The sky had gotten considerably darker since they had left Haverton Pier and the light sunny mist had vanished in favor of a heavier, and much wetter drizzle that fell from the obviously overfilled clouds hanging ominously low above their heads.

Molly grinned with savage delight, she always did love a good storm. The increasing wind whipping up carried with it the tang of sea salt and Hulali's thunder and tugged playfully at her long black tresses as she strode into the wind. Winding her way through the alleyways of Old Rose, the surrounding structures, although never in the best of conditions on a good day, were becoming increasingly worn and ill kept with various signs of abandonment and long disuse. They were getting close.

Suddenly, rounding a corner, it was there before them. Lightning flashing in the roiling thunderclouds above, the old textile warehouse loomed in shadow with a ponderous air of vast age and long suffering abandonment. Only a small phosphor lantern hanging over a doorway belied the overbearing impression of total and absolute emptiness, weakly struggling to glow in the increased darkness.

Not even pausing in stride, Molly confidently made her way to that ill illuminated door and only then did she turn around to observe her newly made crew.

“Ah, I see ya made it then,” Molly grinned, the faint glow giving her features a rather feral look as she looked them over, “From this point on, yer my crew... we'll work out th' specifics later, but first thing's first, savvy.

Ah take no quarter with' mutineers, or loose lipped curs. What ye see an hear 'n here, stays between us. Crew only, savvy? An I'll be th' first ta gut ya should th' se'en-ten catch wind o' this. Secondly, ne'r you forget. AH am th' Captain o' this here operation. Ifin ye e'er doubt th' chain o' comand, know ye this: Ah am th' final say in this crew. Ah brought ye here, and ah can get rid o' yah joost as fast.

...And Thirdly...” Molly paused in her speech dramatically, “Don' ever git ina fight with th' mechanic. You'll loose.”

And with that last cryptic line, the pirate lass threw open the door with crash just in time as the sky finally gave way as with a resounding clap of thunder it unleashed the rain and the storm came pouring down upon them.

Finally able to stop, finally able to rest a moment, Bey slumped—doubled nearly in two—against another wall, gasping like a parched fish on land. His lungs sounded ragged and wet as another rib-wrenching cough shook him from head to foot.

Molly had set a breakneck pace down the streets of Old Rose and Bey had scrambled to keep up, keeping his struggling eyes fixed on Molly's back. He'd denied every assistance, abandoning walls and sturdy posts. He had to move quickly, he could not loose sight of Molly. She meant work, and food, and everything else that was survival. His survival had depended on keeping up and he'd done so. It had nearly killed him, but he'd done so. Even now, darkness was trying to close in on him. He would be able to walk slowly a bit more, and that would be it. His frail body shivered in the coming wind.

He had made it to this place; this dilapidated warehouse. Bey stood carefully and looked up the wall he was leaned against, squinting against the harsh light of the phosphor lantern. His scraped fingers felt the grain of the rusted tin. Not a single crack of light peeped through the boarded windows. There looked to be nothing in his place. The entire air of it howled disuse and abandonment. What use could they have with this place? Why had they not been taken to the water and one of those great sailing vessels? Those had been ever so prevalent in his mother's stories. His mother had often spoken much of ships and the open water. Why this place?



Between the combined weight of his body's ailments and his confused mental spiral, Bey did not hear much of Molly's words. This word "mutineers" was even unfamiliar to him. He merely nodded to her, just trying to appear as though he were truly understanding. Living hinged on it.



This caught his attention, though. Bey had never met a mechanic and he wasn't entirely sure what one did. Though as Molly flung the door and the heavens split loose, Bey once more braced himself.

Juniper walked through the door, carrying far more than he probably should've been. There were clothes, blankets, some of the food he'd bought for the Moon with his own money, and also the sandwich he'd been eating for lunch, plus a canteen of pre-boiled water hanging from a strap on his arm. You could never be too careful with this junk, and Delly had always boiled the water first at home.

He set some of the things down on the concrete floor of the warehouse with a rush of breath. He was really too small to be carrying all his belongings around the harbor. He'd thought that he'd be able to come back to his little room to get them later, possibly with some help, but his boss/landlord combo had gotten mad enough when he'd told him he wasn't going to be working there anymore to kick him out on the spot. He'd had to grab everything and get out after he'd handled the lunch rush; the other guy who had thankfully just been hired was hustled in to do dinner, and June was hustled out. Buehler had said something about Juniper not disgracing his doorstep again, the ungrateful little street rat (he really couldn't remember and didn't care) and then June'd gone to look for the warehouse. He'd found it a while later.

