(2025-07-08) A Floating Family Dinner

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Author:	inkie
Summary:	On the Lady's Blanche's first evening at sea, Siamus invites his ward and his future-sort-of-sister-in-law to dine with him. The conversation touches on… well, because it's Rae, it touches on a whole lot of stuff.
Rating:	T for Teen

At 6 PM, though the summer sun still hangs hazy well above the western horizon, the ship's bell sounds the second dog's watch. The half of the crew that took their early supper in the first begin to emerge on deck, while the other half pile below for their own meal.

Supper has been laid out in the wardroom as well for the ship's officers and their Cobalt guests, but the Captain does not dine among them. He will eat in his own quarters with guests of his invitation, and this evening on the ship's first day out of port, it is a Family Dinner.

Siamus is already in his quarters, having shed his uniform; he is now clad simply in shirt and well-worn canvas trousers, and toweling his hands off at the basin. Despite the prosaic ritual and clothing, there is something electric and exhilarated in his wind-tousled appearance, the look of a child who has just been on the best roller coaster ever and then been told he's allowed to go again.

Lena knocks at the door of the Captain's quarters right on time. She's dressed just as casually, familiar with shipboard life, and her hair is still tied back against the wind.

"Aye, come in," Siamus calls.

Lena opens the door and comes into his quarters. "It's just me. Rae not here yet? This is kind of a first, all three of us being on the ship like this."

Siamus glances over with a tilted smile and drapes the towel tidily on the basin's edge. "Not here yet, no. Pleasure to have the both of ye aboard. I've not — " He considers. "I've not had the privilege of sailing wi' so much family in years. Will ye have some wine?" He gestures to one of the chairs at the familiar table, which tonight is clear of maps and navigational apparatus.

"Oh, thanks, yes," Lena says, moving to take a seat.

Ralaea arrives shortly, knocks, and then just steps inside. She knows she's supposed to be here, and if anyone isn't ready for her, they should have thought of that before extending the invitation. She's dressed in lighter colors today, a loose grey shirt and lighter gray pants, maybe to help ward off the sun.

She nods a greeting to the other two, and despite the circumstances, she is not scowling.

Siamus smiles broadly at the sight of her. "Ralaea. Will ye have a seat with Lena? How's the day been for ye?"

"Feels bad saying good, but, we're on a ship," Ralaea says. There is a small spark of excitement in her eyes, as she takes a seat at the table.

Siamus laughs softly. "We are on a ship. We are on the finest ship that's ever launched, and I say that having sailed the Zenith Star, the Wind-wise, the Lady Kate, and the Lion's Grace."

"Finest ship I've ever sailed on," Lena says with a warm smile. "You thinking of joining up with the fleet, Rae? Or just excited to be in action?"

Ralaea looks genuinely conflicted. "Cobalt's done right by me," she says. "But the way I see it, I can always step back to help family where it's needed."

Siamus, moving around the table to the cupboard for a bottle of claret, sets an approving hand on Rae's shoulder as he passes. Good lad. "Rae's got the tides in her blood," he tells Lena.

"I might not have 'em in the blood, but in the heart," Lena says.

Siamus flashes Lena a smile and a respectful nod at her reply. He returns to the table with the wine bottle and two tumblers, and pours a glass for Lena and one for himself. "Towson'll bring the milk wi' the meal," he tells Rae.

Lena glances from Siamus to Rae. "Which speaking of Cobalt and family, seems it's been a while since we spoke — I ought to tell you, I'm marrying Shine next month."

"Oh," Ralaea says, blinking. "I must've missed when… that… started. How long have — is that rude, to ask?"

Lena laughs a little, raising a hand halfway as if to hide it. "No, it's not rude. About… a year now, I think? Though I suppose I wasn't entirely sure where things were going until maybe late winter."

"What's… So you're going to do the whole… babies and everything?" Ralaea asks.

Siamus returns to the cupboard to put the wine bottle away and possibly also to avoid lurking over discussion of Babies And Everything.

