auspex_caelo | Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass

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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.

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Insect larvae. Yum. Jim's eaten some weird things in his time out in the Black but there's always some things that are easier to wrap his head (or stomach in this case) around than others. Of course, he's eaten giant tarantula meat before thanks to Harrowheart and that honestly tasted pretty similar to shellfish. So while it's not the most appetizing option it might honestly taste just fine. Who even knows? Besides, Jim's got a small allergy kit wrapped carefully up in plenty of native cloth sitting at the bottom of his pack if he needs it.

"Whatever you end up trying I'll take as well." Simpler than trying to remember and pronounce all of those names again. The captain pauses where he's knelt over his pack tucking away his goggles and mask when the door opens. Dunmer aren't a race he's had a chance to meet many of, though in features they're not so different from some of the other peoples he has had a chance to meet during his time knowing the Caeluses.

"Thank God." It's a good thing the Dunmer girl has left already because Jim doesn't catch his own relieved exclamation until she's gone. "Damn, I mean--whatever. I need to be more careful about that." A chance to clean up sounds divine in any language. "I'll be quick." Jim murmurs before he sets about stripping down so he can shake out his clothes and clean up.

Stratos chuckles behind him. "'Thank Mara' is a good substitute, if you can remember. As long as you're speaking Cyrodillic I think people won't take much notice."

He's not going to begrudge his brother-in-law-to-be a chance to wash down. He's the one who'll want to make a good first impression on Aunt Lartia. Stratos allows him some privacy though, and turns away, leaning out the window to beat some of the ash off their outer clothes. Clean is a bit much to ask around here, where the earth falls from the sky. But the Dunmer must manage, somehow. He does pull out a cake of soap to set near Jim. One needs to be prepared on the road. Once Jim's done, it'll be his turn to strip off and scrub down. Strange local menu or not, he's already remembering the kitchen smells downstairs.

"This is a port town," he mentions absently. "If Lartia's nearby, I think my spell was pointing us toward the docks."

"Right. I'll have to work on that."

He mutters the phrase under his breath a few times while seeing about washing up as swiftly as possible. Thank Mara, thank Mara. The water's far less cold than what Jim's used to using around Stratos' camp. A nice change of pace, really. His hurrying is more for Stratos' sense of decency than it is because he's freezing, for once.

"Ah, thanks." He hadn't thought to grab any soap for his pack. Stratos is well prepared. It won't be the kind of bath Felix always talks so fondly of (and yet Jim's never seen any real proof of them) but it's a damn sight cleaner than they walked in as.

"Your turn. I'm decent." Dragging a hand through his hair in an attempt to make sense of it as he moves to swap places with Stratos. His tunic's hanging open with the ties loose but at least he is dressed from head to toe. "Should we make our way down after eating then?"

Felix has been happily wallowing in Jim's bathing facilities all this time. If Jim reminds him that he's never seen an Imperial bath-house, he might find his fiance remedying that in a hurry.

"Yes. I know it's been a long day, but if we are close... I don't want to risk her slipping away again. Certain crews will sail at night, and if she boards a boat we'll have a far harder time reaching her." He's brisk about scrubbing down, dragging a comb through his hair once he's pulled his tunic back on.

"If you're willing to try it, I'll order the risotto for us both. And... something light with it, I think." They need their wits about them. But it would be a shame to take his explorer brother-in-law to Morrowind and not sample the local fare.

"I hadn't even thought about her taking a boat. Do we even have time to eat then?"

Jim's stopped fussing with his hair and clothes with that realization. A ripple of tension has overcome him once more, ready to head out at so much as a hint of a word from Stratos. Hard day's march, hunger or no, Jim's used to pushing himself harder than he probably should to see a job done. Even one as pleasant as this could end in fruitless chasing if Stratos' aunt sails far out of reach underneath their noses.

"I've got my allergy kit with me, so worst case scenario, I'm a little bit uncomfortable while we get the job done. I'm more worried about any drink to be honest, than I am the food." He's more than amenable to insectoid meat in his risotto seems like.

