(2024-09-14) Demonic Ladies Come to Dinner

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Author:	inkie
Summary:	Siamus encounters Lena after the incident with Ben, and invites her to join him and Aszera for dinner. Talk of demonology, trigonometry, and comparative social mores ensues. Contains consenting adults in a sexual relationship/situation; it's also ~20,000 words.
Rating:	A for Adults Only 18+

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Sexual content, polyamory, flirting, alcohol

Sunset colors the sky above the Lady Blanche, but the ship is still active. Even without combat against krakens or orcs, there is plenty to be done to maintain a ship, especially one that has been through a hurricane. Lena the warlock is not required for any of it. Left to her own devices for a time, she has nevertheless remained on ship. There is no telling when someone may need a summon, after all.

In the meantime, she is beginning to see to her own education. She has set aside her warlock robes for riding clothes — the trousers and boots likely the closest she currently owns to a sailor's getup — and her hair is tied back against the wind. She sits by one the sails with a short length of rope in her hand, trying to recreate one of the knots by appearance.

Siamus emerges from below the forecastle, gazing up at the sunset sky, squinting in the light. He is shirtless, scars and tattoo stark against suntanned skin, medallions hanging around his neck against his bare chest. Black grease streaks his torso on one side. His hair is damp with sweat, and he carries his shirt slung over one shoulder.

He crosses the deck to a bucket of seawater standing beneath the mainmast and plunges his hands in; his fingers and nails are also stained black with grease. He scrubs at them in the bucket and then splashes saltwater against the marks on his side to rub them away before straightening to pull his shirt on over his head.

He scans the deck, surveying the ongoing work, and spots Lena sitting beneath the mizzenmast; he heads in her direction. At proximity, she can smell the scents of gunpowder and oil lingering around him. On his jaw, just visible above the line of his beard, is the faintest shadow of a mark that is too purplish-hued to be gun grease.

"Miss Coit," he greets her, and considers the rope in her hands. He smiles.

Lena rises, turning automatically to Siamus with a smile at his greeting. Then she takes in his appearance, the bruise, and the scent of gunpowder.

"Sir," Lena says, tucking the half-formed knot away in her bag. "Is there trouble? Something with the Horde?"

Siamus raises his eyebrows, startled, and then looks down at himself. "Oh, aye, no. No, only working wi' Farleigh and his crew on gun maintenance and drills. In case of trouble, aye? I expect we're coming to it soon enough." He glances up and smiles ruefully at Lena. He doesn't look dismayed at the prospect of trouble coming soon enough.

He nods at her bag where the rope just vanished. "How's it coming? Ye have your bowline down?"

"That what this one is?" Lena gestures vaguely at the mizzenmast. "Folk seemed busy, so I didn't ask. Just thought I'd learn what I can from looking. I'm pretty good with…." She pauses, and does not make the statement an innuendo this time, instead explaining, "It was a thing I used to do when I was bored, back when I was a refugee, making shapes out of string. It's not terribly different, finding the shape of a knot. Think I've got this one."

Siamus nods approvingly. "Good. Bowline's the one we use most, for securing sheets and connecting lines. Ye note that the noose doesn't run or slip. If ye turn it over and break its back, though, it can always be undone without trouble.

"If ye have that one with a confidence, we can get ye on stoppers and clove hitches." He pauses. "… Ye know which lines the sheets are?"

Lena looks up at the lines holding the sails and then shakes her head apologetically. "I'm picking up what I can, but that's not the kind of thing most sailors I've had in my acquaintance ordinarily talk about."

Siamus regards her for a moment blankly and then blinks and laughs. "Oh, aye." He grins at her, and then steps back to point. "The sheets secure the clews — which are the corners of the sails. But we can get into all of that later on. For now, the knots will do. If I say something ye don't understand, though, ye must ask me."

"I will," Lena says. "Do you need a healthstone? I've still plenty of shards, courtesy of the naga."

He gives her another blank look. "A… healthstone? For…?"

Lena touches her own chin, in reflection of the bruise.

"Oh." Siamus touches it and glances away, smiling a little, faintly embarrassed. "Will a healthstone fix that? Aye, if ye wouldn't mind."

"It ought," Lena says, digging in her satchel to pull out a small crystal of purple. She gestures over it and murmurs quietly, and the crystal melts into a fel-green orb. She offers this up to Siamus. "If not, well. Worth a try. Something hit you?"

Siamus accepts the crystal and crushes it in his hand. A moment later he gives a faint shiver and the bruise fades out of existence. He prods his jaw experimentally and then smiles ruefully at Lena. "Something, aye. Lieutenant Hazan's right hook."

Lena blinks, startled. "What? Why would he do that?"

"Because I am cheating on my wife," Siamus says — the phrasing is sardonic — "and he takes issue with philanderers. Personal issue, it seems."

"He… what?" Lena is still confused. "How is that any of his business? And how would it even come up in the first place?"

"It is not any of his business," Siamus confirms. "And it came up, I must assume, because he's friends with Aszera."

He glances away and then looks back to Lena, "May I ask ye, Miss Coit — does it make you uncomfortable, or alter your respect for me, when I ask ye to do a thing like that? Like summoning Aszera, that is? I'll thank ye to be frank with me."

"I'm here to summon folk," Lena says, raising her hands in something like surrender. "I assume whatever you ask me to do, there's good reasons for it. I don't have to know the reasons, just be able to trust that you have them. I was also not aware Ben and Aszera were friends, exactly, but as for Ben…." Lena lowers her hands, biting her lip. "Is he in trouble? If it was… something to do with the Westfall Hazans, touched him off…."

"He's not in trouble wi' me," Siamus says. "I'm not best pleased about it and I'll thank him to keep his fists to himself in future, but I've no plan to make trouble for him. I like the lad, and I like his father, and it's not the first time I've been hit on such a pretext." He pauses. "The Westfall Hazans I cannot say I know a damned thing about.

"And aye, you're here to summon folk. But there's reasons and then there's reasons for a summoning, and while I'll not defend my personal reasons, I'd thank ye to tell me if they alter your regard for me — that is, assuming ye have a high regard — or if ye'd rather not summon in such a circumstance." He studies her intently. "And ye know, I trust, that I am not unfaithful to the terms of my arrangement with the Duchess, which is honest and mutual. I hold my wife in the highest esteem, and would not hurt her."

"I've heard you talk of her, and her of you, so I believe I've got a fair view of your regard for one another," Lena pauses, studying Siamus in return, as if there is a definite right and wrong opinion to be held here, if only she can determine which is which. "Do you expect I should think less of you for it? Does it alter your regard for me if I don't? When it comes to people's personal lives, well, there's a saying about stones and glass houses."

Siamus shrugs. "I don't think ye should think one way or another, only that I'd like to know how ye do think. I'm accustomed to living a certain way, and meaning no ill by it to anyone, but today a friend of yours took issue. I'd not like to make ye feel complicit in a thing ye object to, nor to change your friend's respect for you. As to how I'd regard ye if you do object — I'd thank ye for being frank about it, and not ask it of ye again, and not think less of ye for it. The consent is more material than the opinion."

"Me and Ben will be fine," Lena shakes her head. "He's not about to turn on me for doing my job, and we've had differences of opinion before. If how I think on a topic would cause a problem between us, there's no rule says I've got to talk about how I think." Lena turns to look up at the mizzenmast, the sheets, the clews, and continues, "I would take issue if you made the effort to lie to me, specifically, whilst everybody else understood what was going on. You've not done that, and so I trust your judgment."

Siamus nods seriously at her. "I appreciate your trust, and I wouldn't like to damage it. I can promise ye I'm not a man who lies, and I'll be as frank as ye please if ever ye ask me a thing, on my honor." He folds his arms. "Suppose ye tell me of the Westfall Hazans. Unless that's none of my business. I can guess at some of it, I think, from what Hazan himself said."

"I reckon I can tell you a fair bit without breaking any confidences," Lena says, looking back to Siamus as she turns her back to the mast and knots. "That might be part of the problem, really. I'm no Westfaller, but from what I hear, any Westfaller would tell you the Hazans are bad news. Ben's father was a right bastard, and most of the rest of them no better. His mom, though, from what I know she was just a kind woman stuck in a bad situation. And before you ask, there's naught to be done about any of it, they're all dead, 'cept for Ben and his aunt. They got out."

Siamus is frowning, his chin down and his brows knit. He nods slowly. "I am going to assume he's got business with his father he never finished, to judge by his grievance wi' me."

"The man's dead," Lena repeats, frowning. "Maybe he'd not got enough comeuppance before he died? I could see maybe that could leave a fellow feeling like he's ready for a fight with nobody facing him."

Siamus shrugs wearily, spreading his hands. "It may be. Some men carry the marks their fathers left on them well into their own manhood." Ha ha what must that be like? Siamus wouldn't know. "But he's done well for himself in the world, and I'd hate to see him spoil that with ill-considered temper over past wrongs." He cants his head. "Are ye friendly enough with him to have a word?"

"Mm," Lena considers. "I think so, yes. I'm not going to promise it'll make a difference, but he'd hear me. I've no direct experience with that sort of thing myself, since my family was a rather good sort." And she carries no scars from other people who may have wronged her, of course. "Ben and his aunt are the last of the Westfall Hazans, though. And his aunt's a Ference now, and I suppose Ben's aiming to make the name mean something else now. Just a matter of time."

Siamus nods. "He seemed… out of sorts at the end of our conversation. I don't hold it against him, I'd like him not to hold it against me — barring that, to stay out of my business — and, perhaps, to set aside whatever it is that eats at him. I doubt he'll hear any of it from me, but from friends…." He shrugs again, then glances over briefly at a knot of crewmen gathering by the rail in anticipation of their watch's end.

He looks back to Lena. "Second Dog's beginning; I'm going below for dinner. Have ye eaten?"

"I've not," Lena says, picking up her bag and turning to Siamus. "Shall I join you?"

"I'd be glad, if ye wouldn't mind. You're acquainted with Aszera, aye?" He beckons Lena with a tilt of his head and moves toward the door that leads to the aft cabins.

Lena follows along behind him, hoisting her bag on her shoulder, and nods. "Not well, I wouldn't say, but we've fought together before. She seems very capable, considering her condition. Very… observant. And I know her brother-in-law, I suppose. If I've got all the pieces in the right places," Lena takes another few steps, before she adds casually, "Aszera was the one who killed that death knight for Ralaea, wasn't she?"

That gives Siamus pause. He halts in startlement. "Was she? Mother of all. I wasn't aware they even knew one another." After a further moment's stillness, he laughs softly and begins to move again. "What a strange, small world."

He stops to open the door for Lena courteously. "We're taking her into the family, officially," he says. "As a ward." After a beat he adds, "Ralaea, that is, not Aszera." Because that would be awkward.

"You are?" Lena says, startled herself. "But she's… her family…." Is mostly dead? That would probably be part of the consideration, Lena. "What about her brother? And Harvey?"

"I'm not sure what bearing either of them has. Harvey's her fiancé, not her kin. And I think you and the Duchess and I are all of a mind that because Harvey is her fiancé, the girl could use some proper family to look after her interests."

"I just… sorry," Lena says, taking a breath and smoothing her expression to a polite smile. "I didn't even realize that was something you or she were considering. But yes, it's wonderful she'll have a proper family. Maybe it means she doesn't feel like she's got to go everything alone anymore."

"Exactly so." Siamus smiles wryly. "Her Grace does worry about her." Not Siamus though, Siamus never worries. "And she's already come to seem part of the family. Ralaea and I are very much alike."

He does not elaborate on this statement, but ushers Lena down the hall toward his cabin. "We'll collect Aszera and go to the wardroom, unless the pair of ye would rather dine in the cabin."

