Stratos Caelus (
auspex_caelo) wrote2019-06-23 08:39 pm
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Incognito, Incorrigible (for
smartass_captain)
Organizing a proper wedding is no small affair even on Earth. In Tamriel, without the benefit of instant communications, instant transport and year-round amenities, it requires a good deal more planning. Particularly when it comes to guests who live any distance away. Roads and seaways alike are dangerous. Bandits prowl the land routes. Inclement weather closes mountain passes and keeps ships in their berths. Everything, above all, takes time.
With spring in full flight, snows melting and roads well and truly open, the excuses for delays in invitation replies and guest arrivals are both running out. Mostly this hasn’t been an issue. The arcane side of their guest list have their own ways of sending word, and the military side have first call on the Imperial courier network. Everyone who matters is accounted for. Except, that is, for one…
In the library of the Bruma house, Stratos leans on a desk covered in papers and rubs his eyes. Another day, another absence of word. Marcella did warn him that her mother would be nigh-impossible to contact. She was almost too resigned to the fact to be grumpy about it. But Stratos had thought his connections would get him where his cousin had been unable to reach. The trouble, he sees now, is that he really can’t be sure where that is.
One guest. Perhaps it’s not a disaster if she can’t be there. But this is his mother’s sister, and they have so few near relatives left, since the War….
And he’s getting worried.
Stratos rises then, and tidies away his writing implements. He heads downstairs to his room and changes into better gear for travelling- not too warm, he doubts he’s going to end up in Skyrim – and then he goes to knock on Felix’s – well, his and Jim’s – door. Nereus is out visiting with Terentius, so there’s nothing else to distract the youngest two, nothing else that ought to be occupying them. And if they’re still resting on the Enterprise - well, he’ll just have to go there and fetch one of them.
With spring in full flight, snows melting and roads well and truly open, the excuses for delays in invitation replies and guest arrivals are both running out. Mostly this hasn’t been an issue. The arcane side of their guest list have their own ways of sending word, and the military side have first call on the Imperial courier network. Everyone who matters is accounted for. Except, that is, for one…
In the library of the Bruma house, Stratos leans on a desk covered in papers and rubs his eyes. Another day, another absence of word. Marcella did warn him that her mother would be nigh-impossible to contact. She was almost too resigned to the fact to be grumpy about it. But Stratos had thought his connections would get him where his cousin had been unable to reach. The trouble, he sees now, is that he really can’t be sure where that is.
One guest. Perhaps it’s not a disaster if she can’t be there. But this is his mother’s sister, and they have so few near relatives left, since the War….
And he’s getting worried.
Stratos rises then, and tidies away his writing implements. He heads downstairs to his room and changes into better gear for travelling- not too warm, he doubts he’s going to end up in Skyrim – and then he goes to knock on Felix’s – well, his and Jim’s – door. Nereus is out visiting with Terentius, so there’s nothing else to distract the youngest two, nothing else that ought to be occupying them. And if they’re still resting on the Enterprise - well, he’ll just have to go there and fetch one of them.
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Jim chuckles softly to himself around bites of the risotto. What's more the captain honestly likes all three of the people Stratos is comparing Lartia to. Add in the fact that neither Felix or Stratos have seen her in a long time just makes this trip all the more important to Jim's mind. They've scoured far and wide to find her, and with a little luck it'll be a good reunion.
He wouldn't be nearly so optimistic if they were talking about those kinds of odds in meeting with Jim's own family, but Felix's have been nothing but a delight to get to know over the years. Then again, soon they Will be his family. That's still so strange to think about. He's really going to have to get used to it.
While there's no chance of Jim finishing such a heavy drink he will clean his bowl of the risotto quite happily. A long day's worth of climbing, trekking, and a bit of running for his life have worked up quite the appetite.
"I"m ready to go when you are."