"If we've got the time to spare." Just to stress again, Jim is willing to put aside hunger in favor of seeing the job done. For all the areas he comes up short in adapting to Nirn in other areas, stamina is not one of them.

Stratos looks up from his fussing at that, spying the tension in the younger man's posture. It makes him reconsider his words before he reaches out to clasp the captain's shoulder. "We've been on the march all day. A rest and a quick meal will make us more fit for the search. And if I don't take proper care of you, Felix will be furious with me when we return."

Take proper care of...? What is Jim, a companion or a pet? Still he can't help but to pull a grin of his own. Felix when he's fussy and sulking is more adorable than Jim thinks the mage Wants to be seen as. He's never admitted it aloud but the smile on his face probably says as much to Stratos at least.

"We wouldn't want that. He tends to hold grudges better with you than he does me." Bug and rice for supper then and hopefully a glass of--well, probably ale. He knows better than to drink water in a strange place and wine's right out.

At least they're fit to be seen downstairs among the others after washing up properly. Which is all for the best ebcause Jim is going to be giving everything a curious and friendly eye. It may be the only time he gets to see this corner of Tamriel and he'd like to make the most of it.

You're his other younger brother now, Jim. Of course it's his responsibility to watch out for you, especially given how much trouble your fiance can cause if he's put out. Stratos's exasperated eyeroll and the rueful nod he gives in answer to Jim's remark testifies to it.

Several of the Dunmer downstairs are doing some people-watching themselves, and the tavern is starting to fill as people come in from the fields. Jim's going to find a few people looking back at him either idly or with obvious appraisal. Their clothes are clearly of a different fashion to anything in the Empire, and around them the conversation is a mix of Dunmeric with some Cyrodillic sprinkled in. Stratos wastes no time in calling for two bowls of the risotto and mazte for them both - the latter arrives first and proves to be a mild local brew, smooth to the taste if a little heavy.

A serving girl sets their bowls in front of them a few moments later. The risotto certainly doesn't look intimidating, the rice a pale orange-red in a creamy sauce with unfamiliar spices. The kwama meat is springled through it in small chunks, a simple grey-brown meat with the texture of a crayfish but a meatier taste. Stratos has to pause and school his expression when he tastes it- he's not repulsed, exactly, he just doesn't know how he feels about it.

"I've... certainly eaten worse," he murmurs tactfully, while he tries to get over the novelty.

The human doesn't seem to be dissuaded by being watched in return. His smile stays friendly and though he doesn't seem to speak a word of Dunmeri (nothing that would be allowed in polite conversation at least) he's willing to speak up here and there in Cyrodillic whenever necessary. And if some of the locals laugh when Jim's eyebrows raise in shock for how heavy the mazte is, well. He's not a heavy drinker. Especially after a long day's march, he has to really go easy on the drink.

The food then is going to take the bulk of his attention. And while Stratos might hesitate Jim's hungry enough to dig right in.

"Mmh. It's really not bad. Good choice." With night coming the temperature is dropping to a dry cool that is only felt inside the tavern in wisps and bursts every time the door is opened. Even with the new meal to think over, Jim's gaze is lingering on the door before long.

"From the little bit's I've heard about her over the years...how much should I be steadying myself for meeting your aunt? She sounds like quite the trip from what I've heard."

"She's certainly... a strong personality." Stratos is getting used to the texture of the meal, spurred on by hunger and the desire to finish swiftly. "It has been some years since I last met her, and perhaps she's become exaggerated in my memory. But... you can't be a quaestor in the Legion without a certain force of will. And volume. I think you'll find Lartia rather different to the rest of us. Not in a bad way," he adds hastily. "Maybe I should say that she has Marcella's backbone, Felix's sense of fun and Ushug's sort of attitude."

"That's a hell of a combination right there."

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."

Stratos nods and washes down the last of his rice with a swig of mazte. As the room fills up for the evening, the buzz of sociable conversation is rising, and he doesn't want them to be drawn into conversation with curious locals. He rises and heads for the door, tugging his cloak around his shoulders as they step out into the night air.

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."