Lena takes a sip of wine. She's probably not buying time to figure out how to answer that one. Then she says, "It seems… likely, yes. Eventually. One can never predict how such a thing will go, of course, especially given I'm a warlock."

"Warlocks can't have babies?" Ralaea asks.

Siamus takes his seat at the table and picks up his glass. "Mrs. Hazan was delivered of a baby quite recently, and she's a warlock," he observes.

Ralaea frowns. "Mrs — but she’s not a warlock," she says.

"Yes, little Aprilanna," Lena smiles, and then looks at Rae. "Mayellen Hazan? Oh, wait, are you thinking about Ismene? She's a priestess, yes."

Siamus lowers his wine glass, briefly confused now himself. "Ah, no, I see. Aye. Not Lieutenant Hazan's wife. The other one." He gestures vaguely with his glass at Lena.

Ralaea gives Siamus an accusing stare. How dare you confuse her, sir. "Well, good, then," she says. "By the way, why isn't Shine here?"

Siamus glances at Lena and then back to Rae. "Shine… has trouble aboard ships now," he says. "Since Theramore." Another pause. "Theramore last time." Ha ha there is more than one Theramore Disaster to refer to now.

"I'm sure he'll be more than happy to be involved in the land-based fight," Lena adds helpfully. "He fought in the Highlands, and against Deathwing." Rae probably knows that last one, Lena.

"He did okay on the airship," Ralaea says, frowning. "It is a trauma thing? Has he tried being really mad on a ship?"

Siamus smiles ruefully. "I don't believe Shine gets ma– " He pauses and tilts his head as though listening to something, looking faintly nonplussed.

"He certainly can be angry," Lena observes. "But maybe not mad in the visible way you mean. I suppose an airship is really not that much like a ship of the sea…"

"Okay, so what you do is, you get him really mad," Ralaea says, leaning across the table conspiratorially. "And then you lure him into a ship without him realizing it, because he's so mad, right? Ta-da." She folds her hands together conclusively.

"That's certainly an approach I'd not thought of," Lena says, nodding. "He is pretty observant, though. Might be hard to get him so mad he doesn't realize where he is."

"Sure, but if you do, then you win," Ralaea says.

Siamus knits his brows and tries to puzzle this out. "I'm afraid… I'll have to agree with Lena. In twenty years I've never seen Raff so angry he wouldn't notice a thing like… where he was standing."

"I guess you wouldn't want to be mean to him," Ralaea says, deflating a little. "What's he doing to stay busy then?"

Siamus looks to Lena, but offers, "I expect he's waiting for orders of his own, if Cobalt has 'em. We're properly at war now, there'll be no end of need for fighting men."

Lena nods. "We might be fighting in different places, but I expect he'll be looking for his next orders." She pauses for a sip of wine, and adds, "And you're right, I wouldn't want to be mean. But more than that, I wouldn't try anything unless he told me he wanted."

"Well yeah, that falls under mean," Ralaea says. "But still, that's gotta be hard on a Kul Tiran, right? How's he going to visit Kul Tiras when we're able to again?"

Siamus looks to Lena again. "Well, he'll be married to a warlock, won't he? I expect Lena can bring him there." He smiles.

Lena nods, glancing to Siamus with a smile. "We've discussed that one. I'll go, I'll bring him when I arrive. I hope that day comes sooner rather than later — I take it you'll want to visit, too, Rae?"

"My father's from there," Ralaea says. "My… other father." She ducks her head a little and glances at Siamus. "Both… both of them. Yes, I want to see it."

Siamus's smile does something a little weird and he covers it by glancing away and having another sip of wine before he nods and clears his throat. "Ralaea's ancestral homeland. And your adopted one, I hope," he tells Lena.

"Maybe before long you'll both forget I was ever from anywhere else," Lena says with an odd smile of her own. "Shine's got family there I'm hoping to meet. Hoping they'll like me."

"They're fine people," Siamus assures her. "The finest. Ye'll be welcome and gladly, I'm sure."

