Isabeau and the Stowaway (Dragonsong)

[Whim]

"My pack is missing!" Ewan crossed his arms. He supposed he shouldn't address Isabeau so rudely but he didn't care. "I won't be able to do a thing without it."

"Its just a barlap satchel. I thought I left it in the hold. Or maybe the galley. Would anyone have, um, taken it?"

[DragonSong]

She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Calm down, lad. Of course someone may have taken it, you're a ship full of pirates."

She shook her head. "Take another look around. If you still can't find it, come and tell me, alright?"

[Whim]

"I know how to look for things," Ewan muttered in a voice pouting voice. "I don't even know what they could do with a sack of books. They can't even read can they?"

Shoulders sagging with exasperation the boy stalked off again. He looked over the galley, though there was only water and salt-pork to be found. Then he peered into the cabin. It was mostly tightly bunched hammocks and a few foot-lockers. Ewan wondered how many of them saw the fruit of their plunder. Isabeau had her cabin and Crag had his bejeweled falchion - but would any live long enough to retire comfortably?

He crept through the cabin... rummaging through the clothes, discarded weapons of various quality, and seemingly other personal keepsakes.

[DragonSong]

Shaking her head at him, Isabeau moved to the helm and took the wheel, waving off the crewman who had been manning the helm.

Left alone to her thoughts- for the most part- the young captain stared out to the water before them, brow furrowed against the sun glinting off the waves.

[Whim]

"Captain," a gravelly voice spoke up. It was Florent. Though nearly thirty a mixture of scars, malnutrition, and premature graying left him looking quite a bit older. He didn't look his usual hardened and dutiful self; he was contrite, almost paternal.

"Three dead yesterday got me thinkin' I won't be around much longer to enjoy the spoils, as it were. Luck's got to run out sooner or later. No point in our plundering without a chance to enjoy it."

***

Ewan searched every inch of the cabin. There was no sign of his pack. A frustration at the injustice of it all, grown men stealing from a child (well, what they thought to be one anyway) welled up inside him. He set off for the helm of the ship.

[DragonSong]

Isabeau blinked, tilting her head at the man. "You want to retire," she murmured, a little taken aback. Aside from her father, she'd never actually heard of a pirate managing to do that.

With a small smile, she nodded at him slowly. He'd been with the Storm longer than she had, and it would be strange to see him go, but he was right.

"Will you jump ship in Cerenis then?" she asked quietly.

[Whim]

"Ceranis is months away. Was thinking of ducking off in Faran's rock," the pirate tisked, hooking his thumbs around his belt. "You'll get some more hands there. Won't be missed."

That part was at least true. The tiny port was favored by less respectable traders who stopped by Yoreiq. It would be crawling with unscrupulous sailors in search of a boat.

Ewan nearly barged in on their conversation, but stood on the stairs to the helm - looking sullen and cross as ever.

[DragonSong]

She gave him a small nod. "You've served this ship almost as long as I've been alive, Florent. Of course you'll be missed." She shrugged. "But I won't stop you leaving. You've earned a life of your own."

Ewan's arrival had her glancing down and she beckoned him tot he helm with a brisk nod. "Any luck, lad?"

[Whim]

"Much appreciated, cap'n," Floren extended a gnarled hand, gripping Isabeau's firmly in a business like handshake. His grip lingered just a bit before he trudged to the main deck, quietly resuming his duties as though nothing happened.

"No," Ewan's shoulders sagged. He felt genuinely defenseless now; an ordinary kid.

[DragonSong]

Isabeau bit her lip, looking at the boy- man- whatever. He looked like he needed a hug. "Alright. C'mere." She beckoned for him. "I'll make an announcement tonight. We actually do have laws rules on this ship about taking personal belongings, even if no one really pays attention."

[Whim]

"Thanks. I don't mean to be trouble..." Ewan mumbled and shuffled forward. The boy's cheeks were red, not very proud of the tantrum at all.

