Blue Skies

Desmond had checked three pubs and about as many taverns, but had yet to spot his target. He took out a small bronze watch from his chest pocket and smiled. There was time, still, more then enough time to find who he was looking for. As he put the watch back, two men stepped out from one of the narrow streets, smiling cruelly. “Good day sir, ye look wealthy. Spare some money for some food?”

Desmond ignored them, striding past them when suddenly the tallest of the men grabbed his sleeve and produced a knife. “We’re no’ asking man. Hand us the…” He could have just shot the man, but it would have drawn attention, and he didn’t want to draw attention until the very last moment. So instead, he stepped to the side, quickly taking hold of the hand the man was holding the knife with and disarming him. “Find a job,” he said as he flung the knife into a nearby heap of garbage. The man opened his mouth to say something, but instead froze and started backing away, staring at Desmond’s belt. The swift movement had caused his jacket to fall open, revealing his gun. Desmond snorted and rearranged his jacket as the two men fled into the same street they had just come from.

The Tinker’s Tavern was large enough to house a few dozen people, and he silently cursed his luck when he threw a glance inside trough one of the dirty windows and spotted the man he had been looking for sitting at one of the tables. The two airships weren’t going to be large enough, they would have to make two, maybe three trips. So be it. A quick look at his watch told him that it would take the others about thirty more minutes to arrive. After making sure no one was watching him, he took the first of the small mirrors and placed it next to the door. The other three were placed around the building, and once he was done, Desmond walked into the tavern.

This place seemed to attract all kind of people. Women, both beautiful and plain, men, both rich and poor. He even spotted a mere boy sitting at a table, and what seemed to be a homeless person that sat by the bar. Quiet a collection of characters. A lot of witnesses, to.

 

He watched as she sipped delicately at the drink, her mouth curving into an inviting smile.

“Not bad. Your turn.”

“Not bad?” Luke asked, his eyebrows rising into an expression of mock outrage. “Is that all?” The look faded, replaced with a smile that spread across his face. His eyes glittered. A challenge. Perfect. “That will not do. I am clearly not trying hard enough.”

He drunk a mouthful of the drink. She was right. For a first time experiment, the Caspius Surprise was not bad at all. Perhaps he should propose a career as a barman to his father. He smiled and stretched, one hand closing on the champagne bottle.

Luke filled her glass up again. “We can’t have you running too far,” he said, winking and placing the bottle back on the wooden surface. He rubbed his hands together. “Now, I don’t do things by half. I am a barman renowned in these parts for making the perfect drink for every person and every occasion. We will find your match.” Again, he looked at her features as he spoke and withdrew several more coins from his pocket. “Barman. I think we shall try orange and strawberry next.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, walking away with a bemused expression.

The room had become more crowded, but Luke kept his attention fixed on her. The earlier feeling had faded and he felt more like himself.

“So, my mysterious friend, have you ever been airship racing?”

 

She was aware of his eyes on her as she pronounced her opinion of the drink. They were a deep green, and sparkling with a roguish glint. She met his gaze evenly, an almost daring set to her chin.

“Not bad? Is that all? That will not do. I am clearly not trying hard enough.”

Catrin’s mouth curved upwards into a smile. She watched him as he tried the drink for himself, and then refilled their glasses with champagne. She would have to keep a careful eye on how much she was drinking; it was one thing to allow herself some fun, but she mustn’t lose her head completely.

“We can’t have you running too far,” her companion said with a wink. Suddenly being sensible seemed a much more difficult prospect. “Now, I don’t do things by half. I am a barman renowned in these parts for making the perfect drink for every person and every occasion. We will find your match.”

Catrin raised one eyebrow. “Is that so? Alright then. Impress me.”

He examined her face again before ordering, this time orange and strawberry. She wondered what prompted his choices – he was certainly an intriguing young man, to say the least.

“So, my mysterious friend, have you ever been airship racing?”

She found the change in conversation a little abrupt, but didn’t mind. She also found she rather liked being called ‘mysterious’.

“Airship racing? Can’t say I have. I’ve watched the races plenty, though. What about you?” she replied. “I take it you have.”

