High Tide


ff_eve_icon.gif ff_miles_icon.gif

Scene Title High Tide
Synopsis Mad Eve pays a visit to a…friend?
Date October 31, 2018

On top of a building in the middle of the ocean.

It’s moving toward evening in the Pelago, though that doesn’t mean a whole lot out in what is now more or less open ocean. The perennially overcast sky washes everything with a sort of gray sameness that can be somewhat disorienting if one isn’t used to it. By now, of course, most people here are used to it, but even so, it doesn’t make for a very uplifting picture.

There’s no shortage of rooftops dotting the vast watery expanse, and it’s on top of one of those that Miles stands. He’s squinting at the horizon, his face covered with a little sheen of mist that he doesn’t bother to wipe away. He doesn’t really seem to be looking for anything in particular, though; his gaze is unfocused, and his expression has that faraway cast to it that often denotes wandering thoughts.

A whistle pierces the air as the sounds of someone climbing onto the roof behind him joins it, scratching and shuffling and by the time he whirls or does other things to turn around to see there is a black figure in a large fishing hat crouching there at the edge. A twisted, dark steel staff sticks straight up towards the early evening sky and a wrinkled hand clutches into it for support, a gentle wind shifts the gray hair falling out from under the hat, only yellowed stained chin are visible beneath the brim of the hat.

"What does that view make you feel?"

The rasp is ragged but sharp and the figure tilts her head as a devilish grin appears on those chapped lips. A dip of her of head and that yellowed grin vanishes for a split second. She must have climbed up from a lower level.

Miles turns at that whistle, a sharp movement that makes it obvious he’s been startled, if his expression didn’t give that away as well. It’s brief, and he recovers quickly, but a slight flicker of annoyance follows it, perhaps at being caught off-guard. When he sees who it is, even more so. He stills, but it isn’t a placid stillness — more like a cat who’s about to spring. The direction of that potential spring is not immediately clear, though.

“Like I’m the ruler of all that I see,” he replies, a little flippantly. “But if I were really a turtle I’d probably enjoy it more.” Considering.

He glances to one side briefly, then the other, searching for any other unexpected visitors, before his eyes move back to her. “So. What’s up?” he asks, as though they’re old friends. ‘Old’ being the operative word, at least for one of the parties.

"Turtles love the simple things, you wouldn't be wrong." Humming softly as she studies the young man, the old woman leans forward and shows yellowed teeth, their familiar.

The flash of lightning comes after the rumble of rolling thunder coupled with sounds of gunfire and screams of battle. The Forthright sails madly alongside five other ships. Two friendlies and three not so friendly. On the deck of the ship, Mad Eve swings her staff into the air and beats the ground, barking out orders as she hobbles to slide into a large black chair that man's a machine gun placed on the ship.

Bullets fly into the hull of the enemy ship of them while Eve howls in laughter, the wind throwing her hood off her head and allowing the gray mane to blow wild in the wind.

"Just seeing the sights like you, no shenanigans here Bunny." Passing the nickname off casually, he does hop. "Don't you like," a sly smile on her face, "Visits from old friends?" Visits. Planned, not happenstance. A truth right after a lie, the lie is just for fun. A way to disorient if she was actively using it as so, instead it's just how.. she's wired. A gentle breeze rolls through the space, ruffling Eve's hair and robe. Crouching slowly she rests for a moment, "Gotta keep the body moving or I'll lock right up! Curse the day—" she stops herself and looks over to the man seeing as she started to drift off.

"Are you sure you're not looking for something my Bunny friend?"

Miles still has that look — the look of someone who’s about to fight or flee. Judging from just about everything she knows of him, though, it’s probably the latter. “Oh, sure,” he says, again in that rather airy tone. No skin off his nose if you want to see the sights, Eve. None at all. Especially considering that the sights are so appealing, aren’t they?

“I don’t mind them,” he continues, in regards to visits, and there’s a slight pulling of the side of his mouth at the nickname, a little bit of a bristle, even though he lets it pass otherwise. “But if I knew you were coming I’d’ve baked a cake.” There’s a shrug, “Hired a band. You know.” You know, Eve. You must know that one. He shakes his head, though, adding, “Nothing in particular. If I was, I don’t think whatever it was would be out here.” His head tips just a little bit the side, studying her. “Why? You got something for me?”

"It's hard to know when people are coming. But you know that don't you Bunny Boy?" Mad Eve's smile widens and she looks down at her old, wrinkled hands that show some blue veins. "I'm an old lady, I don't know shit." There's a bark of laughter and Eve's shoulders shake as she hisses.

"Off with their heads! Hahahah!" Mad Eve shouts as her gunfire sinks into the hull of that ship. A bullet nearly misses her shoulder and instead of screaming in terror she hoots in laughter. The waters splash onto the decks and the winds howl as the old woman's hair and clothes fly up and wild into the wind. She throws her head back reveling in the feeling. The madness of it all.

"All I've got is the years of perspective in me banged up brainpan. I mean who could make heads or tails of floods, death, gore oh my! And listen here dearie, we're still living it." She spits the last bit out but she stares at him. "How does it feel? To be a murderer?" That's a little bit of a joke for the seer seeing as how her gun hand knows no chill but her look is intent on the man before her.

”This crazy bitch!” Miles ducks back down behind some crates on the deck after his shot misses. He takes a deep breath as he looks up and around, only to be confronted by one of the other people on his ship.

“How the hell did you miss?!” the other guy exclaims.

