(2023-01-21) The Kraken - Day 02: Stormy Moods

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Author:	Luridel
Summary:	Azizia practices her electric guitar first thing in the morning. Tibbiah gets the impression that Caspis means 'cookie' in Darnassian. This voyage is sponsored by Gelmis Fizzbombs's noise canceling earplugs. Give your ears their needed hug. Today's rainstorm is a real gnome-sweeper. Cressidha and Caspis have a chat about magic and responsibility. Celaven meets his half-sister. ~9200 words.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: Season 9

Azizia is a very early bird. To everyone's dismay, as they will find out soon enough. She walks above deck, her hooves tapping on the wooden floor. In her hand, her axe-guitar. She finds a suitable place to sit on some stairs, and begins practicing. Her magically electric guitar is loud, and the fact that she doesn't know how to play makes it sound shrilly and unpleasant. She plays random notes, trying to find a combination of them that sounds good. This isn't working.

Belowdecks in her cabin, Cressidha Aspenwood pulls a pillow over her head and covers her ears. How dare there be sound at Sleep o' Clock.

Distantly there is banging on a bulkhead, an angry slamming of a fist.

The "music" is temporarily interrupted by an angry banging of hooves against the deck, as an answer.

Azizia's dawn serenade summons a spectacularly orange-red sunrise from the east over a choppy sea. She probably didn't literally summon it. It's probably not her fault.

Probably.

Caspis emerges from belowdecks looking groggy and a bit cross. Night elves, as the name might imply, are not Morning People. He is arrested by the spectacular sunrise, however, and pauses to admire it.

"Cookie?" inquires a voice by his knee. Tibbiah is standing there beside him, once again half-mummified in her violet scarf, peering up at him through her goggles.

Caspis startles slightly and gazes down at Tibbiah. He takes a moment to process the two interrogative syllables and attempt to decipher them. "Caspis," he finally gently corrects her.

She stares at him. Between scarf and goggles, it's hard to make out her expression. "Okay," she agrees at last. "Caspis?" She offers him a peanut butter cookie.

Caspis stares down at the cookie with blank incomprehension in his luminous silver eyes, but seems to process that it is an Offering and therefore politely takes it. "Thank you," he says solemnly, and then watches her closely for further cues.

Tibbiah nods solemnly. She produces a second cookie, possibly from within the scarf, and eats it demonstratively. "It's a peanut butter caspis," she informs him. "You got peanut butter? Night elves?"

"No," he says, but politely takes a bite anyhow. His politeness turns into genuine interest. "Sweet," he observes. "And a little salty." The entire thing suddenly disappears into his mouth in a way that calls to mind a wolf or nightsaber gulping down something's innards.

Jo wanders onto the deck in a bundle of brightly-colored, mismatched winter gear. She waves at the kaldorei and gnome pair cheerily and walks over to look out at the sea. Jo seems more calm, now that the voyage is well underway.

Caspis pauses to give Jo a dignified half bow that would be more dignified if he didn't have crumbs in his beard.

"Morning, Cap'n," calls Tibbiah. "Caspis?" She holds out a cookie.

Jo pauses to give a bow back. Maybe. Hard to tell with someone so small and so much bundled up.

Tibbiah may be staying put next to Caspis because he makes a good wind-break when you are gnome-sized.

"Morning Tibbs, Caspis," Jo says, taking the greeting as an opening and coming over. "Think it'll get much colder than this? I may need a frost ward."

"Hm?" says Caspis.

Caspis looks at Jo in concern when she mentions the chill. "Would you like some fur?" His hands hover over his outermost layer, draped over his shoulders.

It would probably drown her.

"Oh for sure, it's gonna get ass-biting cold," Tibbiah says cheerfully. She offers the cookie to Jo. "Bonk made 'em."

"Ooh, that does look warm," Jo says, taking the fur and wrapping it around her. She now looks like a pile of fur with a little gnome head peeking out. "You sure you're okay?"

There's a rustle underneath the fur, and then one bare hand reaches out for the cookie. "Thanks! I bet they're delicious. He didn't use Outland ingredients, though?"

"Phsst. Peanut butter in Outland? Not even."

Caspis stares at Jo's little head poking out of the furs, and his expression changes in such a way that he now appears to be looking at a sleepy puppy or perhaps a fluffy baby chick, rather than the captain of a mercenary company.

"Okay, good," Jo takes a bite of the cookie and makes a sound of delight. "Outland stuff always did taste of fel to me. I tried to avoid eating there, when I could."

"It's in the air," Caspis agrees. "It penetrates everything."

"Ugh," Jo shivers, sending another rustle through the fur. "I don't want to think about fel penetration. That's going to be one upside to Northrend."

"Northrend has its own darkness," Caspis says gravely. "Not from outside, but from beneath."

Tibbiah, who totally had a fel penetration joke, opts not to make it, per the Captain.

"The Lich King isn't beneath anything, is he?" Jo munches on her cookie.

"I know little of the Lich King," Caspis says, lowering his head in a subtle gesture of humility, "other than that he was once a human prince. But there is a darkness in Northrend that precedes him and may be why he was drawn there."

"Hmmm," Jo tilts her head. "Do you think that's something we can work on, or beyond a mercenary company? Arthas himself is plenty evil already, with what he did to Lordaeron."

The smell of peanut butter cookies draws a large panther over towards the group. When she gets closer she shifts to two legs. nodding in greeting at the two gnomes and Caspis.

"Thero'shan," Caspis says warmly to Rissa. "I had forgotten you were aboard."

Azizia places her guitar back into its sheath. This is useless, people are having conversation and she can't focus on her ART anymore. She'll have to come back the next day. Perhaps even earlier than she did! She gets up from the stairs, walks past the group and stops. "Hello, Cobalt Company."

He has also clearly forgotten what Jo just asked him.

"Shan'do, yes both me and Florande. Thank you for bringing up our names to Elo."

Caspis nods solemnly. He totally remembers doing that.

Totally.