 

"He is not far off Miss Daughney. I own my own craft, and deliver parcels and messages where they need to go, but I spend much of my time keeping the engine going." He said, feeling a bit more confidant on this subject, but he was careful not to rant. "And what is your profession Miss Daughney?"

"You have your own craft?!" Rose's eyes rounded a bit.

Few knew that Rose was a dedicated air racing fan and checked the paper daily for race news as well as Alec Valentine's articles before she checked the news of the day. Perhaps Sam wasn't a racer but he was a pilot and that was nearly as good. It figured that Richard couldn't tell flying gloves when he saw them.

"As for me, I'm in the theater, oh!" she said interrupting herself and digging through her small clutch purse, "Let me give you tickets."

She pulled out two tickets for 'Adelaide's Flight' printed on heavy cream paper. He pulled off a glove and took them a shade reluctantly, she thought, before stowing them away in a pocket.

"You'll enjoy it, I think," Rose encouraged him, "Carmine here is our star and Richard plays the airship captain who she's in love with. I play her younger sister who the airship captain is pursuing. It's quite good." Rose realized she might sound a bit defensive.

As Sam nodded and stammered his thanks, Rose realized that Alec was sitting in exactly the same place, looking somewhat worse for the wear.

"It has been a distinct pleasure, Mr. Fredricks. I do hope you'll accept my invitation to the show and bring a companion." She smiled, rising, glancing at Alec, "Please excuse me, I think a friend of mine needs me."

As Sam moved off, Rose touched Carmine on the shoulder.

"I'll be right back."

Carmine looked at her vaguely and nodded. Richard was holding her hand and embarking on another mad story, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. Ben looked utterly miserable. Why did he do that to himself? Rose wondered.

She was relieved to leave the table and perched delicately on a stool next to Alec's. Calling him a friend was a bit of a misnomer, he was more of an acquaintance. She suddenly realized that other than her young cousin Amy, who idolized her, that was pretty much all she had. Just acquaintances. Too many people were anxious to be her 'friend' for all the wrong reasons.

"Mr. Valentine," Rose said in greeting, "how are you this evening?"

 

Danny caught a glimpse of Catrin watching him. He fully expected her to approach him, but was relieved when she was distracted. Still, he prepared answers in his mind for their inevitable confrontation.

 

“Airship racing? Can’t say I have. I’ve watched the races plenty, though. What about you?” she replied. “I take it you have.”

“I have,” Luke replied.

The barman had returned, this time with a small tray of ingredients. Luke examined the contents and then turned back to the bar and set to work, pouring measures of the different flavours into the glass.

“You would enjoy flying, I think. Especially at twilight.” Luke glanced back at his companion and placed the small bottle which he had been holding down. “Hmm, maybe not the orange.” Instead he chose a small bottle of blueberry juice. The drink turned a dusky purple and Luke nodded, satisfied and pushed it back towards her.

“What shall we name this one?” he asked, turning to her and waiting for her opinion as he finished the Caspius Surprise. He placed the glass down on the table. “You look like the creative sort.”

 

“You would enjoy flying, I think. Especially at twilight.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” Catrin watched as he deftly made up another drink, confidently selecting various flavours and mixing them together. As if someone else had temporarily taken hold of her mouth, she added, “If I had some interesting company, I think I would enjoy it.”

The glass he finally pushed towards her held a drink dark purple in colour. Her companion looked content with his creation, a confident smile on his face as he said, “What shall we name this one? You look like the creative sort.”

“Do I? Alright then …”

Catrin deliberated, taking a sip. It was sweet, like the Caspius Surprise, but had a sharper tang to it that was more appealing. She nodded, smiling.

“I like it,” she decided. “How about Indigo Crush, for a name?”

 

His story straightened out, Danny allowed his mind some rest, knowing what he's say should Miss Catrin approach him. As he stretched a bit on his chair, his dagger fell out of his clothes and onto the floor. Danny quickly snatched it back up and returned it to where it had been. He hoped that nobody has seen it, and thus far, nobody appeared to. If somebody had seen it, they weren't sitting near Danny. He hoped that such person would shrug off what they saw and not approach him at all.