There was some poor soul out in the rain, he'd noticed. After he'd finished unloading into a little corner since he really couldn't carry more than the sandwich and water anymore, he went out to see if there was something wrong. Was he dead? He hoped he wasn't dead, because he sure wasn't going to move a dead guy.

"You okay?" He poked the much taller boy in the shoulder, though not very hard. "You can have my lunch if you're not dead."

Aye had had to run to keep up with this new captain, Molly. It had been work, and her own worrying about Bey had made her be torn between keeping up, and making sure he kept up. She didn’t want him to fall and lose a job opportunity. She supposed she should have thought of him more as competition; but he was a friend and she had a strange feeling that she would have no trouble getting a job on this ship.

When the woman finally stopped in front of a warehouse the girl checked and smiled when Bey showed up, and then started over exaggerating her being out of breath. She bent over with her hands on her knees and took deep breaths, throwing in some coughs for good measure. She was just starting to breathe easily again, when the captain spoke.



Aye wondered briefly what "getting rid of" meant, exactly. But then decided that it didn’t matter, it wasn’t going to happen to her.



Aye looked back up at the woman and raised an eyebrow; she hadn’t expected a third rule.




Lose?! The girl gulped and made sure she remembered that little rule. This mechanic would have to be made to think she was just some cute innocent little girl before she went and pulled pranks on him. At least for a little while.

When Captain Molly threw open the doors, and the thunder crashed; the girl had to restrain a scream. She hadn’t been paying attention to the weather, that thunder caught her by surprise. She giggled at herself, and then tried to see into the warehouse, when a little boy came walking out.

She blinked at the cute little thing, sure he was taller, but he looked like he was the same age as her. She certainly hadn’t expected any other children beside herself. She smiled at him.

“He ent dead, boch.” She shook her head at Juniper and pointed at Bey. “Might be soon, though.”

If this was to be a storm, then Akiili was a bloomin’ kenser. The Mugrobi was at least glad she had donned her heavy boots before heading out once more, because the streets would soon be pooling with water. If there was one thing she despised about storms, it was having soggy footwear – she hated having wet feet unless she was bathing or swimming.

She absently reached up and stroked Mabinty, her pet leira draped across her shoulders. The lazy lizard hadn’t even protested when her owner had lifted her from the sunny spot on the squat armchair – she just lifted her head in her usual reptilian sleepy “smile” and returned to dozing in Akiili’s arms.

Akiili didn’t have too much trouble keeping up with Molly’s almost spastic stride, though she saw how little Aye and even Bey had a harder time. She’d offered her support once again to the emaciated young man, but Bey had quietly waved her off. The boy was trying his best, but if he didn’t get food inside him soon, the very wind would blow him away.

As the group came to a halt, the captain began hollering out rules. Akiili listened only partially – such “guidelines” tended to be the same with each ship, so she knew what was expected. And besides, no matter if Molly was the captain or not, she at least knew where the Mug woman stood by way of experience on the latter’s part. What did catch Akiili’s ear was Molly’s mention of the mechanic as they all drew up to the doors of a decrepit old warehouse, and it caused a faint grin to appear. Another feisty soul aboard a shipload of Old Rose’s dregs – it fit somehow. This was going to be some crew.

Then, amidst the shivering crackle of thunder (and in an admittedly impressive dramatic moment), Molly threw open the doors, revealing what sat inside: an aereoship. An honest-to-goodness areoship. Upon seeing it, Akiili was struck with two impressions: firstly, it brought to mind the word “clunky.” Secondly, she couldn’t help but feel excited. To think she would soon be at the helm of such a beastie…and in the air, no less!

She crossed her arms over her chest and rocked back on her heels a bit. “So, captain, what’s her name?” She nodded towards the ship in emphasis. Around the back of the woman’s neck, Mabinty shifted slightly and flicked her long tongue lazily, purring deep in her scaly chest.

Grigori had been enjoying a nap at his desk in front of the ship, for all the world looking like a fishing magnate in front of a monstrous trophy catch. The wrenching of the doors and boom-boom of the thunder had shaken him out of the pleasant visions that his dreams brought. He had been working at the forge again today, and was dressed in his standard uniform of overalls and his leather smith's apron. He blinked a few times and grabbed the nearest heavy metal object to him, a reflex from his days in the navy. His fingers wrapped around his monstrous pipe wrench as his vision cleared, and he realized it was just his daughter. And... a confederacy of some sort?