"Oh, her too?" Lena says, and then waves one hand, "As you like. Either place is fine for me, if you or she has a preference."

She is studying Siamus carefully now, trying to figure out how he and Ralaea are very much alike. She has never had late night chats with Siamus in a room-tent, but then she's never gone sailing with Ralaea.

The question gives Siamus pause again; he hesitates with his hand on the latch of his cabin door, a brow lofted. "Would ye rather not? Dine wi' the both of us?"

Lena smiles and is about to give a polite non-answer, and then she pauses and reconsiders. "I suppose it does make sense to better make her acquaintance, as the other demonic presence on the ship. As long as you'd not feel I was intruding on you and her, I've no objection."

Siamus flashes her a smile. "Never intruding, Miss Coit. I expect she'll be glad to make your better acquaintance." He knocks once lightly at the door just above the latch — more a notification than a request — and opens the door without waiting for a reply.

Aze is in the cabin, resting against the outside wall by the boarded windows and possibly… meditating? Or napping, it's hard to tell with no visible eyes to go by. She's wearing her own boots and leather pants, but it appears she's raided Siamus's wardrobe for a light-colored open-necked linen shirt that is considerably too large for her. Her tattoos are visible where the shirt falls open, and then again on her forearms below where the sleeves have been rolled up. She doesn't seem to be wearing anything under it.

"Vice Admiral and… Miss Coit?" Aze asks in a distant, drowsy voice, without moving her head or rising. "Something happening?"

"Dinner," says Siamus, a smile in his voice. "I asked Miss Coit to join me. Will you as well? I can have it brought here if ye like." He surveys her. "That's very fetching."

"Dinner. It's that time. Sure, yeah, here is good," Aze smiles, and runs one hand along the shirt's neckline. "Do you get mail here? If so, I can get someone to mail some of my things. You'll have to tell me what's appropriate, if I go home with you. Dresses or whatever. What's for dinner?"

Lena steps into the cabin, following Siamus. "You're lucky you weren't with the ones sunk by the kraken. From what I understand it was fish over a campfire for them, for months."

"It is likely fish for dinner," Siamus notes dryly. "But Towson can do better than over a campfire." To Aze, he says, "Aye, we get mail here. And I would say the ladies at home do wear dresses, in the main, though there's always Ralaea for an outlier. And I've just learned ye know her?"

Aze does finally move at that, pushing to a stand. "Ralaea Westwind? What does she have to do with anything? Wait, is she here?"

Lena looks on, with a faintly amused smile. She's not wearing a dress right now either, but they are all on a ship.

"If I'd known ye were acquainted, I'd have mentioned her sooner. She's not here, no. She's at home. At Fallon House. She's a ward." Siamus watches Aze. "Is that… a difficulty?"

"A ward?" Aze asks, her brow drawing down over her blindfold. "What does that mean? And no, not a difficulty. I think we're friends, sort of. Or not enemies. at least. I didn't know you knew her. Either of you."

"She is a rather close friend of mine," Lena says, in a mild tone that has just the slightest edge of warning.

Siamus glances over at Lena and nods, then looks back to Aze. "A ward is… we've taken her into the family. For legal purposes, she's a Fallon now, under the care of the Duchess and myself. We're her legal guardians."

He goes to the table and draws out a chair on one side, and then goes around the table to draw out the opposite chair; these are presumably invitations to the ladies. He himself moves away from the table toward the chest against the wall near the bed, and bends to search within it. He straightens with a clean shirt in hand. "I'll go and tell Towson it's the three of us in here," he advises. "Help yourselves to drink if ye like." Unselfconsciously, he strips off his grimy work shirt and lays it across the lid of the trunk, then turns to head out of the cabin, shrugging into the clean one. Gentlemen dress for dinner, even on boats.

Lena looks after him as he leaves the cabin, something like don't just leave me with her in her expression, but he's not looking and Aze can't see it. The expression is wasted. Lena moves over to take one of the chairs. "So. You're fond of the Vice Admiral, I gather?"

Aze rises and takes the other chair, resting her elbows on the table. "You could say that, yeah. You should know, you've summoned me for him a few times." There's a breath, and Aze apparently decides that's too awkward a note to leave on. She adds casually, "Think you could enslave me?" There, that's better.

"I'm sorry, what?" Lena says, leaning back in her chair in startlement.

"That's what you do, isn't it?" Aze says, running one finger along the tattoo on her forearm. "Enslave demons? I just wondered if you were planning to try."

"Is that what you are?" Lena asks, and shakes her head. "If you were a demon, you wouldn't be sitting here polite, waiting for dinner. I study demons, I know how they behave. And no, I wasn't planning to try, if you were worried about that."

Unfortunately, Siamus ducks back into the cabin before anyone can enslave anyone else. Save it for later, ladies. He has gotten his shirt buttoned and tucked neatly, and is rolling the sleeves. His gaze lights first on Aze and he smiles broadly at her, raking her with an appreciative look.

"It is fish," he reports. "Towson will be along shortly." To Aze, he says, "We lost some stores in the storm. We're getting resupplied now, but slowly. Will either of ye have wine?"

Yeah, there'll be plenty of time to enslave each other later.

"Wine? Yes, that'd be great," Aze says, resting her head on her hand. "And at least I'm not sick of fish. It's all like… talbuk and stuff, in Shattrath."

"If everyone is," Lena says with a smile. "So… how did you meet Ralaea, Aze?"

Aze sighs. "It's a whole death knight story. Not sure if either of you are in for that before dinner." She pauses, then amends, "Though not as bad as I just made it sound. It's not that kind of death knight story. There's no gore. Or I guess there can be, depending on how I tell it. But really there doesn't need to be."

Siamus laughs. He deliberately crosses to the far side of the table to pass behind Aze on his way to the cupboard, possibly just so he can drop his hand briefly on her shoulder and trail his fingers lightly across the back of her neck, drawing aside the sleek curtain of her hair momentarily as he passes. "You and I also met via death knight," he reminds her. "Though I confess I'm curious to know what 'a whole death knight story' entails." He takes three glasses from the cupboard.

Aze rises to his touch, a faint smile on her lips. "Right, then I'll tell it. Maybe without the gore. So, Yara and Mourn and Roper had caught a Scourge death knight. I think Ralaea helped, too, it was a guy she'd known in life. I don't know how the catching went down, exactly, I wasn't there. I only got involved when they decided to keep him imprisoned in a tower. That meant guarding him, which meant it was worth calling in people they trusted." Aze gestures at her own trustworthy self.

Siamus returns to the table bearing the three glasses and a bottle of red wine. (Some people might observe that most red wines are not considered fish-friendly; others might observe that on a ship, you get what you've got. It's not a restaurant, Marcia.)

He sets a glass at each place and pours for the ladies first. He's frowning absently as Aze speaks.

At the brief pause, he looks up. "Have I heard a part of this story?" The question seems directed at Lena, not Aze.

"I think so," Lena says, reaching out to set her hand on the stem of the wineglass. "From a different perspective. Back last fall, when Rae was talking about how all the death knights but Harvey were monsters," Lena turns to Aze, "You know Harvey, too?"

"Harvey?" Aze asks blankly, reaching for the wine glass and taking a sip. Whether it's suitable for fish or not, she seems to like it.

"Harvey Morningdew? Ralaea's… um. Ralaea's," Lena explains, sort of.

"I know a Mourn, Lord of Blood?" Aze offers. "Who did seem pretty hung up on Ralaea Westwind, yeah."

"Mourn, Lord of Blood," Siamus repeats with a weary sort of sarcasm. "Tides ha'mercy on us, but aye. That's the same one. Ralaea's fiancé."

"Fiance?" Aze repeats, and she laughs, setting down her wine. "Ralaea's fiance. Wow. I guess she's kind of a love or hate sort of person. I thought we parted on good terms, but then again who knows?"

"I suppose I couldn't tell you, but perhaps you'll find out for yourself," Lena says, glancing down at her wine. "But back to the story. You had a death knight imprisoned."

"Yeah," Aze says, and then takes another sip of wine. Then she continues in a conversational tone,"So I was keeping watch over this death knight with my sister when Ralaea comes in and introduces herself, and then threatens to kill us all."

Siamus nods amiably. Sounds about right.

The cabin door opens and in comes Towson, the cook, accompanied by a sailor who looks far too young for the enthusiastic number of tattoos he already has. The latter hastens to set the table swiftly with silverware and napkins, and then helps to unload the tray Towson is carrying. There is a tureen of a clear fish chowder — generous chunks of potato and flaky grouper in a broth enriched with salt pork — and plates of grilled steaks of some denser, meatier fish. It is all clearly prepared from foodstuffs that were either caught right here from the ship or that could be stored for a time in a ship's hold.

There are also bowls for the chowder and glasses and a heavy stoneware pitcher of water. I guess the real news here might be that Siamus drinks water sometimes.

This is all laid out in brisk, efficient silence, and Siamus gives Towson a nod and a smile before the cook and his assistant disappear.

"Fish," Siamus says dryly. "Shark. Caught this morning." He rises to ladle soup into bowls for the women and tilts his head at Aze in a manner that says, Go on, I'm listening.

"Turns out what she really wanted was to kill the death knight," Aze says, pausing to breath in and appreciate the warm scent of the shark. "But Yara can be stubborn as fuck sometimes, and she didn't like the sudden deviation from the plan. See, Ralaea was supposed to be talking to the Argent Crusade, to see if they could unchain the guy. Figured then we'd get free intel on what the Scourge was up to. Except I guess Ralaea just sat on her hands for a week plotting murder instead. They argued, and eventually Yara conceded and let her do it. When it came down to it, though, girl just dropped her sword and ran off in tears." Aze reaches for the bowl of chowder, drawing it closer. "That's how I first met her, though I guess it gets better from there."

Through all of this, Lena has been carefully cutting her shark steak, her eyes on Aze. "That is a rather familiar story, and yet… unfamiliar at the same time."

Having served the soup, Siamus sits again. He promptly leans forward, elbows on the table, and picks up his silverware in a manner that just made Sintha choke incoherently somewhere. He's watching Aze as he begins to eat absently.

He casts a look at Lena when she speaks and nods, then lays his knife down — on the table; Sintha just shrieked — and reaches for his wine glass. "She was meant to talk to the Argents in order to get intelligence from the death knight, and she just… didn't?" Uh-oh, Rae; Dad might disapprove.

Lena is using her silverware very properly, but doesn't seem to mind neither of her dinner companions are doing so. Maybe she just wants the practice.

Aze starts in on the chowder as Siamus speaks, and then nods, setting her spoon in the bowl. "Yeah, it's kind of dangerous to keep one of them tied up under watch, you know? That and we were worried somebody'd come after him to free him. We trusted it to Ralaea, went into a holding pattern, and by then we'd all started wondering what was taking so long."

Siamus nods grimly and sits back with his wine. "I confess I don't recall her account of the business well, but it was… not exactly this. But did it not occur to your sister and her husband to have you inquire of the Argent Crusade? You're one of them."

"It didn't, because… I wasn't," Aze says, and pauses to take a gulp of wine. "Not yet. I was just me at the time. I'd only been in Northrend for a few months, and when I wasn't with the death knights I was just kind of… at the edges. Anyway, all the dead people thought I should go smooth things over with Westwind, since I had a pulse and everything. That was when I agreed to kill the Scourge one for her."

Lena carefully takes another bite of steak and raises an eyebrow, shooting a glance at Siamus. "That part of the story I remember, roughly."

