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Marigold	Off the coast of Etruria      En route to the Western Isles.      By the time Lilina the rebellious stowaway is found in one of the covered rowboats, you're a good ways from shore. "If you get yourself killed, Hector will have my head" and "Your father must be fretting himself half to death" are grumble-murmured back and forth by Marcus and Merlinus, much to Lilina's apologetic embarrassment, but even they concede it's too late to turn back.      Over the next several hours, small choppy waves beat against the caravel's prow in a regular stutter of friction. The sun starts to set in the opposite direction of the thin horizon-ribbon of land, and with zero light pollution, gorgeous and unfamiliar constellations bloom overhead.      Little scenes play out on the deck: Rutger wears fancier dangle-earrings (it would've been easy to miss their simple studs before), and Clarine pesters them to take them out ("It's ruining your look!") to no avail. Dieck talks to one of his axe-toting boys (their names are evidently Wade and Lot) about 'going home', while staring sunset-ward. Chad and Lugh chase each other around the triple masts in a game of tag, reminding you of their tender age, until Lucius warmly calls them belowdecks to tuck them in.      But Lilina and Roy, scarcely older, are beholden to no such bedtimes. They stand at the rear, on the ship's raised quarterdeck, staring back at what they've left behind. "You know, I wish she came with us." "Cecilia? We all do. But I'm sure she has important work to be doing." "... Why are you talking like that?" "Huh?" "A couple years ago, you would've just said, 'I miss her too'." "I'm sorry. I guess people change." "They do. But not this fast. You're putting on an act, aren't you?" "... I'm just trying to be responsible." "Do you think I'm irresponsible?" "No! Maybe running away was, but-" "Staying sheltered is what would've been irresponsible!" "I didn't mean it like that." "I know you didn't. ... Just stop being someone you're not." "Lilina... we don't have the luxury of growing up slowly." "I know. I just hope this isn't what growing up looks like."      Roy sighs, sympathetically, and turns away from the railing. If he spots you, he gives a smile that's too tired for even this late hour, and a weak wave from the wrist. Lilina looks over her shoulder too, and waggles her fingers without twisting around.      "Sorry. You'll all have to put some sense into him." "Me?!"
Flamel Parsons	"She's not wrong!" Flamel calls out, wandering closer. He'd been interfering with/enhancing Lugh and Chad's game by scattering common mental boosts and harmless hazards -- part of Lugh's psychonauts training, presumably. Now he's not got much to do. "This is a war for survival, after all, remember? And is it really survival, if you rip up too much of yourself that you're not the same person? It's pretty important that *you* win this, not the ideal mental image of a responsible guiding figure. Plus, it can dull the mind quite a bit, forcing it into a generic shape! You need yours in top shape."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine is taking well to the high seas, having spent much of the day relaxing in a black one-piece swimsuit with a sheer chest window and some entirely superfluous white lacing down the center. The suit is accompanied by cat-eye sunglasses, a wide black flop hat, and a pair of black beach shoes which have each been decorated with a white zigzag line along the toe, mimicking a row of sharp teeth. She must think she's *very* clever, with her croc-Crocs. Gods know where Madeleine found that zebra-striped beach chair to lounge in, but she's set it up on the deck and periodically repositioned it to stay in the shade of the sails. As it happens, she's ended up on the quarterdeck by evening as the sun sets toward the ship's destination and Lilina finds herself in an argument with Roy.     "Me?!"     "Yeah, you," Madeleine says lazily, perhaps the first noise she's made all afternoon besides a grunt of displeasure whenever the sun's crept into her eyes. "Lilina's right, you know. I recognize that there's like, morale reasons to keep up appearances in front of the soldiers, but you'll lose your head being so serious all the time. If there's one thing I've had to learn it's that the world's not at stake in every last word or deed. When we're facing down pirates, that'll be the time to be 'responsible'. For now... it's alright to be a little human, you know?"
Angela	Tennant is standing in the crow's nest, ostensibly standing at the ready in case they need to fire at mermaids (or mermaid equivalents), wyverns, or Aidan but right now they are mostly talking about Free Willy like they are giving announcements. "It is early evening and the skies are clear...!" Tennant shouts. "Which reminds me of the peak of 'Boy And His Whale' cinema--Free Willy. You see, unlike most 'Boy and his Whale' stories, this story involves a foster child--that's right, much like the eponymous whale--Our hero, Jesse, is not living with his biological parents...Yes! Just like how Willy isn't living with her parents." "So it is natural to compare and contrast Willy and Jesse's situations. While Jesse is in a foster home, his parents actually do care for him--while Dial, the park owner of WIlly, intends to kill her for insurance money--you can immediately see the contrast between an abusive foster household and a supportive foster household." "So yes, the bad guy is capitalism once more! The movie is essentially saying that Greed can be a contributing factor to foster homes being dangerous for children--Now you might think--Children are expensive, it is silly to adopt one if you are suffering from the 'Greedy' status ailment--...And you'd be right! Most foster home programs don't pay that much for a foster child--but I think we can expand out the moral to greed in a more generalized sense--and family in a more generalized sense--as parents obsessed with wealth often push away their own children who have needs more akin to desiring love and affection well before they can grow accustomed to being greedy in of themselves. There are nearly as many stories about the children of rich men and women turning against their family due to their progenitors' cruelty--whereas you'd think they'd be a rarity!" Nonon, lying down on the deck, sighs, "At least they stopped yapping about Water World." Ceri and Shajo turned in early for the day... And Angela is on the Eggpack. She's been quiet for a while and is just staring up at the stars in the sky, staring at the constellations. Once she got a good look at them, she hasn't turned away aside from small adjustments to her video feed. Her eyes are doing that half squinty thing she does when she's feeling emotional.
Khosa	Khosa got on the ship all right, and appeared to get over her astonishment at handling all that water. The hell with never seeing the sea before; Khosa hadn't even seen a lake, only a river. She's certainly never been on a ship like this. She couldn't keep her eyes off it until they pushed off, but once they *did* push off... Well, Khosa wasn't going to admit it. But the movement of the ship wasn't comfortable for her. She has intimate control of her body, and her balance is perfect, so she's in no danger of falling or slipping even on unsteady ground - but something about her doesn't agree with the movement of the ship, especially when the waves get a little choppy. She can stop every symptom of nausea but has not yet mastered eliminating the sensation of seasickness - it's something she doesn't even know the word for. It got worse for her when she realized nothing was holding the boat up but water, as she was apparently under the mistaken impression that the ship was being supported under the water by something. Khosa didn't trust it, and the knowledge that the entire ship was rocking on nothing at all made it worse. She wanted to yell about it (or worry, if she's being honest... hopefully not panic) but her pride refused to let her show weakness in front of the others. Basically nobody else seems as affected as she is. The kids are playing tag, for crying out loud! So she's miserable but trying, and mostly succeeding, in not showing it. What's most visible to others is that every time the ship rocks, she plants her feet and shifts her balance to match it. She never slides anywhere, and never is in danger of falling, but it means she moves slowly whenever it's anything but calm waters. Khosa took her sandals off at one point because it was easier to match the ship in bare feet, but that's not too unusual for sailors. She's just no sailor. Other than that she's dressed as usual; short vest over a chest wrap, blousy pants. Khosa has chosen to sit. There's no chair for her because it didn't occur to her to bring one. She is sitting on a barrel. She did not bother to check what was inside beyond the fact that it was heavy enough to not be wobbly when she sat on it. While Khosa knew it was a long voyage and she should bring something to do, her actual choice (carving tools and some lengths of bone, claw, and ivory) was a mistake because it's hard to carve on the ship; it isn't stable enough when at sea. She has sharp ears. She has heard most of the conversations... including Tennant, who she is trying to tune out, with mixed success. Sorry, Tennant. She's not in the mood. She's mostly been letting her eyes roam, thinking that looking at the people on deck will help instead of out at the distant horizon. Khosa *is* looking up at Roy and Lilina when they glance around, and meets their gaze, copper-green eyes unblinking for a moment. Khosa forces herself to smile. "If you're looking for sense, depending on who you ask, you are asking the *wrong* person. I mean, I think I'm sensible. But doesn't everyone think they themselves are?"
Odette Raskins	Even out at sea, Odette's got a routine to follow before bed: Make sure her panic bag (stored separately from her work bag) is properly stocked, get her clothes ready for the morning, then rereading portions of the Stepping Stones and meditating/failing to quiet her mind. The movement from the boat doesn't help matters much, and the missing hum of engines has her quickly realizing how hard it is to sleep when she can just hear everything around her. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, she gives up on trying to force herself to sleep, and she comes out to see several members of the group still firmly awake. They're talking about something rather serious, too, and she's not sure how to really approach that at first. She's already too far out from her sleeping quarters and just visible enough that she can't pretend not to have seen them, and slipping back in now... That'd just make things even more awkward! She'll just have to suck it up, come out with a deep breath of that fresh sea air, then try not to choke a bit when she's hit with a combination of the salty ocean air, Madeleine in a swimsuit, and Tennant being Tennant. Flamel, by comparison, is much easier to digest. "Oh... H-hey, everyone! What brings..." Odette smacks her chest a few times to clear her throat, having come out in a loose sleeping t-shirt, sweatpants, and horrendous plasticky-looking slippers that keep her from slipping all over the place or having to wear socks. "It's.. Y-yeah, growing up for me wasn't anything like this. It was a lot more... Normal?" Realizing she doesn't really know how to define that specifically, she just starts counting vague nothings on her fingers. "Not being in a war, just helping out around the mines and picking up stuff from ma and-mom and dad, spending my free time playing games and trying new snacks that the shuttles would bring in... Stuff like that."
