Participants:
Also featuring: The best DJ on the waves (haha)
and Atticus
| Scene Title | Wicky Woo Woo |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Oh, you know. Just an average day on The Forthright. |
| Date | November 2, 2018 |
Out At Sea
The sounds of Stevie Nicks blaring over the radio on the deck of the Forthright is the bulk of the noise being made at the moment.. well if you discount the hammer being hammered. "Rhiannnnnonnnn." Tapping her foot along to the song, she shakes her head and throws wild gray hair into the air. Her hat off, Mad Eve is enjoying the sun. All of the ladies of The Forthright were. Working in the sun was fun yes it was. Dressed in loose fitting dark gray clothes the seer and Captain of the ship hunches over her staff, a interested expression on her face.
"I think we need some torque. Rev this baby up so fast, like a torpedo."
Three women come up on her side, two holding boards of dark wood, nodding to "Matron". A loose smile on her lips allows for Eve to show her delight at seeing all her girls working hard. She would if she could, she did when nobody was looking. Everyone afraid she'd break herself, she was made of tougher stuff whether her body had aged dramatically or not. There were other ways to contribute anyway, she was sky gazing. Looking for the symbols in the air.
A short, blonde haired woman with deeply tanned skin and hazel colored eyes smiles over at the older woman. "Faster than a bullet?"
"Exactly Poppy!"
Silas lurks ondeck at edge of the sunlight, peering down at the ocean as he holds fast to the railing; he likes some sun now and again, too, and he definitely likes Fleetwood Mac… and, here and now, slicing through the water onboard a well-maintained yacht, the wind in his hair, he can even like the ocean.
She rings like a bell through the night and wouldn’t you love to love her?
She rules her life like a bird in flight and who will be her lover?
“Whoo!” cuts into the music from over the radio, the easily recognized voice of the Pelago’s resident DJ. Namiko always seems excited by the music, even the ones she plays the most often.
Especially those.
"I love her, don't you! Yoo-hoo! Si The Guy, My Guy. My dudeeeee." Snapping her fingers and pointing at the repairman. "Nice day huh?" A squint up at the bright noon sun and Eve draws a joint from her bra, the older woman glares at Poppy who glares back in kind. Some of the Girls don't like when she smokes, not good for her lungs but Eve didn't expect to live forever. Nah nah, she was gonna live hard baby YEEHAW.
Lighting the thing with a cup of her hands and a tarnished silver lighter, the smoke pours from her mouth and the old woman smiles at Silas. "I love it on the deck." She loved it in her room too but.
Making his way up from below, the blond giant that goes by ‘Atticus’ pauses after clearing the hatch and glances around. The air tugs at long dirty blond hair that’s mostly retained in a ponytail that runs down past his shoulder blades, tugging a single errant lock across the black leather eye-patch that is apparently literally superglued over one of the man’s eyes. Shirtless and sun bronzed, the big man makes his bare footed, jean clad, way across the deck to the rail to look out across the waves and just take a moment to bask in the sea air and watch the waves as the deck moves underneath his feet.
Silas lets out a chuckle as Eve hails him. "Yeah. It is," he agrees. He eyes the cigarette she lights up, but doesn't say anything; far as he's concerned, she's got the right idea on that front anyway - live till you die, and make the most of it.
He grins back at her, then turns, putting his back to the railing and looking out over the deck, enjoying the sunlight. Maybe also enjoying the sight of the crew working, but you can hardly fault him for that. His gaze turns a little more professional after a moment, though; right now he's keeping an ear on the sound of the engine, but so far nothing seems amiss. Maybe he should try and see if anyone needs a hand…
…in a few minutes.
He offers a nod to Atticus as he emerges from belowdecks, then shifts his attention back to the deck.
Well, most of Eve's people were working. Down on the other end of the boat, sprawled on her back over the railing, is a Japanese woman with one hand pressing a sunhat down over her face, other arm hanging off the side of the ship. Her state of awareness is questionable, even with the music pulsing loudly. She's not visible to most, but Silas could clearly see her if he turned to look from his vantage point.
Asi had a reason for being here today … nursing her hangover was not that reason.
Tell that to the hangover, though.
For all the time it had been exposed to the American classics playing today and the other days she's been aboard the Forthright, it's not enough for the tune to exactly be soothing though her headache. She sighs pleasantly up at the sky regardless.
At least until she hears footsteps, someone coming back to the wheel. Knowing Eve, probably to adjust their speed, which means her perch is no longer valid. Asi rolls her head to the side with a grumble and slides back down onto the deck, woven-straw sunhat adjusted so it shields her eyes rather than covers them. Today, she's in her gray coveralls and a dirty white tee, and the bottoms of the jeans swish around her bare feet as she starts to make her way back to the front of the ship.