 

Alec, more than a little buzzed, hadn't heard her approach, he hadn't observed much of anything during the coarse of the evening. His night of people-watching, of drinking in his surroundings had somehow just turned into a night of drinking.

"Mr. Valentine, how are you this evening?"

He'd removed his glasses and set them on the bar sometime ago, as he felt they were growing heavy, leaving him, by all accounts, blind. He couldn't see who'd spoken, but he didn't need his eyes to identify the owner of that cultured, refined, seductively singsong voice.

"Miss Daughney?" he said as he fumbled for his glasses, trying not to slur his speech r sound terribly surprised that she'd spoken to him. "Please, won't you join me?"

 

"Miss Daughney?"

His movements were deliberate but he fumbled as he put on his glasses and peered at her in surprise. He had every right to be surprised, they had spoken a few times but always professional chat and not even much small talk.

"Please, won't you join me?"

Rose looked at him and then heard Richard's bellowing laughter again. She looked back and saw that there was apparently some joke at Ben's expense. The young man's face was beet red. She preferred to stay with the quieter, even if equally drunk, bookseller.

"Certainly," Rose smiled and ordered a small glass of sherry when the bartender asked what she wanted, "Do you often come to Tinker's?"

She mentally kicked herself. It sounded like a come-on when it wasn't but she was curious.

 

Airship racing. It was the talk of the town, mainly for those who could afford to attend the events. Daring men touched the sky to possibly fall faster than their ascent. Tommy took in the conversations, as there wasn't anything interesting at the table beside him.

He had always desired to be a part of something historical, a calling. He often felt airship racing was risky enough to procure his glory. As efficient of a thief as he was, he was nowhere near good enough to steal the amount of money needed to put him in the right direction. And stealing an airship itself would take quite a set of stones, seeing that one would be easily identified.

He sat back in seat, not slouching, but relaxing as he looked about and took in the dialogues. He had finished his meal and wiped his mouth. Feeling the slightest buzz, he gave himself a moment before ordering one last drink. He wasn't a lush, that was his brother's claim to fame, besides bad gambling. He felt he needed the buzz to properly perform in a crowd of this magnitude.

 

"Do you often come to Tinker's?"

No, i wouldn't say often. I come here occasionally to get inspiration for my... articles." he said with a smile, pleased that they were actually talking, angry at himself for being drunk. He struggled to keep his eyes glued to her face, not wanting to come across as just another lecherous fan, but staring directly into her eyes made him extremely unfcomfortable. He chose a spot on her forehead, just above one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows and continued to speak.

"Your last show was magnificent, the crowd was riveted. I wish i had the power to pull you from your body so you could be in the audience during one of your shows. Not so you could hear yourself sing so much as to see the audiences reaction. People are moved, and tranquilized by the sound of your voice. In my honest opinion, to witness such mastery of an art, is the closest man can come to ethereal cognizance."

He realized he was rambling and decided to shift the subject.

"But i'm sure you're tired of hearing praise... did you receive my gifts well? They're extremely rare editions."

 

Simon reclined in his seat, sipping a tall order of green tea the waiter had recently delivered. The mood had died down considerably, to the point of boredom. Myra seemed to be lulled into silence; a feat he didn't think was possible. Her silver-haired companion -- whose name he still hadn't gotten -- was silent as well. Let sleeping dogs lie, he thought, watching them in silence, then corrected himself oh, I didn't mean it that way.

But there was a fourth member of their group, one who'd been oddly quiet all along. Simon had dragged himself into this mess for the boy's sake, but somehow lost his way in the process. Now, he suddenly remembered the kid existed.

"You look troubled," he said to the boy. "What's on your mind?"

 

Startled by sudden conversation by somebody totally random, the boy tried to think up a lie quickly. To his surprise, the truth is what came out. "I fell for a prank for the millionth time and now I'm here. I don't feel like going back where I know somebody sis waiting to laugh in my face, so I'm sticking here. It was odd at first but I think I am warming up to this place." Danny's words surprised himself, as he had said exactly what he felt. He waited for a response, unsure of what he'd get.

 

“I like it,” she decided. “How about Indigo Crush, for a name?”