Blemishine	Oh no. Oh dear. How could Lilina ever sneak on board. She must really be better at it than anyone gives her credit for, as she didn't spot a thing. Such an unruly young girl, already so adept at hiding and getting herself into trouble. Ah, these rebellious princesses truly are a handful.     This technically isn't a lie! Maria very, very acutely made sure the blue-haired youth was nowhere within her sight range the entire time she was making her way onto the ship before they departed. She could be under oath and truthfully reply she didn't catch her coming on.     And once the fire from that died down, the knight slash smith has been spending the majority of the time out at sea - the free time, that is - enjoying the ocean air and the view of the night sky settling in. She's still in her armor, so it must not be all that uncomfortable.     Apparently, she's been rather engrossed in the entirely alien starscape compared to what she's used to. The decrease of activity on the deck makes it easier to hear the talking that /is/ still going on, however.     "Good evening, you two. You know, Lord Roy," she begins, cresting the stairs up to the quarterdeck, although not fully approaching the duo of him and Lilina; she finds a nice spot on the starboard side of the vessel's rear, leaning against it as she returns his exhausted smile with one of her own. "I do know a thing or two about 'trying to be responsible'. And 'being someone I'm not'. Or so I like to think."     Said smile grows a little bit wider. "Only if you're okay with taking advice from me, though."
Aidan Proudpick	Launch! This is going exactly what Aidan needed. No interruptions. No missions. Practice his reading, see new sights, see new people! He is fully packed, plenty of vegan rations. He is helping everyone move things, take care of any shipping duties, bouncing excitedly. Several hours later Squirrels are not meant for the ocean. Being 99% fur by weight, Aidan's entire body, from head to tail tip, is frizzy. With no intense haircare options available, seeing as the bath has become contested ground and he doesn't want to get SHOT, his normally well groomed fur is already taking on salt air and moisture. Impeccable balance because of squirrel physiology does not help seasickness. His meal of chia and coconut pemmican goes over the side of the boat several times. In that time, he has realized that being on a small boat(relatively, Aidan needs a lot of space), with only books for company, and several instrusive thoughts, is a prison. A prison of sickness and woe. Aidan leans against the railing next to Clarine as he passes towards Roy, wobbling on his legs. His staggering gait might be the land legs, it might be an attempt to serpentine so Tennant can't get a clean shot. "Lady Clarine," his voice is a bit parched and unsteady as he is. The normal spackle of 'fake it until you make it' cheerfulness that he uses to keep himself going has started to flake away, and seeing Lady Clarine step on this issue that sits too closely to home, cracks away more, "Rutger's earrings are great. No one asked you." His mouth opens to threaten to throw her off the boat, closes, and he moves on. "Staying sheltered is what would've been irresponsible!" "Fear of not doing anything never goes well. If you don't go out and do, even without a plan, you'll regret it," Aidan adds, speaking from experience.
Dysnomia	"Lilina... we don't have the luxury of growing up slowly."     "It's funny."     What should should have been a thin mist over the ship congealed, and tensed, until Dysnomia was standing beside them, looking thoughtfully over the water "Lugh and Chad are younger, but here they are anyway." It would have been easier for her to abandon clothes that had been made for her and just let her spacesuit stand on its own.     But, for one reason or another, she didn't.     "What makes it okay," she mused to herself. "Are they more disposable?" She'd been here long enough to guess how that insinuation might shake Roy. "Because, with Hector still in Ostia, it's not as though she's needed to manage the domain."     She offered the stowaway a wane smile, briefly, before her eyes wandered back out to sea. "Is Hector's worry all it is?" Dysnomia asked both the young nobles and herself. "How strange...But." She tapped on the railing, briefly. "If her life isn't her own to risk, what is?"
Petra Soroka	One week on a boat is time for a lot of things. One day on a boat, even, is more time in an confined space than Petra almost ever spends with 'Elites', and certainly the longest that's been recreational. Long-term recreational coexistence with people who Petra is *mostly* on good terms with, forces her to invent new and weirder ways to get her hostility wiggles out without dramatically inconveniencing the people whose opinions matter to her.     That means all of the Lycian army are off-limits. It means Lilian, of course, is off-limits, and then the other Elites simply have a hierarchy of who gets harassed first and most violently. Surprisingly, Ace is first on that list-- not because Petra dislikes him, but because Lilian declared that she would get the best room, and Ace swooped in and stole it out from under her, inviting unlimited retaliation from Petra. "Rutger's earrings are great. No one asked you."     First, though, is a brief pass at Aidan, who is concretely the most harmable person on the boat besides herself. "Who the fuck asked *you*? Obviously her earrings are fine, but I'll defend Lady Clarine a million times before *ever* letting you say a fucking word about women's fasion. *You* wear fucking hand-me-down charity slop from a girl you've harrassed into letting you golddig from her, or waddle around in fucking burlap sacks. I'll throw you off the boat if you talk again." The threat that Aidan withholds comes out of Petra's mouth without a second thought.     To Rutger, after Aidan ceases to exist to her, she looks them up and down with a thoughtful expression. "... I mean, I guess they do suit you, though? I prefer more downplayed studs myself, but it's not like you don't look nice. I don't get what part of her look it'd ruin, Lady Clarine."     Later, after ungracefully diving (Lilian is leaning on the railing right beside where she falls, watching the sun set, but that probably isn't related) into the water, Petra has surreptitiously gathered a supply of stinging jellyfish. Once Ace leaves his room, and the coast is clear, Petra sneaks inside and begins her schemes. Aside from planting glitter bombs beneath his fancy pillow and in his spare clothes, she slathers jellyfish venom wherever she can think of it being most devastating. His comb, so that his scalp gets stung, the inner doorknob, so that he can't leave without getting another dosage, and his toothbrush, which might send him to the hospital??? Petra Soroka, hazing isn't supposed to have a body count!     This, however, means Petra is soggy when coming back on deck later in the night. She's changed out of her soaked clothes-- seriously, how irresponsible do you have to be, to dive into the water fully clothed while coincidentally standing right next to Lilian?-- and into pajamas, just like Odette. Her pajamas, though, are *matching*, and also shockingly high quality, and also the soft white fabric is stained with faded pink blood in dozens of places.
Petra Soroka	"Sorry. You'll all have to put some sense into him."     Petra isn't leaning in and listening to the teens talk about their privately held emotions, for once. Instead, she's gravitating to the Eggpack, who she left out on a barrel on deck to avoid throwing it underwater, when Lilina addresses all of them.     "--Oh? Ah? Us? Oh, okay." Petra folds her arms on top of the Eggpack and leans, resting her chin effectively on top of Angela's head. "... You've kind of picked up a specific way of talking, huh, Roy? Like the sort of-- indulgently, outwardly haunted, sort of performance of being a mood-killer as a way to be mature because it's kind of scary not to be and you don't have another way of knowing how to act mature because you don't feel like you are, I think?"     After sounding all that out loud, fully absorbed in the idea of 'working it out' in her head rather than actually having a conversation, Petra blanches with the realization of how awful that sounds. "Uh, er-- like, that makes sense? But it's also-- I guess, kind of sad. And...."     She can't actually think of another reason why it's bad. If she thinks about it too hard, at the moment, what she comes up with is 'it's annoying', and she doesn't want to say that out loud, so she waits for someone else (Lilian) to put out a better idea that she can then internalize and expand on.
Lilian Rook	Lilian, whose shopping bag she waved at Ruger at coming aboard, is very happy to see them enjoying their new earrings, and also mostly over the terrible dread of spending a week and a half with Clarine around like this, thus already devising ways to spend this time bullying her. The air is like that of the camp, with a tinge of brisk sea air and adventure instead of the cozy warmth of a roadside fire, and so, for the second time, Lilian has the opportunity-- rather, almost no opportunity not-- to simply watch the children play, absorb the babble of conversation, passively exist, and do nothing at all.     Lilian hasn't been so eager as to strip down to a swimsuit already (various compounding worries making it a more wary consideration than most), but she remains mindful of the wisdom she'd absorbed aboard the Union Busan, whose decks had ranged far higher and lower than this, and furnished her with approximate knowledge of how far the sea's dampness extends. An unnecessarily fancy tie-up halter top can't get soaked enough to stick and be hard to remove, her increasingly favourite strappy sandals can't get waterlogged inside, and a light beach skirt can't get heavy and clammy if it gets splashed. One step away from a conservative two-piece bikini, this would be a lot more sensible if she hadn't turned her brain off and got out a book to read on the deck anyways.     She has a pile of them in her room, actually, in various foreign languages, many filled with enough diagrams for Lucius to intuit what they are (some she'd like to show to him), which nearly take up more space than her clothing, and much more than her own personal stores of medical supplies, ammunition, odds and ends, and the smaller locked suitcase. That has a written warning that goes 'Don't bother trying to open it. I'll know, because you will be dead. This is not a thread; this is what will happen if you open it. - Lilian' in case of nosey shits with ideas abou getting a peek at how she lives. Her cabin is already the host of numerous permanent magical touches, including lights and heat, via the arrays she's spent half the day drawing into it. Three people are welcome in; that's it.     And of course she was peeved about Lilina sneaking on board. But less than she seemingly should be. At this point, she's already resigned to the absurdity of trying to protect everyone here anyways, what's one more and four less? Trading her for Hector is a huge upgrade to her stress level, for no fault of Hector's own.     On the raised quarterdeck herself, avoiding as much spray as possible, Lilian has, her own chair, her own shade, a convenient high place to push-- to watch the cute little deck vignettes play out from, a book about pagan zagovory put down to the side, one open about . . . indigenous queer history in North America? Which she is keeping test-grade notes about? open on her lap, a lightly alcoholic fruity drink on a folding side table with a still-full twin, far more skin than usual exposed (she is rapidly starting to like backless and cold-shoulder tops, it seems), Night Mist comfortingly propped up under her elbow, and freshly dried colour on her nails. Perfect.     'as parents obsessed with wealth often push away their own children who have needs more akin to desiring love and affection well before they can grow accustomed to being greedy in of themselves'     Come on really?