Caspis turns toward Azizia as she approaches, and gives her his deepest formal bow. "Good fortune to you," he says in his resonant voice.

Azizia bows back. "I am surprised to see others waking up early." She takes a look at the sunrise, a blank expression on her face, before turning back to the group. "My name is Azizia, for some of you who might not know."

Rissa nods at her in greeting "Elrissadel Shadowbloom. Nice to meet you"

Tibbiah produces another scarf cookie and offers it to Rissa. She does not offer one to the Guitar Player.

Azizia raises an eyebrow at the lack of cookies being offered to her at this instant.

Caspis bows yet again. "Azizia," he says. "I will be your healer, on the Blue Squad, in Northrend, under the command of Sir Dane Atley."

Tibbiah produces yet another cookie. She eats it very slowly, in small bites, maintaining eye contact with the Guitar Player.

Rissa gratefully accepts her cookie, she does not particularly notice the rest of the cookie drama surrounding her.

"Ah, yes, I heard druid would be healing us this time. Maybe it will be interesting to have other person who understand earth better for team in Northrend." She pauses. "But I am sorry, I forgot name of yours from documents about Squad."

She turns back to the Cookie Hoarder, and this time, instead of having an eyebrow raised, it's both her eyebrows that are lowered into a frown. "Is there problem?"

"Caspis Silvershade," he says. Rather than bowing a third time, he simply inclines his head slightly.

Tibbiah finishes her cookie and stares blankly at Azizia. "What?" She turns her head to look over one shoulder at a time, and then back to Azizia. "Me?"

Azizia nods. "Mr. Caspis." She already dropped the last name, because last names –are for losers– aren't as useful as Azeroth thinks they are. "I will remember." She might. She might not.

"Yes, you." she says, frowning. "You offered cookie to others, and not me. And then you stare me and eat cookie of yours at same time. So I ask again, is there problem?"

Rissa is now noticing the cookie drama (peanut butter is new and distracting, forgive her).

Tibbiah blinks ginormous innocent gnome eyes behind her goggles. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. Do you want a cookie?"

"No thank you, I do not eat sweets in morning. This was out of principle," Azizia says, narrowing her eyes at Tibbiah.

"Principle?" Tibbiah does that Big Blink again. "Gosh, I am really sorry, I didn't know you had principles." She pauses. "About cookies."

The draenei rolls her eyes. "It is not about cookies, it is about politedness. If I offer food to people around, I offer to everyone around." She glares at the gnome. If she wasn't holding a huge axe-guitar in one of her hands right now, she would be crossing her arms. "I do not pick a choose."

Caspis looks between the gnome and the draenei, brow furrowed.

Alysson, who had been sleeping out on the deck and woken up to the sound of music, trots over to the gathered group with a loaf of bread. "We sharin' food today? I got food for share." He waves the bread around.

"Thank you," says Caspis. He may be asking for bread; it isn't clear.

"Thank you Alysson. I will take slice of bread please." She keeps her eyes on Tibbiah. "It is much better choice of food for mornings. Much healthier than dessert."

"You want a cookie?" Tibbiah asks Alysson. "Peanut butter."

Alysson splits up his bread loaf, handing some to Azizia, and offering some to Caspis as well. Then, he crouches down and holds a chunk out to Tibbiah. "A cookie? I haven't had one o' those in…" He tries to count on his fingers, but quickly gives up. "Since I was small."

"Gosh, you better have one quick," Tibbiah tells him. "You have been deprived. I know what it's like. We didn't get 'em at Honor Hold, either." She produces another cookie from her scarf and offers it to Alysson.

Alysson attempts to trade his bread chunk for the cookie.

Caspis makes the bread disappear in a similar way to the earlier cookie. He must be very hungry. Or just have no table manners whatsoever.

"Thank you for bread, Alysson." She smiles. "It is very generous of you to share with everyone!"

"Oh, no bread for me, thanks." Tibbiah smiles hugely at Alysson. "I've got cookies."

"Aw, well, we gotta take care when the land goes runnin' off like it did." Alysson nods to himself. "Teamwork an' whatnot." He takes the cookie appreciatively. "Thanks, miss."

Atley pushes open the door from below decks and glares up at the sun for a solid half minute before stomping out onto the deck, rubbing his hands together.

"Sir Dane Atley," says Caspis with a formal bow of greeting.

Atley raises a hand to shield squinty eyes from the sun as he turns his scrunched up features on Caspis. “Mister Silvershade, hullo’,” he growls, stomping over. “Now. Who in the blazing hell was strumming a lute in the dead of night.” He asks, eyes shifting towards Azizia.

Caspis helpfully points toward Azizia. "Azizia."

"It is not lute," she says. "It is electric goblin war guitar, they call it. Or EGWG. Or electric guitar and it was not night. Sun began to rise when I came here."

Atley keeps his eyes on Azizia but turns his head to Caspis and gratefully grunts.

“Some sort of goblin contraption…? Even worse. Sunrise is too bloody early for that, lass.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You want to practice, you ought to do it at daylight when moments are slow … And folks are awake.”

"I liked it," Alysson offers.

Azizia smiles. "See? Alysson like it." She sighs. "And if I do it later, people talk and I cannot listen to music I am making… And I am embarrassed to play when too many people are around. I am beginner."

"Azizia," Caspis says gently, but firmly. "Some sailors must stay on watch all night long, and only have opportunity to rest when dawn breaks. In fact, not to contradict Sir Dane Atley, but there is no time on a ship, short of emergency, when it is appropriate to wake those who sleep, and at all times, crew take turns sleeping below. We are many, sharing a small space. Consideration for others would seem to be of utmost importance."

Ivri shows up sitting on the railing. She has a mug in each hand, the contents steaming in the cool air. One mug she keeps, the other she offers to Dane. "Plus, someone might steal it and throw it overboard when you're asleep," she says with a yawn.

Caspis offers her a formal bow.

Ivri toasts him with her coffee mug.

He seems somewhat bewildered by the gesture, but does not inquire.