“Perfect,” Luke replied, smiling as the drink got her approval. He watched her for a moment, thinking back to the comment about interesting company. Most of the women he had taken flying had been such airheads that they could have floated without the need of a ship. This woman, whatever her name was made a pleasant variation.

“So, do I interest you miss…” his voice trailed off as he spotted a familiar figure walking towards him. The man was well dressed, clutching his top hat to his head and his purse to his waist as he eyed the gathered people with suspicion.

Luke rolled his eyes, exhaled and turned back to the bar. He picked up the bottle of beer and began to drink quickly.

“There you are. I thought that I would find you somewhere like this.” The newcomer sniffed in disapproval as he looked around the bar and then at the long line of empty bottles.

“Come to ruin another perfectly good evening, Charlie?” he replied, signaling to the barman to get him another drink. Already the buzz was fading as his brothers presence sucked the fun out of the atmosphere. He glanced sideways at Catrin. “I apologize for this.”

Charles stood straighter and his shoulders stiffened at the use of his nickname. “Father wants you to return home immediately.”

Luke began mixing another drink. “I’m not drunk enough yet.”

“I think that you are drunk enough already,” Charles replied icily. “Come along, Luke.”

“Or what? You’ll ask me to take this outside?” he replied, his voice mocking.

His face tightened and then flushed. “Don’t be so childish," he replied, although he would not meet his eye. After a moment, he spoke, "If you will not return then I will need to speak to you in private at least. I’m sure that your lady friend will not miss you.”

“Fine,” he muttered, downing the last of his drink and standing. He looked at Catrin. “Excuse me for just a moment.”

Charles was already walking towards a small table in the corner, glancing over his shoulder reguarly to make sure that Luke was still there.

 

"But i'm sure you're tired of hearing praise... did you receive my gifts well? They're extremely rare editions."

Rose laughed lightly and sipped her sherry.

"It is human nature to enjoy the praise of oneself, Mr. Valentine, so thank you." She smiled and went on, "I did receive the books and treasure them. You apparently have not received my note of thanks as of yet."

She noticed that he was focusing with some effort and stifled a small inner sigh of regret that he was different than she had assumed.

"And what of you?" Rose asked, "Have you found any inspiration this evening?"

 

"Well, you'd be suprised how easy it is to get used to a place... particularly when things are as crazy as in this place," said Chaos as he leaned back and sipped on his own tea. Looking up at Myra, he spoke "You are making your own way in this world and refuse to live by handouts. That is a very good and rare trait."

 

"I fell for a prank for the millionth time and now I'm here. I don't feel like going back where I know somebody is waiting to laugh in my face, so I'm sticking here. It was odd at first but I think I am warming up to this place," Danny said.

Simon was taken aback. "Straight to the point, I see," he replied, with a bit of friendly laghter. "There's always someone waiting to laugh in your face. Those who laugh behind your back are the ones you should be watching out for." He took another sip of his tea.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I don't usually come here, but I must say it's been a good ride thus far. The trick to staying afloat in a place like this is to avoid liquor at all costs," he added, glancing toward Ms. Thornton at the bar, "especially when in the company of strangers.... but I don't think that applies to you. You haven't been drinking tonight, have you?

 

Sam returned to his original seat, somewhat disappointed that he was alone again, but also relieved that he no longer had to stay around that man who seemed to think everything about him was amusing. As an added bonus the violent beggar was not close by either. He pulled out the two tickets and tried to think of someone who'd want to try something like a play. His mind drew a blank, purhaps he'd think of someone later. He sipped on his tea, it had been warm, now it had cooled conciderably.

He contemplated leaving, but it appeared that his time as the butt of some horrible joke was over. Still he felt uncomfortable now, he half thought of moving to a darker table so as to hide, but in the end decided to finish his tea.

 

Volx Gallien--Introductions

Name: Volx Gallien

Age: 20

Sex: Male

Occupation: Military

Personality: Arrogant, cold, not much of a people person. Likes to drink alone. Won't let anything stand between him and his ship. Fiercely proud of his family and the weight their name carries.