Lilian Rook	'There are nearly as many stories about the children of rich men and women turning against their family due to their progenitors' cruelty--whereas you'd think they'd be a rarity!'     "The stories aren't, but the people are." Lilian says, nonchalantly, flipping a page with great care as she scribbles something on the next line of her notebook with the other hand. "We all love our stories of heroic independence and noble exceptionalism, cutting against the grain of society and mastering our own destinies, but the reality is, of course, such a thing is already dreadfully rare." This is probably not helping the himejoshi potential she is presenting on board.     "And the more unpleasant reality is that, no matter how strong-willed, a child is a child. Your family is the world. You come into being wanting nothing more than to be loved by your parents, willing to trust everything they say and believe unfailingly in their innate goodness. If you cut against them at all, it takes everything you have; you can't do all types of it at once."     Flip. Scribble. A steady, meditative rhythm. She reads fast. "And wealth, especially, leaves you few places to go. It's easier to run from a destitute household where your parents have nothing to offer but pain; harder to run from comfort and plenty into the chaotic unknown of the unwashed masses, over something as ephemeral as expecting love." Her notes, apparently, aren't in English. Unfortunate. "And we love poor orphans, but we're emphatic in our hatred towards the rich. So where is a wealthy child to go to find any? If their parents can't give her any, why would anyone else?"     'Sorry. You'll all have to put some sense into him.'     Lilian sighs, but doesn't move just yet. "Please try to be understanding of him, Lilina. He's already done and seen enough on the trail just to get here that it's only natural he should change." she says. "And even if it's obvious he misses her, he doesn't owe anyone else his innermost feelings."She glances up over her book.     "I know you miss hearing what you'd expect to hear, but you'll learn soon enough that there's more than just that to be said. If he starts wearing his unvarnished feelings on his sleeve, you'd begin hearing all sorts of things you wouldn't have imagined before, and perhaps not things you like. It's unfair to demand just the ones you like."     'And is it really survival, if you rip up too much of yourself that you're not the same person?'     "Yes." Lilian's unasked-for interjection is swift and firm. "As long as you're still alive, you can always put yourself back together. Dying doesn't help you 'stay yourself'. Don't believe that rubbish." Her lips quirk in an unpleasant direction, but her tone doesn't waver back to normal. "But it is important that 'Roy' leads the Lycian League, and not his impression of a leader."     Holding up a finger from her pen, Lilian says "And don't get me wrong. I'm not saying 'be yourself' or something so trite. What I mean is that if you simply try to 'act as a leader should', you'll only recreate the image of a leader as envisioned by followers. A cheap derivative that lacks actual substance. Your relationship with authority is something you have to feel out for yourself." Beat. "If you can't imagine ordering someone to shut up and obey you when you demand something they hate, then you're not leading yet."
Desire Stars	Torment is subjective--something that might be unbearable for one person could be a refreshing summer breeze for a different person. Petra's pranks have all gone off--in some cases, even with her there to see it. But every time, no matter if it's the classic 'bucket on the door,' the 'sugar in the bedsheets,' or the underappreciated 'shaving cream on the towel,' nothing seems to slow Ace down--or discourage him from retaliating. The man is menacingly inventive, as might be expected of someone whose DGP-assigned fursona was 'fox.'     During the voyage, Petra's doorframe has already been lined with a handful of poppers (the fireworks) and seran wrap on a different occasion (how did he get that much of it?).     As he'd warned, there is a period during the trip in which Ace is off to settle DGP business. 'Work,' as he'd explained to Roy. The familiar jingle of his Spider Phone playing its 'GATHER ROUND' ringtone was probably all Petra needed to hear to try and make a play.     His most recent(ly discovered) prank involves a preventive measure which banks on the endless supply of Petra's hostility wiggles and calls into question how early in advance he prepared for it.     Once upon a time (many once-upons ago) Ace led a life as the son of a carpenter. Those memories served him well today, for all of his furniture and personal effects have been nailed to the floorboards and shelves of his room, with such precise placement as to make removing them without damaging the room (and rendering it no longer the 'best') an obnoxiously laborious affair.     If Petra bothers to go to the trouble, she finds that Ace counted on exactly that. A message is left for her, delicately carved (in exacting, cursive English) into the floorboards: Congratulations, dai-sensei. Today, you're the student. The lesson: the 'best room' is whichever one has me in it. - Ace-sama     Yes, he referred to himself that way, in English.      Ace himself returned sometime after the discovery. He's on the deck in a red satin smoking jacket with black lapels, over black silk pajamas and matching slippers. He nurses an on-the-rocks glass with a small bit of spiced rum and his usual half-charming, half-insufferable smile. I know. I just hope this isn't what growing up looks like. It's pretty important that *you* win this, not the ideal mental image of a responsible guiding figure.     "That's something that you often don't see until you're in the middle of it, if you're perceptive. Until it's behind you, in most other cases."     "When it's in front of you," he continues, "It doesn't look nearly as clear. Youth is fraught with things given up needlessly in pursuit of 'growing up."
Lilian Rook	'If there's one thing I've had to learn it's that the world's not at stake in every last word or deed.'     "True as that is, people are atrocious judges of when it is and isn't. If you can't tell when to be responsible and when to relax, better to err too straight than too sloppy."     'I mean, I think I'm sensible. But doesn't everyone think they themselves are?'     "Everyone save the sensible people, who all believe themselves to be insane." Lilian says, with a cynical half-smile.     'Rutger's earrings are great. No one asked you.'     Lilian unconditionally agrees, and were it literally anyone else, would emphatically back them up. Unfortunately, Lilian is Lilian and not the Buddha. "My my, what a way to speak to your charge, Proudpick~ Perhaps bodyguarding isn't the right job for you either~?"     'Lugh and Chad are younger, but here they are anyway.'     That bothers her, but Lilian only shows it by going quiet.     'I don't get what part of her look it'd ruin, Lady Clarine.'     'God Petra you are so fucking stupid' crosses Lilian's mind, then makes her cringe inside out at remembering what an oblivious fuck she was up until Rutger handed her a-- well anyways.     'Like the sort of-- indulgently, outwardly haunted, sort of performance of being a mood-killer as a way to be mature'     "You don't have to be that cutting." Lilian says, half-heartedly. Putting down her book for the moment, she stands up from her chair, catching Night Mist as she does, stretches her bare arms over her head, and arches her back to get the soft popping out, and starts meandering towards the serious discussion. "It's true that being closed off only effectively prevents 'accidentally acting childish', rather than effectively leading, though. Not that it's on the scale of the Lycian League, but I have my own subordinates."
Marigold	indulgently, outwardly haunted, sort of performance of being a mood-killer      This poor boy. By the time Petra calls off her assault, he's slowly crumpled into looking like he's just been stabbed in the gut. A moment later he recovers to looking merely hangdog, at that advice and everyone else's; crossing his arms might look defensive and he's determined to take it well, so instead he gathers up the edge of his cape into his hand and frets at it to fidget.      "It isn't that bad, is it?" "Well..." "Lilina..." "What!"      "... I'm sorry. I don't want to be depressing, or unhealthy, or any of that. But I don't really know what else to do, or how else to be. I don't know what 'being a little human' looks like. I mean, I can't go back in time, can I?" "What does that have anything to do with sounding sad?" "... I don't know. That was an odd thing for me to say." "Mm... you're sounding haunted again." "I'm not!!"      "Are they more disposable?"      Roy winces at Mia's words, but Lilina covers for him. "Huh?! Why would you say something like that? Of course they're going to have a hard time too! It's just... different. Nobody expects them to be in charge."      In desperation, Lilina peers over at Blemishine and Khosa. "Well, look. One of you knows when not to be responsible. And one of you allegedly doesn't have sense. Can you teach him to loosen up?"      "Rutger's earrings are great. No one asked you."      Clarine sucks in a tight breath, puffs out her cheeks, and grips her staff like she's almost about to smack Aidan's head at the betrayal. Then she breathes out, with difficulty, while Rutger looks on at her in near-total dissociation like they're observing the behavior of a particularly fascinating bug.      "Of course a man would think so," she finally puffs out. "I bet you think ponytails are handsome on guys too!"      "I don't get what part of her look it'd ruin, Lady Clarine."      Clarine turns to Petra, eyes wide and devoid of any recognizable feeling but shock. "Her...? You... You--?!"      "You tricked me?!" She wheels on Rutger, who instinctively flinches. "I thought you were a man!!" And then they un-flinch, but stay bewildered. "Oh, the betrayal... Say it isn't so! Rutger? Rutger??"      Rutger, regaining their serenity by becoming so dissociated they might be having an out-of-body experience, looks around for any salvation from the current topic at all. Their eyes chance on Lilian. "What are you reading?" Oh god. The book about indigenous queer history.      Dieck and 'Wade' stare up from the fore at Tennant in the crows' nest, derailed from their reminiscing. "Hey, boss. Can I throw something at him?" "I think Tennant's- I don't think Tennant's either." "Oh. Right." ". . ." "Hey, boss. Can I throw something at them?" "Mmh. I'm gonna wait to hear what 'capitalism' is."      Lilina, in a lull, finds Angela staring up at the sky. She leans over. "You know," she says, with the pleasure of sharing delightful common knowledge with someone deprived of it, "the stars used to look different."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Like the sort of-- indulgently, outwardly haunted, sort of performance of being a mood-killer as a way to be mature because it's kind of scary not to be and you don't have another way of knowing how to act mature because you don't feel like you are, I think?     "Hey, I mean, is that so bad?" Madeleine says, switching positions the instant she feels remotely slighted. "Not knowing how to express something but trying anyway is a big part of figuring out the right way, isn't it? It's better to be- better to try."     "As long as you're still alive, you can always put yourself back together."     Madeleine's eyes linger on Lilian, her curiosity obviously piqued. "You don't think there's a limit? Some kind of event horizon, beyond which things lost cannot be retrieved? Or when you say, 'put yourself back together', do you just mean into *a* shape, and not always the shape that came before?"