"Ah," says Siamus. "I do recall something like it. The Scourge being killed. I wasn't aware it was you, naturally." He swirls his wine in the glass, frowning ruminatively. "And did ye do it at Ralaea's request, or did your sister and brother-in-law relent and allow ye?"

"I was helping people," Aze says, a little stiffly, stabbing a fork into her shark steak and attacking it with a knife. If Sintha knew her, she would probably wince again at the cutlery misuse. "I don't take orders from death knights, whether I'm related to them or not." That is not entirely true, but okay Aze. "They were waiting for advice from the Argent Crusade, so… not to throw fuel on a recent fire… Ben had affiliation, as a paladin. He was there when I found Westwind. He approved the killing plan, and I brought that back as what was going to happen. They didn't stand in my way."

She pauses, eating a bite of shark before she adds, "Westwind wanted me to do it specifically, because she'd cared for the guy when he was alive. She didn't want the death knights to enjoy it."

Siamus holds up his free hand placatingly. "I wasn't suggesting ye did wrong. Your sister and brother-in-law don't seem the sorts to take lightly to being thwarted, is all, and I was curious how it all went." He pauses for a sip of wine, sits forward again to set his glass down, and adds mildly, "And I suppose in your place I'd trust Hazan's judgment in the matter as well, as a paladin."

He resumes his heathenish use of silverware. "And I can't say I disapprove of the reasoning there, on Ralaea's part. So I can see she'd be grateful to ye."

"They don't like that very much, no," Aze nods, raising a piece of shark steak with a kind of rueful smile. "But as for West… Ralaea, I think we sort of bonded after that, over having people we cared about turned death knight. So yeah, as long as she doesn't decide to murder my family again, she's fine in my book."

"If you weren't with the Argent Crusade, what brought you to Northrend in the first place?" Lena asks, pausing in eating her chowder. "Were you with the Ebon Blade, a kind of living assistant?"

"The war brought me," Aze says, drawing her arms in a little, a subtle protective gesture. "And I guess I sort of ended up doing something like that. I used to jokingly call it being a corpse whisperer. It wasn't the goal, though, that just sort of happened." After a very focused and prolonged campaign by Syarra to get her sister's loyalty, yes, it just kind of happened.

There are many things Siamus doesn't always notice or register, but body language — particularly from a body he is familiar with — is not one of them. He is watching Aze now alertly, but if he has questions (spoiler: he does), he leaves them unvoiced for the moment and in present company.

After a moment to attend to his meal, he lays down his silverware again and reaches for the pitcher to pour himself some water. (The water is tepid and tastes like it has been stored in casks and rain barrels, because it has. This doesn't seem to bother Siamus. Maybe the ship needs a mage.) "When ye come to visit, ye can catch up with Ralaea. And Miss Coit lives with us as well." He nods toward Lena.

"Temporarily, as a kindness," Lena says quickly, lest Aze get any ideas. "Though I admit I've not been eager to leave. It's been difficult to find a suitable place after the war, with all the returning soldiers."

Aze straightens a little at the change of subject, and after a few more bites of fish, she asks, "Does a lot of the fleet live at your house?"

"No," says Siamus. "Some have come to stay with us, off and on, depending. Thom Berdon — that's my former chief mate, now Captain of the Lion's Grace — he used to visit regularly. Most of the lads prefer to stay in Fallon Harbor — that's the port village and shipyard we keep on the coast south of the estate. I've a few fleet veterans that stay with us in service, and my friend Shine, who was in service but is with Cobalt Company now. He came up wi' me through the Academy in Boralus, was my lieutenant during my last command with Proudmoore's Fleet."

Lena smiles quietly at the mention of Shine, and there's a touch of it in her voice as she says, "I was with Cobalt myself until not so long ago, so we've done a bit of a swap."

"House, village, shipyard, coast… sounds like a big place," Aze observes, tilting her head slightly toward Lena, though she keeps her face directed as if looking at Siamus. "Not sure exactly what I was imagining. But then also there's your wife and the baby. Must be a busy house, even if most of the sailors are in the village."

Siamus had glanced toward Lena at that hint of smile in her voice, but he looks back at Aze. "It is a busy house, now. It wasn't, for… well, since we moved to Stormwind, in truth. It's only become busy since I married last year. And more babies on the way, in fact. It's to be twins, this time." The pride in his voice is unmistakable. Twins! He did that.

Aze flashes a wide smile. "Really? That's amazing. And so soon — they'll be basically the same age as the one you have now, growing up. I wonder what that would've been like, growing up with a bunch of siblings."

Lena's smiling too, but it's a little more frozen in place, as she says quietly, "I'd say it's rather nice, to have siblings growing up. Folk you know will look out for you, and you them. I was the littlest of four, myself."

Siamus sobers, turning to regard Lena again. His dark gaze is soft. "Aye," he says. "I recall. I'm sorry."

Slightly awkward pause.

"I only ever had Ta, myself, and we… weren't often together after I was eight or nine." He looks down at his soup and picks up his spoon. "I would prefer my children grow up surrounded. In a noisy house. When the Duchess and I were betrothed, we agreed contractually on at least three."

"She delivered on that fast then, with second and third on the way," Aze says with a brief laugh, either not reading or trying to change the mood. "Yara was almost eighteen when I was born, and that was considered a pretty small age gap. We weren't kids together, but I think we were closer than some elvish siblings."

Eighteen seems to give Siamus bemused pause. It is possible that he sometimes forgets in Aze's company that elven ages work differently and that she is, in fact, significantly older than him.

He recovers. "Delivered very fast, aye. Neither of us expected it, and to be honest, it's not recommended" — for a moment a shadow of unease falls across him, before he shakes it off — "but Her Grace has ever been an efficient lady."

"Is she well?" Lena asks, the frozen smile dropping into genuine concern as she reads the unease. "I don't suppose there's anything I could do to help… soulstones don't really last long enough to be much use."

Siamus visibly pales at the mention of soulstones — or at the thought of his wife needing one, perhaps. He concentrates his attention on his wine glass. "The physician has advised caution, and Her Grace is taking all possible care. I've had the Light-priest moved into the house, and she has friends like Lady Priscilla and Mr. Shine to watch over her." It sounds like a litany he has recited to himself previously.

Then he glances up and smiles at Lena. "Thank you kindly for your concern. I appreciate it. As would the Duchess."

"Of course, she sounds well-looked after," Lena smiles reassuringly at Siamus. "And you'll be back to her soon enough, I'd imagine. Once the kraken and whatnot are dealt with." That'll be fast, right?

Aze does not really seem to know how to comfort somebody in this situation, so she just sort of eats and drinks and lets Lena handle it. Then she goes for a distracting, happier topic again. "You said at least three. Planning on more? That's already a big family by sin'dorei standards, but I know, humans…."

This tack does indeed seem to cheer Siamus. "We'll have as many as we can, I expect. The women of Her Grace's family have borne into their forties." He shrugs blithely. The actual logistics of this feat are a Lady Problem.

"So that's like, two a year for… some years," Aze says vaguely. Does she know how old Siamus or Avrenne are? Nope. She hazards a guess. "A few dozen?"

Siamus chokes on a laugh. He slumps back in his seat, grinning at Aze. "Tides ha'mercy. One a year is… a fast clip for most people. It takes nine months, aye? And twins are rare. Her Grace is thirty-one, so… perhaps a dozen, in total."

Because that is a far more reasonable number of children to have.

"Thirty-one and already almost three children," Aze says, like this is an impressive accomplishment. She raises her wineglass. "May you two get the dozen children you hope for."

Lena smiles faintly, and raises her glass. "Do you know yet, if the twins are boys or girls?"

Siamus inclines his head gratefully at the toast, lifting his own glass as well. To Lena he says, "We don't. Not yet, at any rate. I expect if the Duchess learns it, she will write to me. At the moment they are, I believe, turnips."

"Turnips," Lena says with a light laugh. "Midwives do like their fruits and vegetables, don't they?"

Aze turns slightly to Lena and asks with curiosity, "You've got children, too?"

"I… ah." Lena blushes, like she's said something out of turn. "No, I never married."

Siamus looks from Aze back to Lena. He watches her as he has once or twice before, with a strangely intent gravity.

What he says eventually, though, is, "I fail to understand the fruits and vegetables business, myself. We were told last year that Ery was the size of a pineapple. D'ye know there are multiple species of pineapple? They're not all the same size."

"Seems more appropriate if they gave you the fruit for comparison," Lena says, recovering. "Pineapples are expensive, after all, it'd be a nice gift."

"Why don't they just tell you the measurements?" Aze asks in bemusement. "Seems like that would be much clearer than… pineapples and turnips?"

"My question exactly," says Siamus, pointing emphatically at Aze. "But it seems to be some sort of… midwifery custom." He turns to Lena. "It might be a nice gift tradition, save that I believe it means Her Grace and I would just have been presented wi' two turnips, which feels more punitive than celebratory."

Lena laughs. "Turnips aren't so bad. If you've got cinnamon and a bit of sugar, you can bake them up nice and sweet."

"I'll take your word for it," Aze says with a quick flash of a smile, helping herself to more wine. Wine over turnips for her, any day. "Besides, it might feel a little weird to eat the baby-sized gift fruits and vegetables."

"Agreed," says Siamus. When Aze has finished with the wine, the takes the bottle and offers more to Lena with a wordless look of inquiry.

The door opens again and Towson puts his head in to survey the state of the dinner. "Tay?" he asks.

"Aye, please," says Siamus, and then looks between the two women. "Tea? I don't sleep until the middle watch, so I've some waking hours yet."

He tilts a sidelong look at Aze. There is more than one way to stay awake through at least part of a watch, if one is not actively required on deck.

"Tea? Sure," Aze says, pausing with a full glass of wine partway to her lips. "I don't sleep till I'm exhausted, usually."

"I… could join you in tea," Lena says, resting her hand gently over the top of her wineglass.

Siamus is willing to see that you're exhausted by the time he officially gets to sleep, Aze.

He nods to both women, and then to Towson at the door, who ducks away again. The tattooed young sailor who had helped to bring dinner sidles quietly back in to begin clearing dishes away.

"Shine's enjoying his Cobalt work," Siamus says to Lena, apropos of nothing. "Has he talked with ye of it at all?"

"We talked about it before he joined up," Lena says, resting one elbow on the table. "But I've not had much chance to talk to him lately, on account of…" Lena gestures around the ship. "I'm glad to hear it's going well. What has he been up to lately, if you've heard?"

"Before we left, he'd been up in the Plaguelands. Stormed Stratholme with a team of Cobalt's people including Sir Atley — and Lady Dara Tennerow, if ye can believe? I don't know if ye ever met the lass, Tennerow's sister. Around your age, pretty girl, very charming, plays… the flute? If I recall?

"And now he's been out near Blackrock, doing some kind of work against the orcs there, which I'm sure he likes only too well." Siamus's smile is briefly cold and hard-edged. "With Lady Dara, again, and some young Silver Hand." (Siamus does not know Sophiette and isn't interested in paladins.)

"Stormed Stratholme with Sir Atley?" Lena's eyebrows raise. "I'd have thought the remaining undead still had quite a stronghold there. I'm not sure I've ever met the Lady Dara, but… charming, pretty flute player wandering into Stratholme and Blackrock. She must have some spine."

Is there a hint of jealousy to those words, at the idea of Shine adventuring around Azeroth with a charming, pretty noble lady of Lena's age? Surely not.

Siamus flashes her a smile. "Ye know, I wouldn't have thought it. The lass was a lovely flirt, but I'd always thought her rather a lightweight — a drawing room flower sort. Her brothers are both military men, though, and sensible ones. Maybe their influence on her."