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The ash has stopped falling with a change in the wind, replaced by a tinge of fetid air from the saltwater marshes to the east. The two humans are walking into it as they head downhill through the streets. Down this way the houses seem to be getting a bit smaller and shabbier, but there are more signs of life here, too. People talking in doorways, playing dice beneath the street lamps. Many of them are Argonian, in this part of town. Stratos pauses once or twice - though Jim never sees him do anything before they're moving again.
In any case, it quickly seems apparent that they're heading toward the ship masts that rise over the low roofs. Not quite to the ships themselves, however. As they make their way down Stratos abruptly turns them left, away from the docks. He cuts past a pair of swaggering sailors and leads them to a building much larger than the rest - and twice as rickety. From the open door light and noise pour forth onto the street, and above the entrance creaks a sign too faded to be made out in the gloom.
"This is it," Stratos says quietly, beckoning Jim close. An Argonian glances at the humans as he goes inside. "I don't know what we'll find. Be on your guard."
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Nirn is a universe removed from his own. One which operates on its own set of rules, classes, and taboos. Here Jim has no place to argue. His thoughts nonetheless are sober ones while they walk. Stratos leads them to the worst kept building in the entire town and Jim finds himself wondering, briefly, if they haven't made some kind of mistake.
"I've got your back." Jim murmurs quietly. His knife is close to hand if he needs it but his fists have usually been enough in places like this in the past. Jim knows a dive when he sees one.
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That said, when the Imperial steps toward the door, something about him has subtly changed. He looks less like an unassuming citizen, more like a man to obey. Maybe it's the shift in posture and body language, but he seems a little taller, his presence more intimidating, the set of his face more intense. When he leads them into the crowded inn, the mostly Argonian patrons pull out of his way without him needing to push through much. They still have to be careful not to trip over any tails, and the cramped quarters are difficult to navigate as they look around for their target.
Jim really wasn't wrong in his assessment: it's much smokier in here than the other inn, and the air smells of marshwater and stale drink. Some of the patrons cast them sidelong glances, though it's too crowded for most to notice just who's slipping by. But the captain might catch something on the edge of his hearing: a woman's voice raised briefly above the hubbub. What she says he can't make out, but it doesn't sound like the rasp of an Argonian voice. It sounds like it's coming from off to the side of the room...
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There's mostly foreign words filling his ears in rasping voices, interspersed with Dunmeri here and there. Jim can't speak it any better but he can pick it up more readily. So his brain latches on when it hears something familiar. Something human amid this sea of strangeness.
He taps Stratos on the arm closest to where it's coming from and starts slowly making his way over. Taking the lead while they edge around a full table and one of the few supporting beams in this ramshackle establishment. Closer now, though he still can't catch sight of the woman speaking. He has to wait when one of the staff passes by with a loaded tray. Despite their demeanor he is polite when he murmurs 'excuse me' albeit in Cyrodillic. Once they've passed he can slip into the gap they left.
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"Ma'am," Stratos says as she splutters. Jim can feel the man relax beside him. After all their traipsing across Tamriel... "I'm glad we've finally found you."
"Great Stendarr's balls, nephew, how did you get here?" She's coughing, but through it she snorts with laughter as she slings her feet to the floor. Despite the poor light, the Avitus family resemblance is plain to see, from the dark hair curling around her ears to her petite features. "Come on, come on, sit down before the chairs are gone."
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"Well, that's a hell of an introduction. I thought I wasn't supposed to use language like that." Jim teases more to Stratos than to the woman they're addressing. His hands settle on his hips briefly before she gestures to the seats around them. It's a rather good point being raised, too. Jim leaves the closest seat for Stratos to take and settles into the one Lartia had her feet up on instead.
Jim raises one hand as if to wave off any looks she gives him.
"Don't mind me, you two catch up first. I'm just here to help Stratos."
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"Now." She throws herself back into her chair and eyes the two of them. "It's good to see you, Stratos, but what are you doing all the way out here? You've never been outside the Empire in your life." Her face darkens, and for a moment she's very sober as she studies the younger Imperial's face. "What's happened?"