The cabin door opens and the baby-faced cook Towson enters trailed by a pair of heavily-tattooed and extremely polite galley assistants. Towson himself sets a glass of milk in front of Rae, and then one of his assistants lays out dishes and tableware in front of the three while Towson and the other arrange a soup tureen, a platter of roasted fillet of salmon with tiny potatoes, and a salad of dilled cucumbers.

Ralaea claims her milk immediately, offering Towson the slightest of smiles. Instant reputation gain for the bringer of milk. "What are witches like, in Kul Tiras?"

Lena surveys the food with appreciation while she waits for Siamus to answer that one.

All three of the food-bearers freeze and eye Rae a little warily.

Siamus clears his throat. "Thank ye, gentlemen."

Towson salutes and the three men depart.

When the door has closed, Siamus rises to lift the lid of the soup tureen and begin dishing out soup; tonight it is a light, lemony chicken broth flecked with herbs. "When Tirasians first came to the isle, three millennia ago, it wasn't uninhabited," he says.

"There were witches?" Ralaea assumes immediately. "Everyone there? It was a witch isle? Was it cursed?"

Siamus smiles faintly and shakes his head as he sets Rae's bowl in front of her.

"I can't imagine everyone was witches," Lena says. "Surely every society has different sorts. Were they human?"

"They were…." Siamus pauses. "Not exactly. Though, it seems, related?" He sets Lena's soup down, serves himself, and then sits. "Ye recall the vrykul?"

"Yes, of course," Lena nods. "Rae and I fought them, with Cobalt. Learned some of their history."

"Wait, were they moving? Not just sleeping? Did they have a Witch King instead of a Lich King?" Ralaea is focused intently on Siamus.

Siamus contemplates Rae seriously. "They… did not, no. Have a… Witch King. But they were moving, aye. They lived on the isle. They weren't called vrykul, these ones; they called themselves the Drust. That's where Drustvar takes its name, ye see? From the ones who were there before humans."

"But they were the same, then? A bit like humans, but larger?" Lena asks.

"A bit. Giants. And savage ones. They practiced a sort of… death magic, I suppose ye could say. I don't know all the — " Siamus waves his spoon vaguely. Magic stuff.

"Death magic is more necromancers and death knights," Lena says, her brow furrowing. "Were the witches necromancers, then?"

"Was it a second Lich King after all?" Ralaea asks dubiously. "Is there more than one of those?"

"The witches aren't direct in the line. The Drust were… mixed, at first, in what they thought of humans. And humans in what they thought of them, I suppose. Some of 'em tried to coexist, and there were those among the Drust who taught those among the humans their… arts." He shakes his head. "But the Drust decided at last they didn't like to share their land, and there was a war. For a time it looked very bad indeed for the people of Drustvar."

"And that's how you ended up with human witches?" Lena asks. "Those as learned from the Drust."

Siamus nods at her. "It's how we ended up wi' two things: the witches, and the Thornspeakers. They grow from the same root."

"Wait, you can't just skip the war part, Lena," Ralaea says. "Who won? I mean, obviously Kul Tirans live there now, right? But Drustvar isn't all of Kul Tiras."

"Kul Tirans won," Siamus says. He pauses and then allows grudgingly, "That's why ye'll find the Church of the Holy Light in Drustvar. It was some of the Light-faith who sealed their victory, and down the centuries since they've kept faith wi' the Light to hold back the witchcraft."

"Are there any of those Drust people left?" Ralaea asks. "In hiding maybe? Or are they all…"

"They're long since gone," Siamus says. "Though their traditions have run down the years. And there's still some of their blood in the isles, it's claimed." He shrugs. "But in any case, a Kul Tiran witch was a vicious creature. She was no — necromancer, or what-have-ye, but she was sly and vicious. They say the witches could turn people into wild beasts and set them at each other, or have them hunted unwittingly by their families or villages. They could cast glamours to disguise themselves, to make rotten food seem sweet or poison taste like wine. They put hexes on people so that they couldn't move, or speak. They made familiars out of bone and branch, turned forests to monsters."

He has another sip of wine. He might be enjoying himself a little. Ghost Stories Dad.