Odette Raskins	Unaware of the shenanigans going on inside Ace's room, Odette's content to just relax in the company of friends and ??? as the little gathering grows larger by the minute. Petra's earlier sogginess certainly has the EMT raising an eyebrow in concern, but then she remembers that most everyone here probably knows how to swim. If anything, they'd all probably be better at it than she is. Petra's assessment of Roy's behavior has Odette taking mental notes, and Lilian's advice to Lilina has Odette already reconsidering what she was starting to say. Is trying to relate her own childhood really going to help Roy at all in this kind of situation? Ace's own thoughts on growing up have her mulling the whole idea over, too, until it all starts getting too mixed up for her to try lingering on that any further. Instead, Odette tries to keep her mind moving forward! Namely, hearing Roy being more honest about what he doesn't want to Lilina. Noticing something missing in there, however, she shuffles over to Roy and gives him a sympathetic look before leaning against a convenient railing/wall/other thing so she can try to look casual and not mildly sleep deprived. "Well... What do you want to do, then? D-do you want to be a leader like someone you know? Or-" She gestures at Lilian "-do you want to be Roy, the leader? I probably can't talk about not trying to copy... Um. Other people I really respect, but..." She deliberately avoids looking around at that last part, like she's trying not to make eye contact with Lilian or Ace or... Wait, Lucius already called the kids to bed. "It couldn't hurt to.. Um. To just let it flow instead of forcing it, you know?" She also looks over at Clarine at her outburst, then at Rutger as the target of said outburst. "Betrayal? Did something...?" No, there has to be something else to this. Nobody's weapons are drawn, so nobody's really betrayed anyone... Right?
Angela	Tennant is confused by the idea of life not taking all its cues from art and is stunned for a moment. After rebooting, they continue. "It is hard isn't it? But if you come from nothing, a splash of comfort might obscure the hidden pains waiting for you." The're quiet for a moment. "I have a bead..." They gestures with their sniper rifle. Angela glances to Lilian as she speaks about how dying doesn't help you stay yourself. She closes her eyes for a moment. She tends to hang off of Lilian's words, but it's that phrase in particular that lingers in her mind because she can't forget the day she offered to give up her goal and lilian said no. In practice, it should have been obvious she would say something like that but she always imagines that one day she will be too much herself. She just has to cut that terror out of her and murder it with the rest of her selves that she's killed on the way to this loop. Petra's chin is on her head and that gets her to smile a moment and then says, "Do you think about the stars much, Petra? Constellations? I don't believe I've ever seen the stars quite so clearly as I have seen them here. Even if I went out into the City and looked up, I wouldn't have quite as clear a view. Have you ever envied those that lived in worlds with more ready access to the natural world? The City does have forests and parks and the like, but I do not know of too many places where one can easily look up into the night sky and see all the stars there." "It is a City of Light, Petra, and while I could not have lived without it--I do find it... blindening at times. I've only visited Phony's facility once and even then through a small feed--but I think I could like living amongst the stars rather than in the Light." She glances to Petra. "Ah, to be clear, I did not mean 'with Phony' so much as ... up above in general. I am not even sure if Phony has an ocean." She mulls a bit more. "But of course, outside of having a home somewhere, I think I would prefer being a traveler rather than staying in one 'home' for too long--even if it is nice, I imagine, to have a place to go back to?" MEANWHILE5r Tennant overhears that some people are interested in CAPITALISM and conveniently ignores the rest. "I'm glad you asked!!" Tennant says. "Capitalism is a system where a country's trade and industry--maybe infrastructure and militaries--are controlled by private corporate owners with the singular goal of maximizing profits!" "The City is a heavily capitalistic structure, roughly split up into 26 seperate WIngs." Tennant babbles. "Every Wing has their own seperate enforcement powers that is wholly controlled by their respective states. Sometimes they are called Taboo Hunters or Agents or Security Officers--but in the multiverse...They are roughly analogous to..." Tennant's voice drops dramatically. "/Cops/." "Whose chief responsibilities are protecting the property--both physical and intellectual--of their Wing Masters!" They beam. "Does that help?"
Khosa	Khosa is not wearing a swimsuit and does not intend to but that didn't stop her from noticing other people's, along with the other 'casual' camp clothes people arrive in of varying quality. She didn't bring anything like that, as she has no intention of getting any wetter than sea spray is making her (and, in any case, doesn't own one). She looks, for lack of a better word, normal. She has also noticed Aidan's suffering. That he is doing it makes her feel slightly better about herself because she's not the *only* one, but also slightly worse because, well, she's wishing him worse off and she barely knows him. At least Khosa does not have fur to deal with on top of everything else. She did not notice the pranking, and probably won't until it hurts someone, literally happens in front of her, or becomes aimed at her. "They're good earrings," she says instead, about something she technically wasn't asked. "Sometimes I wish I could wear 'em, ha ha! I had a pair once." If she forces herself to laugh, maybe she won't be internally suffering quite so much. (Also, to all appearances Khosa's pointed, backswept but not elvishly long ears aren't pierced.) She makes it worse, possibly on purpose: "And why wouldn't a ponytail?" She's got her own length of hair in a tail, though that's all the hair she has. (She doesn't know Rutger's precise details, a relative newcomer to the group, and doesn't ask. Not her business.) 'Everyone save the sensible people, who all believe themselves to be insane', Lilian says. That elicits a snort from Khosa, somewhere between amused and irritated. Irritated, because it works against her point; amused, because at least half the time it seems to be true. Lilina asks her more directly, and Khosa isn't sure how to respond. She knows she's not thinking as clearly as she would if she wasn't paying attention to controlling her nausea response, and when the ship hits a slightly bigger wave than average she grips the side of her barrel-seat, hard enough she can feel her fingers flex it slightly. Must not be water in it, she thinks to herself. "Probably not," Khosa admits. "I mean, one, I don't know most of you so well yet. And I have to think about exactly how to be professional when I'm representing the City. Like now," she adds, slipping off her barrel to land flat-footed on the deck. "I was trained to just do things without complaint, to fight where I was told, and that was it. I was worth a lot of money, so I had a lot of leeway to say what I wanted, as long as it didn't contradict... Then things changed, and I could be myself, but I never really learned how to be proper, I'm no noble even if I've nearly got a Templar's rank now. It's just... I do what I do!" "But somehow I don't think 'act like me' would really work," Khosa finishes, with a slightly crooked grin. "So let's not do that. But doing things you like would help. You were kind of interested in visiting where I'm from, weren't you?" she asks Roy, remembering his words the last time they spoke. "Maybe you should travel more. I mean, as you can. Obviously," she gestures at the horizon, "you're travelling now. But, you know. You ever been where we're going before?" ... "Excuse me," she says, a moment later, swallowing hard. "Pretty sure this ship does *not* agree with me. How does it even WORK? ...Don't answer that. I can ask later."
Flamel Parsons	"But I don't really know what else to do, or how else to be. I don't know what 'being a little human' looks like."     "Mostly it looks like making harmless mistakes, expressing a few silly hangups, maybe getting a little irrational. You know, I'm made to be a very convincing human myself! So if I were gonna give you advice on infiltrating humans, I'd say, try out picking one thing you'll want a lot, and one thing you'll want none of, and work on those on your off-hours even when it doesn't really make sense! That's what it's like to be a replicant like me."     He claps his hands together and smiles brightly. "Stick to that, guarantee they'll appreciate it!" Then he turns to Lilina, as if just sort of moving the conversation on casually. "The stars were different? Oh-- is this historical? I'm interested! I'm guessing a star or two went supernova in recorded history, maybe? That'd be so lucky!"
Aidan Proudpick	A third sense brings Aidan to look at Khosa away from the rest of the group, giving her a wobbly thumbs up and a smile. He does radiate magic, it seems to be innate in him, but localized only to his lungs and blood stream. "At least I showed up in a dress instead of bondage gear," Aidan pushes back, casting a sneer at her in return. His ears shift and twitch towards the crow's nest immediately. His willingness to bite back at Petra has substantially increased since the trip to meet the Spiral Empire, but he treads that line carefully with Angela around. Refuting the ENTIRE spiel doesn't seem to be energy that Aidan can handle. "My my, what a way to speak to your charge, Proudpick~ Less so, Aidan's attempts to be hyper respectful and as saccharin sweet to Lilian have worn away with his seasickness. He opens his mouth to bite back, but takes a bit of shame at the poke. He sets his shoulders and reasserts some control over his mouth. "I bet you think ponytails are handsome on guys too!" "Sorry, Lady Clarine. I shouldn't have snapped. BUT, you shouldn't comment on people like that. And, as for my taste in handsome men," Aidan lifts his fingers up and starts counting off, "Dresses, a little bit of make up. Those deep vee neck shirts where the arms and the sides are showing and you can see part of the chest and the muscles down their side," he puffs out a wistful breath, "Yea, a long braided ponytail is nice, sure." He folds his arms, "But so is anything else! And anyone should be allowed to wear whatever they want to feel comfortable!" "Oh, the betrayal... Say it isn't so! Rutger? Rutger??" Aidan bites down his teeth to keep himself from falling back on an insult. Lucius is nearby. And Flamel. People he wants to be like. He closes his eyes, doing one of his wind magic exercises. Breathe out. Count to four. Breathe in. Count to four. "Lady Clarine. You can't demand anyone be any way for you. No one here owes you their gender or clothing or anything."