"Well people should consider me and how I need to train every day or I will not become better at new passion." Azizia says, shrugging. "I am not very loud with this I am careful to. I do not know why there is fuss all about." She stares at Ivri. "If someone did this, I would not have weapon in Northrend and this will be sabotage."

"This is a weapon?" Caspis looks at the musical instrument, bewildered. "Surely… there are other weapons you are already trained in, if you were selected for a journey of this nature?"

"The sound was pretty jarring," Ivri says, "but I wouldn't describe it as weaponized."

"There is much I still do not understand of modern warfare, and so I will confess to uncertainty."

Azizia shrug. "Yes, I can fight without weapons or with blades on my hands, but I took axe for journey." She gets the guitar from the sheath. It looks like a huge two-handed axe, with some skull details and a few strings to make it work as a guitar as well. "See? I take it to fight as well. Electric Goblin War Guitar. "

"Wow," says Tibbiah admiringly, if grudgingly.

Ivri's eyebrows rise. Evidently, she's impressed.

Altey grunts dismissively at Caspis’ contradiction, and just gestures to the night elf in support, peering at Azizia.

He slightly raises his brows as Azizia shows off her weapon and waves a hand. “Right then. It’s a fine … ‘wotever. But folks about need to sleep. Now, I know we travel in the company of at least two powerful mages. I’d have you contact one of ‘em and see if they can make some sort of way for you to train without rousing those of us who sleep.”

He side eyes Ivrianna as she arrives and accepts the mug with a grateful, almost gentle grunt, immediately taking a sip with a sigh.

“I hate sailing. And I hate losing sleep.”

"I wonder how many spare strings you brought," Ivri muses, cocking her head in thought.

Caspis nods to Atley at his mage suggestion. "As your commanding officer suggests, perhaps. And while I have no authority over you, I request, simply as a person who wishes to be alert in case of peril on the open sea, that you wait until we are better able to spread out from one another in sleeping arrangements before engaging in loud practice of this sort."

Azizia shakes her head at Ivri. "I am not obligated to answer question." She dropped the weapon on the ground, she can cross her arms, now. "I do not appreciate how everyone tries to stop from expressing music of mine." She takes a deep breath. "But I will consider concerns. Maybe."

Tibbiah eats another peanut butter cookie. Slowly. Eyes on Azizia. Then she turns and shuffles across in her cocoon of violet scarf to hold one out to Ivrianna. "Cookie?" She shifts an inquiring look to Dane.

"There will be time for music," Caspis assures her gently, patiently. "But I understand your passion; it is one my mother shared."

Caspis politely doesn't mention that his mother was, you know, good at it.

Atley initially double takes the gnome, perhaps noticing her for the first time on the voyage. He dismissively waves a hand with a growl before he actually hears her question and extends that same hand. “Mm, cheers.”

He turns back to Azizia. “I don’t mind a proper sea shanty or a bard’s tune, Azizia. That’s no issue. But musical or not you will take the needs of the many into consideration. Especially at a time like this.”

Caspis studies Atley as he speaks, taking in his firm tone of authority and nodding slightly.

Tibbiah places a cookie solemnly in that enormous paw (metaphorical, as opposed to the many literal paws on this voyage), and then produces a second to hold out to Ivri.

Ivri waves Tibbiah off. "I always get a little queasy the first day or so on a boat. Maybe tomorrow. Today, it's all toast and liquids."

"Yeow," says Tibbiah sympathetically, and puts the cookie back into her scarf.

Caspis looks at Ivri, clearly shifting into Healer Mode. "There is a tea I can make that might help, if you wish."

"Nah," she says. "I'll be all right. If I start to get dehydrated because I can't keep anything down, I'll let you know, though." So far the coffee seems to be staying down, at least.

"You might also try having someone place pressure here, on both wrists," he suggests, demonstrating on the underside of his own wrist by pressing two fingertips on a certain central spot just between the tendons, not far beneath the heel of the hand.

Ivri slants a slow, smiling look at Dane, then goes with wide-eyed innocence before sipping her coffee.

Atley glances over at Caspis upon the bound wrists talk before he looks to Ivri at the same time she looks to him. He grunts and bites Tibb’s cookie in half.

Azizia glares again at the gnome, taunting her with their cookies, even while the others address her. She shakes her head and looks at Ivri, Dane and then Caspis. "Very well. I will stop practicing for a few days." She puts the weapon back into its sheath and begins walking away. "It would not have been issue if everyone had gotten earplugs from Gelmis Fizzbombs, in Booty Bay." She turns around to look at the group again, a serious expression on her face, her curly hair flying in the wind. "Gelmis Fizzbombs's noise canceling earplugs. Give your ears their needed hug." She steps down the stairs, back below deck.

From down the stairs, she exclaims. "Also come as fashionable fuzzy earmuffs!"

Atley watches Azizia and slowly sips his coffee. He grunts approvingly at some point and steps out of her way as she moves downstairs. After he finishes the cookie he brings the coffee to his nose and inhales. “There we are, then.”

"I like her," Ivri proclaims. She sips her coffee. She has spoken.

"Why?" Caspis asks solemnly. He seems genuinely curious, as though it matters in some serious way.

Atley grunts and shakes his head towards Ivri in agreement before taking another sip. “Not a bad sort.” he admits.

Caspis turns the same solemnly inquisitive look on Atley.

She blinks, thinking it over. "She's herself," she says. "I don't know anyone else like her. And she compromises without backing down. It's a neat trick."

Atley meets the look and takes a moment to swallow before elaborating. “She’s cheeky. Like this one.” He pokes Ivri in the side.

Ivri pretends to wobble on the railing.

Caspis considers this gravely, eyes going a bit distant.

“And, Caspis. I appreciate the respect you’ve shown towards me and my order,” he growls. “But in these circumstances Dane or Atley will do just as well.”

"Or Big Red."

"Big Red," pipes up Tibbiah. She sizes Dane up. "Yeah. Good." Cookie, Cheeky, and Big Red have joined the chat.