"If you can think of a good one, I'm open to ideas," he said.

He scratched his patchy beard and glowered at Molly. "Girl, the only reason I want to even consider that you have two spotted boys, a Mug, and..." he took a moment to look Aye over, "a clover, is that this was the best that you could dredge up for our crew, yeah?"

His contempt not even bothering to go disguised, he looked at the lot assembled in front of him and began to talk. "Name's Grigori Hosturn. Ship Mechanic. I also own the warehouse and the ship. Take note of that. This is my ship. Mine. You lot can beat each other like dogs for all I care, but you damage this junked up sin against the gods, and I will cave your face into your clockin' skull."

Taking another look around, he saw the little boy that served him coffee that morning offering a sandwich to the other freckled youth. "Ah, you made it. Good to know we'll have a decent cook, if nothing else. But clocks, Molly, this was who you could find? This boy looks like he's been floating on a cask in the open ocean for a week."

Holding the door, Molly quickly ushered the crew inside as the rain was coming down with a vengeance. Pausing a moment before she closed the door behind her, the pirate cast one last look into the dreary downpour.

The redheaded golly was nowhere to be seen, and Molly couldn't quite make up her mind if this was a good thing or not. She and Angel hadn't quite hit it off... the uppity galdor rubbed Molly three ways wrong and the spitfire between the two of them would be cause for any number of potential explosions on a ship where 'highly flammable' was a huge understatement. So she couldn't say she was displeased that the woman hadn't shown up... Still the dark haired pirate had a sneaky suspicion that they hadn't seen the last of o' Firehair... not in the least.

Closing the door with a solid tug, Molly turned to take stock of her newly made crew.

Bem seemed appropriately awed by the sight of her ship, her gaze full of approval and humor. Well, the humor wasn't quite necessary, but even she had to admit the blasted thing looked odder than a duck huggin' a jellyfish. The mud puppy was upright at least, for now it seemed the wall was doing a sufficient enough job of holding Bey up as he gasped like a fresh fish pulled up on dock, and twice as pale. The appearance of the shorter boy was quite the surprise though.

“We're th' clocks did you come from boy?” Molly asked, frowning down at the child with a raised eyebrow. The wick was positively tiny, looking hardly any bigger than the green witch standing next to him as he practically drowned in clothes that were several sizes too big. Who was this child and why was he here in her warehouse?!

Her questions weren't long in the answering for as soon as she spoke those words she heard the deep gravely voice of her foster father as he approached them. Bristling slightly as he glowered at her, she ground her teeth as she tried to hold her tongue in check as the man blatantly undermined her authority. It would not do, she had to remind herself, to disregard her own rules in front of the crew just after giving them...

The pirate did quite the admirable job of reining in her temper, if she said so herself. Trying to satisfy herself with a twitch of her scared eye and simply glaring death at the old man's back as he slandered her choice and crew and claimed rights to her ship... Really such things like this are the unwritten triumphs of history, it was a shame that no one would remember such a valiant action of self control and-


“I should ha' know th' clockin runt was yers Grisha,” Molly snapped, rolling her eyes as she growled at him, “At least my mud puppy's got some substance to 'im. Ran all th' way from Haverton Pier he did... e'en kept up with me too, an tha's no easy thing. 'specially in his condition... What can yer runt do?”

The pirate clapped a strong hand to the tall boy's shoulder in a show of her good will as she glowered down at the mechanic and his cook with narrowed eyes, “Ah'm bettin' the only reason ye brought th' boy is cause he made ya coffee dent he?”

Slowly, Bey turned towards the one poking him in the shoulder and frowned...at himself.... Bey was more than shocked to discover another with his own dark skin and freckles. Another Hessean, judging by the smaller lad's equally straight hair and round eyes, possibly another half-Hessean. "I'm not dea--"

His attention was stolen when he was whisked inside by sheer group will. He wasn't even paying heed to the massive ship within the warehouse, but the growling voice.





Bey believed every word. Merely looking at this twig of a man would not have frightened most, but he made the young wick's back tense and his nostrills flare--horselike--with quiet alarm. Bey could smell anger on this man. This man, the mechanic, obviously, was hardly frightening to the eyes...untill one looked him in the eyes. There was something behind them that made the hair on the back of Bey's neck stand. He was reminded of a bear he once saw, one that had been devouring a deer. Living with and learning from one such as Dawn had taught him how to sense in such anamalistic manners. It was instinct by now.