“Fuck you,” Miles retorts, but under his breath. He pops up again to shoot, taking careful aim. Through the chaos, maybe no one can tell that the aim is just above her shoulder again.

Ah, well. Miles just grins at her question, though there’s something akin to the baring of teeth in that expression. “Did you come all this way just to make me feel guilty?” he asks. “That’s flattering, but I would’ve thought you’d have better things to do.” He turns away then, ostensibly to look out at sea again. That’s the direction his face is now pointed, anyway, rather than at her.

"You don't feel guilt. You're a man of conviction," if there's mocking in that tone it's disguised with a look over her shoulder before wheeling back around wildly. "What do you remember.. of that night we met?" Eve's eyes are manic and she leans forward, "Splish, splash, BOOM. BOOM." Clapping her hands together.

A clap of thunder and the crackle of and flash of lightning following, illuminates Mad Eve's face and eyes. A milk white and she has a dazed expression on her face, a ghost of a manic wild on her lips, as the bullet missed again. The near impact seems to knock her out of her trance and she points a finger through the rain at Miles. "Hop. Hop. Hop along your merry way! You shall hop hop hop into a stream and wash away!" A shriek of laughter as her rhyme ring into the air, mostly swallowed up by the sounds of the storm and the raging waters.

"Don't you feel it? A change in the air?" The question is casually put and the crazy old lady hunkers down, "You're gifted boy. Don't you see it. Can't you feel it. Fate, the shears, eye less faces all around. Come on Bunny."

“Sure. Let’s go with that.” Miles continues to look out for the moment, not back — though he can still see her in the periphery, and those claps make him flinch just a little bit. It’s almost imperceptible, but not quite. As soon as he does, there’s a little wry twist to his mouth, as though he’s annoyed, but more at himself. …Okay, well, at her, too.

“I am the master of my fate,” he counters. “I am the captain of my soul.” There’s a short pause, before he adds, “Literally, nowadays.” He turns back to her then, “I don’t feel anything. Just being special doesn’t mean I have some sort of insight into the greater workings like some people.” Some people. No clue who that would be. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. Whatever change is coming, it doesn’t have to do with me.”

Miles has started to duck down behind the crate, when his gaze is arrested by Eve’s. The color drains from his face as he stares at her, totally exposed for that moment. It’s probably not great, in the middle of a battle.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” his compatriot yells, starting to reach for his arm, presumably to pull him down behind cover again.

"But are you sure?" A light cackle erupts from the old woman and she coughs before taking another hit of her spliff. "Everyone thinks they're in control. Dropping stones in high tides, useless." A wave of her hand, "She will have what she will have and there's nothing you or I can do about it." Eve had grown cocky before the Flood, she thought she could outrun the event that resulted in her aged appearance. She was wrong. Very wrong.

Humbled, Mad Eve looks up towards the sky, "Would your life be useless, if your steps were ordered?"

The crash of water over the side of The Forthright is ignored by Eve and while the battle rages on she keeps her gaze on Miles, on that crate. Squinting as it's hard to see through the muck the pale old woman takes a veiny hand and grabs hold of the edge of the ship, gray hair plastered on her face and she hoots in laughter. "You're heading to it! Swim against the tide, cling to your fragile boulders, it makes no difference!" It's then that the two ships connect, the noses of the ships crashing into each other.

Queen Lowelowe would be pissed. But thanks to her various enhancements, the Forthright shudders and shakes. The female crew of Mad Eve's vessel let out battle cries as they descend on the opposing ship with gunfire, steel and abilities. Explosions of light fill the place momentarily blinding people. The platinum blonde sheen of hair that graces Poppy's head shines as she guts a man with a snarl, blood running over dark skinned hands.

"Come out… come out… wolves." The sound of Mad Eve's voice roars into Miles' perception, she's close. The sounds of battle mask her approach, the steel staff twirled and stuck as the woman stabs and moves forward, ducking as fast as she can. The old woman shrieks in laughter as she presses a button and a blade spins out of the top, slicing the throat of the man in front of her. A spray of red flies into Eve's face and continues forward mouth agape with a bloody grin. "Come out and play."

The crash of the ships together, the hail of gunfire, the spray of red…it’s enough to make that moment of Miles’ indecision last just a little bit too long. He gets pulled halfway down by his compatriot, all the while staring at Eve — but then suddenly he gets thrown a step back, and he looks down at himself in vague surprise as a bloom of red blossoms on his shoulder.

He looks back up to Eve as though in slow motion, even as the air around him starts to shimmer. Then, the other man’s hand collapses in on itself as Miles winks out of existence.

“It would be either way.” It’s out before Miles can stop himself, it seems, and even though it isn’t really to Eve, it’s pretty clear as soon as he’s said it that he wishes he hadn’t. He turns away again, and he’s quiet for a long moment.

“Did you want something?” he finally asks, and this time there’s no attempt to be flippant. He just sounds tired. “Or did you just come to remind me that I’m a monster? If so, you’re too late.”

Whistling as she seems to have made her way to the edge of the rooftop, foot dangling over the edge. "Ah don't go saying things like that, we're all a little Ahhh! Real Monsters. No, I just came for a chat. Little old ladies like myself, we get bored nobody wants to talk to us anymore. Share stories." A glint of yellowed fang and she begins to climb and shuffle down to a rowboat below in the water, bobbing along softly.

"Oh Bunny! I'll be seeing you real soon. Make sure you've got your floaties." A merry tune rumbles from the old woman's chest as she begins to row away, all the while staring at Miles, looking him in the eye.

"You've got a strong tide to swim against, mind your tail!"

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