping her hand around his arm the way a lady might take a gentleman’s before a dance, "Aaand if you really think this ‘party’ downstairs doesn’t know what fun is… then show me. Come on, Zano’s keeping an eye on the helm, which means I’ve got a little time before someone yells at me to grab the wheel again.”
Nuwa straightened abruptly to look Itzi in the eye. “I didn’t-” His voice cracked, causing him to stutter and flush all at once. Clearing his throat, he shook out the single found glove, only to tuck it in his back waistband. “Too easy for someone to find me in the cabins.” He finally managed, “If someone’d told there’d be so many chores, I wouldn’t have bothered coming.” The railing creaked gently as he leaned against it, folding his arms. “I’ll follow you down there if you’ll promise not to tell anyone where you found me.”
Itzi tilted her head, the smirk never leaving her face as she watched him fumble with the glove and the excuse both. He really was something else.
“Don’t worry,” she said, lowering her voice to something conspiratorial, “your little nest up here stays between us. Call it our secret.”
She gave his arm the faintest squeeze, playful but steady. “But...” her eyes sparked as she leaned in just a little, “you’re paying for my silence by escorting me downstairs and giving me one proper dance. After that you can scurry back up here to brood in the rafters all you like.”
Nuwa’s gaze flicked rapidly between Itzi’s hand, face, and back again. “Not sure that I know any ‘proper’ dances…” He said hesitantly before shaking his head, replacing the slowly growing frown with his usual toothy grin as he took hold of Itzi’s arm and looped it through his own.
“The improper way is more fun anyway, if you’ll let me show you.”
Itzi’s smirk softened into something warmer, her eyes lingering on his grin longer than she meant to. For all his fumbling, he had a way of pulling her along with his energy.
“Improper’s fine by me,” she said with a small laugh, giving his arm another squeeze. “Just so long as you don’t try dropping me from the rafters mid-step.”
Together they picked their way back down the ladder, boots clanging faintly against the rungs until the narrow spine of the ship gave way to the broader warmth of the gondola. The faint hum of the phonograph drifted up even before they reached the dining hall, notes of a jaunty tune carrying through the corridor.
When they stepped inside, Itzi paused a beat. The glow of low lamps flickered over velvet curtains and high-backed chairs, the air thick with cigar smoke and laughter. Men and women moved across the open space between tables, glasses in hand, some dancing with more confidence than others, but all swept up in the rare ease of the moment.
Her eyes widened just a fraction, the grin tugging at her mouth unguarded now. “Well… this is a hell of a lot more fun than I expected,” she admitted, her voice pitched low but edged with excitement.
“Almost like one of those fancy balls from the upper districts, except I don’t have to sneak in through a service door this time.”
She shot Nuwa a sideways glance, her mischief returning as she tugged him further inside. “So then, circus boy, show me this improper way of yours.”
Carter slipped away from the floor with Mitunbaal’s hand still warm in his, offering her a courteous bow before stepping back. A curl of smoke lingered from the cigar he’d left behind at the bar and he let the taste of liquor and tobacco sit on his tongue as his eyes swept the room.
That’s when he spotted Itzi, her arm looped neatly through a wiry fellow Carter didn’t recognize. He cut an odd figure, smile too wide, eyes a touch too bright. Carter cocked his head, then drifted closer.
“Well now,” he drawled, tone light but tinted with curiosity, “didn’t expect to see you down here, Miss Ku, I hope the helm isn't being looked after by some ghost. Who’s your partner?”
Itzi met him with the kind of smile that gave nothing away, charming and evasive all at once, “Just making sure the crew gets a taste of proper fun. Helm’s under control, Zano’s on it.” She tipped her chin toward the dance floor, mischief glinting in her eyes, “Besides, even pilots need a night to breathe.”
Carter’s gaze lingered a beat longer on the stranger before giving a slow nod. “Zano? I'll trust your judgement on his abilities,” he allowed. “Still, I’ll take a look in myself. Old habits die hard.”
He finished his glass before stepping away, “Don’t go indulging too much, Ku. Fun’s fine, so long as you can still find your way back to the wheel when the time comes.”
He turned as if to go, setting his glass down with a quiet clink on the bar. The music and laughter swelled behind him, but he noticed who wasn’t among it. Volodar and Arkadios. Neither of them were anywhere in sight, and that alone was enough to knot something in his gut.
Straightening his jacket he started for the exit, slight unease at his brow.
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