The entire month of November seemed to be filed with one bad day after another for Asi, and to the few who had known her for her whole time drifting in the Pelago, it seemed to be a yearly occurrence.
"All your life you've never seen / A woman taken by the wind / Would you stay if she promised you heaven…" Asi is singing along quietly as she scans the deck, trying to not look like she's skulking back from an attempt at a nap.
The sight of someone skulking and trying to look like they aren't is a sure way to draw Silas's eye - the man has done his fair share of what are you talking about I'm not skulking from time to time, after all - and as he spots Asi definitely-not-skulking her way to the fore of the ship, his lips curl up into an evilish grin.
He debates lurking up on her proper-like, but… nah. Instead he just settles for slipping back and quietly moving to intercept her as she not-skulks towards the fore. His worn old workboots aren't quite as quiet as bare feet, but he'd rather not stub his toes or drop something heavy on his foot if he can help it, and given the background noise of the engine and the radio and Asi's own singing, his footfalls are quiet enough that he's got a decent shot of not being heard.
"Hey," he says quietly, from about two feet behind her and to the right.
"You should be careful not to do anything that would jeopardize spending time in this mild weather. Might be the last clear day we see until spring." Asi remarks in a low voice. One eye closes and she peers at him with her other before reaching over to nudge his shoulder with a knuckle. He's lucky she doesn't punch him for creeping up.
"It's nice. Had to make sure to be out here for it." She wasn't always aboard, often tangled in a project or a curiosity. Or sometimes, just from having had enough of certain antics.
Speaking of which…
"Seen my boots, Silas?"
"So noted," Silas says, his voice doing a reasonable impression of contrition… which is completely spoiled by the twinkle of mirth in his eyes, and by the fact that he's wearing his very best and brightest and most roguish grin on his lips.
At her question about her boots, his expression of good-natured skullduggery fades, replaced by a more honest expression of thoughtfulness. "I have not," he replies. He considers for a moment. "Next time I'm below, I'll check the engine room. One of the cats might've decided that they looked good to chew on. 'S why I usually keep mine hanging up."
"You're right, though. 'S a nice day. Especially for November."
"What fine boots you have!" Eve scurries over and picks up Asi's leg to inspect her feet with a knowing look, "They looked.. so lived in. So sad, we should powder them sometime for the smell." All worn in shoes smell duh. Rubbing the side of her face, a flake of salt flying into the wind she licks her finger and sticks it up into the air. "We're due north." It's the way they've been going for the last few days. A sly look over at Silas and then to Atticus before Asi gets her gaze again. "One more day and we'll have our cargo and bring it back to Queenie Lowelowe." The mafia/good natured? matter manipulator.
"She better be paying well." Poppy days with a warily grin, she always says this. A running joke between the two women. "You seem quiet." The darker skinned woman says to the teleporter on board.
As new to the crew as he is, ships and the water are not at all new to Atticus, and he moves about the deck of the Forthright with an easy grace that is a bit at odds with his size. He keeps an eye on the goings on on deck, quirks a bit of a smile at the byplay between Asi, Silas and Eve.
He makes his way forward, finding his way ultimately to the prow where he can get good look at both where they’re heading, and perhaps a bit more importantly, turn around to look back across the length of the deck and see just how she’s riding in the water and how the swells beneath them roll off to each side. He cocks his head to one side, calling back down the deck towards Eve, “What’s it we’re after? “
Asi stares down at Eve, letting her leg be lifted up and fall back down to the deck once let go. Her balance is hardly shook from it, unlike her mood. “Eksha,” she warns the old woman mildly, “I’m no good to you if my toes freeze off tonight.” She leans forward as she says it to accentuate her point, trying to mask her lack of humour at knowing what’s happened to her boots.
It was becoming a bit of a recurring theme, losing them in inopportune places. Wildly enough, misplaced trust was involved in almost every disappearance, too…
She turns her head slightly to look off at Atticus as he calls back his question. Sure, Asi was curious about the same, but there were slightly more pressing matters. She looks back to Eve in the hopes that might be addressed.
“No.” A sharp voice calls from the stairs leading up onto the deck. “No, for the seventh time, no.” Booted feet stomp up the stairs, and the ginger-topped and currently soaking wet Walter Trafford is arguing with someone further down the stairs. “I refuse to even consider it and you're a huge pain in my ass for bringing it up!”
As Walter reaches the top of the stairs, smelling of saltwater and sweat. He waves his arms, emphatically, down at the person coming up the stairs behind him. “You can't heat up bilge water and call it a goddamn jacuzzi!”