He contemplates Lena for a long moment and then, perhaps feeling a degree of repentance, adds, "At any rate, I gather she's attached to this Silver Hand person, so maybe that's what's dragged her in." He shrugs. "Costentyn finds them both a little… clean-handed for the work they've been given, but I suppose that's what he's along for."

"Clean-handed," Lena repeats, and if there's a touch of relief in her smile, surely it's because Shine seems to have found such a complementary team. "Well, if she was a drawing-room flower up until recent months, it makes sense. The realities of war must come as quite a shock, even if she's heard stories."

"And that's what people like us are good for," Aze says, flashing a cheerful, unconcerned smile of her own. "So other people don't have to compromise or sacrifice."

Siamus laughs and raises his glass to Aze.

The door opens and Towson comes in bearing a tray with a stoneware teapot and cups. He sets it down, pours tea, and distributes the cups, then departs, leaving the pot. There is neither sugar nor milk on offer: just tea.

To Aze, Siamus says, "Have ye seen your sister lately? Or had word?"

Neither lady seems to mind the lack of milk or sugar.

"I haven't heard much, not since she and Roper left Northrend," Aze says, taking a sip of tea. She does not clarify whether she left Northrend. "It might surprise you to know, but I'm not great at keeping in touch. I can't read, so anything anyone sends me gets read by somebody else."

Lena raises an eyebrow at this, the first sign she's seen that Aze actually is blind.

"I know they were in the Plaguelands for a while, might've just barely missed Shine, Atley and Dara," Aze continues. "And last I heard, they relocated down to the Redridge Mountains. Probably have a little cabin all decorated up, like their yurt in Kaskala." Her brows draw down. "Though that's also near Blackrock, so maybe she didn't miss Shine. Maybe they're working together?"

It's Siamus's turn to raise a brow. "He didn't mention, if so. I expect he would have. I can always ask." He shrugs. "Now that ye mention, Redridge is where the Tennerows' holdings are. Lady Dara might be acquainted."

He frowns into his cup of tea, contemplating the unlikely prospect of Dara Tennerow palling around with death knights.

"From a socialite to fighting alongside death knights," Lena says, pausing for a sip of tea. "That would be quite a change."

"Stranger things have happened," Aze observes, looking down at her own cup of tea, an unusually pensive look on her face. Then she smiles again and says, "I'd guess they've at least spoken to somebody in the area. They wouldn't have moved to Redridge if they weren't confident of the welcome, I don't think."

Siamus nods. "The pair of them are cautious that way, aye." He tilts his head at Lena, considering. "I suppose, if I'm fair, there are those might have said the same of Ta when she joined the 7th. That she was only a socialite wi' no business at war." (Siamus himself said the last part, but he knew better than the first.) "But I don't think Lady Dara has the same background as Ta."

"The same background?" Aze asks in surprise, tilting her head curiously. "Your sister was a socialite…. with a war background?"

Lena looks curious as well, but less surprised. She's met Sintha.

Siamus looks between the two. It's not exactly earth-shattering news anymore, since Sintha's in the 7th Legion, so: "She was a socialite who worked for SI:7. From age — tides, I'm not even sure, I wasn't home. Fourteen? Fifteen?" He shrugs again. Little sisters and their national intelligence careers, what can u do?

"SI:7… that's Alliance intelligence?" Aze asks, frowning. "Still, hardly 7th Legion, is it? More of a… society spying thing?"

"They train their agents thoroughly," Lena cautions. "I wouldn't recommend underestimating anyone in SI:7. That's an easy way to a knife in the back one day."

Siamus tips his head at Lena in tacit agreement. "Stormwind Intelligence, specifically," he corrects Aze. "And aye, Ta has… some skills that our father wouldn't have countenanced in a lady. A little too cold-blooded for the average ballroom." He smiles sourly at his tea; the expression suggests that he didn't entirely countenance Sintha's skillset himself.

"Hm," Aze says, taking another sip of tea, but this time holding the cup daintily, like a socialite. "I think I'd do pretty well in a ballroom, and it doesn't seem to bother you that I'm pretty good at killing people, too. Maybe you're a little more progressive?"

Lena coughs on her tea. That wasn't a laugh.

Siamus Fallon, Famous Progressive, grins at Aze and leans toward her a little, offering his hand out as a gentleman might offer for a lady's hand in a ballroom. "I imagine ye'd turn a great many heads in a ballroom. Perhaps I should bring ye to one."

Siamus Fallon, Famous Haver of Good Ideas.

Aze lifts her hand, setting it in his with a fluid grace, and smiles. "Perhaps you should. I can assure you I do not allow the two skillsets to overlap."

"I would hope not," Lena says, clearing her throat. "The tattoos would certainly draw eyes in Stormwind society. Do you dance?"

"Do I," Aze says with a laugh.

Siamus, still looking at Aze, lifts her hand gallantly to his lips with a smile, and then turns to Lena. "Aszera is a dancer."

"Oh, well, then," Lena says, looking back down at her tea. "Maybe you'd have a good time."

"I'm not really that well-versed in Stormwind tradition," Aze admits. "I'm trained in sin'dorei styles. The Aspenwoods taught me the promenade, and demonstrated the waltz. I'm sure I could pick things up pretty quickly. Do you like dancing?"

"I… well, yes," Lena admits. "I'm not exactly well trained in any style, though. Just dreamed of ballrooms when I was a girl, I suppose."

Siamus lets go of Aze's hand to consider Lena again. "Ye came to our… well, not properly a ball, I suppose. Our gala last year. I recollect that ye danced. Have ye been to others?"

"Just that and… the weddings," Lena says, with a little shrug. "It's been pretty fun, all said. I'd say more than I'd dreamed, but I always had a pretty wild imagination."

"Do you not have a lot of parties in Stormwind?" Aze asks, resting her hand on her forearm.

Siamus sits up straighter now, still watching Lena. Without looking at Aze, he replies to her, "In certain society, aye. More parties than is good for anyone, I'd say. But they're not… for everyone."

After a moment, he says to Lena, "I imagine in the coming season Her Grace will have ye making the whole circuit. Between Fallon and your Cobalt friends, ye'll be having to decline invitations." He studies her. "What sort of dancing d'ye enjoy?"

Lena smiles. "Oh, I mostly learned like the group ones? And the general steps of you, like, box-step and waltz and such. Just, you know, what I could mostly work out on my own. I don't think it was obvious, though, at the dances, was it?"

Aze rests her head on her hand again, turned as if she's watching Lena. "I wasn't there, but I doubt anyone noticed. People think they're being watched dancing more than they are, especially if it's a big party. I mean, if it was an exhibition you might have something to worry about. But not social dancing."

Siamus nods agreement. "I certainly didn't notice. I recall ye danced at the Gala, but I couldn't say what — only that ye seemed to be having a good time." He tilts his head. "I'd offer to practice with ye sometime, if ye like. I can't claim any prizes for it, but I do know the steps."

Lena's smile is warm as she says, "You would? I'd appreciate it. There's some songs as I couldn't dance to, since I didn't know the steps."

"I could help too," Aze throws in. "If you want. Like I said, not a Stormwind dancing expert. But I'm a decent teacher of some things, I think… and if you need another body for practicing."

"I'd be more than glad to," Siamus tells Lena. "And as Lady Fallon doesn't care to dance, I'm selfishly doing myself the service of increasing the available dance partners whose company I enjoy." He gestures at Aze. "Though I imagine Aszera is the more graceful tutor, of the pair of us."

"I still need to actually dance with you someday," Aze says, turning to him and shifting to cross one leg over the other. "But from experience, I'd say you're probably pretty graceful. Good muscle control."

Lena raises an eyebrow again, but doesn't seem scandalized by the implications there. "Well, then, I'd appreciate the both of you. I'd offer to teach something in exchange, but something tells me neither of you are likely to need to summon any demons."

Aze laughs. "No, I'd say I'm set on demons."

Siamus flashes a rakish grin at Aze. To Lena, he says, "Tyrrell would wring my neck, I imagine, if I took the practice up." He puts an elbow on the table, props his chin on his hand. "But what does it entail, exactly? How d'ye learn to do it?"

Lena smiles, brightening at the unexpected interest. "Most people want to talk about how the fel is the easy path…"

Aze snorts a quiet laugh.

"…or about maintaining your hold on your demons, but there's more to it that's a bit… dry. I spent months studying, before I summoned an imp, and a lot of that was just memorizing the runes and the shapes in the diagram for it. You've got to get that perfect or it could go very wrong. Turns out it's a lot easier when you know your angles and you can draw with, like, tools, rather than memorization and freehand."

Siamus sits up a little, raising his eyebrows. "D'ye mean… it's mathematical?" He looks cautious. Surely it can't be… mathematical.

"I suppose you could call it such?" Lena says cautiously. "There's particular patterns and you've got to get the angles just so. I could show you what I mean if you have… oh, well, surely you've not got one of those angle things on the ship."

Siamus blinks at her. "One of those… d'ye mean a protractor?" Before Lena can answer the question, he's on his feet, striding around to the other end of the table.

He rolls back two of the charts spread there, revealing a drafting compass and a brass protractor. He holds the latter up triumphantly, then — again before any acknowledgement — heads for his sea-chest along the wall by the bed. He kneels down and searches its contents, and emerges with not one but two more protractors of different sizes: a second brass one and another made of steel. He gets to his feet to return to the table and clatter all three — oh, and the drafting compass for good measure — down in front of Lena. "Like that?"

His expression suggests a schoolboy who has just won the math derby.

"Oh," Lena says, looking in surprise at the luxurious choice of fancy protractors. "Oh, yes, that's what I was talking about. And the circlers are useful, too - it is hell to freehand a curve, let me tell you."

Aze, who is not really amazing at drawing right now, frowns at the table like maybe that will help her figure out what's going on.

"Compass," Siamus says helpfully, because he is never one to not mansplain. "The circler one is a compass. A drafting compass, not the other sort." He drops back into his chair and leans toward Lena bright-eyed. "It's all for navigation, aye?" He waves a hand at the charts.

"That makes sense," Lena says, loooking over at the charts. "You've got to use… what, stars or something? That's about the only thing constant you can see when you're out on the water, I'd imagine."

"Stars, aye." Siamus nods emphatically. "But there's latitude and longitude as well, calculating distances and bearings. The grid of latitude and longitude lays an angular measure on what is a spherical surface; ye use trigonometry wi' those points and the stars to plot position and course. Ye can also —" He falters, looks between the two women and clears his throat. Amazing: he actually heard himself getting carried away, for once. "Beg pardon. Go on. Demonology?"

"Oh, it's not nearly so complicated," Lena says with a smile. "Curvature of the world's not really a thing to consider 'cause summoning circles are small enough. If you've got paper, I could draw you one - don't worry, it won't call a demon 'less I actually do the call. But it's harder than you'd think to keep things perfectly regular. There's usually overlaid shapes, and you've got to keep in mind the total angle counting the number of sides of each, and divide it up properly so the whole thing works out evenly. And, of course, the offset of each layer."

Aze still just seems a little stunned by the direction the conversation is going. She adds in, "I've seen a lot of summoning. Never realized it was that complicated. Then again, most of the summoning I saw wasn't intended to create a bond. It was just to get the demon into the world and contained long enough for a fight to the death."

"That… that would be a whole different thing," Lena says, moving around one of the protractors as she demonstrates tracing a many-sided polygon with her finger against the table. "Bringing a demon into the world and not enslaving it is just about the opposite of what my skills are for."

Siamus is here for this; he is once again already on his feet, rifling through the charts at the other end of the table. He comes up with a large, blank sheet and bears this back to Lena. Rather than sitting again, he remains leaning over her, a hand on the back of her chair, expectant. Do the thing, Lena. Do the angles.