It seems to take a moment for Caspis to process that Atley said his name, so deeply was he considering Ivri's words. "Hm?" he says automatically, and then realizes who it was addressing him and corrects it to, "I am sorry, sir?"

Atley warily peers at Tibbiah before readdressing Caspis. “I am Sir Dane Atley, aye. But in these informal circumstances you can call me Dane or Atley. Better off, Atley.”

While he's looking away, Ivri mouths with exaggeration, "Big Red."

Tibbiah glances at Ivrianna and then peers up at the sky with deep interest. Big Red. She heard nothing else.

"Does that show sufficient respect?" Caspis inquires of Atley. "In my culture, to call someone solely by a surname is… hmm. Abrupt. Implies seniority or superiority in certain cases. A captain might do so to her soldiers, but they would use her title when addressing her."

Atley takes another sip. “There’s a bit of that in ours as well, but I’ve been called Atley in my life more than I’ve been called Dane. I’ll let you address me in ‘wotever way you feel is most comfortable.”

Ivri says, "Sir Atley when on-duty would be preferable, but in a casual situation anything goes. As long as the person you're addressing has indicated a preference." Eyeing her cup, she dumps the rest of her coffee into the sea. Swim fast, little fishes.

Atley looks to Ivri and nods, looping an arm around her.

Caspis gives Ivri a grateful bow for the explanation.

“That’s right.”

"You may call me Silvershade, or Caspis, as you prefer. You may also hear me called shan'do or shalan or thero'shan by others aboard this vessel, but those are titles unique to the relationship."

Atley nods once. “Caspis it’ll be then.” He growls before looking down at Tibbiah. “And, who are you, then?”

A four-fingered hand in a fingerless leather glove emerges from the scarf. "Tibbiah Shinbreaker, erstwhile Scion of Lothar, Cobalt Company specialist, demolitions expert, et cetera, et cetera."

Atley has to stoop to completely envelop the little hand in his palm, giving her a firm, measured handshake. “Scion of Lothar?” he inquires, half dubious, half impressed, before releasing her hand. “The Lion of Azeroth?”

Tibbiah squints up at him. "Yeah. You heard of him? I was, uh, one of the Honor Hold people? Couple've decades? I prefer 'scion' to 'son,' eff why eye, but nobody asked me." She shrugs cheerfully.

Atley scoffs briefly and straightens up. “Aye. I may’ve heard of Sir Anduin ‘fore.” He sets his jaw and retrieves a bit of jerky from the breast pocket of his jacket, taking a bite as he appraises Tibbiah. “So one of the Sons, Mm? You must be dead hard.”

"I am dead hard, buddy." Tibbiah lifts her goggles up to give Atley a gimlet eye. "You want another cookie?"

Caspis, perhaps afraid of the gnome, has resumed staring into eternity.

Atley grunts approvingly and lowers a hand for another cookie. “Aye, well. Welcome back to the world,” he growls warmly before bitterly glancing away, setting his jaw. “Apologies for how it’s been kept since your departure.” He lowers the piece of left over jerky to his jacket pocket.

Something (relatively) small inside shifts around before a tiny canine snout emerges, sniffing the air with a wet nose before it snaps up the jerky and noisily chews.

Ivri shakes her head. "I'm telling you, he's going to fall overboard."

Atley grunts in the negative and pats the pouch. “He’s alright. Innee’, lad?” Fang the Alteraci shepherd pup pokes his head free, floppy ears popping out. Bright brown eyes look to Ivri as he licks his chops and barks a single time in recognition.

Jo still sits under Caspis's pile of fur, her head and one hand visible as she continues to eat her cookie. She watches the conversation with interest.

Tibbs definitely passed Atley a cookie. Now she is squinting at the puppy. "Sure are a lot of animals going on on this boat," she observes.

Atley nods once and consumes the cookie. Fang writhes in his pocket to try and crane his head upwards with hopeful eyes. “Too bloody right.” he agrees.

"Some of them even have four feet," Ivri says.

The wind has begun to pick up some urgency, and a leaden cloud front is marching visibly and inexorably on the ship from the west.

Caspis looks up, and his ears droop. "An ill wind…" he says in a low, quiet voice.

"Woo," says Tibbiah. She pulls her goggles back down and adjusts her scarf like an old-timey pilot preparing to fly. "Gonna be a real gnome-sweeper, then?"

Ivri sighs and slithers off the railing. "Great. Now I'm sure to vomit." She tells Dane, "Probably better to sleep in the hammocks if this continues through the day. Or brace yourself in our room."

Atley looks in the direction of the storm and grunts. “Aye, looks fierce.” He reaches into his his pocket and takes out the puppy, offering it to Ivrianna. “Take him below decks, will you? I mean to get the morning work out in ‘fore it’s too bad,” he explains, unbuttoning his jacket.

Ivri pulls the puppy against her. "If you get swept overboard, I'm not diving in after you," she warns him. "Might throw Jo, she's little and can portal."

Atley grunts and gives her arm a squeeze before he speed walks over to the closest thing he can do pull ups on.

Jo gives a worried glance to Ivri and heads belowdecks for the storm.

Caspis follows not far behind Ivri. "If you are unwell, would you like me to look after Sir Atley's companion during the storm?" He seems to be referring to the puppy.

A cold rain is now driving earnestly at the deck, and there is an ominous flicker of blue-violet light among the clouds. Sailors are running, singing out directions and securing the ship.

A giant, now-rather-soggy violet scarf wearing goggles trundles down the stairs toward the Hammocks Place.

Azizia walks up the stairs holding an umbrella, looking around. "Where is Alysson?"

Alysson seems to have disappeared somewhere. He could be anywhere!

Atley stomps past Azizia, somewhat soaked himself. “The lad seems to’ve disappeared somewhere. Knowing him … he could be anywhere,” he growls before ducking his head and jogging downstairs, unless interrupted.