Lilian Rook	'You don't think there's a limit? Some kind of event horizon, beyond which things lost cannot be retrieved?'     "Yes." Lilian says, without reservation, as if it isn't contrary to what she'd already stated. "Every second of every day. The shape you are now, already, isn't the shape that came before. Thinking you can record and preserve it is delusional."     'Her...? You... You--?!'     Oh god no. Lilian, stood up, starts rapidly pacing over to the side rail towards Clarine. The expression she wears is like when Rutger reaches for their sword; wired and chilling.     'You tricked me?!'                 -----[stop]-----     Lilian stops, plants a hand to her knee, and keels forward wheezing out all of the breath she was just holding. Her back shudders with the residual dripping of relieved laughter she'd missed out on, then she slumps forward even further, and then rights herself all at once while flipping her hanging hair right back over her shoulders. "Clarine, you are an absolutely precious treasure." Lilian says to herself, both demeaning and sincere in superfluous tone.                 -----[start]-----     "I don't remember a single time Rutger told you anything like that." Lilian says, with the firm, authoritative intent of it being totally what she planned to say all along. "You got so far ahead of yourself that you simply created your own assumptions and ignored everything that didn't agree with them; even when the evidence was right before your eyes." Lilian gets as close to Clarine as she has ever since that disastrous road trip talk. "Don't act like Rutger being too hopelessly polite to correct you was some sort of devious trick, Clarine."     Strangely, Lilian chooses to diverge into a forlorn sort of little sigh, and an eerily sympathetic look at Clarine. "I know how difficult it is to be so far away from your home for so long. I get that you're lonely, and that you need something to look forward to; I really do." She sounds like she's just . . . . being really nice? "And this sailing doesn't help at all. Ten days didn't sound like that much at the time, but it's only been one so far, and I already miss her so much. You know?"     Her hand drops reassuringly on Clarine's shoulder. Ever so pale and slender, yet far stronger than hers. Wilfully tender, as if hesitantly treating the injured. "So I can't imagine what you're going through, too. But don't you think this is hard enough already? I'd appreciate it if we didn't have to fight over such silly things on this voyage, Clarine. I'd actually really like it if this could be an opportunity for us to become . . . closer. If we're both going to be so far from everything we love . . . We should look out for each other, right?"     'What are you reading?'     "History." Lilian says, rolling her rank-maxed half-truth score. "I'll be visiting someone in the Otherworld, soon, who happens to be a very important potential ally. So I'm brushing up on their culture's history and customs, so as to present myself better as a diplomat."     'Mm... you're sounding haunted again.'     "Let him be a little haunted." Lilian sighs, turning her head to look over her shoulder at Lilina, and exposing most of the gold on her back as her hair slides out of the way. "What I saw at Arafen still doesn't sit well with me either. Just because he's acting doesn't mean that it's all an act."
Blemishine	Well, look. One of you knows when not to be responsible. And one of you allegedly doesn't have sense. Can you teach him to loosen up?     "Hm..." Roy's way of responding to Petra's targeted attack seems to get the blonde knight to place a gloved hand to her chin, in thought. Doesn't know what 'being a little human' is like... luckily, she's halfway decent at going back into her own little mental mindscape to contemplate, even with Tennant's rousing speech and a half coming down from on high.     Perhaps out of consideration for how bustling the ship's deck is, Blemishine decides the best way to approach this is an uncomplicated one. As such, she decisively claps her hands together and clasps them together after, while looking to the red-haired noble. "Roy." No 'lord', this time.     "You're being the way you think you have to be, don't you? And doing the things you have to do. Because in the position you're in... you can't afford to remain 'the same way you were before'. There's too much at stake." It's all said rather matter-of-factly, empathetically; as if she's simply repeating something the both of them know, just for emphasis.     "So I'd like to ask you a very simple question. Who's the person you're striving to become, to grow into?"     "Do you have a clear view of them? Or is it just that this is the only road you know how to try and walk, even if it's murky?"     A pause follows, before she gives a brief giggle. "Well, I made that sound awfully meaningful and deep, but it's really not. Don't think about it /too/ hard. Just answer however comes to mind! 'Responsibility' has different shapes to different people."
Lilian Rook	'Pretty sure this ship does *not* agree with me. How does it even WORK? ...Don't answer that. I can ask later.'     Nope. Gonna answer it. "The ship is full of air, in all its empty rooms. Seeing as the sea and sky are eternally separate; that which breathes in water cannot breathe in air, and neither can we survive in the aquatic realm; the two things are unable to mix, thus the sea rejects the air-filled ship, and keeps it closer to the sky. It would only sink should the air leave most of its rooms, and be replaced with water; then it would belong to the sea."     Wait that's almost an accurate description of the concept of displacement. "If you fall overboard, the single most important thing to do is to fill your lungs with air and relax your body. That way, you'll float. Breathe deeply until you're rescued, and stay on your back." That's-- also sound advice for someone who can't swim.     'At least I showed up in a dress instead of bondage gear'     Lilian first looks around for any sign of bondage gear, then says "Do you . . . actually know what that word means? I don't think you do." She's looking at Aidan like she's on the cusp of some sort of dreadful scientific discovery. "I don't think you have any experience with BDSM at all actually. Did you mistake Petra of all people for some sort of evil dominatrix?"     'as for my taste in handsome men'     Lilian is now violently gripped with the question of "How do you wear makeup if you have fur?"     'You can't demand anyone be any way for you. No one here owes you their gender or clothing or anything.'     Her hand falls unconsciously to the gun strapped to her thigh.     'I have a bead...'     Lilian makes some kind of hand sign that radiates menace.
Desire Stars	You come into being wanting nothing more than to be loved by your parents, willing to trust everything they say and believe unfailingly in their innate goodness.     Ace smiles at Lilian. I thought you were a man!! Don't act like Rutger being too hopelessly polite to correct you was some sort of devious trick, Clarine.     "A traveller sat underneath the boughs of a plane tree and cursed it; 'how useless is the plane, bearing no fruit and no flowers.'" the veteran Rider offers in agreement (?) with Lilian, leaned against the railing. Smiling around his rum, "'You call me useless while shading yourself beneath my branches,' came a voice from within the tree. 'Such is the ungratefulness of those who don't know their blessings, O Jupiter.'" Mmh. I'm gonna wait to hear what 'capitalism' is. Tennant: An in depth explanation     Ace looks at Dieck over the rim of his glass as Tennant explains. "I brought along some light reading--a personal favorite or two," he offers. With a sly smile, "Maybe you'd like to stop by my quarters later for a primer?" It's as much angled to hit on Dieck as it is to torment Petra. Lilian makes some kind of hand sign that radiates menace.     Ace looks up at the crow's nest, holds his free hand flat and draws it sideways across his chest twice, countermanding Lilian's gesture. "This is pure silk satin," he says, tugging at the lapel of his smoking jacket. "You're buying me a new one if you mess this one up, Tennant."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	I don't believe I've ever seen the stars quite so clearly as I have seen them here."     Drogrung, who Madeleine must have earlier left leaning against a mast near where Petra has settled with the Eggpack, lazily opens its eye and speaks up. "They are beautiful, aren't they? I never tire of them. The lands of dream that I first roamed had neither stars nor sun in their sky. Not every part of the material world agrees with me-" It glances down at the still-wrapped wound on its length. "-But the stars, the stars are a welcome sight."     "Mostly it looks like making harmless mistakes, expressing a few silly hangups, maybe getting a little irrational.     "Yeah, Parsons has the right of it-" "You know, I'm made to be a very convincing human myself!" "-even if he comes by it from an odd angle, heheh."     "Every second of every day. The shape you are now, already, isn't the shape that came before. Thinking you can record and preserve it is delusional."     "Hmm." A thoughtful pause, long enough that Lilian is on her way over to Clarine and Rutger, barely still in earshot as the huntress continues. "That's fair. Even if someone has a 'normal', a baseline they loop back to, they'll still have learned and aged and whatever."
Petra Soroka	The lesson: the 'best room' is whichever one has me in it.     When Petra staggers back on deck, wearing her faintly bloodstained pajamas, hair stickily salt-dried, she's grumbling to herself. "Bitch, bitch, bitch, asshole. I'll light his fucking room on fire and then rebuild it from scratch if I have to. He has no idea who he's fucking with. I'm the fucking-- the fucking Michelangelo of spitefully overblown revenge schemes. I'll join his DGP and kick his ass just to wish that his bed's always full of spiders. Don't fucking test me." "I thought you were a man!!"     Petra is dumbfounded for several long seconds after Clarine's outburst, staring at her with blank disbelief. A smirk crawls onto her face, and she chokes back a somewhat-mean sounding snort. "H-how? Lady Clarine? How did you...?"     Scornfully mirthful understanding slowly dawns on Petra's face. She is more wrong than anyone has ever been. "Oh no... you can't do that kind of thing with real people... you have to keep that to yourself..." What the fuck is she talking about. "'Such is the ungratefulness of those who don't know their blessings, O Jupiter.'"     Why is she nodding?? Why does she agree with that? "Do you think about the stars much, Petra?"     While Petra rests her chin on her arms, almost-approximating leaning up against Angela while looking at the stars, she's struck silent for a while by that starting question. It's nearly impossible for Petra to overstate how much she thinks about them, but it's also still difficult to really convey that honestly.     "... Yeah. I, uh... can't not." It's Angela, though, so Petra bravely forges on, being honest. Elaboration is still clumsy, though. "I mean, like, looking at them... they're the most 'not here' that anything ever is, right? They're always visible, at least some, even in the City, and in comparison to how unbelievably far away they are, nothing 'here' seems to matter that much at all. But like, even when you're in space, they don't really get any closer. It just feels like they're watching you from behind glass, or something."     Petra drops her eyes down from stargazing with Angela, to look at the screen in surprise. "Phony's-- Persephone's 'facility'? Sapient Heuristics, I guess?" She slouches against the Eggpack, leaning and quieting her tone. "... I don't know. I've never seen it. I'm pretty sure there's not an ocean. Lilian paid to have an arboretum installed, though...."     "I don't really know. About wandering or not. I mean, I lived in my-- did I ever mention this? I lived in my mech for a little bit, so I really did just end up anywhere. Usually it was way outside cities, so the stars were perfectly visible. And now I've sort of got homes, and sort of... not. You'll have lots of time to try out traveling, at least-- we could even do some together." "You know, the stars used to look different."     Petra lowers her eyes down to look at Lilina, head tilted attentively. "... Really? Why?" "Or when you say, 'put yourself back together', do you just mean into *a* shape, and not always the shape that came before?"     Petra looks over at Madeleine with a nakedly disdainful expression, but she doesn't linger on her long. "Isn't it really pathetic to try to put yourself back together in the same way? You'll always fail, and it's just suffocating and lame to even try. The fucking 'event horizon' is called changing and growing as a person."