Lena eats her soup, listening to this with eyebrows raised. "I can see why some folk might be wary of Thornspeakers, then, seeing as they come from a similar place. But the magic itself doesn't sound the problem — the malice is."

Ralaea sips at her milk with wide eyes. "Are the witches gone too? Or have you… seen one?"

Siamus shakes his head. "I can't say as I have seen one, no. Officially I believe they've been wiped out. Every once in a while ye hear of some woman being tried as a witch over that way, though — the people of Drustvar are superstitious and they do start at shadows somewhat. It's an ugly history they've got, and the mountains and forests still haunted by it." He pauses. "Metaphorically," he adds for Rae's benefit. After a moment he adds conversationally, "That's why Vane's people left the mountains. An aunt of his had some trouble, I believe, and his mother worried for herself and his sisters."

Lena winces. "People can be vicious about things they don't understand, especially if the things are dangerous. Glad the rest of them got out alright."

"They thought Vane had witches in the family?" Ralaea asks. "Are witches only women?"

Siamus looks perplexed. Ha ha why would men be witches? "As far as I know, aye. Though… Thornspeakers can be men or women. And Vane's family — well, ye've seen the man. The rumor was there's Drust blood in his family. Damned unlikely in this day and age, but as I said, they're superstitious in the mountains, and people will talk."

"Does seem unlikely. Even if he was, it couldn't be much," Lena shrugs. "Not that it matters anyway. I'd guess the difficulty with Drust was with the organization, not the blood. Like if a group of vrykul wanted to trade with the Alliance instead of fighting us, I reckon we'd have given it a go. But aye, people and their superstitions. I come from a small town myself — I know how that is."

"Are the Drust… They aren't all Titany are they? Like the vrykul? I bet they grew out of dead trees or something, since they're so tall," Ralaea says. Speaking of superstitious.

Siamus considers this hypothesis seriously. "I suppose as may be. But there were the kvaldir as well, aye? The sea-vrykul? Who turned to weeds and mist when ye killed 'em? I expect the whole… people are something peculiar."

Lena shudders at the mention of the kvaldir. "Those were a kind of evil spirit. I hope there's nothing similar of the Drust still around Kul Tiras."

"Maybe the kvaldir got cursed by something that wasn't an Old God," Ralaea says. "Like they found something they shouldn't've while sailing and it trapped them somehow."

Siamus weighs this with equal gravity. "All manner of things at sea," he concedes. "Won't say I've seen 'em all myself. Once heard a man swear he'd seen an island swim past him in a windless calm."

"A whole island?" Ralaea's eyes are wide. "Think we'll get to see something cool? Before the smelly orcs, I mean?" Orcs are less cool, naturally.

"A swimming island?" Lena repeats, a little more skeptical and less amazed than Ralaea. "Seems more likely a problem of perception there, with the sea still all around."

Siamus offers a nod of concession. "Aye, as likely. In a calm like he claimed his vessel was stood in, a man might see all manner of things, and half of 'em from thirst and the sun beating down. But my point remains: The sea is fuller of strangeness than we can conceive. No man can say he's sailed every league of her, and the sea we know is only half the world besides. No man's ever sailed the Sea of Storms. None that's come back to say it, at any rate." He moves his empty bowl aside. "So aye, we may see something… 'cool,' Ralaea. Or run afoul of an ancient curse that turns us all to weeds. Will ye have some fish?" He rises to offer to portion out roast salmon and potatoes to the ladies.

"I'd love some," Lena says, smiling. "And I do hope don't run into any ancient curses, but if we do… we've mages and a druid aboard to cure us." She adds to Ralaea, "There were some really wondrous things down in Vashj'ir — luckily the Admiral and I got to skip the whole 'trapped underwater with no idea if we'll ever be rescued' part of that one."

"Don't suppose the druids and mages could cure the kvaldir?" Ralaea says, also nodding to Siamus. "Maybe it depends on what the curse is. Are there mushrooms that far underwater?"