Azizia sighs. "And I know him that he will get attention of his, Mr. Dane… Maybe." Azizia raises her umbrella up high and whispers in Draenei. There's a flash as lightning strikes right on the tip of her umbrella. The electric energy is redirected into a ball orbiting around her. She waits patiently wait for Alysson to show himself, now.

Across the deck near one of the masts Rissa is standing (bipedal) out of the way of the crew. One hand on the boat, head leaned back watching the storm. She seems utterly unperturbed by the amount of water falling on her.

Atley disappears down into the cabin but upon the flash of lighting he pokes his confusedly glaring head from around the corridor and deadpans Azizia for a moment before he continues on his way to get dried up.

Caspis shifts into cheetah form just long enough to dart across the slippery deck toward Rissa, where he shifts back, looming protectively over her, his inky hair dripping. "Thero'shan," he says in his gentlest growl, in Darnassian. "It is a beautiful storm, but on a ship like this many sailors will be running to and fro unpredictability in response to its whims. I do not want to see you harmed."

She looks up at him with a brief nod "Shan'do, I've just never seen a storm at sea, it is somehow more than when there is land beneath you." She looks around the deck "I had tried to find a spot out of the way, but you are right. I will make my way below decks as well"

Caspis puts a fatherly, sheltering arm loosely around her shoulders as he guides her toward safety. "I suspect we are only seeing the beginning of it," he says gravely over the storm's hiss and howl.

Azizia waits at the stairs, asking anyone who might cross her path while taking cover if they've seen Alysson.

Caspis, having no idea who Alysson is, just shakes his head gravely at Azizia.

"Hmm then it will be a truly impressive storm indeed." Rissa also shrugs at Azizia as they pass.

"I can make a small one for you below deck if you feel deprived of the view," Caspis says as he accompanies Rissa below. Is he… joking? Does he do that? Or is it a serious offer?

Azizia scoffs and whispers to herself. "And I am problem because I play music in morning, but he makes storms inside boat." She takes a few steps away from the stairs, looking for the human rogue and serving as a living lighting rod to protect the sailors from the storm.

Rissa snorts and shakes her head, spattering a bit of water around as she does. she’s assuming he’s not serious, but better to decline just in case.

Ivri has found a hammock belowdecks and is lying in it. The movement of the ship slings her back and forth, but she's hooked feet and arms through holes in the hammock's rope weave and is, in otherworldly parlance, straight chillin b.

Cressidha sits at one of the dining tables in the mess hall with a bag on the table in front of her. Before the storm hit, she had been sorting potions; now, she has been forced to suspend her operation and wait out the swaying of the ship. She taps her fingers restlessly against the table.

Caspis, drenched and solemn, enters the mess hall. Which is appropriate, as he is a mess. Tangled, dripping hair, sodden furs and leather. Despite this, he greets Cress with a solemn bow, palms clasped together. "Cressidha Aspenwood," he says in his deep, quiet voice.

Cressidha nods politely. "Caspis Silvershade. Good afternoon." She raises a hand and a wave of dry heat sweeps past him, perhaps helping somewhat with the rain-sogginess.

He startles slightly and shivers, but then inclines his head to her again, this time projecting gratitude rather than greeting. A slightly less drippy kaldorei approaches. "Does the storm trouble you?" he inquires, standing near her table but not seating himself.

He doesn't mean to loom, but he is seven feet two inches tall and she is sitting, so even with the way he has to slouch slightly to keep his head clear of the planks above him there is an element of unintended loomage.

"I do not believe it is of sufficient severity to put the ship in any danger," Cressidha says, her tone polite. "The increase in movement of the ship is perhaps a little irritating, I admit."

"I am not, myself, accustomed to long sea voyages, nor ships that must continue in this sort of weather. My only journeys to the Eastern Kingdoms have been via mage portal. Are you experienced in sea travel yourself?"

Cressidha shakes her head. "This is my second such voyage, the first being to Kalimdor. Menethil Harbor to Theramore. I would not consider that particularly experienced."

"You seem tranquil enough." He studies her carefully.

"Thank you." Was that a compliment? Clearly, Cressidha is going to take it as one. She reaches into the potions bag and starts setting potions on the table, but the very first one begins to slide dangerously along the table as the boat shifts and she sighs, picking it up again.

Somewhere in the distance, Ivri's stomach attempts to leap to freedom through her mouth. She catches it in a bag, though, so everything's fine.

"[She should have tried the tea…]," Caspis mutters to himself absently in Darnassian before turning his attention fully on Cressidha. His gaze is usually soft-focused and vague, which makes his direct focus all the more potentially unnerving. There is something of the predator in its luminous intensity despite the fact that he clearly means no harm.

"Do you consider yourself a person who remains calm under pressure, and in peril?" he asks mildly. His expression is curious, and while serious he does not seem disapproving or wary.

Cressidha has no difficulty making eye contact. She sets the potion back in the bag. "I do, in almost all situations. I have some difficulty with felhounds."

Caspis gives a barely-visible shudder and for a moment looks surprised, startled even. His ears droop and his expression turns briefly vulnerable before smoothing out again. "Yes," he says then, slowly, as though finding his feet under himself. "I can see why you would have difficulty with them. And I appreciate your honesty. You strike me as a very capable young woman."

Cressidha, who already has excellent posture, somehow manages to sit up a little straighter. "I do strive to be. Thank you. Is there anything you would like to know that will help us work together better in the field?"

"I would like to know a great many things," he says solemnly. "But let us begin with what you feel to be most important. What do you believe I should know about you?" He gives his head a little tilt.

Cressidha considers this. "I am a tailor and an enchanter, and enchanted items that are no longer of use can be recycled into various types of arcane dust and other materials. It is not intended to be disrespect for the dead when I remove an article of clothing or piece of jewelry from a corpse to disenchant it, and if something has religious or cultural significance that you are aware of and I am not, I would appreciate being informed."

Caspis blinks. He seems to take a moment to process this, and then inclines his head deeply. "Thoughtful as well as capable. I see no harm in the reuse of objects taken from the dead. Nature is built upon cycles of destruction and rebirth. But if I see something that is of too much value to be destroyed and repurposed , I will inform you." He tips his head again, the other way. "Is there anything in particular you expect of me, or my behavior, in the field?"