Do they not--can they not get proper jobs among the Dunmeri people? Jim's gaze is troubled but his mouth is silent the further they walk. Even now, with galactic integration commonplace, Jim knows there is still a poisonous tendency to favor one's own kind regardless of merit. It shows in the disproportionate amount of humans holding commanding roles within Starfleet. Less so now that they're forced to abandon their ways due to gross under-staffing. while Jim and his crew take on the first successful deep space mission back home Starfleet is still trying to recover from the crippling blows the last few years have had.

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.

Stratos gives him a knowing glance. Jim may be from a very different world to his own- a gentler world, in most respects - but Stratos knows the captain is more ready than most to snap into action if things go awry. They'll look out for each other. If all that awaits them in here is some dubiously-legal rabble, they're more than ready.

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...

Edited 2019-10-26 15:17 (UTC)

It's a posture Jim can match, though he's a smaller man than Stratos is. It's easy enough to be On, to be Captain Kirk even in a place where that name and title are meaningless to anyone here other than Stratos. His jaw is set, expression hardened as he follows Stratos through the crowds. It takes a concentrated effort not to cough from the smoke but Jim's a firm believer in not showing weakness publicly (or at all if he can help it). If he lends anything at all to Stratos' sense of authority that will be more than enough for the time being.

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.

Tucked away in a corner is a small round table, lit by the flickering light of a lantern hung above. Behind it sits a human woman in travel leathers, her boots propped up on a chair. At Jim's appearance, he raises her eyebrows over the drink she's draining, only to spit it back into her mug when she sees Stratos behind him.

"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."

Edited 2019-10-26 17:29 (UTC)

Jim can't help but to snort just a little bit when she spits out her drink. Aha. Well now this is finally the woman of the hour. There's just enough of Marcella in her face for Jim's eyes to crinkle when he breaks into a full faced smile. Relief floods him that they aren't too late. That the ever elusive Lartia Avitus hasn't slipped away into the night.

"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."

"What, are you too young?" She's giving Jim a look, all right, even if it's half amused. "You're outside Imperial civilization now, boys, loosen your belts a little." She leans forward as they squeeze into their seats, calling something in Dunmeri to the tavern owner. Not hard to guess what she's asking for.

"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.

The smile that flits across the blonde's face is charming to be sure even toward a woman old enough to be his mother. He props his chin in one hand, elbow rested against the table and settles in to watch and to listen. Sure enough, there's drinks quickly served to their small table in short order.

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."

"We're a far-flung bunch, it's true. Hah! Mostly me though, eh?" Despite her smile, there's a wary concern in her eyes. "But what's become of Felix? He didn't go and get himself in trouble, did he?"

"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.

Get himself into trouble, eh? Lartia doesn't know the half of it when it comes to Felix's misadventures. And never will, at least not from Jim. From Marcella at least in part perhaps. He tips his drink to his lips and drinks while taking in the exchange. They suspect him, yes. At least now after years in Felix's company Jim understands why even if it still sits unwell with him.

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."

Edited 2019-10-28 23:17 (UTC)

Lartia's sitting back and reassessing him, now. Though her surprise can't last - the man's got looks to charm an ogre and that smile is pure trouble. Felix must have been drawn to him like an imp to the honey jar.

"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."

"Someone more like Stratos." Marcella certainly seems to be cut from the same cloth as the eldest Caelus son. Just as stern on the outside, but to Jim at least equally as kind hearted underneath those defenses. There's no way not to consider Marcella a lifelong friend after everything she's done for Jim. After their quest into Cyrodiil...best leave that thought before it sours his drink.

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.

Lartia chuckles. "Really? Well, you're a bit wide of the mark there. You're a good man, nephew, but by Azura you do take after your father's family."

"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."

The invocation sticks out like a sore thumb. In this place where the Divines rule Jim has heard casual idioms invoking Mara, or Stendarr, or more quietly (at least in Skyrim) Talos. But no one invokes the Daedra save for Felix that he's heard. Jim's watching Lartia carefully, reconsidering her anew. Azura is no Divine. He's read as much.

"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?"

Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass_captain)

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