And as Molly and the mechanic snapped at each other, Bey identified the danger...and the danger needed reassurance that he could work.

He stepped forward, towards the bear-mechanic, shakily, feeling his head swim and his lungs burn. "Mhn...nn..I'm not dead, I--" he pulled up short, realizing this had been what he'd meant to say to the other half-Hessean. He returned to his previous words. "I cn' work...I cn--haaann--" Bey made the mistake of stepping forward again, pushing it. His lungs snapped shut and fog closed over his head like deep water in a black pond. Bey groaned once more, and finally dropped; his legs were no longer below him. His eyes rolled and then closed.

Oh Vita, no. Please, no. I can't die now...I can't die now.

(( just decided to repost b/c of edit. ))

The strong woman took a gulp of breath as she followed the receding voices of her new "crewmates". Angel was not given to complaining or asking for help, so she hefted the large sack of clamoring metal high up on her should and pushed her pace to keep up.

As she rounded the last corner, she sighted a door closing in a flash of lightning and hustled toward the warehouse. Angel arrived at the portal some moments later and with gritted teeth, she savagely kicked the door in. Tossing her sack in before her, she stormed in, her hair streaming in the howling wind. "Ah, thought ye could lose me, eh?" She growled, "Well, lucky for you ah don't go back on me word! I'm in this for the long ha--"

Words abandoned her as her eyes adjusted to the lighting within the warehouse and she got a glimpse of the ship she was now employed on. Molly would no doubt appreciate the shocked silence that permeated the air around Angel. At first it was plain surprise at the fact that Molly's "ship" was in fact an aeroship, but then it quickly developed into a stunned incredulity. They were expected to fly that?

In her time, Angel had seen a great many model and shape of vessel, but this by far was the most pathetic. However, she knew it would be against her best interests to say so. The state of the ship was just a temporary thing, after all. If they were lucky enough, they could pull off a solid heist and make a getaway with a decent ship. But... could this rickety contraption even get off the ground. The woman pirate was skeptical to say the least.

A moan from the boy collapsed on the floor interrupted her thought process. Her unforgiving glare turned to the boy and then at those gathered. "Ack, for the love of Vita, either get him off the floor and shove some grub down his throat or toss him in the garbage heap a'ready!"

He was about to turn around and say something to that awful little green girl when the boy next to him collapsed. He quickly ducked down and checked to see if the kid was breathing. Oh, thank the gods, he was. Pulse? Yes. He wasn't dead. "He's okay, but passed out. Does anyone know what t' do to wake him up?"

He spent some time glaring at the golly who'd just barged in the door, not trusting her a whit. However, other matters were more pressing. He found the man who'd found him at the Moon that morning and walked up to him. "So, where'll I be setting up the kitchen? Kid needs something to eat when he wakes up."

Grisha was going to make a remark to his daughter about the disastrous results last time she had tried to make coffee, but his attention was quickly diverted by the sickly leopard boy who had staggered towards him.



Grisha looked at the prone form now in front of him. "Oh, he's quite a catch, Molly. Stamina of a kenser, this one." Grigori got up and reached for a clay jug that was sitting beside his toolbox. He used ammonia to clean the metal he appropriated from Old Rose scrapyards, and when diluted, it made for a crude but effective smelling salt. Looking around, he saw no water at hand, so he shrugged and poured a small amount into the cap. What's a few brain cells, anyway?

"Can't have anyone dying on us, boy. Let's just hope you can still br-"



Before he heard the door bang open, before he heard the voice, his head snapped up. It was the feeling, that twisting in his stomach he remembered anytime an officer had walked by him on the ship. When the door was knocked open and the red haired woman stood in the thresh hold, Grisha was able to feel the aura completely.

His hands started to shake, and his teeth clenched shut like a bear trap. Enamel ground away as his teeth ran against each other. His vision started to bleed into redness. He breathed deeply, trying to keep the building rage at bay. His eyes never left the woman who had just barged in as he growled, "Molly, is she a friend of yers, too?"

The mechanic was a fierce one – he reminded Akiili of a dog from a past voyage on a ship whose name she’d forgotten. The dog had been a scruffy thing with soulful eyes; the type of dog that everyone thought was so sweet and wanted to pet. Until the dog reached out and took a chunk out of their leg.