Aidan Proudpick	"Do you . . . actually know what that word means? I don't think you do." "At the formal at Sundew, she was wearing some..." he gestures to himself around the chest as the best way to describe the various chest straps. He lifts his chin belligerently, "I know the principles," he says, doing his best to be straight faced about it, "I've r-read s-" Aidan seems to remember who he is talking to and reasserts his scowl to try and cover a stumble, "Of course she isn't! No one would mistake her for a dominatrix." "How do you wear makeup if you have fur?" "Oh, everything around the face is short and doesn't really move, it's real easy." Zoologists often send Aidan hatemail.
Lilian Rook	'Lilian paid to have an arboretum installed, though....'     "The arboretum was already there." Lilian corrects. "I don't think I could dream up something that lovely if I tried. I fell asleep under the willow there, on my second visit. The project I funded was the 'outdoor' recreation field; the station is full of children who deserve a more open setting to work out their energy."     'At the formal at Sundew, she was wearing some...'     "Oh." Lilian says, instantly losing interest. "Well I wasn't there, so I'll just assume that you're completely and totally wrong."     'I've r-read s-'     "You can't READ!" Lilian howls on reflex. "Have you ever told the truth even once?!"
Angela	''The lands of dream that I first roamed had neither stars nor sun in their sky.'' Angela glances towards Drogrung. She reaches out with one of the Eggpack's hands and picks up Drogrung carefully by the shaft in both hands. She twists the spear so that the eye has the clearest view of the sky and what's beyond that Angela can offer right now. "If you never tire of them, then this should make it easier?" She asks. "I also live where there is no sun or sky or stars. To be honest, perhaps I simply want both space and earth. I suppose if I were to inquire of Ace, he would say that seeking to catch two hares ends with one having neither. But to me that simply sounds like a failure of preparation." She looks to Ptra for long moment and then nods to her. "Being honest, while seeing a star up close would be a pleasure, I do not know if I could truly see it in the same light aftewards. I suppose it is more what the stars represent than what they actually are when examined up close. To be a Star of the City..." She closes her eyes again, missing Lilian's handsignal to Tennant. "I do not wish to give up oceans and beaches, but there is freedom in space. I suppose that might be a project they are yet working on? Phony was able to make a river in my facility so I imagine an Ocean is only a matter of effort. Or at least a lake--" ''We could even do some together.'' Angela smiles. "I owuld like that. Traveling alone doesn't sound as enjoyable as traveling with a dear friend." She is distracted by Lilina, opening her eyes as she turns to look at her. HEr eyes widen faintly. "...They have? ... What did they used to look like, Miss Lilina?" She sounds very curious purely by tone, even as her eyes are impassive. ''Lilian makes some kind of hand sign that radiates menace.'' ''Countermanding Lilian's gesture...'' Unfortunately, the Dame Commander is the one Tennant reports to. Without too much thought into the matter, Tennant swivels the weapon to be aimed at AIdan and fires a Magic Bullet at Aidan. This is represented by a portal opening up underneath Aidan's feet and a bullet flying out through it towards his chin. Tennant TRIED their best to take a shot that would send any blood flying away from Ace but.
Desire Stars	I suppose if I were to inquire of Ace, he would say that seeking to catch two hares ends with one having neither. But to me that simply sounds like a failure of preparation.     Ace's smile seems a touch fonder than its usual smug intent.     It fades when Tennant lines up a shot. With a sigh, Ace sets his glass of rum down on the guard rail and makes a running charge for Aidan. The slippers and smoking jacket might as well not be there, to the extent that they slow him down.     With a short bark of effort, he hurls a flying straight kick at Aidan, aimed center-mass, to shove him out of the way. His back his the deck a moment later, and the impact has scarcely settled before Ace is back on his feet following an agile kip-up. A crisp snap at the lapels of his smoking jacket punctuates the beginning of his next remark.     "Sorry," he says, to Tennant and Lilian. "But I don't want a precedent set for shooting people for being annoying. Frankly, neither should some of you."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"If you never tire of them, then this should make it easier?"     Drogrung emits a pleased rumble, not unlike a cat's purr. "Thank you. And if I may offer a seed of hope for one so kind." It lowers its voice, just loud enough for only Angela and Petra to hear. "Once you have broken from your makers' purpose - which I am confident you can do - all the world will be waiting for you to enjoy." The spear narrows its eye a little, visibly relaxing as best a spear can manage. "There will be time to travel, to watch the stars... and to rest. Don't undervalue a good nap," it says with a rumbling approximation of a chuckle.
Odette Raskins	It'd take a lot to somehow avoid noticing the tension building, and ODette can only manage to not look too closely even as Aidan continues saying things that seem to draw more ire from Lilian, Petra, and Tennant alike. Instead, she looks over at Madeleine and Blemishine with conspicuous glances to the side, as though hoping they might be able to intuit her intentions to... Scream? The noise Odette lets out is definitely some kind of terrified yelp at the very least. She covers her mouth quickly a moment later, too, as though she's more worried about waking anyone up than she is about the source of the gunshot for that moment. That's enough time for Ace to aim that flying kick at Aidan in short order, and she only fidgets about anxiously for a few seconds more before the gravity of the situation finally hits her. "Pr... Prece..? Y-yeah! Oh geez, if you really..." She starts to spit out with audible anxiety, moving over to offer Ace an arm and also to look him over for any obvious injuries from the landing before checking on Aidan next for the same. "What kind of gun even was that? Coming from... Th-that was just some kind of warning shot. Right, Mister Tennant..?"
Marigold	"Who's the person you're striving to become, to grow into?"      Roy opens his mouth with an immediate, and stupid, answer. Then he stops himself and thinks, hands still gripping his own cape and eyes downcast. "... I'd like to say, 'someone who can bring people together'. I think I'm happiest when I live up to people's trust in me. But now that I think about it, that's sort of saying nothing. That's not a specific kind of person. It's just what I want from others."      His lips press with queasy discomfort about that. "I guess I want to be reliable. Brave, but compassionate. Someone who sees the best in other people. There's not much point in me trying to be smart or strong, but 'brave and kind' I can work towards."      "But doing things you like would help."      Roy hangs on Khosa's words wide-eyed, but that makes him look away again. "Travel would be nice, but I'm not free to do that right now. The other things I enjoy... aren't things I can do right now either. War-games with Cecilia. Fly-fishing with Wolt." "Then you'll have to find new things you like, right?" "How?" "Just try something. Anything." ". . ."      "try out picking one thing you'll want a lot, and one thing you'll want none of"      That makes Roy's lips press intently. "A lot of friends," he finally decides, "and no... no..."      He thinks really, really hard, and comes up with something else, startling himself. "You know, I think I liked sewing?" "Huh? Really?" "Yeah. Clothes and tapestries. My mother helped me once or twice." "Haha, that's great! I've got some stuff you can borrow tomorrow!" "Ahaha..." Finally, he's smiling.      "And, as for my taste in handsome men..."      Clarine's eyebrows climb her forehead. She retreats from Aidan by a half-step but leans her upper body forward, as if she's just found out he has a lurid disease. "Oh, my... so you're one of those, too? To think there'd be so many 'lovers of the forbidden love' aboard... what do your parents think?"      This is notably completely different from how she reacted to Lilian's bisexuality. That becomes even clearer when she jolts to face Lilian, and then slowly, shiversomely tries to ooze away from that touch on her shoulder with eyes wide and face pulling into a horrified grimace.      "D-don't- ffh- ahh?!- touch m-me-ee, you little- perverted, ghh--" "Clarine," says Rutger, staring dispassionately over Lilian's shoulder. "Hnn?!" Rutger hesitates to deliver a killing blow for the first time in their life. Then they do it anyway.      "You've already crushed on a woman. It's over."      The life leaves Clarine's eyes. She faints, drooping backwards in danger of falling overboard.
Marigold	"Personal favorites, huh," Dieck says to Ace, leaning back against the railing with both elbows on it. Surely it's coincidental how this pose shows off his shoulders. "Y'know, I used to be in with the Etrurian literati. The big tragedies, the poetry, all of that. Bring you some stuff of mine, make it a night?" He winks with the scarred-side eye. Wade nudges his boss's arm, Dieck nudges back, and the axeman takes that as his sign to shove off.      "... Really? Why?"      "I'm guessing a star or two went supernova in recorded history, maybe?"      Lilina beams, puffs herself up a little, and carefully crouches by Flamel and Petra. "Nobody really knows how, but it's because of the Scouring! A lot of old magic can't be remade. The star charts from back then are useless. And people say there used to be more seasons, too! A second spring right between autumn and winter, and a cool dry wind between the first spring and summer..." She has the air of a straight-A student, but the endearing kind. Knowing that this isn't how the stars are 'supposed' to be doesn't seem to dim her wonder at them.      "What did they used to look like, Miss Lilina?"      "There were more of them! And some of them were in a biiig streak-" Lilina swipes her finger- "-across the sky, almost like a glowy river overhead. Can you imagine it?"