"Tell 'em I'll, uh, pay somehow." surely there were all sorts of favors a wizard could do for them. Teeth straightening, scar erasure... the salamander thing was just a flule after all.

[DragonSong]

The captain chuckled, correcting their course slightly as she did and then leaning against the wheel to smirk at him. "Lad, I'm not sure a single one of my crew would trust your payment at this point," she snorted.

[Whim]

"It was a little mistake." Ewan stood in silence for a few minutes, feeling guilty. Ordinarily he'd never volunteer for stupid chores, "What else do you need me to do?"

Perhaps it was the angle of the afternoon sun but a sudden glint caught Angel's eye. It was something at the helm of the ship. Metal? Glass? Liquid?

[DragonSong]

Isabeau shrugged. "Head back down to the galley,see if anything else needs cleaned. Floors and such." It was hard to keep good hygiene at sea, but she knew what a dirty kitchen could do to a crew. "If that's done, report to Crag. He may have something to keep you busy."

[Whim]

The boy gave a sharp nod and scurried to the galley. He nearly bumped into a pair of sailors ascending the stairs, but managed to slip between them prompting cries of surprise. Tully the Cook, wiry and bird-like, was hunched over a counter and chopping away. It didn't seem appetizing despite the man's pride in his work.

Ewan chose to quietly sweep the room. the boy probably could've lazed about and no one would've noticed, but it didn't feel right. It only took a few minutes. He emptied the dust-bin and darted around the deck in search of the first mate...

In the distance Isabeau could make out the jagged shoals of Faran's rest. They'd be there by morning.

[DragonSong]

Isabeau eventually relinquished the helm and took another circuit of the deck before becoming too restless even for that.

Glancing around once for the new cabin boy and spotting him approaching Crag, she nodded to herself and started climbing the rigging, making for the crow's nest. Raven- a slight, wiry, and rather aptly named young man- gave her a nod and a murmured, "Cap'n," when he saw her.

"Anything?" she asked, climbing into the wooden bucket alongside him.

He shook his head. "Faran's rest up ahead. Nothing but that for miles, far as I can tell."

She nodded, patting his shoulder absently. "Take a break, lad. I'll take over for an hour or two."

Raven nodded again. "Yes, ma'am."

[Whim]

Isabeau's stint in the crow's nest proved uneventuful. Important as the job of lookout was, even with a motivated person could fall asleep with nothing but blue in all directions. As she sat there, mind-wandering, she couldn't help but notice the wispy cirrus clouds above taking odd shapes... first it was her late mother, warm and beautiful as Isabeau remembered. Then it was the three young who died yesterday, looking like frightened boys in their final moments. She saw the dead Mist Raiders too, snarling and proud. And finally came her father's face...

But this wasn't a trick of the light or hypnosis. The face lingered even when she blinked, even whens he pinched herself.

***

Ewan saw the imposing sailor leaning on the rail. He'd never done anything to Ewan one way or the other, but the man's size alone seemed to instill a primal sort of fear in the boy. He tip-toed beside the first-mate, asking in a small voice. "Um, Isabeau said I was supposed to ask you for work to do..."

[Hope I didn't take too many liberties!]

[DragonSong]

Frowning, Isabeau began to climb down from the nest, shaking her head to rid herself of fanciful thoughts. She needed to focus.

[Whim]

Several sailors on break lounging against the rail and shipping rum, Crag among them. Ewan scurried over, clutching three tankards. "Here," he thrust them over, sullen as usual.

"There's a good lad. Don't need you workin' no fancy spells. Do as your told and you'll live good here.

"Service with a smile would be nice though, aye?" One ruffled his hair. Ewan rolled his eyes with a petulant sigh.

As Isabeau descended the mash she stepped on something. It was a silver mirror, for shaving, with the monogram F.

[DragonSong]

"Gods damnit," Isabeau muttered, wincing as she bent to look at the mirror. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Well, someone would probably be peeved with her about this.