Cressidha nods. "I have been trained as a battlemage, and my focus is wide area-coverage blizzards. I will not hit my allies. I am extremely precise. As for you…" She considers this question. "I may need some time to think on that and get back to you, if I may. Nothing is immediately coming to mind."

"It may not surprise you to hear that I have not worked closely with mages before. It is possible that your spellwork may startle me at first."

"Ah, yes." Cressidha clears her throat. "I apologize for the lack of forewarning earlier, with the heat. I will likely have need to do so again, given the climate in Northrend."

"It was pleasant, and helpful, but unexpected."

His gaze drifts off, and he seems lost in thought. For so long, in fact, that she may assume he has forgotten they were in conversation. But then he speaks again, still without looking directly at her or anything else in the room.

"At one time I was fearful of all mages," he admits gravely. "But it was a young human woman like yourself who changed my mind. I never spoke personally with Lady Jaina Proudmoore, but her influence was unmistakable, and our world would not be standing without her determination, honor, and courage."

Cressidha goes back to looking through the bag of potions during that time, although she doesn't make the mistake of taking any more out. "I studied for about ten years to fully master the control of mine. That is a long time, for humans. I was not permitted to do any sort of magical combat until my instructor considered me completely ready. I met Lady Jaina only briefly, and I did not have the opportunity to discuss much with her besides the business at hand at the time, but she does leave an impression, indeed."

"Perhaps your people have learned from the mistakes ours made," he muses. "But on the whole, your mages seem much more responsible and conscientious. Perhaps because they are not elevated above others in your society?"

Cressidha considers this. "Perhaps. Although I personally find that being elevated above others in society involves more responsibility, not less, I suppose not everyone sees it that way."

"You speak from experience?" One of his impossibly long dark brows lifts.

Cressidha nods. "I do. House Aspenwood is a noble family in Stormwind, and my mother is a member of the House of Nobles, one of Stormwind's bodies of government. As such, my brother and I have certain responsibilities and expectations placed upon us."

Caspis's focus sharpens on Cress again; clearly this is new information. "Is it an inherited responsibility? Will you yourself one day govern?"

"The seat will go to someone else in my family, if my mother dies. I am not her immediate successor; that would be my elder brother Amadeus. But it is for us to pass around amongst ourselves. Should Amadeus wish to give me the seat, he could." Cressidha shrugs. "Perhaps when I am much older, I might."

Caspis studies her for a long time, seeming deep in thought. He still has not sat at her table.

The door to the mess hall opens again, revealing yet another kaldorei man. This one seems to have stayed mostly out of the rain, and his purple hair is only slightly disheveled from the wind and travel. Celaven looks from Caspis to Cressidha and nods, stepping into the silent room.

"Celaven," Caspis says warmly.

Cressidha looks over and nods politely.

Celaven looks at the both of them. "I hope I'm not disturbing… I was in the bunk, but then I thought the time might pass easier with company. Is the storm bothering either of you?"

"You are welcome to have a seat, if you would like," Cressidha offers, shrugging. She doesn't seem particularly bothered by the storm.

"Storms do not unnerve me, but I will confess to a certain discomfort with the… lack of visible land."

"As long as I can go out and see the moon… which, to be honest, I can't do that right now either." Celaven moves to sit across from Cressidha.

There's movement behind Caspis as Rissa now also enters the room, she's dryer than before clearly having detoured to somewhere with a towel. "Shan'do, I was wondering what your thoughts were on water form while we…." She trails off as she sees Celaven seated at the table "Ven?"

Caspis stares vaguely at Celaven as he sits. His expression suggests that it is the first time he is considered that sitting might be a thing one could do.

Cressidha nods politely to Elrissadel as well.

"Thero'shan," Caspis says in greeting.

"Rissa," Celaven smiles at her. "It's been a while since we spoke. Did the place in Stormwind work out?"

"Uh, um yes" Rissa begins to fidget. Her ears swivel as though trying to listen through the walls and she darts her glance through any open door she sees. "It's lovely"

"You don't need to be uneasy," Celaven glances to Cressidha. "Lady Cressidha is here, so we're safe from the storm."

Cressidha blinks. She does not verbally contradict Celaven, but she looks faintly surprised.

Caspis turns his gaze toward Rissa, studying her now.

Rissa meets his gaze almost beseechingly, she doesn't expect him to understand why she's upset, but she's hoping she can jog his memory. "Florande is somewhere aboard as well." She gestures at Celaven, "She doesn't know he's here and they haven't met"

Caspis looks at her blankly. He appears very unjogged.

Cressidha looks similarly blank.

Celaven looks faintly guilty.

Rissa latches on to the one non-blank expression. "You never replied to her."

"I.. should probably introduce myself," Celaven says, looking over at the door with trepidation, as if Flo might come bounding in at any second.

Rissa crosses her arms and raises one, very very long eyebrow. Clearly conveying "Ya think?" via body language.

Caspis starts to have an expression, but it is not a good expression. It is a rather stormy one directed at Celaven, who appears to have Done Something To Thero'Shan?

"Who is Florande?" Cressidha asks mildly.

"My half-sister," Celaven says quietly. "Or at least, I recently learned that she was my half-sister."

"She and Elrissadel Shadowbloom are my students. Druids."

He swivels to peer at Celaven!

Cressidha nods. "I see."

Then his expression goes blank again, very blank, as he becomes aware there are Things He Should Remember.

Caspis is

…

…

(loading, please wait)

"Yes, with whom you share a father. Who is taxing at best"

(come on Caspis you can do this)

Caspis: (loading… 37%)

There is a very tiny cronching sound from under a table. Someone might be enjoying some cookies n' drama.

Cressidha swivels on her bench to peek under the table in question.

Caspis: (loading… 68%)

Woop! A residue of crumbs and flash powder.