Akiili remembered that mutt well. She’d come to an unspoken agreement with it: she wouldn’t beat its head in if it didn’t come near either of her legs. This…Grigori Hosturn fellow was sure to be the same, or Akiili was a moa’s aunt. She’d get around to that understanding with him as well at some point, she was sure of it.

“We’ll think of a name for it yet, mate,” she commented to Grigori. “Akiili Bem is mine – I’m to be the helmswoman on this voyage…or voyages, if nothing too serious happens first.”

Then a heated discussion arose, all centered around the sickly Bey. Akiili glanced over at him as the mechanic and Molly squared off (ye gods, you’d think they were related!); the boy looked worse than before. Ironically, it was around that same moment that he finally passed out. Akiili’s maternal instincts, as well as those of past experience, kicked in, and she dropped to one knee and curled one large arm under the boy’s neck to support his head. The other lad who’d appeared moments before was in the process of checking Bey’s pulse. Akiili had noticed the canteen hanging from the boy’s shoulder, and she asked quickly, “You got water in there? If so, lemme have it – we don’t want Bey here going into shock. Good of you to check his pulse, though – quick thinking.” She patted his shoulder in a praise-worthy manner, seeing as how he looked rather shaken..



Akiili’s head whipped around, and she glared hard at Firehair with enough vehemence to make a cat cringe. “If you’re to be a part of this crew, missy, I suggest you treat every member fairly, as you would treat your own self. This ent no pleasure cruise, and I sure as clocks won’t be treated that way by…whatever you’re supposed to be in this crew. We’re in this for our own purposes, yes, but any high-and-mighty attitudes might as well be left on the docks with the rest of the trash…right, cap’n?” She glanced at Molly with a slight grin, knowing the wild girl’s ideals were probably not far off from her own.

She then turned back to Firehair. “I’ve been sailing long before a good deal of you were born, with an exception – ” Here she jerked a thumb politely towards Grigori. “ – and I’ve seen crews crumble because of one person who thought they were better than all the rest. I’m not necessarily talking mutiny, either – I’m talking about how the rest of the crew finally made that person walk the plank.” She paused to let it sink in. “Think about it, gollie.” Then she turned back to Bey, raising her voice one last time so everyone could hear. “Let’s all put our differences aside, yes? We’re a crew now, and that means we help each other, no matter what.”

“Didn’t catch your name, dear,” she mentioned to the young cook beside her as she returned her attention to Bey. “I’m Akiili – I’m no surgeon, but I know enough to help out when someone's keeled over like so.”

With her attention back on the ship, Angel tried to imagine flying it. Maybe if they got high enough into a cloudbank they could use it for cover--
Angel very slowly turned to look at Akilli, her mouth pursed as if in deep contemplation. Not only had she been interrupted, but now she was being scolded by some fool of a woman. "I am treating him how I expect to be treated." There was no bravado in her voice. It was deadly still and quite serious. "I expect that if I were ever in a position where I was of no use whatsoever and a drain on the crew that I would be tossed out like morning scraps. What we are about to embark on is no journey for the week of heart or body. Now e's a either brave or desperate lad for volunteering for this sight unseen, both of which I don't mind, but if his body isn't able to carry him it'd prolly be more humane to let him die of hunger than at the end of a blade, a blast of magic, or a bullet through 'is 'eart... Or left to rot in some cell..."

Angel eyes flicked around at the others. "So if you want to feed 'im, feed 'im. If you want to bring 'im, bring 'im. It makes no dif'rence ta me, just be quick about it already so we can get to the business at hand."Angel snorted, "I doubt it, woman. I'm older than I appear, and I daresay you've got less than a decade more on you shoulders than me!""Oh aye, talk about how we're one crew in this together right after ye call me a golly. That's a fair bit o' double talk there. I've been in my fair share o' crews, captained most of them, but it weren't hurt feelings wot caused catastrophic meltdown, it was a weak link. Now, I'm not captain, and I know I'm not, so I won't presume to think my opinion matters, but I daresay it's fair of me to tell you what I think and what experience has taught me."

As the woman sodded off to talk to their resident cook, Angel turned away and realized Akilli wasn't the only one that had been glaring at her. "Now what do ya want, I've barely even looked at ye, yet!" She raised an eyebrow at the Grig, and put her hands on her hips. She was used to confrontation, but this was really too much.

Looking at the now unconscious boy herself, Molly firmly suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. This mudpup sure knew how to make a first impression, just not the right kind.