"Alright, Pelago!" Namiko shouts as one song ends and another starts up in the background, "we're about to head into five hours of uninterrupted music, but don't forget that tonight we have a good show for you. So, after dark, but the kiddos to bed and light some candles for the next chapter of Mean Heat."
It's criminal!
There ought to be a law!
Criminal!
There ought to be a whole lot more!
HA! Wasn't the cats, it was the cat lady! Silas thinks, but definitely does not say. Any mirth is short-lived anyway, though, as he considers the implications and potential threat to his own well-worn work boots. That means it's not going to do much good hanging mine up; just gotta hope for the best, I guess.
Atticus's question is a good one; not one he'd have posed, but a good one nevertheless. Walter's sudden eruption on deck draws Silas's full attention, though.
"Bilge water? Seriously?" he asks, momentarily aghast enough to actually be entirely serious; his face takes on a distinctly ashen pallor at the thought of a soak in heated bilge water. God alone knows what kinda crap's gonna get through, even if you try and filter it… aw hell. I seriously hope Walt was able to nip this one in the bud, because if someone's decided to try and play amateur plumber down in the belowdecks…
No. Surely no one could be that dumb. Please let no one be that dumb.
"Got some supplies that Queenie needs, we owe her many favors. I don't ask the specifics," it's said with a sly grin, she doesn't always need too either. Tapping her staff on the deck, she grins over at Asi and shrugs, "You're resourceful my Digital Duchess." A wiggle of her fingers and she's about to divulge the location of her boots (Monica's bunk) when another face appears from below, "Foxy! You can't just rag on our hot tub options! It's clean!" It has to be, right?
All that Eve is about to say is cut short by Namiko's announcement and she slaps a hand hard on the deck railing as she bowls into the sky, "OH I LOVEEEEEEEE ME SOME MEAN HEAT, MMMM."
"Foxy, did your mother allow you to read Mean Heat back home?" Back home is.. well.. Mad Eve looks up towards the nose of the Forthright. "Land ho!" She shouts and throws a hand into the air, a small group of boats bobbing along next to the rooftop of a large warehouse, it's barely above seawater.
Silas's head shakes from side to side at Eve's assessment of the bilge's cleanliness, his eyes moving to each of the others in turn. To be sure, the Forthright's bilge is far from the worst he's seen, but it's still a bilge, and water collecting in a bilge tends to invariably pick up… other things. The sorts of things that Silas does not associate with a nice relaxing bath.
Luckily, the conversation soon turns in less bilge-related directions; Silas blinks in surprise as Eve announces land in sight. "Already?" he asks.
“Ummmm,” Monica says as she comes up the stairs as well, “I’m pretty sure I can. I only need a tub and a heat manipulator. Look, it’ll be hot enough to purify the water, probably.” She looks over the others, brows lifting a bit. “Plus, I have to make a hot tub happen somehow or Granny Mas won’t let us sail to Florida for spring break.”
At the call of land ahead, she moves to join Eve. Land is a generous term. “Did Lowelowe say we had to deliver all of it? And don’t tease the ginger, he can barely handle the idea of a hot tub. Mean Heat might physically hurt him.”
Silas eyes Monica flatly for a moment… but also with a certain sinking sensation. Okay. Cap'n is for it, first mate is for it. This is… probably happening, then, he thinks, with a sense of resignation.
It's short-lived, though; Silas has never been one to mope when there's a job at hand. Time to figure out how to make it work, then. If nothing else, it'll be a challenge… and, if he's being honest, the prospect of a nice soak with the ladies of the Forthright isn't a bad incentive, either. At least once I make sure the water's not got any industrial solvents or anything in it…
He raises a hand to his mouth, rubbing at his chin as he thinks. "Probly gonna need a little more than that," he murmurs; whether Monica's heard him or not, he doesn't know… but it doesn't really matter at the moment anyway. He looks over towards Walter with a certain sense of sympathy, then sighs. "Yo. Aces," he calls to Asi. "Mind helping me out with some shopping later? Sounds like I'm gonna get to jury rig a hot tub."
Silas's line of questioning is the perfect excuse to not address the Mean Heat comments floating around, and she tries as best she can to avoid smirking openly at Walter's misfortune. So, naturally, it doesn't really work and she avoids showing it by turning her head to one side and clearing her throat. "After delivery," she tells him. 'Though this is one of the most needless ideas I've ever heard of.' begs to come after, but Asi respects Eve too much to say it. Working with a crew like this, you learn to roll with the punches, and to roll off the ship when you can't. Besides, there was a certain charm to being challenged, these days.