Cronching resumes a moment later near Cressidha's feet. There is now a peanut butter cookie on the bench beside her. Shhhh.

Cressidha accepts the cookie as tribute and does not say anything. She picks it up and discreetly stows it in a bag for later.

"I don't think I was aware she was your student, Caspis," Celaven says finally, after apparently considering and discarding several other responses. "I'm sure she's a wonderful druid, it was only…"

"Cerelar," Caspis says finally. "Cerelar Dawnshadow." It is almost, but not quite, a growl.

Rissa is clearly fighting back her overprotectiveness, "I understand it must have been a shock, but…" She makes a bit of a helpless gesture, "you'll understand when you meet her, she's the best Ven. You're lucky."

Celaven winces a little and says, "It was just a difficult time for such a revelation, truly. I hold nothing against her. I would have contacted her eventually, I'm sure, even without…" he looks around at the confines of the ship.

Caspis turns to Celaven, eyes flashing like the sky outside. "What have you done, Celaven."

"All Cobalt Company members on this boat ought to take the time to become acquainted with one another at least by name," Cressidha chimes in helpfully and/or unhelpfully.

Caspis gives Cressidha a slight nod without taking his stormy eyes from Celaven.

"Of course," Celaven says to Cressidha. To Caspis, he adds, "I didn't do anything. She wrote to me and explained, and asked to meet. And I didn't do anything."

Caspis snarls.

"Would you like to meet her now, then?" Cressidha suggests mildly, shooting a quick side-glance at Caspis.

"There are times," Caspis growls between clenched teeth, "when doing nothing is the worst thing one can do."

Someone near Cressidha's feet makes a soft sound of anticipation. This is getting good. A little hand pats Cressidha's foot approvingly.

Rissa places a few fingers on Caspis's arm "She's fine. Things like this," she makes a flicking gesture, "They're water off a duck's back for her. It is her blessing and her curse. But," She turns to Celaven, "It did give her pause, she couldn't understand"

Cressidha impressively refrains from impulse-kicking the gnome under the table. She should win an award.

The gnome has no doubt been impulse-kicked before. She's that kind of gnome.

Caspis seems to calm slightly at Rissa's words, and lays a gentle hand briefly on her hair.

"There were circumstances," Celaven says, looking guiltily at Caspis. "I was going to explain to her, once things were better. I still meant to."

Cressidha looks around at the others. She's waiting for a moment where no one is looking at her to peek under the table. She hasn't found one quite yet, but she's waiting for it.

"What circumstances, Celaven Evensong?" Oh no, they are back to two names.

Rissa was not expecting this much backup from Caspis but she'll take it. She leans back to let him lead the conversation for a bit. Her ears continue to swivel as she listens to make sure she will know immediately if someone else approaches.

(Yes this does mean she's aware of the cookie gnome under the table.)

"There had been a number of… recent setbacks," Celaven says reluctantly. "When I went to speak to my father, I was told he had no time for me. I had one friend who had relocated to another world, and was struggling with difficult memories. Another friend ended up in the Ebon Hold, and I could not even find her next of kin. And then I received Florande's letter. I do not think I would have answered her as I should have, at that time."

"Your father is a heartless fool," Caspis snaps at Celaven. "That does not mean you must follow in his path."

Cressidha looks under the table.

Tibbiah peers back up at her nonchalantly.

Cressidha smiles faintly at Tibbs. She folds her hands together on the table and returns her attention to the conversation.

Under the table, Tibbiah mimics Cressidha's hands-folded posture — though in her lap, because no table — and does the same. We now return to: DAYS OF OUR ELVES.

Celaven looks down at the table. "I did not intend to be heartless. I just did not think I had anything left to give, at that time. And… it stung. Though it was no fault of hers."

Caspis exhales slowly. "You can make it right, now. He wronged her, too."

"I can certainly understand not being in the right state of mind to compose a letter," Cressidha says politely. "That is very reasonable. Elrissadel said that Florande was fine, now. Perhaps this might be a better time to speak with her properly."

Caspis nods gratefully to Cressidha, and scrubs a hand over his face, sighing.

Rissa snorts briefly, "better time or not, I don't think it can be avoided," her expression softens as she glances over at Celaven again, "She will not ask much of you, in fact, had you responded, she most likely would have filled your cup rather than emptied it."

"Then I do not think I have done entirely wrong," Celaven says to Rissa. "Because I would not have wanted to meet such a person with anger and hurt in my heart."

There's a soft sound, like the padding of a cat's feet, and a flicker of shadow by the open door of the mess hall.

Rissa swivels her head towards the noise immediately and walks over towards the open doorway. "Florande?"

A tiny hand pats Cressidha's foot again, this time in conspiratorial excitement.

Cressidha's foot twitches. She does not kick the gnome. She looks curiously towards the door.

A faint "Mrrw?" sound comes from the hallway.

There is still weather happening outside. It is occasionally loud weather. The boat rocks alarmingly as the waves get choppier.

Rissa moves a little ways into the hallway crouches down and puts her arms around Flo's cat shoulders and starts whispering quietly into her ear. "Your brother is here, he would like to speak with you"

Caspis watches the scene, but not passively. He seems ready to pounce at any moment.

After a moment more of hesitation, the panther is suddenly an elf with large eyes, green hair a chaotic mess with pink ears sticking out on each side. She shifts and stretches slightly, and it's entirely possible she hasn't been an elf yet during this voyage.

Cressidha holds on to the bag of potions as it starts to slide a little on the table.

Rissa reaches out to entwine her hand with one of Florande's and turns back into the room

"Celaven?" She asks in a creaky voice, looking over the room. Shan'do Silvershade…. Celaven must be one of the other two.

Cressidha gestures towards Celaven.

She smiles at the other kaldorei man. "Celaven! Surprise, I'm your sister. I guess you missed my letter? I hope somebody got it."

Rissa reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose. Sweet summer childe.

Caspis gives Celaven a Warning Look.

"I received the letter," Celaven says, hesitantly. "And the little… figurine? It was lovely. My answer was simply… delayed."

