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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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?"

Lartia flashes him a grin, perhaps at the flicker of shock on his face. Maybe Jim fits in with Stratos more than he knows. "Oh, not you. Stratos can handle himself, that I know, and I want to find out what kind of man his baby brother is marrying."

"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?"

She makes it sound like a command. Jim wonders briefly if Stratos will refuse since he's going to be going about doing important business-y things all of a sudden but either way he's already finished his drink so there's nothing to worry about there.

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.

"Another sujamma, good. I'll call for a jug." She lifts her hand, then laughs at Stratos's concerned expression. "Don't worry, nephew, I'll look out for him. He's here for the night, he might as well enjoy it."

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?"

He's not some kid who needs looking after. This will hardly be the first time he's gotten--no seriously--way too drunk while hanging around Felix and his family, either. Not that he intends to let it go that far. But the possibility isn't exactly off the table. Especially not when he watches straight laced Stratos slam down his drink as though it were a shot of whiskey.

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?"

"Oh, this is an easy one. I pour us both a drink. From the count of three, the first one to finish wins; the loser has to answer a question truthfully." Scared yet, captain? She did say she wanted to know more about you. She's pouring out the cups as she speaks.

No one makes a game like that unless they're confident they can win.

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.

The grin she flashes him is all trouble and far too familiar. Lartia sets the jug aside and nudges his cup closer to him. They don't water the drink down too badly here (the water isn't good enough for it) which is one more reason she likes this down-and-dirty little tavern. Hands on cups, then.

"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.

The problem with this game is that it's a relay race more than a sprint. He's played games similar to this in dives all over the Midwest but that was years ago, now. Not long enough that he's forgotten how to ignore the burn in his throat. The roll in his gut when he swallows down the drink as though he needs it to live.

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?"

He earns an impressed grunt from Lartia as her mug drops behind his. "Maybe you're a sailor after all."

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."

"Lot harder to remember a straight answer tomorrow when you're under the table, too."

And this is dangerous. Because Jim Kirk has quite a lot to hide and Lartia's bound to find out he's not the kind of man who knows how to quit when he's ahead. He's specifically been trained on how not to give information away though this isn't going to be anything like torture. Jim knows his cover story well and good by now. It's less about even the lies as it is where they are and who might hear. Jim's sure that Felix's family are people that can be trusted.

The jug is still well heavy yet though not so much that he has to get out of his seat to pour their next drinks.

"I thought the whole family did. Collect secrets, that is. Doesn't everyone?" Jim nods toward the jug once he's set Lartia's cup down in front of her again. "We're both going to be glad that that's getting lighter the further in we get."

"Bold to assume you'll be the last down." She takes the cup and shifts in her seat, leaning an arm on the table. "Some people hide who they're bedding, or which floorboard their gold's under. Some people have secrets. Let's go, then."

This time she's not underestimating him. The woman drains her cup like she's been in the desert for a month and slams it back down before Jim's.

"-Hah!" A moment to catch her breath. "My turn then. Just what kind of ship do you run, captain? Merchantman, warship? One of those river barges?" Or, she's wondering, maybe something more illicit.

"I'm assuming we're both going to be well pickled."

Mostly Jim, at that. He takes a breath and steadies himself but he's got next to no chance to even keep up this time. He's still convincing himself to swallow down the drink when her cup clamors against the table. Well, fuck. Good thing he'd gotten one round in at least. The drink hasn't hit him yet--they're drinking too quick for it to--but it won't be long.

"Stendarr's sake...." Jim needs half a minute to catch his own breath. "Oh, that's easy. I'm an explorer. Mapmaker." Setting his cup aside. "The less traveled the better."

Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass_captain)

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Mistakes are made

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Happy 100 comments~

I'll drink to that~

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