TheAmishPirate

Breathless Dead

Dolce’s whole body stiffened. His hands clutched the sheets until his knuckles turned whiter, and if his grip had slackened for a moment they would’ve flown to cover his mouth.

Hera!!!

You can’t just say those things!

Or...maybe Hera could say those things. Hera was allowed to say those things, but, but, you couldn’t possibly expect him to agree with you! Vasilia was sleeping right there! What if she was to hear?!

He followed her gaze out the window. Silently stargazing, as his thoughts hurried themselves back in order. His eyes flitted over the wreck, idly sizing it up. Incomplete, yes, it must have been enormous when it was whole. Comparable to their own, even. They had a decent view of the inside; the hull had been peeled back in great, jagged sheets. There’d have been no hope of sealing that damage. Not fast enough to matter.

His nose wrinkled, and he bowed his head. Shut his eyes from the sight. As much as he’d learned, he never knew how to pray for the shipwrecked. Only that he couldn’t bear to be silent. Whatever had happened to the crew...there was no god or goddess who could step back in time and grant them a more merciful end. He’d still set out an offering for Poseidon, just in case there’d been any survivors. But it was too late for anything else.

If you wanted to help a shipwreck, you ought to pray while the ship’s still whole.

“There’s all sorts of ways for a ship to fall apart, isn’t there?” He wondered quietly.

Breathless Dead

Dolce scooted respectfully to the edge of the bed. Facing Hera, even sitting apart from her, he felt the gentlest sunbeams brush his face with warmth. A memory of pleasant, homey spices he could not hope to identify filled the air. He did not touch her - it would be rude to approach first - but her presence still seemed to wrap him up in a soothing hug. Be at ease, little one. Lay the troubles of your heart bare. What danger would dare intrude here?

Yet, when he spoke, it was to his hands, lying open in his lap. To speak of such heavy shame, he could not lift his eyes any higher.

“All you say is true, but...I’m just a chef who learned a little swordplay. I’m not strong like Alexa.” The only callus he had was from the flat of the knife. The only scars, from peelers and mistakes. “I’m not clever like the Princess.” His palms were spotless, without a hint of grease or smoke. “I can’t command like my wife.” He bit at his lip with concentration, but still his hands trembled. “There’s so few of us, you see, and the journey is so long. Eventually, a time will come when it will all depend on me. When we face disaster, and I’ll be the only one who can try to stop it, and, and...” Please, wise Hera. Kind Hera. Do not make him say it aloud. Not tonight. Not here. Let this wish be enough.

“How can I carry their darkness when I can’t even carry them?”

Breathless Dead

“‘Guest’ he says! After all that bother, the best he can do is a...a….A-CHOO!!!”

Dolce offered up a whole pile of clean handkerchiefs to the bemoaning mound of quilts. A hand snaked out from under the mass, patted about blindly, paused fondly when it encountered his wool, then snatched up a handkerchief and darted back under the covers.

“Hmph! Was ruining our date not good enough for you, miserable guest? Fiend? What’s the use of fawning over Apollo if you won’t put in a good word for your Captain? What have I ever done to you that you’d wish me ill of the plague? Maybe Jas’o was onto something. Maybe I ought to have you carry Alexa about the ship for a day. No, a week! A week for the rude guest to rectify extreme moral turpitude, and then-”

Her plans for Galnius’ labors withered beneath a terrible fit of coughing. Dolce hauled himself up atop the wide, soft bed they shared, and sat beside her pillow. All he could see of her was a wrinkled nose, a pair of red, watery eyes, and a disheveled fan of hair. All she’d let him see of her. He felt her brow, and grimaced; still feverish. “Shhhhhhhhh. You can figure out what to do to Galnius tomorrow,” he gently shushed her, hand moving to stroke through her hair. “You need to rest.”