Sorry, Aze. Maybe we'll get back to dancing and flirting soon. (Though some people do consider math flirting.)

Lena pulls out a pen and gets to work with the protractor, constructing this time just a triangle. Then she gets to work marking several spots on the triangle and begins to expand outward. She switches to the drafting compass, and very carefully sets a radial size before placing several very precisely located circles.

"This is one of the more simple ones," Lena says as she starts to put in the cross-lines. "Just for imp summoning. Garnar's mine, my imp, but this won't summon him unless I call. They get more complicated from here — this is the one I memorized and freehanded originally. Aszera, what was your demon's name?"

"I… don't know," Aze says, reaching out to pick up one of the protractors. "It never said. Maybe they don't, unless you force them."

Siamus is studying the diagram from over Lena's shoulder. "Do particular shapes and lines mean particular things? Is there a… language or a formula to it? Could ye take discrete pieces of it to construct a rune or binding that does something different, if ye know what the individual pieces mean? Or to translate others that ye see? Could ye put pieces of it together differently to extemporize?" He pauses. "Don't tell Tyrrell, perhaps, that I just asked about extemporizing demon summoning. Purely academic inquiry, ye understand."

"When you first start, you learn by rote," Lena says, sketching runes along a few of the lines. "But yes, of course, each bit does mean something. Part of it's fel magic and part's Eredun, and I am at the point now to see the underlying structure. I would strongly advise against playing mix and match, though. That's how warlocks get killed, or worse, even if they think they know what they're doing. The fel… it makes you feel like you can handle anything, but that's a tricky lie."

Aze, who can totally handle anything and it's not because her soul is kind of a fel battery, honest, traces a pattern absently on the table with one hand.

Siamus nods, absorbed in the discussion. He moves away from Lena's chair now to resume his own seat. "I promise ye I have no plans to try any of it myself. It's fascinating stuff, though, aye?" He glances at Aze to see if she concurs. We are all excited about this very cool discussion, yes?

Aze reaches over almost absently and touches the mini summoning circle. The runes glow faintly before Lena pulls it back across the table, out of her hands, shooting her a warning look that she definitely misses.

"I wasn't doing anything," Aze says, stung. "I just wanted to see it. If you do decide to try something new, I could help with the runes."

Siamus looks between the two. "Is the diagram without the… actual call, as ye say, inherently dangerous?"

"This one shouldn't do anything, how I've wrote it, but I've never had somebody infuse an inert circle with the fel," Lena says, looking at Aze.

"You were just talking about the shapes and the angles, and I thought… maybe it would respond enough for me to see it," Aze says defensively. "It did, if you were wondering. Nice drawing. Very precise. Good polygons and circles."

Siamus lays his hand flat over the image on the paper. "I'm not an expert in demonology — or even an amateur — but as a mathematician I can agree it's a very elegant diagram, Miss Coit. And I expect Aszera didn't mean any harm in wanting to admire it for herself." Let's all be friends, ladies.

"Thank you," Lena says, leaning back from the diagram, and taking a breath. "There's a rather more complicated one that I use for teleportation which is actually rather pretty — I've already drawn it in advance, so I can manifest it as needed. Shine's seen that one, but I won't make you wait for ages while I sketch it out here."

Aze smiles at her, no harm meant, let's all be friends. "That sounds pretty useful."

Siamus settles back again comfortably. "I'd be very glad to see it sometime, though, and to know more about the whole business. I had no idea." He pauses. "I met Shine in trigonometry, in fact," he notes, and leans forward to pick up the teapot again. "More tea? Either of ye?"

Lena shakes her head. "I'm fine with that much. And I'd be happy to show you more of them sometime, and break down a bit of the meanings. Assuming you're not going to become a warlock, naturally, and it's just for curiosity."

"I could take a little more," Aze says, pushing her cup forward.

Siamus leans obligingly to pour more tea for Aze before refilling his own cup. He sets the pot down and sits back. "As I say, no intention whatsoever. Pure curiosity. I've never thought to ask Tyrrell, and I don't know that he'd explain it if I did. But then again, I've never offered him dancing lessons." He smiles crookedly at Lena.

Lena smiles back, with a touch of mischief in her eyes. "Perhaps you should. He may not welcome them, but then I get the sense that he has never been particularly welcoming to things he either wants or needs."

Siamus puts his head back and laughs.

"Tyrrell's a warlock, too, then?" Aze asks, with another sip of tea. "A friend? Or… colleague?" She considers the implications of his hypothetical neck-wringing.

"The latter, for me," Lena says promptly. Very promptly. "He was my teacher once, and we work in the Warlock Ethics Bureau together."

"The ethics bureau," Aze says with a light laugh. "I've never known warlocks to be overly concerned with ethics."

"And that is precisely why it is needed," Lena nods.

Siamus has a sip of tea and nods to Lena. To Aze, he says, "Tyrrell was one of the first Alliance warlocks, and been wi'the 7th Legion from the start. He's a conscientious man. One of my lovers. Some people find him… prickly." Siamus shrugs. Clearly he does not find Tyrrell prickly. Also he might not have meant to say the thing in front of Lena, but he also doesn't seem to have noticed that he said the thing.

"Huh," Aze says, with clear interest. It might be the transitive property of sexual attraction. "People say I'm a bitch sometimes, so maybe we'd get along. You know, if he didn't decide to wring my neck over being irresponsible with the fel."

There's just the briefest moment before Lena seems to remember she's supposed to be surprised. Then she's surprised. "Oh? I didn't realize the two of you were so close. I would be one who'd call him prickly, but I think that's just personality. He's a good man."

"He is," Siamus agrees. "A very fine man. Couldn't ask for a higher character. And aye, it was from…." He tips his head back again and taps a finger idly on the table, thinking. "Before the House selection. We met in Northrend, a few months before Her Grace and I were betrothed."

He turns to make a rueful face at Aze. "I suspect he'd be more likely to wring your neck, aye. He can be… unbending where it comes to the fel." He looks her over appreciatively. "Which is a shame, because I can't imagine he'd resist ye ordinarily. But I can't imagine most people do."

"Ah, well, his loss," Aze says with a shrug, unconcerned. "But you'd be surprised. The whole demon thing does put people off."

"For me as well," Lena says with a nod. "And I just use the fel and demons. I try to keep in mind they've every right to want naught to do with me. I did choose this, and I refuse to regret my decisions. Just, also, I've no reason to stay around folk who don't want me around."

Aze turns to Lena with surprise. "That much we have in common. Maybe I would've made different decisions if I fully understood what I was signing up for…" the expression on her face says she absolutely would have made different decisions "…but it's already done. And it wasn't done to me, it was a choice. So I don't really have any choice now but to accept the consequences. If that means I don't have a shot at fucking a hot warlock with high character, I'll live." She nods at Lena, though she's talking about Tyrrell. Probably.

"Now, I'm certainly not saying I don't understand the fel is dangerous," Siamus says. "But I have been told that my threshold for self-preservation is inadvisably high. If either of ye is planning either a nefarious or a careless fate for me, I'll thank ye to give me some notice, and I'll otherwise have to trust to my wits." That last bit is very dry; it is almost certainly a joke. "I will say that I am sorry to know that people's fears and prejudices will deprive them of the society of two such fine ladies."

To Aze, he says, "And I'm sorry you're unlikely to have the privilege of fucking Tyrrell, but I will do my best to make it up to ye."

Aze shakes her head, reaching out a hand across the table to touch his arm briefly. "Like I said before, it's not contagious. I'm not planning anything nefarious for you." Then Aze pauses for a moment and reconsiders. "A little bit wicked, maybe, depending on how uptight a perspective a person's looking from, but not nefarious."

Lena smiles in faint amusement.

Aze sits back, lifting her teacup and tapping it gently on the table. "But just to clarify, is your prickly lover likely to attack me on sight? How careful do I need to be?"

Siamus tilts his head, considering. "I would say," he says, seriously and with a note of apology, "that I would not invite the pair of ye to the same parties. I don't see it going well."

And then he eyes her and says, just as seriously if less apologetically, "And I look forward to my wicked fate, if Miss Coit will excuse my saying so."

Aze grins as Lena waves that away, no excuse needed.

To Aze, Lena adds with unusual bluntness, "I hope you're aware you're unlikely to get a friendly welcome from a number of people in the Alliance, even aside from all the demon stuff. I should be clear, when I say I've had my troubles as a warlock, it's not one or two people, it's a lot. I mostly try to steer clear of kaldorei entirely, and draenei unless I know they'll be open-minded. And then there's all the Light folk, who can range from perfectly friendly to burn-her-with-holy-fire. It's a little tricky, to be honest, because some as try to be perfectly friendly feel the latter in their hearts, and you only find out too late. Now add on top of that, a lot of people see your folk as traitors. Which I'm not one to judge a person individually, and I trust you're not or you wouldn't be here."

"Yeah, no, I get it," Aze says, shaking her head. "I'm not planning on going out of my way to meet any kaldorei or draenei. And it is helpful, if you can point me out what paths are going to be dead ends, so I can just not go down them. I would like to be irresistible, but… well… you know. Things are how they are."

Siamus listens to Lena intently, his chin tilted down and his brows knit, frowning. "I hadn't realized," he says seriously, "that it was quite so bad for ye. I knew ye'd been given some trouble by particular people. I hope ye've not had anything the sort among the Fleet. By and large we're not Light folk, so…." He shakes his head. "It may make a difference that Tyrrell was the first warlock I knew personally, so I had a fine introduction to the species. Or it may be the Light." (It's probably the Light's fault.)

He looks to Aze, visibly deliberating something, and at last says, "It may… what Miss Coit says may be a factor in your visit, aye? Her Grace won't gainsay me in the company I keep or the guests I invite, but she is also a deeply patriotic lady and a canny political mind, and she may… disapprove, privately." Before Aze can say anything, he hastens to add, "And ye know I'm a deeply patriotic man and am satisfied as to your loyalties, but it may be for the best if ye come prepared to do some diplomacy. Aye?"

"Yeah, of course, and I'll be…" Aze says easily, and then trails off, her brow creasing as if she's taking actual, serious thought about a path she's traveling, for once. "I did know there might be… diplomatic problems… or at least Roper pointed it out. Which on that note I should probably write him tomorrow, so he and Yara don't launch a rescue. I'm sure that wouldn't go over well, speaking of people who tend to hit a lot of social friction. I don't have to…" Aze shifts a little in her chair, uncrossing her legs and taking a much more proper posture. "I don't have to act like a soldier or a demon. I do know how to behave in 'polite company', or at least polite sin'dorei company, if that would help. Not, you know, to be dishonest. Just more… palatable." Aze flinches as she hears herself echoing some of her sister's rhetoric.

"Honestly, that might help," Lena says, glancing at Siamus. "If you're polite enough, folk tend to be polite back by reflex. But I don't think that's exactly the problem. However polite you are, you're still… well, you're still fel-contaminated and you're still sin'dorei."

"Her Grace won't mind about the fel," Siamus dismisses. "It's the sin'dorei that will give her pause. Ye will want to be direct with her about your loyalties and wartime service." He pauses again. "And if she still seems frosty, don't take it amiss. That's just Her Grace." He smiles lopsidedly: his adorable Ice Queen.

"Sure, yeah, I can lead with that," Aze says, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "I think the record pretty much speaks for itself. Quel'thalas, Lordaeron and Northrend, and maybe it's not so important to talk about Outland."

"Mm," Lena hums a hint of caution. "I'd say Her Grace is not as cold as all that, but she's got a good head for details. I'd not omit a whole war campaign, as that might look like intended deception."