“E's prolly not as bad as he looks,” Molly said crossly, prodding him gently with the toe of her boot before Bem and the little cook boy took over. Seeing that he was being taken care of, the pirate dogged her mechanics footsteps as he went about getting his own 'reviving spell', waving her arms as she spoke.

“Sides its not like we're gonna be getting in th' heat o' things just right yet. There be still well enough time ta fix im up and teach im right. E' may no be th' best in tha Rose but th' boy says he can work an I'm inclined ta believe im. An another thing-”


The moment the warehouse door opened and that uppity redheaded galdor waltz in like she owned the place, Molly knew there was going to be a problem. Sure, she knew the woman was bound to show her high-bred face again sooner or later... but she had thought it was going to be far more later than this soon. But that wasn't the most pressing problem at the moment... that being the look in her foster fathers eyes.

She knew that look, and knew it well enough to know it had to be nipped in the bud before someone got killed- or at least seriously maimed. The somewhat amiable expression of cross annoyance and waspish banter fled from her face with the suddenness of a changing wind. Stepping close to Grisha, Molly placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and leaning in to speak to his ear, she held his red-shot eyes with a gaze of dead seriousness.

“Ah know ya ent gonna like it, but we need 'er,” She murmured, the levelness in her expression highly unnerving from one so often as volatile as the sea.

“We're runnin' hot enough as is, what with this great hunk o' disaster waitin ta happen,” she quirked a slight smirk, the fondness in her eyes just emphasizing her earnestness, “Yer a good mechanic, Da, a great mechanic... but tha' won' save us ifin we spring a leak. So's we needs her for tha'...

An tha' wont happen ifin ya fly inta another clockin one o' yer rages again and bust everythin' ta th' Clockin Ten!” She glared fiercely at him, grinding her teeth in her own savage grimace... the seriousness only halfway there as she frowned. “So get yer blood off th' boiler Grisha, we got enough clockin bothers as is!

-AND for cryin out loud!” Molly whipped her head around to turn her glare at the antagonistic woman behind her, “Shut yer yap, golly, ifin ya know whats good for ya. Ya maya clockin captained ah hundred clockin ships, I don' give a clockin damn. This'n here is my clockin ship an' my clockin rules, so's doncha go thinkin ya ken go about givin guff when yer in ma crew. I dont give a damn if yer clockin magical... th' way I sees it, yer in th' minority on this end. Ifin we call ya golly tha's cause tha's what ya clockin are, an if ya dont like it ya ken git. Savvy?”

Aye blinked at Grisha when he walked in. The girl wasn’t too sure who he was, until her eyes fell on his wrench. Well, a wrench had to mean he was some sort of mechanic, right? She grinned; fully intent on being the cute little innocent girl--



Clover? She was a clover? The girl wasn’t quite sure how to reply to this, so she just kept quiet and stared at the man with an odd look on her face.

"Ah... Hesta, Aye-- I mean, clover reporting for--"



Aye closed her mouth when the woman spoke, and then listened to the conversation her and the mechanic were having. If we aren't supposed teh fight with th'man, why's she fightin'? She shook her head and thought about how, yes, coffee was good. She herself would probably hire someone if they made her coffee...

Aye jumped when Bey fell, watching wide eyed and a little shocked as other people either stared or rushed to his side. Then a door was thrown open, which made a rather loud noise, and lightening flashed and then.... There was that same golly woman who hadn’t gotten along with Molly.



Aye blinked. She watched as other people started fighting with each other, they were all becoming nice and distracted. No one was paying any attention to the girl, and that meant those old urges to snatch something and toss it into her bag were starting to itch their way up her spine. She tried to fight them off; would it really be right to steal from her new crew? Should she really do it? But it was hard to resist. She was starting to look around and see little things that would be easy to hide…

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Grisha's nostrils were flared as he tried to keep his hands from shaking. Images flashed in front of his eyes. The laughing Galdor officer. The naval tribune that force retired him. Looking at his discharge papers, useless rage tearing through his body. He remembered his wife whispering all would be all right, they would get through this. All of this was rushing through him. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.



Grisha blinked a few times. Was this Molly, his daughter, making sense? He shook his head and breathed a few more times to cool his head down. "Much as I hate it, yer right this time, Molly." He looked at her, and with what little sincerity he could muster, he put a hand on her head. "Yeh did good, girl, all things considered. No worse than I expected anyway."

His eyes turned back to the Golly, hands on her hips attempting to stare him down. Like an idiot.

