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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"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."

"A mapmaker?" That's a good answer, indeed. Lartia can already start imagining where he fits into the picture with either Stratos or his little brother. Felix has never been a seafarer that she knows of, but he wouldn't be averse to sleeping with one if they crossed paths. Jim's dress is about right for it, too. Still, there's something about him- perhaps his unweathered skin and the way he holds himself. She's only glimpsed his hands in the low light but they don't look callused or ink-stained.

He seems like he needs a minute, anyway (and Lartia's secretly not sorry to pace the drinks a little) so she doesn't pour again. Figures he won't object to her pressing the question.

"What, for the Legion?" Stratos has the aura of an officer slumming it; Jim only has the look. "Whereabouts do you sail?"

Not that kind of sea. Jim smiles a little bit the way he often does when thinking about his work. His mission, ship, crew. The Chair. To be able to share that with Felix? Now that's some fortune he never would have counted on years ago.

There's so many little things that mark Jim as Other though. Things that will keep stacking up over time. There's his looks, obviously. But there's also the way he talks. How he always seems like he's seeing something for the first time (despite adapting to the unknown well). His hair is impeccable despite a job that would leave it salt ragged. Even the way he carries himself seems a little bit careless for the world he's in. For anyone truly looking the longer one watches Jim Kirk the more he looks like a square peg trying very convincingly to slip into a round hole.

"Takes..." Fuck what is the word he even wants, it is going to be harder to speak the language the further in to his cups Jim gets. "Buy in, for a big job especially when you're expected to fail, so I've been lending my skills to the lesser traveled areas of Skyrim at the time being. That's how I met Felix." Jim carefully nudges his empty cup back toward the middle of the table. "No place exciting yet. Mapping currents on the Eastern coasts is good work but it's hardly what I'd like to be studying."

Her eyes light up a little when he touches on how he met Felix, but she doesn't ask further. Not yet. Besides, mention of the Eastern coast is pretty interesting to Lartia. She picks up the jug to refill their cups, though she's taking her time about it. Definitely pushing it to see how much she can get out of him in one round.

"What's that, then?"

He knows well enough from maps that everything in Northern Skyrim is ice flows that would make sailing dangerous even under the best conditions. But any other direction holds the dilemma of having countries Jim's not familiar with in between him and the Sea. At that point it's best to just pick one and stick with the lie. Windhelm holds the southernmost point in Skyrim one could get to the ocean and that's problematic because of the Civil War going on within the country. Doing mapwork in Skyrim itself is easier to sell.

He knows the holds by heart now having memorized the maps. He can talk about that. If he has to. He shrugs. He's already said as much but the game does resurface in his head.

"Guess you'll find out later, maybe." Or in half a minute. Jim's really not sure he can slam down a cup anywhere close to as quick as Lartia did the last round. It was even quicker than his first had been.

Jim might as well cut himself some slack and pace himself: the moment she counts to three Lartia's knocking back that sujamma hard. Slower this time, though. Her cup hits the table barely ahead of Jim's.

"Got it!" She calls it out immediately, pointing a slightly unsteady finger at Jim as if he were contesting it. "Got you, sailor boy. S'go on. Spill it." She pauses, reminding herself what the actual question was. She's a little out of breath, but she's definitely starting to feel the drink too. Doesn't help that she started before her nephew arrived. "What kind of mage are you? What's it you study, b'sides Imperials with more books than sense?"

Jim's definitely uttering some Choice swears he's learned form Felix when his cup hits the table after hers again. He doesn't have to touch his face to know it's warm. He's going to start flagging fast. But he's still keeping up, even if he's not quite winning. There's A Chance, is what his brain is telling him.

And having a chance means that Jim's getting far more competitive than he probably should be. That or the booze is talking. Probably both.

"Barely." He grouses, but waits for the question to come. And for once, it's an easy question. One he can answer honestly, even. "I'm not. A mage, I mean. Can't do magic."

"Can't? A nice Breton lad like you?" That's odd. Not unheard of, naturally- just because your people have a talent for something doesn't mean you personally are any good at it. There are clumsy Khajiit and illiterate Imperials in the world. Still, she doesn't pass up the chance to tease, "No wonder you ran away to sea. So what do you study. Want to study."

It can't be her first suspicion, if he's no mage and Stratos approves of him.

"Everyone always seems shocked. Given how magically inclined the whole family seems to be I guess that makes sense. Still feel like I should prob'ly be offended when you ask."

Jim doesn't realize how petulant the scowl he's giving is. It's not actually any surprise that Felix gets along well with him when he makes faces like that. And indeed his attention wanders a moment to looking around them at the tavern they're seated in before she presses him further.

"Alchemy, a bit. Felix's teaching me. Star maps, obviously." Do they have engineering here? They must, surely. He doesn't know the word for it in Cyrodillic though. "I like to figure out how things work."

That's adorable, actually. He and Felix really are two of a pair. Lartia snickers at him, leaning forward on her elbows. "Don't take it so hard. A girl's got to wonder, c'nsidering the company you keep."

His real answer takes a moment to digest, and she looks curious again. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere! So you've a fancy for... being some kind of artificer? Playing with devices? Marcella must love that."

"Nothing wrong with th'company I keep." He's pointing back at Lartia now. He will hear nothing whatsoever ill said about Felix nor Stratos. Not a word of it. Even if he wasn't marrying into the family he's become quite close with both brothers over his years he's spent with access to the Nexus and the people therein.

"Something like that. But there's a reason I work in map making. Above all else, I just want to see things no one has before." His other interests all pale in comparison to the freedom of the Black. The knowledge that his work is breaking new ground with every system they observe. "It's that simple."

Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass_captain)

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