"There were loads of plants and animals I didn't recognize," Lena says, glancing to Siamus. "Not sure as any of them would be called a mushroom. As for the kvaldir, I'm pretty sure they're already dead and cursed, so there's no curing them."

Siamus serves fish and potatoes onto Lena's plate and then offers her the dish of cucumber salad before turning to serve Rae as well. "Was fascinating, absolutely brilliant. To go below in Vashj'ir, I mean. I believe we might have seen some reef fungi, but I'd have to ask Knockfathom to be sure." He serves himself and then sits.

"If you're worried about mind control," Lena says in a pause between bites. "I'd be more scared of the Old God of the Deeps than a reef fungus." It's possible Lena has heard Rae's concerns about mushrooms and spores before.

"There's one of those down there?" Ralaea asks, a wary edge creeping into her voice. "Where?"

"In the… Deeps," Siamus says helpfully. "It's the one started this whole thing — the dragon, the cult, like a splinter of madness driven into the mind of the world. It was… I'm not sure exactly, but it was at least near the Abyssal Maw. Miss Fey could hear it, evidently. Your Cobalt friends — Lieutenant Hazan and his squad? — drove it back from there when they freed the Tidehunter. I don't expect anyone could tell ye where it is now, whether it's still down there but somehow deeper, whether it was in the Highlands or at the Temple in Dragonblight."

He eats a potato.

Lena pauses in her eating, something darker crossing her expression for a moment as Siamus describes the Old God. Then she looks to Rae, and says, "It's not the one from Northrend, but something similar. There's more of them, evidently. They didn't kill it. It's still down there."

Ralaea frowns. "So, it's the thing behind the whole Cataclysm? And it's still alive, so… does that mean we're going to get another crazy dragon in a few months, like some sort of… underwater crazy dragon farm?"

Lena shakes her head. "Deathwing was… a long time coming. Stewing down there in madness for thousands of years. There's not another one down there like him. There is…" she glances over at Siamus, and then back to Ralaea. "The naga are still down there. Queen Azshara. Squad found out they were teamed up with the thing as well."

Siamus nods. "Aye, the naga weren't — your Cobalt friends drove them out from the Throne of the Tides, but I gather the Queen herself wasn't there. And she'd struck some sort of bargain with it, had the Faceless at her beck."

"Sea snakes, tentacle gods, I guess it's not surprising the two are related," Ralaea says, stabbing at her food. "But, so, if the Tidemother's down there somewhere, she must know where this thing is, right? Is it possible to ask?"

"I don't think that's exactly how… it works," Lena says, looking to Siamus for confirmation.

"Not precisely, no," Siamus says.

"Then we probably can't ask Her to kill the Old God thing either?" Ralaea continues to murder her food. "I guess if She could've, She'd have done it already." A pause. "She can't get whispered at, can She? Like the rest of us can?"

"I wouldn't think so?" Lena says. "The Tidemother is not like a mortal person — and the Old God's been down there forever. If it could've happened, I'd think it would've happened long time before now."

Siamus gestures agreement at Lena with his fork. That is presumably why he's waving a fork at her, anyway. Sintha despairs of his table manners. "Aye, just so. She'll be beyond an Old God's powers."

Ralaea takes a bite, chews it in sullen silence, swallows, and then says, "You know I've seen turkeys that look like Faceless Ones?"

Siamus lowers a forkful of salmon to regard her. "I did not know that," he says politely. "Whereabouts?"

"I might want to avoid that butcher," Lena says, raising an eyebrow.

"Tirisfal," Ralaea answers. "The live turkeys. You know, because they've got all that stuff dripping off their… well, faces."

Siamus nods gravely. "They're certainly not attractive birds, no. Well, to other turkeys, I suppose. But otherwise, no."

Lena just stares at her for a moment.

Ralaea casually eats her soup.

"The day a turkey whispers about trust and betrayal in my mind may be the day I just decide to go to Outland permanent," Lena says, and takes another spoonful of soup.

There does not really seem to be anything to add to that. Siamus regards Rae for a further moment, and then resumes his dinner. As one does.