“It’s just, the injustice of it all.” She managed a pout with only half her face. But. Still leaned into his touch. “I can’t figure...I can’t abide it. I just can’t, I…” Her gaze grew distant, and oh, what he would have given to see what she could see. But she merely sighed bitterly, and nestled in deeper. All she’d let him see of her. “You deserved a better day than this, darling. So many better days…”

He leaned over, and gently kissed her brow. “We’re still together,” he murmured. “How bad can it be?”

A low purr rumbled in her throat, even as her watering eyes screwed shut. “You’ve locked the door, yes?”

“Locked and bolted.”

“No one will try to get in?”

“I’ve informed the crew you are not to be disturbed until further notice.”

“And you’ll be here?”

“Always.”

“...promise?”

He gently nuzzled at her head.

“Always, my Lady.”

********************

Despite it all, she did not sleep easily. Dolce counted the minutes until she settled down. Until her breathing slowed. Until the whispered moans and pleadings stopped. All the while, he stroked her head, gliding his fingers through her hair without the slightest tug to disturb her.

Only when she was quiet, and deep in the grip of fevered sleep, did he open his mouth to pray.

“Hera…” He pleaded beneath his breath. “Please, visit me again. I will make you a feast as before. I will lay it out in the ways that you like it. I will do all I can to make it pleasing to you, but please,” His eyes fell on his sleeping wife, and his voice cracked. “Please. All I can do is no longer enough, and I...Hera, I cannot fail now. I cannot.” Was it disrespectful to wipe away tears while praying? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t risk it. “Tell me what I must do. Tell me how I can serve and save my friends. Please, Hera…”

Fellowship: The Heart

The word is on hold because ow!!!

Jackdaw gently rubbed at her stinging snout, a rare flash of irritation bubbling in her belly, lending her spine some strength. “How can I give you something I’ve forgotten I even have? And…” Her brow furrowed. “...for that matter, how can you know that I have something I don’t know I have?” It didn’t make any sense! Even by the Heart’s esoteric standards, it was just...the absolute, complete…

No, no, you know what? The word is hogwash.

“Do you know the law? Does it have something to say about this?” Because, genuinely, she would like to know.

Breathless Dead

Vasilia turned away. It wasn’t surprise, pain, nor cowardice that made her breath hitch. Apollo Silverbow could show her nothing that she’d not seen a thousand times over. But that’s the trouble with eyes, isn’t it? No way to tell what another sees. What hidden thing another might...notice. The god could hear her just fine, whether she spoke to his face or to the ceiling.

“Yes, yes, the Admiral. Working overtime to chase after us with an unwieldy Armada full of disloyal backstabbers. And if she succeeds, she’ll never set foot on her ship again, except to give awful parades.” No one with a shuttle that gaudy could ever hope to organize a decent party. “And then there’s your former employer, Galnius. If I’d handed over the Princess, he’d be enjoying his early retirement in a private galaxy all to his own. Every last one of them works so hard to leave their posts as fast as possible. And me?”

She traced a finger over the rough, cutting edge of her Captain’s medal.

“I am Captain now, and I will be Captain when our journey ends.” She said quietly. “So tell me again which of us is taking this more seriously.”

Breathless Dead

Oh no. Oh no. Was there something he’d forgotten? He’d triple-checked her schedule for today, and he could have sworn her lunch hour was free. Had there been a last-minute shift? Was there a message he’d failed to pass along? Everyone on the ship had been accounted for, he’d not crossed paths with anyone, no one ought to have crossed hers, was it the pipes? It must have been the pipes. It’s so hard, to hear them when he wasn’t in the bridge. “If offense has been given by the Captain’s schedule, you have my deepest apologies.” He bowed to Galnius. “I am responsible for its keeping, and I-”

“It’s alright, Dolce. You’ve done nothing to apologize for.” Vasilia sighed, and a terrible weight seemed to settle on her shoulders. No, a weight she accepted onto her shoulders. Guilt gnawed at his heart. “Right. So we’re doing this now.” She muttered, just beneath a breath, before raising her head and her voice. “Galnius, let me ask you a question; does a good Captain loathe their post? I’d give you permission to speak freely, but...well, it seems we’re quite past that, aren’t we?”