He got up to her close, looking up to her. He had become used to having to look through someone's nostrils, he was not a large man. He'd just learned that in order to cow junior sailors, and junior crew in general, honesty was always the best policy.

"Golly, you already know I don't like you. So I won't waste breath talking about that on end. Here's all you need to know. The engine room is my spaces. The bridge is the helmsman-" he looked at the two boys Molly had dredged up. Neither looked like proper seamen. "Or I suppose helmswoman's spaces. The captain has authority everywhere, and the cook has the mess. You, golly. You." His face screwed up in a fierce snarl. "YOU WILL HAVE WHATEVER SCRAP OF THE SHIP I DECLARE WORTHY OF YA, YOU UNNERSTAND?! IF YOU EVER DO ANYTHING THAT IS DETRIMENTAL TO THE CREW, YOU DO ANYTHING I DON'T LIKE! YOU STEP PAST THE CLOCKIN LINE JUST ONCE, I THROW YOU OUT OF THE SHIP WHEN WE'RE SEVEN HUNDRED FEET UP, UNDERSTAND!"

The yelling was mainly for himself. Yelling kept him from smashing the new crew member with a hammer. On the spectrum of bad things to do, it was pretty minimal, so he reveled in it.

Angel rubbed her forehead. 'Golly this, golly that! By Vita, I'd forgotten what a bunch of racist tossers people can be outside of the Brothers. To think I'd bloody gotten spoilt on that cruise with Lacey!'

Akilli had a good reason to be at odds with her, differin' views an' all. But Molly and this old fogey were just being insolent because of color of her field! A thousand ways to murder both of em crossed her mind, but it was in her best interest to cow her anger and just go with the flow. They wanted to call her 'golly' so be it. It wasn't insulting in the slightest, it was just annoying to be reminded of what she was every five seconds.

She waved her hand dismissively and didn't really act like what would be considered normal for someone that just got yelled at by a short old grease-monkey, "Ye, ye, I've seen that look in yer eye before. I get it, I won't touch yer buttons, but keep in mind, I want to be in this crew, much more so now that I see what you're working with."

'Even if it is a pile of junk,' Angel added to herself. Turning her back on the rest and looking at the ship, she asked, "So 'ave ye got a name for 'er?"

He turned to Akiili. "Oes, got water." He handed the canteen over. "Poor thing. Name's Juniper Cassle. Call me anything but. Gods, this one looks younger'n me. Shouldn't've been out on the streets. Where're we movin' 'im to? S'there a hammock or cot anywhere?" He'd have a hard time lifting the poor guy at all by himself, so hopefully Akiili had a decent arm on her. Guy wasn't twice his size, unless he was more starved than he thought and was maybe only seventy this week. Still, that much dead weight'd be near-on impossible.

He wasn't going to do anything about the golly woman, since, well, he couldn't. Whatever she was here for, they needed her for it, or they wouldn't let her on the ship. Juni wasn't well-versed in aeroships, but she must have some point. Right?

He looked up at Akiili, wondering what he should do with poor Bey.

Akiili had turned her back on Firehair and was focusing all her attention on the unconscious boy in front of her. The gollie, meanwhile, was making her tone dangerous and imperious in credit to her heritage as she put in her two concords on the matter. Akiili had to smile secretively – she’d obviously struck a cord if this seemingly-composed gollie would bother going off on a rant against someone with “less than a decade more on her shoulders.”

“If you don’t want the double talk, then prove us wrong by not acting like a gollie,” Akiili calmly replied; she wasn’t personally ruffled by Firehair, and proved this by turning to look the woman in the face once more. “So far, all I’ve seen is a pair of fancy pants walk in, waving an experience flag, and expecting things to run according to how they’ve had it before just because they’ve been the captain more times than anyone else. That’s all I’ve ever experienced whenever I’ve come across gollies, so you’ll have to understand my point of view…though I think it’s safe to say that I speak for everyone present. Just because you’re not far behind me in age doesn’t make you any better, nor does it make me either for being older. But think about what you’ve just said: ‘it weren’t hurt feelings what caused a catastrophic meltdown, it was a weak link.’ In my opinion, you’d best be checking the strength of your own link at the moment, considering any future imminent meltdowns we may experience.” She shrugged a bit. “And my own experiences have proved that the more familiar the crew is with each other, the more likely they’ll watch each other’s backs in any sort of crisis. Just saying.”