"Oh, aye, she's brilliant wi' details." Siamus smiles briefly, admiringly into space before he snaps out of it. "Ye'll make the best impression on her the more honest ye are, in truth. Give her all the data and let her come to the conclusion herself, don't try to manipulate it. She'll see what I do." He nods firmly.

Avrenne may not see quite everything that Siamus does, but you know what he means.

"Right, honesty and openness," Aze draws in a breath. "I've been practicing that anyway, with the Argent Crusade. So I'll be like a noble lady, for as long as I can pull that off, and I'll tell her whatever she wants to know. Maybe I don't even bother hiding the tattoos."

"Probably a good idea," Lena nods. "It's not as if you're hiding what you are anymore, after all."

"She's accustomed to tattoos," Siamus says dryly. "She's surrounded by sailors. Her husband has a tattoo. Nothing so dramatic, but." He shrugs.

"I don't know, yours seemed pretty dramatic," says Aze with a smile, even though she's only really seen it in her imagination. She traces along the tattoo at her collarbone, pulling the shirt open further, and adds, "But the point - the reason I usually cover is so people can at least pretend to not know what I am. I guess if there's a mage, they could probably sense them whether they see them or not, but, well…" no mages here, her tone implies.

Siamus sits up a little. "A mage? Could sense them?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," Aze nods, continuing to trace the line of it with one finger. "It's an arcane binding, order to contain disorder, so it must be pretty powerful. There was this one mage girl, sister of an old friend, who's been after me to study them for a while, so I guess she could tell right off."

Lena looks at her curiously. "I've been making a study of sensing different kinds of energy, and I had thought there was something more than fel. I assumed it was something to do with the demon, but maybe that explains it."

Siamus glances at Lena and then back to Aze. "Her Grace is a mage," he says. "She's not… a powerful one, never Kirin Tor or the like. It taxes her, to do much magic. But she is a mage."

"Huh," Aze says, turning to Siamus. "Think she'd be interested? That's something I could offer. I haven't… I keep them hidden mostly, so I haven't let any mage even look at them."

Siamus frowns thoughtfully. "I… couldn't tell ye. She's not one for arcane scholarship as a rule — as I said, her magic is more a strain on her than anything. But she is a lady with a keen scientific mind and might take an interest. Or she might have a friend who would be interested, like Lady Cressidha. Or —" He tips his head back, gazing into space with his brows drawn together. "Tyrrell's little wife is a mage. Kirin Tor, in fact. And with a warlock husband… but then ye run into the problem of Tyrrell."

Aze looks briefly surprised that Siamus's other lover also has a wife, but then she just shrugs.

"I'm not looking to be somebody's thing to study," Aze says, crossing her hands over chest. "I just thought, you know, if it would be a nice gesture. If not, I won't offer. If there's anything I could offer from Silvermoon — I mean, of course I only have the arcane training every child gets," because obviously that's standard practice in Stormwind, too, is evident in her tone, "but if it's a burden to her, maybe I could see if I have something to offer."

Siamus leans toward her immediately and touches the back of her forearm, sliding his fingers along it in a wordless request for her hand. "Aszera, I beg your pardon. That was thoughtless and I meant to imply no such thing. I'm… carried away sometimes wi' my academic notions." (The three protractors on the table stand silent testament to this.) "It is considerate of ye to think of offering her something, and I'll think on it if ye like."

Aze unfolds her protective arms at the touch, letting Siamus take her hand. She smiles again, but it looks a little forced. "I can feel them and see them, so I can tell there's power there. I can get that it might be academically interesting, especially because there aren't all that many willing subjects in the world. That's why I mentioned… but it's also my body and my soul. I can't let just anyone mess around with them." Siamus and his wife apparently rate higher than 'anyone'.

"Aye," Siamus says quietly, seriously. He lifts her hand and kisses her knuckles lightly. "It was thoughtless of me and I'm sorry. I would never mean anything of the kind, nor would I want anyone to violate your privacy or autonomy. I was…." He considers, grimaces. "Shine used to tell me that I needed to learn to think at least half as fast as I talk. Sometimes I fear it's still the case. Will ye forgive me?"

Aze breathes out and nods once. "Of course. I'm the one who brought it up in the first place, and you were just running with it. Maybe I need to learn that not every idea that crosses my mind is a good one."

Siamus kisses her hand again, his lips lingering a moment, and then he lets go of her and draws back. They still have Company.

Lena looks down at her tea for a moment, giving them what privacy there is with three people in the room. Then she ventures, "I'd imagine that's all the more reason you'd want to know about your own body and soul, if there's something you don't. I try to be careful about my own, how much of the fel I use and what for and everything. I've got priests and such to keep a regular eye and make sure I don't go down a bad path. Wouldn't you want to do something similar?"

Aze turns slightly to Lena, a touch of wariness evident in her brow and the tension of her jaw, before she says, "Maybe. But sometimes there aren't answers worth getting."

"And if there are?" Siamus is watching Aze now with concern in his dark gaze. "Would ye rather not have any answers at all? I realize — autonomy and so on — that it's not properly my business, but I'd be happier personally to know ye were taking care and being taken care of in these matters. I'm fair partial to ye."

"You know I left, pretty soon after," Aze makes that faint, protective, curling in gesture again, before she adds, "I didn't learn a lot of things. I did find another defector later, a guy called Altruis, and he helped. He's gone now, though. He disappeared around the time everyone else did."

Lena frowns in thought. "The name sounds familiar. I think Cobalt worked with him at one point."

"Would they know where to find him?" Siamus gets to his feet as if to head for the liquor cabinet again, but this time instead of brushing past Aze, he stops behind her chair to put his hands lightly on her shoulders. His thumbs move with a slow and soothing pressure up and down the nape of her neck, and then he bends to kiss her ear. Only then does he step away to continue across the room.

Aze shifts back against his hands, raising her head toward him at the kiss.

Lena slowly shakes her head. "I don't think so. They worked with him some in Nagrand, and then against the Illidari." Her eyes flick to Aszera. "Sorry, but we fought them."

"I know," Aze says quietly. "I'd heard."

"Anyway, I don't think they kept in touch after the work was done," Lena continues. "I'd have assumed he'd still be there at his camp in Nagrand."

"No, he's gone from there, at least. It was shortly after the Temple fell," Aze says, tapping her fingers against the table. "I just sort of assumed he got killed with all the rest. He would've turned up by now if not."

Siamus returns to the table with the bottle of whiskey and three more glasses. Caffeine AND alcohol, a complicated dessert. "If the rest were all killed, is it not possible he went to ground as you did? Or that any others did?"

"It's possible…" Aze says slowly. "I didn't go to ground all that effectively, to be honest. I just did my best to fall through the cracks. It's hard to hide what I am to anyone who knows what they're looking for, so I just tried to keep away from people like that. And then there was the Argent Crusade, and my being open was a condition. So I stopped hiding. Altruis was kaldorei, so it might have been harder to hide. His people have a history with Stormrage."

"Cobalt has dealt with demon hunters before," Lena points out. "There was one out in Azshara who helped the Company banish a demon in the Blasted Lands, and then there's another who… who knows somebody in Cobalt."

Siamus pauses before his seat. "Knows? Currently? So we could contact another?"

Lena frowns. "I wouldn't. But Aszera could, if she thought it was worth it."

"Worth… what?" Aze asks, wariness coming into her voice.

"The Cobalt she's attached to is a…" Lena glances at Siamus. "A kind of volatile kaldorei woman. The one who helped in our mission against the Scarlets."

Siamus stares at Lena for a moment. Then he swears under his breath and drops heavily into his chair. "And she's the one who — ye had trouble with her, aye?" He tips whiskey into a glass and slides it toward Aze, and pours a second for Lena.

Aze catches the glass and takes a sip, her focus on Siamus and Lena.

"Yeah, that's the one," Lena says, reaching for her own glass. She's not having more tea, but apparently whiskey is fine. Maybe it's the turn the conversation is taking. "She hates warlocks and demons. Not really sure why the two of them are connected."

Aze frowns and shakes her head. "No, no, it tracks. There weren't many kaldorei at the temple, but the ones who were there — they were true believers. Willing to sacrifice anything for more power to kill demons. They'd lost people to demons, I think, most of them. If not all of them. Some would wake up screaming at night, calling out for people who weren't there. The sin'dorei were different — we were assigned to Stormrage by Sunstrider, chosen for martial aptitude, or arcane, or both." Aze smiles. "We're not demon hunters because we like demons. Not any more than that's the reason you're you're a warlock."

Siamus pours himself a glass, frowning at it. He sets the bottle down, picks the glass up, and settles back in his chair, still frowning. "So based on what we know of… the other one's reaction to Lena, we can assume this demon hunter she associates with is… one of the true believer sorts. Fanatic. And based on the fact that Aszera is sin'dorei and this other is kaldorei…."

He drinks ruminatively, shakes his head, and looks to Aze. "If we're looking for answers or information for ye, this one may not be our best bet. But if she's out there as well, then so might others be. Aye?"

"Yeah, might not be," Aze says with a wince. "We might not have that much in common, and she might not be looking for longevity." Which at least implies Aze is, these days. She takes another gulp of whiskey. "And kaldorei are… risky for me, in general. Based on how they treated Stormrage."

"Well, I can let you know if I run into anyone who might help," Lena says apologetically. "Or maybe you can look for that one in Azshara. He was all hermit-like."

"We," agrees Siamus. "We can let you know if we find anyone. I can… have someone look, if ye like. I've a trustworthy agent." He pauses. "But only if ye like," he adds earnestly, because he is being careful now.

Lena nods at the correction, glancing at Siamus with a brief smile. She takes a gulp of whiskey.

"If they'd be cautious," Aze says with some reluctance, her face turned down towards her own whiskey glass. "If you send someone to look for people like me and you find them, I can't guarantee they'll be… peaceful. Or friendly. I don't want to get anyone you care about hurt."

"Mathias Shaw is an outright reckless bastard compared to Annai Curran, and I haven't met a thing yet could harm her. But I'll advise her." Siamus nods seriously to Aze. "And thank ye for the warning."

Distantly, a bell sounds on the deck, and Siamus glances at the door. He straightens in his seat and downs the rest of his whiskey. "That's First Watch. I'll want to be on deck wi' the crew for a little while, but I can meet ye back here in… an hour or so?" Siamus smiles at Aze, his gaze gleaming.

"I'll be here," Aze says, her smile just a little improperly eager. She'll practice being a 'noble lady' later.

"And I… should probably not be," Lena says with a light laugh. "But I could accompany you a while longer, Miss Sunstrike?"

"Aze, please," Aze says, waving a hand dismissively. "Or Aszera if you feel like being formal."

Siamus smiles benevolently at them both. His favorite ladies, being friends. He rises to his feet and sketches a half-bow to the pair. (Because he is formal, Aszera.) "Ye have the run of the place," he tells them, with that faintly sardonic smile. "Don't drink all my whiskey. Or do."

He departs, closing the door quietly behind him.

As the door closes, Aze turns back to Lena and salutes her with the half-full whiskey glass. "Up for finishing the bottle?"

"What? Oh, tides, no," Lena says with another laugh, taking another sip of whiskey. "I've done my time keeping up with sailors and such, but I should probably not stagger out the captain's cabin drunk off my ass. I've a reputation to keep on this ship."

"Ah, well, more for me," Aze says cheerfully, and refills her own glass. After another gulp, she says, "I won't, really. Finish the bottle. I like alcohol. It sort of takes the edge off… everything. But if I lose all my edges, if I start losing time… I have to know what I've done, you know?"

Lena considers her over the whiskey glass. "I am not, myself, in the practice of getting blackout drunk. Not safe for me, either, for different reasons."