Description: Short black hair with eyes to match. His features are all hard surfaces and angles, the ladies might even think him handsome. He is constantly wearing his uniform and is easily recognizable by his helmet, which bears a proud spike and is emblazoned with his family crest, the falcon.

Background: Volx was raised in a well known military family and had intended to go into service all his life. The day before his 18th birthday, the entire vessel his mother and father were on vanished into the skies for violating a guild regulation. Ever since, Volx has developed a burning hate for the Guild.

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Volx stared back at the open sky as the workers finished docking up the small one man craft he had flown into town on. Though it was one of the smallest vessels in the entire fleet, it was fast earning a reputation as one of the fastest. Its sleek metal seemed to shine brightly at any time of day and the single word painted across the side seemed a fitting moniker. It read Purity. Volx briefly felt a pang of ground sickness. He wanted to be back up in the air where he belonged.

With a great sigh Volx opted to at least try and enjoy his time in the city until he allowed to fly once more. Volx had called it expert flying, but the military officials had called it recklessly endangering the lives of friendly pilots. Enjoy the races they had told him. Take some time off and unwind. It was all nonsense to Volx. His friends needed him up there. Volx shook his head after realizing he was already failing his attempt to enjoy himself. After tossing a few coins to the dock workers, Volx made his way into the larger part of the town.

Remembering that his CO had recommended a place called Tinker's Tavern, Volx began searching it out. The races had apparently attracted quite a bit of people and, as Volx was on the verge of discovering, quite a few brigands. One wrong turn after another led Volx to a rather unsavory looking alley where a couple of men were huddled off to one side. Volx paid them no mind and strode confidently past them.

"Oi you! Stop right there!" Shouted the smaller brigand as he and his hulking friend moved from the wall and began ambling towards Volx. "You look like you wanna spare a coin or two, doesn't he Yug?"

The big one, quaintly named Yug, laughed out a low rumble and gave a few quick nods. "He sure does Matty."

Volx turned to eye the two men up and down. Men was hardly the right word though. They were thieves, cutpurses, beggars. Volx had to suppress a small laugh to maintain his cold exterior. "I say, can I help you two?"

The small one, Matty, gave a black toothed grin. "I think ya can mate. Start by tossing those shiny medals of yours this way. And if you don't, then I'll have Yug here smash your pretty little face in."

That one had been too much. Volx threw his head back and laughed aloud, much to the aggravation of his two assailants.

"Wot're you laughin' at you scum! Yug! Teach this miserable twat some manners," Matty shouted.

Yug nodded and cracked his knuckles as he lunged at Volx. He was only inches away when his look of happy stupidity turned to one of terrified stupidity.

In a flash Volx's saber and small Lancaster Pistol came into his gloved hands. A quick shot to the knee sent Yug to the ground and he began bawling and wailing. Volx turned to Matty whose expression had changed much like Yug's. "Now, if I can no longer be of service to you two fine gentlemen, I think you might be of service to me. If you would kindly point me in the direction of the Tinker's Tavern then I will be about my business."

Matty pointed a shaky finger towards the other end of the ally. "Just down there and to your right sir."

Volx smiled. "There's a chap. Oh...and you might want to get your Yug over there looked at by the physician. He seems in bad sorts."

Volx sheathed and holstered his weapons before following the man's directions. Just as Matty had informed him, the Tinker's Tavern lay right in front of him. It seemed as though a fair number of people had gathered in the place, but not so many as to make it uncomfortable. With a small smile, Volx removed his spiked helmet, cradling it under his arm, and took a seat at the bar.

 

"Yes, though not from the source i'd expected." He said, his voice transitioning from pleasant to grim, as he turned his attention to the bar, his thoughts pulled back to the sound of boots on cobblestone. "Though, I guess that's the way it works sometimes." he was speaking more to himself than to her.

He met her eyes, he could see the look of concern. "You must excuse me Miss Daughney, I don't drink often... at all really, but for some reason, tonight i decided to consume an amount that would shame the most professional of drunkards. It's embarrassing really, and most unfortunate that tonight would be the night i happen across you. "

 

Simon was taken aback. "Straight to the point, I see," he replied, with a bit of friendly laghter. "There's always someone waiting to laugh in your face. Those who laugh behind your back are the ones you should be watching out for." He took another sip of his tea.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I don't usually come here, but I must say it's been a good ride thus far. The trick to staying afloat in a place like this is to avoid liquor at all costs," he added, glancing toward Ms. Thornton at the bar, "especially when in the company of strangers.... but I don't think that applies to you. You haven't been drinking tonight, have you?