Khosa	Lilian gives a surprisingly good explanation to Khosa, and more, one that she completely and fairly intuitively understands. Unfortunately... "Ah, I'm heavier than I look," Khosa admits. "It's half muscle and half bone. I don't know if I would float." She's never tried. "I suppose I could work at it." She doesn't know how to swim, but she knows how to glide, and it can't be that different, can it? (It can, but gliding flaps would be plenty to keep her floating if she didn't try to move around much.) Fishing, eh? "Ever tried hunting?" she asks, curious. "I like doing that. If you do too, we can do it... well, all right, not until we get to the island. But we can see what kind of wildlife's around. I'm not real used to what's here... I like to travel, too, but I've never been anywhere quite like this." "Though if you like sewing you've got a lot more patience than I have," Khosa adds. "I do carving, but it's not quite the same. I hate working with cloth, I'm always afraid I'm going to tear it, or pull the thread too tight." She starts to say something else, but there's a sound of a gun. Khosa still isn't precisely used to guns, but she's heard them before now and her reactions are, even hampered by the still-present nausea, very good. "Get down!" she calls, trying to figure out where the gunner is, who it's aimed at - "Don't fucking shoot each other!" Khosa presses a fist into her opposite hand, popping a whole series of knuckles at once. "Or I'm going to come up there and throw you off the thrice-damned boat and you can SWIM the whole way there! Lord Roy invited you all to travel with him and you're making him an ungracious host. And making the rest of us look bad." Since Aidan was shoved out of the way, she doesn't actually do this, but she's loud enough about it. Then she goes over to make sure Clarine didn't actually pitch off the boat. If she has to, she'll pick her up, or at least help her up, though Khosa is pretty direct about it. She (possibly thankfully) did not hear everything that was said, because she was distracted with the gunshot - but she heard some of it.
Aidan Proudpick	"What do your parents think?" "You can't READ!" Anger starts to rise up in Aidan as he is caught between both attacks. The fact one of his parents is still stuck in a robot and the other wants him to at least just quietly stop existing. A angry shout starts to push free of his mouth. "You can guard yo-" One of Aidan's ears swivels backwards towards Tennant. He hears the movement, his back foot moving back and his breath leaving his lips. The wind wall that comes up is between him and the crow's nest. Panic hasn't set in, his reflexes giving him that moment of perfect utter clarity to set up a defense. And then the bullet comes up from beneath him. Aidan's head has swiveled, his body shifted. It's not going to hit him in the chin, but it's definitely going to make a mess of his chest. Panic sets in. He's going to die. Angela killed him. He didn't even get to declare any sort of forbidden love with his final breath. A breath that gets kicked out of Aidan. Most of Aidan's defense comes from his growing mastery of wind magic and shields. Neither of those are here. Aidan folds in the middle as Ace's kick connects with him, launching his not that heavy body across the deck and into one of the masts. He slides down into a vague half seated position, dazed and overwhelmed and not sure what attack to process first. He pats up along his chest, wincing, looking at Odette, "Broken rib?" he finally manages with a squeak.
Flamel Parsons	"...Almost like a glowy river overhead. Can you imagine it?"     Flamel whistles in a concerned and impressed tone. "Hah, you know, good thing nobody from back then is around. I think they'd consider the state of things now to be 'post-apocalyptic' from the sound of it! I'm pretty used to it myself, actually, the streak of stars. It'd get compared to a kind of milky-white river, so it got called the 'Milky Way'!" Flamel rambles, as he looks out over the rail. It's soooo peaceful. Despite the gunfire and shouting and, what seems to be some kind of noble suffering one of the worst psychohazards in a long while.     Actually, hold on a minute.     Flamel wanders to Clarine's side, bright and positive and somehow ignoring her near-falling-overboard. "I don't understand what just happened, but you're broadcasting a pretty high rate of despair!" He brandishes something like a geiger counter, which clicks desperately and spins its dials when he aims it at her. "Want me to do an emergency removal of your memory of the last thirty minutes?" His grin is soooo friendly despite her total lifelessness. "It might deal with your..." He lifts the device, staring at a readout and squinting as he adjusts his sunglasses. "'Critical Hit'?"     He's too wrapped up in this to stop her from falling overboard, if she does.
Lilian Rook	'Oh, my... so you're one of those, too?'     "Don't take him seriously, Clarine. He lies about everything. I've only ever seen him creep on women." Lilian says, exasperatedly.     'D-don't- ffh- ahh?!- touch m-me-ee, you little- perverted, ghh--'     Unfortunately for Clarine, Lilian is also aggressively commited to the bit. "Clarine? Is there something wrong?" she says, switching over to her best-faked 'privately wounded and trying not to show it' expression. "I know we didn't get the best start together, but couldn't we try being friends?" Contrary to Clarine's wishes, she places her hand against the side of Clarine's neck, gently steering her away from Rutger; subtly at first, then obviously.     "Whatever I've done since then, I sincerely apologize. I mean it. When I explained things to you . . ." Her thumb brushes over Clarine's cheek on purpose. Her voice lowers to insufferably gentle, as she needfully pulls the noble close, preventing her escape in such a way to convey that she didn't wear a bra. "You were just so wonderful at listening . . . I felt really happy. And I want us to be able to have that."     'It's over.'     Lilian withholds the coughing laughter just long enough for Clarine to faint, then quickly catches her fall, as the person already holding her. Cracking up into extensive meangirl tittering, she wipes tears from her eyes as she tries not to smile too hard at Rutger, then says, mirthfully, "If you want this to stop happening, I might have to get you into voice therapy. You can't keep leaving trails of bodies like this forever."     Then Aidan goes flying, and Lilian realizes that she'd be right in the splash zone while harassing Clarine like this, and also realizes she hadn't assumed that Tennant would immediately aim for the head, and has to process a whole lot at once while Aidan is folded in half around a mast. Gently setting Clarine down, it takes Ace's direct demand to shake her out of it. A veil of shellshocked mist lifts, and she straightens out in short order.     'Sorry. But I don't want a precedent set for shooting people for being annoying. Frankly, neither should some of you.'     "If I were comfortable with shooting people for being annoying, I'd have halfway depopulated the broadband by now." Lilian says, with far too much weight for its flippancy. "He's a serial predator who can't be trusted and we have vulnerable people on board. If I were capable of executing people, he'd have been dead already." The urge to leave it at that frigid-sounding no-nonsense ice queen closer is overwhelming, but Lilian forces herself a little further for no conceivable reason other than the momentum of this world bringing out her honesty. Her gaze subtly sharpens.     "I don't feel comfortable sleeping, swimming, changing, or bathing with him on board, and I have a responsibility to the people who shouldn't either." Lilian forcefully breathes in. "It's only my personal weakness of character that keeps me from protecting Sundew from him as well. Don't be mistaken."
Lilian Rook	'I guess I want to be reliable. Brave, but compassionate. Someone who sees the best in other people. There's not much point in me trying to be smart or strong, but 'brave and kind' I can work towards.'     For the second time, Lilian is briefly dazzled by a glint of something within Roy that she can't quite grasp at just yet. Knowing that he's seven years younger than her only makes the flash all the brighter. Words, momentarily, fail her, and then what comes to her lips are the first things she thinks of.     "That's wonderful. That's so much more sensible than the goals these people set." And then "If . . . Well, there's a game I've been trying to get anyone to play with me. If you like those sorts of tabletop things, would you like to learn? We have ample time, after all."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"And people say there used to be more seasons, too! A second spring right between autumn and winter, and a cool dry wind between the first spring and summer..."     Something about this elicits a slow wince from Madeleine, though it's hard to spot in the evening dark. She's seen war that can change a world like that before, and it isn't pretty. Isn't pretty and isn't kind.     Then: a gunshot, and Madeleine is *gone*. Nowhere in sight. After a moment it becomes clear that further hostilities will be... at least limited, and she's shakily lowering herself back onto her beach chair - where was she hiding, even?
Angela	Tennant protests, "I'm not doing anything because he's ''annoying'', I am just doing my job!" Though they don't immediately try to take a second shot. Odette gets a quick glance from Tennant. "Um." They say. "......Sure?" They are an Enby that can lie. Meanwhile Angela pets Drogrung like she's a supervillain with one of those little white cats. She seems quickly fond of Drogrung despite, lets face it, not really paying much attention to him before. She's got a lot going on and paying a lot of attention to a lot of people and situations is her day job and her night job and her living hell so she sometimes willingly doesn't pay attention just to relax a little. Angela is accustomed to words like that which Drogrung is offering these days, but that doesn't mean she has ceased enjoying hearing such words. "Hm... I do not sleep, exactly, though I have been turned off periodically. Baba seems to enjoy their naps--and I will certainly try one now and then, but I prefer to be productive. Perhaps that wlil change in time? But I am glad you have broken free of your own shackles." The gunshot happens. Angela sighs but can't very well chastize Tennant for following orders and if Lilian killed like half the crew here she'd still support her. She watches Lilian instead as she pets the spear, thinking about how she just embraced her out of the blue just like that. She doesn't usually just go around hugging people like that, does she? Not that she's seen. Kukuru hugs people all the time, so they feel different. That one felt like finding an oasis after a drought. But the hug in of itself was not important. IT was...symbolic, right? More symbolic. Even more meaningful was the way she took her hands when she told her that she 'shouldn't say things like that' and that she shuold live even if it hurt her. She wants to make her happier than anyone else, she knows, which is weird considering what Lilian said about that kind of behavior. Her eyes slant towards the bullet that is traveling in slow motion towards Aidan. Ace is intercepting. Angela runs the numbers. She doesn't have to involve herself, Ace can handle it. She watches Lilian for the rest of the eternity that it takes for Aidan to not die. But before Tennant can say anything to Khosa, she does speak up. "I understand your concern. Nevertheless, I trust the Dame Commander's judgement completely. I will not countenance doubting her orders." Tennant IS about to shoot at Aidan a second time, but Lilian gives hhem an order not to and they say, "Ah, guess that's it!" with dazzling emotional detachment.