Ignoring any of the further conversation, Akiili looked back at the young cook. “Juniper, eh? It’s a fine name, but since you asked, I’ll call you Juni – how’s that?” She took the canteen, unscrewed the cap as fast as it would allow, and carefully dribbled a bit of water through Bey’s slackened lips. She also gently patted some onto his pale face. “Best not to yank him around just yet – we’ll just keep him here for now until everything else is settled, and until he wakes up. Then we'll see about getting him to a bunk where he can recover properly.” She put a hand on Juniper’s arm once again. “Since you’re to be our cook, you’ll know where the galley is, yes? If so, trot off and get a mug of soup for this boy. Wasted as he is, he needs to eat slowly and sparsely before he can get on to a full meal, otherwise his stomach will just turn it right back out again, and he’ll be worse off than before. That’s how you can help out, mate: getting this lad some soup.”

“See tha' ye do.” Molly said as she fixed the galdor with a steely eye and a calculating look, nodding sharply, “Keep a level head an' maybe this just migh' work out without fallin' inta a clockin' bloody mess...

-Naow You,” the swarthy pirate gripped the back of Grisha's coarse shirt and hauled him bodily away from where he was growling under Angel, “Ye said yer peace, so leave it lie. We nout have time fer this foolisness.”

Gesturing to the boy on the floor with a turn of her head, Molly moved him away from the redhead,“Git tha' boy back on his feet so's we can keep 'im from keelin' over again an put im ta work.”

She snapped out the orders as she tugged on his arm, the clay jug of ammonia clenched forgotten in his wiry fists. Molly could feel herself slipping back into a relaxed stance of commanding confidence: shoulders back, chin raised, and a voice raised in a tone that left no quarter for rebuke. She could feel it settle about her shoulders like a heavy cloak.
It felt good.

“We've a galley made up in one of th' rooms. It ent much, boot itsa sight better than tha one inside th' ship, as of yet. Rooms of yer own 'er up above, joost pick one ye like but th' one with tha' cot is mine an' yer ta stay out, ifnin ya know whats good fur ya. We'll be startin work tomara after dawn, so's get yer rest as ye can get it, we've still got a lot of work ahead of us 'till this ruddy clockin' lug o' tin is getting air-born 'gain.”

Angel's eyebrow twitched as Akiili responded to her, but didn't deign to turn around and even look at her. She was incredibly tempted to point out that Akiili had been the one to first pull the age and experience cards, but thought that for the sake of her own sanity, it would be better to simply ignore the stupid woman. This was going to be some crew.

Simply nodding in return to Molly's information, Angel continued to look at the ship. It was really a piece of work; she had a mind to ask how fast it would go, but given the old man's reaction to her, even looking at him might set him off, let alone speaking.

Aye was lost in her own thoughts; the conversation coming as mumbles and background noise as she greedily snatched up an old silver fork from a dust pile on the ground. She hadn’t been listening to them speak really, and it seemed her greed had gotten the better of her. The green child happily looked over her fork and--



The fork flew out of her hand as a small squeak left her lips; so surprised was she from the sudden yelling. She had not expected another round of yelling yet, hadn’t the mechanic already done his yelling for the night? Aye's memory had fried for the night after the scare, she had thought he was swooping don to smack her upside the head with that wrench... So she couldn’t remember if he had yelled or not, and really, she was too tired to care.

The girl was happy to know she now had a job, and was now a pirate. She didn’t even care that her job would likely be hard; she was a pirate. One more time, SHE WAS A PIRATE! she smiled and turned to listen now, as she grabbed the fork of course.



Just as the woman said: "rooms of your own", Aye yawned, and found herself hungry all at the same time. She rubbed her eyes and looked over at Juniper (deciding she would also call him Juni) and decided to follow him to find food. If she didn’t, who knew when she would eat...

And, hey, she already had a fork!

Grigori nodded at Molly as he breathed. He'd exhausted most of his anger for now and now focused on the problems in front of him, mainly the sickly little pup that had passed out in front of him. Taking off the cap to the ammonia jug, he poured a little bit out and and put it next to the boy's nose.

"Soup's a good idea, but I don't have the time to wait for him to come too, especially since he just seems tired and hungry. He can eat now and sleep when he's done eating. We got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

He looked up at the large Mugrobi woman. She had the easy authority of one who knew her way around ships. Good, he needed someone besides himself with some experience. "What's yer name, Miss? You look like you've had some time at sea at least."