"Not safe?" Aze raises an eyebrow. "Something I should know about this ship?"

"No, I'm safe now," Lena says, glancing towards the closed door. "Save another kraken or a hurricane comes by. I suppose now my argument is keeping a certain distance from people. Making sure they see me as a warlock more than as a woman. Before… it was up to me to look after my own welfare. That's sort of why I took up the warlock magic in the first place."

Aze finishes off her glass of whiskey and refills as she listens to Lena, and then says, "Life takes some weird turns. Maybe we can trade stories someday." She pauses, turning to Lena, "But why don't you want them to see you as a woman? Lot of guys on this ship, you could probably pick one to your liking."

Lena sets her glass down a little more heavily than she might have meant to. "You're a visitor, Aszera, but I work here. There's a difference. And I can't just… look, I have a bit of a history myself, and what I want is for people to see me, not some interchangeable girl they can bed. I want them to take me seriously as an equal."

"So what, you don't take me seriously?" Aze asks, taking another sip of whiskey. "I can be pretty fucking serious. You might not have seen me dance, but you've seen me fight. I'm good at what I do — and so are you, for that matter. What difference does it make, who I'm sleeping with? I'm not gonna fuck the wrong guy and suddenly not be able to kill a frost wyrm." Aze pauses. "I don't think I'd be interested in somebody who thought I'd be less if we hooked up. Maybe that's your problem. Looking at the wrong guys."

"Maybe so," Lena says, watching Aze. "But sometimes it's hard to tell the right ones from the wrong ones beforehand."

"Then tell after," Aze says, and winces. "Fel, but I give bad advice sometimes. Don't do that. I just mean, sometimes you can't tell if a person can be trusted, and you have to decide based on what you do know. Like Siamus. I knew Sil thought highly of him, and I knew he wanted to work with my sister and brother-in-law. And they thought he was trustworthy enough to work with, too. Which says something, because Roper is paranoid as fuck. Anyway, that's a good basis for flirting a little and seeing where it goes, right? And now I'm here drinking with you, trusting you, because I know Siamus likes you. It's a whole chain." Aze frowns slightly and gestures at Lena, "And that isn't me making a pass, unless you might be into it."

Lena laughs, and reaches out to clasp Aze's hand briefly. "If I decide I am, I'll make sure to let you know. But the trust is appreciated, in any case."

Aze holds her hand just a moment longer than Lena intended, then lets go. "Sure. It'll be good to have another person I know is on my side, anyway, whenever I go back to Elwynn. And you know I'm on yours, right? It'd be pretty bold of me to look down on somebody for 'a bit of a history' or dealing with demons."

"I suppose that's true," Lena says, tucking her hand behind her arm. "And we do have a little more connection than you suppose, in that chain. I fought alongside your… your family, I suppose, against the Scarlet Onslaught — we killed a Dreadlord together. And again against the Kvaldir. And then again, in Icecrown Citadel. Speaking of frost wyrms, your brother-in-law did save my life once, when we were fighting Sindragosa. Not sure if you saw."

"Yeah, I was kind of busy," Aze says, shaking her head. "Good on him, then, for not letting you die. What happened?"

"Block of ice," Lena says, her face paling a little at the memory. "I was suffocating. Some people did."

"Ice, huh," Aze says, tilting her glass thoughtfully. "He's good with ice. Or at least, I think he likes it. You should've seen my sister's wedding dress, she had it made up like she was dressed in ice." Aze pauses, was that an awkward detail? She shrugs. "Anyway, yeah, glad he got you out of that."

"Wedding dress?" Lena says, raising her eyebrows. "I didn't realize their sort would go in for something like that. Though I guess I've mostly been around them in combat situations, so I suppose I'm pretty different outside of that as well."

"They're… not that different outside," Aze says with an amused smile. "The whole wedding — it was sweet, in kind of a creepy, violent way. You get used to it, after a while. Maybe I shouldn't, but… well."

"She's your sister," Lena says, as if this is an explanation. "I've had to think about that, more recent, what I would do if one of mine were undead. My family. I'm still not sure what the answer is for me, but… I miss them," Lena finishes off her glass of whiskey. "So maybe that's part of an answer in itself. I'm happy for you, that you got one of yours back."

"It's not really…" Aze starts glibly, maybe to discount death knights as sisters or a similar sentiment. But then she trails off, her smile fading, as she says, "Thanks. So am I. More whiskey?"

Lena places a hand delicately over her glass, and then adds verbally, "No, I'm done. I should probably get back on deck, be around in case something happens. And I've been watching the sailors — to learn sailoring, before you say anything. Will you be alright in here alone?"

"Yeah, sure," Aze says with a shrug. "I've been trying to figure out how far I can sense, down into the water. Up to now, the answer is 'not far enough'. But we'll see. I need the practice anyway."

"Good luck with that," Lena says, rising from her seat and heading to the door. "Let me know when you want to head down, and I'll send word ahead to the shamans?"

"Yeah, I'll let you know," Aze says, leaning back in the chair, the glass still in her hand.

Lena looks at her for another long moment, an undisguised sympathy in her eyes. Then she quietly slips out the door of the cabin, closing it behind her as she heads for the deck.

It is closer to an hour and a half later when Siamus returns. All has been quiet; the occasional thudding footfalls or murmur of distant voices is all that has filtered down from abovedecks, and the steady creak of the ship's timbers and the sighing of the sea are a steady, soothing backdrop.

Siamus closes the door behind him and pauses to survey the room. He has a slightly mussed, windblown look, and he carries a breath of salt air into the cabin with him.

The breath of salt air might be refreshing, as the cabin smells faintly of whiskey. Aze hasn't finished the bottle, but she's certainly put a dent in the contents in the last hour and a half. The bottle is closed now, and her glass has only a few drops lingering in the bottom.

Aze sits where he left her, a little more loose-limbed now, and her smile is a little less focused as she turns towards him. "Welcome back," she says, and then, "I like her."

Siamus laughs softly. He crosses to the table and lays down the instrument he's carrying, an iron spike tapered like a needle with a rounded point, a loop of rope tied around the broad end. He picks up the whiskey bottle to inspect the level within. "I'm glad," he says. "I like her a great deal as well. The pair of ye ought to be friends."

He sets the bottle down and moves around the table to her chair. He slides his fingers into her hair, drawing it back, and bends to press a warm and lingering kiss to the side of her throat. "Have ye kept occupied?" he murmurs in her ear.

Aze arches her back, twining her arms up and behind her to circle Siamus's neck, the backs of her wrists touching gently. "Occupied, yes. We talked for a while, drank for a while. Interesting things. I can't see very far below the ship. Have you kept occupied?"

"Aye," he says, and his tongue traces the edge of her ear. He fits his hands around her ribs below her breasts. "Exciting stuff. Splicing rope wi'the lads. Took a short turn in the nest for old time's sake. It's a lovely night."

"A lovely night," Aze repeats with a low sigh, and then asks, "What's the thing you brought back in, there on the table?"

Siamus glances up hazily. What did he bring in? "Oh," he says. "A marlinspike. Seaman's tool for splicing rope and breaking knots. Meant to give it to Miss Coit, but I see she's left ye."

"Marlinspike. She did say she was learning sailoring," Aze nestles her head against his chest. "I would have kept her here longer, but you're right. She's not interested."

"Ah," says Siamus, and kisses her ear. "She's a lady with a complicated history, our Miss Coit. I admire her enormously, but I find it best to go carefully and respectfully around her. She has reason to be skittish." One of his hands slides upward to cradle Aze's breast. "I have hopes for her, though."

"She seems pretty open about things, or maybe it was just the whiskey," Aze shrugs, shifting against Siamus's chest. "And I am going carefully. More carefully. I didn't expect to set Ben off. It's just… different. Yara warned me. But you're hoping for… her?"

"Not for me," Siamus says. "But I know a good man who'd look after her well, and would like to. I'm hoping the best for them both."

He takes hold of the cloth of her shirt — his shirt — and begins to draw it upward. "As for Hazan… I don't know what ye could have done about that. It may not be the first such reaction ye get, if it comes public in Stormwind. It's not the first one I've gotten." His palm slides across her bared skin beneath the shirt's hem. "I won't lie about a thing, but I do try to… be discreet. The Duchess fears it may upset my political career."

Aze's arms are up and the shirt is loose on her — it is not hard to draw up. She rolls her torso gently, to make it easier. "Coit's not easily shocked, I'll give her that. There was no gasp and scandal, just… talk. So maybe she's got the right of things. Maybe people wouldn't take her seriously — won't take me seriously," Aze says, almost to herself. Then she tilts her head back to almost face Siamus. "Good luck for your man, winding through all that. As for me… I've had a long time to sort this part of my life how I like it. No one would bat an eye in Silvermoon."

Siamus's hands still, unfortunately for Aze. "Wouldn't take her– you seriously? What d'ye mean?"

"It's just… what she said, more or less," Aze says, lacing her fingers to rest her arms on his shoulders. "That some people think… girls who sleep around are only good for that. Or I don't know, that they lack standards? I have standards, obviously, it's my body, my life."

"Ah," says Siamus. He's silent for a time, his hands still unmoving (which is how you know he's real distracted). "I can… see why she'd say it. To be honest, it's a great deal of what I mean when I say I go carefully around her. She's… an attractive woman in a number of regards. Which I'll not act on, as she's an employee, but I wouldn't like even to flirt with her, or give her a sense I find her attractive. I don't want her thinking that I think of her that way."

That would make her probably the first woman person Siamus hasn't thought of That Way, but maybe Lena won't pick up on that.

"Not," he hastens to add, "that I do think any less of ladies who… 'sleep around'. But I've suspected Miss Coit might feel that way."

"I got the sense she was speaking from experience," Aze says with a sigh, resting limply against Siamus. She can tell he's distracted. "So it's not like she's some shy little flower who doesn't know what she's missing. Not that… not that I think less of girls like that either. I mean, like my sister…" Aze seems to lose her thread of thought there, and continues, "I know you don't. I would've noticed that."

"Aye," says Siamus softly. "Good."

He straightens, pulling gently out of the loop of her hold on him as he does so, and drawing the shirt the rest of the way up and off. "And in Silvermoon, no one troubles about it?" He tosses the shirt casually aside and then takes the back of her chair and tugs it — and her — away from the table. He moves around in front and stands gazing down at her like a man perusing a menu of all his favorite things.

Aze makes no move to cover herself — she is not a shy flower, either — instead twisting and clasping her own hands together and stretching them above her head, possibly to better displaying both her tattoos and her breasts. She lifts one foot, bare at this time of the evening, to rest on the table, her calf against Siamus's leg.

She considers the question briefly before answering. "I wouldn't expect reactions like Ben's there, and you wouldn't have to worry about your political career. There are different… tiers of parties… I suppose the people at the very top tend to be a little more discreet, but everyone knows." Absently, she adds, as if he might know who she's talking about, "Even Bloodsong, she went on and on about how Liv embarrassed the family, but that was mostly just because Liv wasn't tidy about it."

Siamus wraps his hand around her calf. He kneads the muscle idly. "Exquisite creature," he tells her. And then, with a smile in his voice, "I don't know who those people are, pet. And what does 'tidy' mean?"

"Liv is — was — my best friend," Aze says, and maybe its a testament to the slow healing of time, or maybe just the haze of whiskey, that she doesn't shut down, but just continues, "Kind of ironic she was such a good healer, because she could burn a path of fucking destruction without even meaning to. She was…. beautiful. But not careful with people, with hearts. Not even her own. Untidy. That isn't smiled on even in Silvermoon, and that's not how I ever set out to be."