Fellowship: The Heart

The word is appraisal.

Jackdaw looked down at her weathered, patchwork cloak, and its varied contents: Dusty old tomes. Journals, scraps of journals, minus necessary context. A stick that could turn into a slightly bigger stick. Dried-out herbs that would probably still disinfect a wound. And a tasteful variety of crunchable midnight snacks.

Jackdaw looked back to the wand pointed up her nose.

“...are you sure?”

Breathless Dead

“Darling, we have got to do something about these trust issues of yours.” Vasilia sagged against her cushions, worn down by the cruel barbs of her own crew, and coincidentally giving her the last few inches she needed to flick her tail at Dolce’s ankles. “I’ve neither reason nor time to lie to my own crew. If you don’t believe me, at least believe the Princess. And if you don’t believe either of us, you can ask Hades and believe him instead.”

“Gambling’s no fun if you know you’re already going to lose.” Dolce paused, then frowned. “...probably.”

“Perhaps the gods do it differently than we? We ought to ask them sometime.” She mulled it over another long sip. Gods, she was parched today. She’d have to get Dolce to secret the bottle away before long, but oh, how she’d rue its absence. Perhaps a little longer… “But there you have it; Hades tasked the Princess with this trip to Gaia, and the lot of us along with her. Satisfied?” And leaving, perchance? Some of us had more important things to get back to.

Breathless Dead

Dolce’s movement were so slight, they bordered on imperceptible. A proper wine pour needed a steady hand, no? His one hand tilted gently, letting the wine fill Vasilia’s waiting glass. The other held a cloth napkin, whiter than his wool, standing ready to intercept errant drops before they stained her throne of cushions. (It was a formality. There would be no spills on his watch.) He poured a splash or three extra - just how she liked it - set the bottle aside, and waited by her side with an artful array of cheeses, meats, and crackers. The model of a loyal servant, waiting on his Lady.

Minus the lightly wrinkled clothes, lightly bitten ears, and lightly flushed cheeks he was willing back to white. If these constituted a breach of duty, then please direct all complaints to the Captain.

Or...perhaps not. Not today, please? He was used to schooling his face calm, less so the icy hands that gripped his heart and froze his blood. Oh, how he could do without those today. First he’d thought she actually intended to write him up for insubordination (She was joking! Of course she was, how could he have not seen it?) and now this? Please, oh Aphrodite, let Galnius be on their way soon…

Vasilia swirled her wineglass, basking in the aroma and hiding a pout. “Is that what you think? That the Princess of Humanity needs the invincible legions to wage a bloody civil war across Telos?” She took a sip of the glittering red. Did she enjoy it? Did she notice her favorite vintage? He’d picked it out especially for today. Her lips parted with a contented sigh, and he all but fainted with relief joy. “You really haven’t spent much time with her, have you?”

“The Princess doesn’t wish to hurt her mother.” He added, offering her the tray. “Not if she can help it.”

“Mmm. Indeed. She’s a kind soul, our Redana.” Her eyes went distant. What was she thinking about? Who was she remembering? Was that a grimace, before she found her easy smile again? “We’re on a slightly different course. One given to us by Hades, along with the ship.” She dabbled in one of the offerings from the tray. She did love a creamy cheese when she fell into her blacker moods. And the crackers! He’d made sure they had a good crunch to them, she liked her crackers with character, as she said. The smile she favored him with was enough to make him forget his worry, for a few precious moments. “Excellent, my dear. Simply marvelous. Yes, we’ve been tasked with a journey to Gaia. You may well be one of the first humans to see it in quite some time.”

Fellowship: The Heart

The word is...incident.

"Wait, do you mean strong-flavor or strong-strong?" Jackdaw looked at the humble conction in her hands like it was a lit bomb. Her eyes darted to Ailee, outside. Chatting away.

Unaware.

"Lucien? Lucien!!!"