Petra Soroka	"Well I wasn't there, so I'll just assume that you're completely and totally wrong."     After bitching in the radio for a while, Petra turns to Lilian to properly explain. Not because it's important, but because it's a question that Lilian had that Petra could answer, and failing to complete the prompt would be wrong.     "Okay, like, he's *mostly* wrong. He's pretty much all wrong. It's just, like, I was there to sort of, perform supervillainy, and harass Sundew, so, you know, like, I dressed the *part*, a bit. It was basically-- basically normal. It looked fine. I mean, in terms of gear like that, *you've*--"     Petra becomes acutely aware that she's standing on the deck of a ship, wearing bloodstained pajamas and a daily-wear bondage collar with Lilian's symbol on it. In the middle of her sentence, proudly declaring that Lilian's seen Petra in far more egregious wear, she stops cold and her eyes unfocus for a while, as if suddenly concussed. "Oh, my... so you're one of those, too? To think there'd be so many 'lovers of the forbidden love' aboard... what do your parents think?"     In this one, blissfully disjointed moment, Petra briefly forgets that this could possibly refer to something as simple as being a lesbian. Stunned by a glimpse in her mind's eye by the breadth of kink as a concept, a vast world of forbidden loves unveils itself beneath her, and her troubles look so small from up here. What would Petra's parents think? For the first time--     "Dang... I think my parents would hate me...." "You were just so wonderful at listening . . . I felt really happy. And I want us to be able to have that."     Petra jolts and stares at Lilian and Clarine, shocked by something other than even the caressing and mocking tenderness. Not that she isn't at least a little entranced by it-- Clarine looking so baffled and helpless while being touched and then being dropped unceremoniously is *something*, definitely-- but it's Lilian's words that trigger some frightening association in her that takes a moment to place.     When she does, she immediately reaches into her pocket to pull out her phone, shaken and wide-eyed, but there's no signal for her to post. She stares down at the blank screen for a moment, willing for an impossible glimmer of cell connection to allow her to scream into TTon's DMs for somehow, word for word, predicting something Lilian would say.     She hesitates and whips her head back up, squinting at Clarine while she teeters around. *Are* her eyes blue? Potentially describable as 'sapphire'? "But I don't want a precedent set for shooting people for being annoying. Frankly, neither should some of you."     Petra, on instinct, starts striding towards Aidan when he's kicked to the ground, registering the gunshot attempt on his life like the starting pistol that allows her to finish it. Unfortunately, though, she is wearing cozy pajamas, and even her compact mirror isn't on her person right now. She shakes herself out of her haze and looks over at Ace, scoffing and rolling her eyes.     "Jesus Christ. I know I'd prefer it. *I*'ve done it to people, so it's just fair that people would do it back to me; and I feel like I'm going insane with how no one ever does." "What kind of gun even was that? Coming from... Th-that was just some kind of warning shot. Right, Mister Tennant..?"     Instantly bristling at Odette, she wheels away from Ace and Aidan to stalk up to the hapless medic, with no apparent cause. "Fucking fix your language or *their* gun is the one you've got the least reason to be scared of." She doesn't make it any clearer by scolding her, either.
Odette Raskins	"Broken...? Mmnh. Better than a bullet, at least." Odette replies to Aidan with a tired sigh that only partially comes from not getting to sleep yet. She reaches for her side, then remembers that she's in her sleeping clothes and not carrying her bag before sighing softly. "I-I'll get you some meds for that later. Just don't... Um. Please don't provoke anyone else..." Clarine's crisis of... Something or another gets some sympathy from Odette, too, although the real concern comes from seeing her start to droop the way she does. The EMT jumps to her feet, then settles down again when she sees that Lilian's got her! She does stare at the two a bit too long between the light face touches and the things that Lilian's saying, even starting to blush a bit without quite realizing it before turning her attention elsewhere. Elsewhere meaning Tennant, of course. She actually lets out a relieved sigh at their apparent agreement, too. "Phew... G-good to know. Still, that was... Real close. Might've even grazed him if Mister Ace didn't react as fast as he did..." She continues, apparently not even catching their lie one bit. "G.. Good job, though! Hehe.. Huh?" Once again, Odette's bewildered next by Petra coming right up to her, letting out another terrified little noise and shrinking back in turn. "Wh... Sorry! Wha... H-huh? Lang... Who? What? Sor..." She starts to babble a bit incoherently with her eyes darting from side to side, although she keeps her face angled away while still keeping Petra in her peripheral vision. It's almost like she thinks that could help her escape if she's forced into a flight or flight situation.
Blemishine	I guess I want to be reliable. Brave, but compassionate. Someone who sees the best in other people. There's not much point in me trying to be smart or strong, but 'brave and kind' I can work towards.     With Roy thinking about his answer - and then even revising his thoughts, showing just how /much/ he is - Maria's smile is unwavering. There's even a decisive nod as he expresses what he likes to do, old and new. "That really is wonderful. And I think understanding that puts you closer to getting there than you know, Roy. Seeing you up until now, in my eyes, trying to be 'brave and compassionate' suits you most of all."     "There's not a thing wrong with wanting to live up to trust placed in you. Just don't forget, you can do that perfectly well as 'you'." After a second, she elaborates, "Ahaha, that's not so say you shouldn't always be improving yourself. More like... you can meet that trust in a way that someone smart or someone strong couldn't. If anything, I believe it lets you support the ones who are that much more."     If she thinks about it, it's not all that different, at its base level, from part of why she loves smithing so much. She might not be the Radiant Knight, but helping bring out the best in others is the kind of person she decided to be. Maybe that's why she can't help but appreciate Roy's answer.     "I hope that makes sense! Oh, maybe there's a few things when it comes to sewing I could show you, even if it's not my strong suit..." Mhmhm. Seeing him smile really is nice.     Odette's glance finally gets her eye though, leading to her expression shifting a bit - she's been mostly fixated on the conversation, so it takes her a moment to catch on. That said, the flash of a gunshot and a human-sized squirrel getting kicked into a mast is awfully hard for her to miss.     At some point, she moved a bit closer to Roy on pure defensive reflex - although she quickly realizes that that won't be necessary. After an exhale, and taking in the palpable tension between a fair few of them, she steps forward to help pull poor Odette out of the metaphorical fire stalking towards her.     "Miss Odette can barely stop herself from stammering over herself after that came out of nowhere, so be easy on her for any slips of the tongue, please." Placing herself near Odette, Blemishine makes a rather strained Attempt at defusal with a few calming gestures of her hands in Petra's direction.     Does she know the exact reason for her fury, or is she just making an educated guess based on 'fix your language'? "Let her calm down a bit, and then explain things...?"
Desire Stars	Y'know, I used to be in with the Etrurian literati. The big tragedies, the poetry, all of that. Bring you some stuff of mine, make it a night?     "Hoh? Is that so?" Ace says, shooting Dieck an easy smile over his shoulder, his brown eyes twinkling with a certain mischief from behind short, temporarily-askew locks of black. He turns back around to take up his post against the railing once again, back to sipping his rum.     "You're full of surprises, aren't you, Dieck?" Ace fixes his hair with his free hand. "Sounds like fun. I'm a voracious reader, you know." Y-yeah! Oh geez, if you really...     "You don't have to worry, Zumine," says Ace, calling Odette by her Rider name. "It's not my first time doing something like that out of the armor." Even to an untrained eye like hers, that seems true--he moved to intercept as if he sprung from the yellowed pages of some forgotten manual.     "Thanks, though." I don't feel comfortable sleeping, swimming, changing, or bathing with him on board, and I have a responsibility to the people who shouldn't either. It's only my personal weakness of character that keeps me from protecting Sundew from him as well. Don't be mistaken. <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Hold fire, Tennant. He's not worth two bullets."     "Duly noted," Ace says, with the first thing resembling a serious tone and sober expression all night. "In that case, I appreciate your restraint much more than I otherwise would, and I'd like to see that it's rewarded. I understand you had your eyes on the berth I picked out," Ace says amiably. "If you're still inclined, I could have my things out by this time tomorrow, and leave a little token of my appreciation for you, too--even if I'll miss the fun and games with your assistant."     He shoots an insufferable smile Petra's way, holding up one hand. Pressing his middle and ring fingers to his thumb, he lifts his index and pinky up--an imitation of a fox's head. <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "He's not a *guest* and this ship isn't subject to any laws of hospitality." <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "This is a *military vessel* on a *military mission*." <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "He works for the Watch, and he isn't welcome there either. He's an opsec liability, an operational liability, and a morale liability, famous for selling out his hometown and abandoning his family and friends. He can't keep his mouth shut, he can barely fight, and can't keep his story straight for five seconds at a time. His track record entirely revolves around manipulating and harassing women while lying about them and instigating violence at civilian third parties." *I*'ve done it to people, so it's just fair that people would do it back to me; and I feel like I'm going insane with how no one ever does.     "Bern has too many allies for me to advocate doing that to even the most middlingly useful of ours, let alone you, Petra." Turning his attention back towards Lilian, "Confining him to quarters is one option. The partner system is another. At the absolute worst, the ship is full of veteran soldiers and Elites who now know what you know about him. He'd be foolish to try anything now."