Rissa lets go of Florande's hand and gently pushes her towards the table. It's time to let her work her own personal brand of magic.

"I thought I should make it of moon things," Florande says with a wide smile, letting Rissa propel her forward. "Because you're a priest and all. Like Larawen's was forest things."

Celaven chuckles. "Moon things. Yes. I could see that in it."

Caspis visibly relaxes, and leans back against the wall.

Cressidha watches Florande and Celaven curiously.

"I understand delay," Florande says, "Sometimes I forget to answer dad for a few weeks. Usually not months, though."

There is an ominous crack of thunder at the mention of the siblings shared father. Rissa winces as she comes up beside Florande

Caspis may have done the thunder.

Turning to Caspis, Celaven explains, "She sent me a kind of… abstract carving. There was a crescent moon, stars, some things that suggested the shape of an owl…"

Florande claps her hands in delight. "You saw the owl! See? You're a good brother."

"Celaven Evensong," Caspis says, but more gently this time. "You have not yet apologized."

Celaven winces again at the reprimand. "I do apologize. It was not simply negligence. Reading your letter, your fondness for our shared father was obvious. I admit I felt… discarded. And that was not your fault, and I did not want to behave as if it was."

Cas nods, satisfied. "Thank you," he says quietly. "She deserves honesty."

Rissa rests one hand gently on the small of Florande's back in support, but her gaze is solidly on Celaven as she smiles at him. She knew she liked him for a reason.

Florande nods seriously. "Larawen told me dad would get bored of me someday. I don't think he will? But she said that."

There is an ominous crack of thunder at the mention of the father.

It is genuinely possible Caspis is causing this.

Rissa leans forward to murmur to Florande, "Your father is very fond of you, but I think he made many mistakes with Celaven and his sister."

There's a light step in the hallway, and a tall, blue-haired woman steps into the doorway. She takes in the room, and then her eyes find Caspis. "Shalan, did I miss a planned meeting?"

An urgent finger taps Cressidha's boot. Tibbs is still catching up on the first season of this show and doesn't know this character.

Cas's ears droop for a moment, eyes widening. That same caught-schoolboy look he had when Cress mentioned felhounds. But the look passes quickly. "Cerelar's daughter," he says, and looks toward Florande.

"Ah," Anareline says, stepping into the room and leaning against the wall. "Then I see my intervention was unnecessary. It was a cruel trick of him to play, on all of us."

Rissa looks between Caspis and the newcomer with a slight frown before her eyes widen

"Celaven's mother," he says to Rissa.

She nods absently at him while focusing on Florande. the hand she had at the small of her back slides to Flo's hip.

Florande leans in toward Rissa, maybe unconsciously, and looks at Anareline. "You knew?"

Anareline inclines her head. "Not until recently. I hadn't spoken with your father in a few centuries, and…" she holds up one hand, a gesture like a shrug, "…he did not keep me informed."

Boom.

Seriously, Cas.

It was definitely Cas this time.

His eyes went all thundery, right exactly then.

Celaven sighs, and says, "Florande, I can't say that our father will never 'grow bored' of you. But if he does, it will not be your fault. And if you write, I will answer you next time."

There are no further scufflings or cronchings or foot-proddings under the table. Is Tibbs still there, rapt? Is she asleep? Has she vanished? Who can say?

Florande reaches a hand around Rissa's waist. "I think it'll be great to have a sister and a brother. My whole life it's just been me, till I met Rissa."

Rissa shifts to allow the hand so that they're standing sort of side hugging each other and smiles over at Florande. "I think focusing on your relationships to each other regardless of your father will work out best."

"Perhaps all of us — except perhaps him," here thunder crashes, "—can now begin to behave more as family, hm?"

Rissa is absolutely going to ask Caspis about that thunder trick at some point. It's super cool.

Florande nods. "My mother, too? She's nice, though she's a little sad right now."

Anareline stares at Florande for a long moment. "I have met her. I would not object."

Celaven looks between the two women. "I somehow get the feeling I was the last to find out about all of this. Though, I suppose that's my own fault."

"Yes," says Caspis. But then he crosses the low-ceilinged (for them) space to pull Celaven abruptly into an embrace. He murmurs to him briefly in Darnassian, [Forgive my anger], and then lets him go.

Celaven looks relieved when he pulls back from the embrace, and he nods once at Caspis.

Caspis heads toward the sleeping area, looking back over his shoulder at Anareline to say, "Stay as long as you like," before disappearing. He speaks with the confidence of a man who knows he will not be alone terribly long. Cas also totally nods farewell at Cressidha.

Anareline looks for a moment like she might follow him immediately. Then she pauses and turns back to Florande, "I am pleased to finally meet you. There was not opportunity to do so, until you knew the truth. And… I am pleased to hear that your father has, in some ways, changed from when I knew him."
Florande bobs her head nervously, and says, "Pleased to meet you too." Then she cocks her head. "Though I don't know what you are to me, exactly?"

Anareline shrugs. "Your shan'do's partner." She gives a sharp look at Rissa. "For you as well. Let me know, if you need any martial training."

Rissa nods seriously and respectfully at Anareline, "Thank you for the offer. I will be sure to take you up on it in the future"

She then turns back to Florande and gives her a quick squeeze before letting go. "I am also going to head back to the bunks. Stay if you'd like, you know where to find me."

(She only belatedly realizes how similar her statement is to her Shan'do's.)

"I'll come with you," Florande says, looking nervously at all the people who still remain.

Rissa smiles at her "ok" She looks up to the few remaining "have a good night" (it is implied that she is also speaking to the cookie gnome)

"I hope your evening passes well, Lady Cressidha, despite the storm," Ana says to her, then turns to her son. "Celaven, walk with me. I would speak with you. Don't worry, it won't take that long."

Celaven nods and rises to follow his mother out of the mess hall.

Rissa holds Florande back slightly to give Celaven and Anaraline a bit of space and privacy before trailing them towards the bunk rooms.