"Not careful with hearts," Siamus repeats. He steps back, settles on the edge of the table, and lifts her bare foot onto his thigh. He begins to massage it, kneading her sole with his thumbs. "Was she careless wi' yours?"

Aze drops her arms to either side of the chair, leaning her head back with a contented sigh. Then she says, "Minimal damage. Sure, I was into her at one point — a long time ago. Then I saw the pattern, realized she was a much better friend than a lover. Some people are like that. I think my sister liked her, near the end. Might be a mercy that never played out. Yara was always different — maybe more like Ben and his wife. She got hurt a lot."

Siamus is silent for a time, his hands working steadily and firmly. "I knew a lady careless wi' hearts," he says at last. "She made me careful of mine for a long while after." He glances down at her foot and then back up at her. "Your sister… aye. She and your brother-in-law seem…." He searches for a polite way of putting it. "Deeply attached," he decides.

Aze gives a light, almost inaudible laugh at the polite words. "You know they embedded their wedding rings in each other's fingers? I've seen it — or well, what you can see, under the flesh. Fucking death knights. But yeah, she's always been after that. Uh, I mean, not the rings thing, but somebody who puts her first, always. Somebody to belong to. She and Roper, I think they have that, at least. It was rough for her sometimes, in Silvermoon. Not uncommon for a boy she brought home to think nothing of going after the little sister too…"

Aze shakes her head. "Which I wouldn't. I'm not careless with hearts. But then I'd have to tell her — I couldn't not — and I could see the hurt. The question — why she wasn't enough." She sits up, bracing her hands on her knees. "I think Roper hated me, at first, can you imagine? And then, once he warmed up a little — figuratively speaking — he made a point of telling me that for him there was only one woman in the world, and I wasn't her. So it's good, what they have, however fucked up it is."

She reaches up towards Siamus's chest with one hand, though she can't quite reach. "I'm sorry somebody was careless with yours. I hope it's mended now."

Siamus winces at the story of the wedding rings. "Tides a'mighty," he mutters under his breath. "And no, I cannot imagine anyone hating ye. I do imagine you're a lady who could break hearts if she tried, so the world must count itself lucky that ye have such a conscience."

He releases her foot and gestures at the other one, brow arched in silent inquiry. "And aye. It's been well-mended in this last year or so. She was the first lady I'd planned to marry, back before Theramore." He shrugs wearily. Aze can't know it, but the fact that the gesture is only weary rather than tight with anger suggests that indeed, serious Progress Has Been Made. "I wish her well of… whoever she's got now."

Okay, that did sound a little sarcastic.

Aze rests the foot back against the table, resting the calf again against Siamus. She raises her other one obediently, leaning back again with the movement.

"People like that, they often… find what they give. Or, what was the thing in Common? Reap what they sow," Aze says, testing out the words. "May she have all the happiness she's given others. Or all the lack of it. And you got Avrenne…" did Siamus ever tell her Lady Fallon's first name? No, he did not. "… or uh… Duchess of… Lady… I don't remember all the titles right now. But by all accounts I've heard in the past few days, she's pretty great."

Siamus bends his attention to her foot again. "She is," he agrees, and then pauses. "…'pretty great.'" Gosh, Aze teaches him so many new phrases in his own language. "I am passing fond of the lady. She is the Duchess Esprit, by the by, or Lady Fallon. 'Your Grace,' in address. And I am technically, by marriage, the Duke Esprit, but I much prefer 'Vice Admiral,' 'Captain,' or 'Fallon.'" He lifts his gaze to smile at Aze again. "Or Siamus, in contexts." He studies her, his gaze gleaming. "Now I confess I may misremember, but did I tell ye the lady's given name? Only I am careful of her privacy, ye see."

"Somebody called her that," Aze says, a touch defensively. "Ben, I think. Is it a secret? I can keep secrets, if you tell me they're secrets."

Siamus tilts his head, still watching Aze, still smiling. "It's not a secret, no. Her name in full, if ye like, is Avrenne Solaine Blanche Esprit Fallon. It only doesn't come about much in public, so I wondered. The lady is very private." He shrugs genially. "But as I say, not a secret."

He hesitates. "And so ye know — I do not keep secrets from my wife. I do not keep many secrets of my own from anyone, in fact, if they ask for them, although I aim to be discreet in some things. But I will keep my wife's secrets. I respect a lady's privacy."

(He says, to the topless lady with her foot in his hands.)

"Ah, so that's why the Lady Blanche," Aze says with a smile, and then flinches, like maybe Siamus will go into a sudden rage upon hearing someone else use his special nickname and lunge to attack… hahaha no, different guy. She takes a breath, trying to relax again. "I don't, usually, like to keep secrets, either. Unless someone asks me to. And like I said, been practicing openness…" and toplessness? "…so yeah, I'd answer… most questions. I'll call her Your Grace, then, if that's the done thing. But I like calling you Siamus. Or maybe Captain."

Siamus inclines his head to her, still smiling, but the smile seems fixed; his gaze changed at that little flinch. "Are ye well?" he asks her gently.

"I'm… yeah, yes, I'm well," Aze her smile returning as she reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Just… maybe I had been spending too much time around death knights. I get a little jumpy sometimes."

Siamus's hands stop moving, his expression now unsmiling, black-eyed and stern. "And what have they done to ye to make ye jumpy, Aszera?" There is a slightly dangerous edge to his tone. Oh no, a lady in potential jeopardy.

Aze curls her toes against the side of the table, shrinking back from his tone while she tries to put together an explanation. Finally, she says, "Sometimes it's hard to tell what's a secret right away, and people get angry. They've never done anything that couldn't be solved with words."

Siamus's manner softens at once when Aze reacts to his tone. He resumes massaging her foot carefully. "To be clear," he says in a gentler voice, "if ye mistake a secret of my wife's or my family's and go telling it accidentally, I may be cross. I will not be angry. And I will not raise my hand or my voice at a lady. Ye may be assured I'd never think of doing you a harm. Aye?" He studies her. "I don't like to hear of a lady threatened, or made to flinch at shadows. That's all."

"Aye," Aze echoes his style of words, taking another deep breath and forcing herself to relax as the massage continues. "I'll remember. Still, I wasn't lying, what I said about her, about them. They don't always see what lines not to cross, but they listen when you point them out. You just… sometimes you just have to be careful to remember to do that. They are trustworthy."

Siamus nods mildly. He may or may not be convinced; either way, his expression isn't telling. "And as to… our business, ye know you're not a secret. But I think ye can also see now that Stormwind's not Silvermoon, nor even is it this ship." His tone is dry. "A certain discretion is called for, at the least." He is silent for a moment, weighing something. "And I should tell ye that at the house we have a pair of young wards of Her Grace's. A lad called Finley, and a girl called Isla. I'm not sure that either of them — particularly Finley — would understand. It would be best for it to remain discreet as far as the pair of them are concerned.

"And to be clear, this isn't about you. This is any of my lovers. Finley is very protective of Her Grace, and Isla is… full of notions. Wi' the rest of the house —" He shrugs genially. "They're aware of the way things are. The children have had a difficult adjustment since leaving Lordaeron, though."

Aze may be surprised when she discovers that one of these 'children' is a 26-year-old man over six feet tall, but, you know. Everything's relative.

"I was never planning on making an announcement, but yeah, I take your meaning," Aze says with a low sigh. "Finley and Isla… I won't shock the children. I can say I'm your Ebon Blade consultant, which is true enough. Or Illidari consultant, if you need one of those. At least here, I only fucked things up among friends." She nudges Siamus's side with her leg and says, "Does it need to be more true than that? Good times stay at sea?"

Siamus smiles a little wolfishly at her. "Of course not. Ye will have a very fine and private room, and we will have a very good time, I'm certain." He slips his hand beneath her heel to lift her foot and bends to kiss the tip of her toe playfully before releasing her. "But for the moment, I'm afraid you're still wearing far too many clothes. Shall I help?"

"I thought you'd never notice," Aze says, lifting herself by the heels of her hands on the seat of her chair. Even after all the whiskey, she has the balance and strength. Just maybe not so much discretion. "Such a gentleman to help a lady. But you're overdressed as well, Captain, unless my demonic vision deceives me."

Siamus steps closer between her legs and bends obligingly to unfasten her pants. "I'm afraid I am grievously overdressed. I wonder if I might have a lady's assistance wi' that, if I promise to reward her." He steps aside so that he can draw Aze's pants off without, you know, being in the way. And then he steps back to stand between her legs again, gazing down at her. "I did tell ye how exquisite y'are, dancer, didn't I?"

Aze rises smoothly and entirely without shame, stepping in close to Siamus. She rests one hand lightly on his shoulder and clasps the other, a dancer's pose that would likely be too close for Stormwind social dance, even if she weren't naked. Then she leads his hand across her face, her upper body dropping back in a loose and sensual arc as she turns beneath his arm, her hair spilling across her face and then back with the motion.

When she's back to face him, she says, "I think you mentioned it one or twice, Captain. And we should really dance sometime. Now…" she shifts her hands to start unbuttoning his shirt, "…what reward did you have in mind? I need to decide how helpful I want to be."

Siamus is watching her intently, his gaze darkly dilated, in the aftermath of that graceful movement. "Lady's choice," he tells her softly. "Ask, and I'll provide."

Aze's hands move deftly down his buttons, though she keeps her face turned towards his. When she reaches the bottom, she spreads her arms to help free him from his sleeves, pressing her chest to his in the process. He might be able to feel the rapid beating of her heart, definitely not from alarm this time. She turns her head to kiss him on the neck and murmurs, "I can think of a few of your… particular strengths."

There is a softly-hissed intake of breath at the touch of her lips on his neck, and he wraps his arms around her. His hands slide over her bare back. "A few particular strengths, have I? Ye flatter a man. They're all at your disposal, then."

He glides fingertips up her spine and the nape of her neck, and then takes a handful of her hair to pull her head back. He kisses her, slowly and thoroughly.

Aze pulls back gently, not enough to break the kiss, and breathes, "One," before she surrenders to the sensation. Kissing is, apparently, one of those strengths.

In the meantime, she still has a lady's assistance to give. She runs her own fingertips down the sides of his torso to rest in the waistband of his pants. She tries to pull them over his hips, unsuccessfully, and then trails her hands to the front to unbind them.

Siamus makes a soft, encouraging sound of approval against her lips and releases her hair to cradle her head in both hands. He shifts his weight back a little to give her easier access to his pants, because that is developing into a situation of urgency.

"What's two?" he murmurs against her lips. "I'll note the list, for future reference." (That's probably a joke. Maybe? Possibly. Don't look at some of those ledgers his wife keeps.)

Aze pulls away slightly, her head still cradled in his hands. She raises a hand to touch two fingers to his lips, and then she tilts her head, touching her neck where he often kisses her. In a low, breathy voice, she says, "Two."

(Maybe she has picked up that her lover is a nerd who likes lists and numbers.)

And then she slides the waistband of his pants helpfully down over his hips.

Siamus bends his head to kiss her throat softly, and then a second time, and then trace the line of her pulse down to her collarbone with feather-light lips and tongue, his breath warm on her skin.

His hands drop away from her head to finalize the pants-removal; he is obliged to draw back from kissing her in order to do so, and then is in such a hurry to resume the kissing that he ends up having to hop a little on one foot as he nearly loses his balance. It is very suave. He laughs, a quiet exhalation in the quieter cabin. "Good muscle control," he says.

Aze starts to shift in to counterbalance him, if that seems necessary, but he doesn't fall. Instead she smiles, a softer smile than usual, as she moves back into his embrace, turning slightly to protect her bruised side. "Still time to show that with Three."