"Nothing! Nothing bad, at any rate." He hurries to reassure her before that train of thought spoils the mood. "But we needed to find you. You need to come home for a little while."
"Come home?" Despite her relief, Lartia's eyebrows shoot up. She her mug across the table and sips from it while she talks. "I'm in the middle of something important here, nephew. Unless the stars are falling or the doomstones have woken and started marching around Cyrodiil, I don't see what's so important-"
"Felix is getting married."
"...Felix?" It's a damn good thing she hadn't actually taken a drink from her mug this time.
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Jim takes his and tries to hold back from shaking his head at how strong the drink smells before he starts sipping at it as Stratos reassures his aunt that nothing outside of what rumors alone could tell her about Skyrim has happened. That she has nothing more to worry about. But curiosity digs and he very nearly opens his mouth to ask what would be so important before Stratos gets to the point. Jim finds himself unsure if he's supposed to get offended or not by how shocked everyone is by that reaction.
Then again, would anyone have believed He was getting married until it happened, either?
"He is. Soon, even. Would have been sooner, but trying to track everyone down has proven...challenging. To say the least."
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"No, aunt- this is entirely Mara's doing, I promise." Stratos is emphatic, earnest, and it makes his aunt's expression relax as she sees it. No schemes, no accidents, no interference.
"That's all right, then. I had to ask." She lifts her mug. "Praise Mara for the happy news! I always thought you'd be the one marrying, not your brother. Who's the troublemaker he's fallen for?"
Stratos clears his throat, and gestures to the man with the charming smile at his side. "Aunt, may I introduce James Kirk, of High Rock." They can explain better once they're somewhere private: for now, where exactly Jim comes from isn't the important part.
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But they love Felix deeply. They care so much about him and his well being. Jim sits straighter in his chair though his smile has turned into a full on smirk as he sets aside his mug. Jim squares his shoulders. Tips his head to the side just enough to show off the wink he throws Lartia's way.
"A troublemaker who can keep up with him, that's who." His slightly strange accent and finer features aside (to say nothing of his gleaming smile), Jim's very human. He's also quite pleased to be introduced finally.
"Just Jim is fine. It's a pleasure to meet more of Felix's family. When I was told we were tracking down Marcella's mother, I wasn't expecting this."
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"What were you expecting?" she asks, eyebrows lifting again. "You're a lot more respectable-looking than I'd have expected, myself. Where did he find you?" Stratos isn't looking disapproving at all, and that's remarkable.
"Jim is a ship's captain," Stratos interjects, leaning closer and speaking as quietly as he can given the noise around them. "An explorer.""
"Aha! Now you're talking. Don't tell me you boys sailed all the way to Morrowind to find me."
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Time has stopped his hands from shaking at the mere thought, at least. But he is nursing that mug a bit more than he should be. He doesn't know Lartia well enough to think this might be a problem.
His gaze snaps to Stratos rather than answer Lartia's questions for what they are. Surely he must be planning on telling her something. If not they'd have to travel back on foot with her all the way to Bruma or leave her to do it alone. But he's unsure how much Stratos is planning to tell, nor how honest his story will be.
"I like to get around." Jim murmurs in reply instead of a real concrete answer before finishing his mug and setting it aside.
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"There's no shame in that," Stratos says with a shrug. Theirs is a proud history. Even if it does bring a twinge, that he has so little connection to his mother. He has other things on his mind. As Lartia makes a sound of agreement, he drops his voice, and the tavern around them seems to get a little more hushed. "We have another way home, aunt. A much faster one than ship or horse. We can even return you here after the wedding. You will come with us, won't you?"
"You have me intrigued." Is it teleportation? It sounds like teleportation. That mode of travel used to be major business around here. Still, she takes a moment to think it over with a frown. She does have work here. Promises to keep. But the affairs of elves never move as swiftly as humans. And if the wizards in her family can get her there and back quickly...
"Now or never, I say. We've got to enjoy these things while we can. Count me in - on two conditions." She takes a pull from her mug. "One, I'm not leaving until morning. Two, you've got to run an errand for me, Stratos. There's someone I'm supposed to meet, and you'll have to wait for him."