Danny said, "You don't know these guys. I've been taking their abuse for a long time now. I'm tired of people thinking that I am just somebody they can mess with. I've sat and taken it from too many people for too long now." After a moment of silence he said, "No, I don't drink liquor. I've been forcefed that via another prank. No interest in going back to it. I've stuck to water tonight."

Curious about his conversation partner, Danny said, "My name is Danny. What's yours? And if you don't come in here often, what made you choose to tonight?"

 

As Rose considered Alec's words she noted a military man stride into Tinker's and take a place further down the bar. She also caught Sam's eye and gave him a small encouraging smile, did the man always look as though he was on the verge of scurrying into hiding? She returned her attention to Alec and sipped her sherry again, Richard and Carmine's laughter loud from the nearby table.

Her throat felt naked without the little necklace but she shrugged it off. The necklace was gone, she was sure.

"I do not find you offensive," She said, "you certainly hold your drink better than many. And I'm curious what inspiration might lead you to drink. Care to tell me about it? Or," she smiled playfully, "do I need to wait to read your article in the paper as usual?"

 

Tommy would advance to the bar to order one last drink for the evening. Being a street kid masquerading as a sophisticated adult, he learned his limits long ago. This knowledge went hand in hand with his operations and set him far apart from the normal young riffraff.

His game, if one would bestow such a name on his craft, was sharp as a tack at all times. The only time it wasn't marked the beginning of a near death experience with him and Randall. That lone instance was invited by the mass consumption of alcohol. He has a scar on his side to remind him of the incident.

He hit the bar and ordered his last Wild Turkey. This one would be served atop stony moments and taken very slowly. He found himself in a similar place as the lady he had been peeking at all night. His back to the bar, drinking in the crowd. They were alright, but Tommy wouldn't dare get used to it, not while thievery awaited him at home.

He looked at the gentleman whose notebook he had retrieved earlier. Lucky son of a gun, he was talking to Ms. Daughey. How was he so fortunate? He smiled a bit, as he remembered one can never judge a book by its cover. He figured the man a quiet chap who enjoyed reading most nights, not the type to be acquainted with goddesses.

For a brief moment, he summoned the courage to walk over to the two. Once his feet started moving, there was nothing left to do but follow through.

"Excuse me... I hope I'm not interrupting, sir. Just that... with the very lovely company you keep, I wonder if I have retrieved the notebook of a celebrity, by chance."

 

"You don't know these guys. I've been taking their abuse for a long time now. I'm tired of people thinking that I am just somebody they can mess with. I've sat and taken it from too many people for too long now." After a moment of silence he said, "No, I don't drink liquor. I've been forcefed that via another prank. No interest in going back to it. I've stuck to water tonight."

"Hmmm," Simon rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment. "I've always believed in letting someone make their own mistakes, so I won't try to talk you out of that," he said, finishing his tea. It went surprisingly fast. "But please be mindful of what you do to others," he said. "That's all."

"My name is Danny. What's yours? And if you don't come in here often, what made you choose to tonight?"

"Simon," he said. "I came for business. I stayed for pleasure." He had a habit of talking about himself at length, but not tonight. Keep it short. Don't bore the kid, he thought.

He caught sight of Rose in the corner of his eye. She was now speaking with Mr. Valentine, the bookseller, who looked a little under the weather. The issue of the necklace returned to the forefront of his mind. It was still on the floor, a few feet away, and showed no sign of being rescued by anyone. At the rate the crowd was pouring in, it would likely be stepped on any minute now.

Simon stealthily leaned over, picked it up, and dusted it off. It was still intact, untramped, and in fine condition. "Would you like to meet a very charming lady, Danny?" he asked, showing him the necklace. "Could you be so kind as to deliver this to its owner? I'm sure she would be delighted to see it."