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"Marcella seems enough like him." Jim comments quietly, fingers tracing the rim of his mug while he watches both of them. Though he's leaning forward as well to nod in agreement with the hushed promise Stratos is making. "We'd be happy to, even. Can't leave a lady stranded, especially when she's got work to do."
Her agreement makes Jim break into a huge smile, tempered only slightly by the conditions. Not leaving until morning makes sense enough. She'll need some time presumably to settle her affairs to wait for a bit of time. But the other...
"Is there something I can help with?"
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"Aunt, you know if you want to talk you can wait until we're back in Cyrodiil..."
"Who said anything about talking? I can hardly hear myself sneeze in here. Finish your drink and I'll tell you where to go, nephew. As for you, Captain Jim, what'll you have?"
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Until she asks him to pick another one. Suddenly Jim's very glad he'd laid off the drinking with his food earlier. He should admit he's a bit of a lightweight by this world's standards, but pride steps in and makes him raise his mug.
"No idea what this is but it was pretty good. I'll have another." It'll be fine, really. Jim can handle his liquor...to a point.
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Stratos nods slowly, reminding himself that Jim is an experienced captain who's surely frequented stranger places than this. He'll be fine without the tribune at his side for half an evening.
Still, he drains his cup faster than Jim has ever seen him do, hoping to be done and return all the sooner. "Where do I need to go?"
Lartia leans closer to whisper the details - the place, the message. Jim won't catch much of it save her mention that the contact's a Bosmer, but Stratos nods, repeats back some of it, making sure he has everything correct before he rises. He touches Jim on the shoulder, whether meant as reassurance or urging to be careful, and then he disappears into the crowd.
"All right then, Captain Jim." Lartia takes the heavy jug from a server and lets it down onto the table with a thunk. "How good are you at games?"
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Jim resists the urge to give a low, impressed whistle. But only just barely.
"I'll hold down the fort while you're gone." Jim promises his brother-in-law to be. Looks between the hand on his shoulder at the battle mage giving it with a genuine smile. Confident. Reassuring. Even though his stomach internally clenches slightly at the heft of the jug being clattered down onto their table.
"I don't know many, but I'm a fast learner." He perches his chin on a propped up hand before moving his cup closer to where it's been placed. "What sort did you have in mind?"
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Mistakes are made
And maybe Jim can get the better of her the first drink or even the second. But after that? He knows himself well enough to know this is going to end badly for him. But he's already agreed. And pride is no easy thing to cast aside. Especially for him.
"Sure." Jim hears his mouth answer even as he's telling himself it's a terrible idea. A mistake in as many words. "We've got all night, don't we?"
Or until one of them passes out.
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"One, two, three!" And Jim better move fast to drain his cup and slam it down. He's got the edge in youth and determinaton- but if he underestimates this old legionnaire for a second she'll get the better of him. Better not hold back.
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His empty cup clatters against the table hollowly when he slams it down. Got one. It won't be a shutout now, at least. It takes an awful lot of self control not to cough. Jim raises his gaze back up to the Legionnaire.
"Not...just a gentleman." It's not exactly the quip he wants but Jim doesn't have the vocabulary for what he does want to say. It'll have to do. It's only now that he realizes a question is supposed to follow. Felix isn't here. Jim doesn't know what the mage would want to know about his aunt, so long far from home. So he'll ask one of his own.
"What're you getting at, here? Is this really just a game?"
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She takes a moment to draw breath before she chuckles at his question. "Not just a game. I told you, I want to know what kind of man you are. The truth of it, mind. Both the Caelus boys collect secrets like a priest collects alms. I'll wager you're not so different. But it's a lot harder to tell a straight lie when you're soused."
Of course, he could decide to cut and run, hearing her intentions- but that would be as good as declaring he has something to hide. Lartia looks him dead in the eye and pushes the jug his way.
"Your turn to pour."
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I'll drink to that~
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