The Flightless Bird. [Anton, Florian]

[Vanessa Quill]

If Vanessa was being suspicious, she either did not notice or didn't care. Airships were her area of expertise, and it had been so long since she'd been so close to one. Watching the Queen Bitch burn had been one of the most painful days of her life, so she savored any opportunity she had to lavish love onto a worthy vessel. She was certainly laying her affection towards the ship on thick, especially given how icy she had initially been towards its commanding officer and... cabin boy? That was the only term that seemed to fit Florian, what with his silent obedience and flat expression. The implication was obvious to Vanessa, who had been on enough ships to know when someone of seniority was plowing their subordinate. There would have been no other reason for Florian to be here, especially considering that he was an abhuman. There were a dozen more charitable answers, but none suited a proper Zaichaeri vessel. The realization drew no real judgement from Vanessa, and she stowed the observation away for later though and instead silently celebrated once Anton was over the gangplank. She exhaled a breath she she hadn't known she was holding, and her lungs burned slightly from the effort.

She crossed over only a moment after Anton, and stood at his right side. While he exchanged pleasantries with Eitan and his cabin boy, Vanessa again found herself drawn to the sights before her. Her eyes wandered over the deck guns, and she was stunned by the size of them. If she'd had even half of this ship's armaments on her own vessel, she could have sieged an entire damned city. It made her question why it needed to be repaired and refitted to begin with, though she at least knew that was a question she wouldn't have gotten an answer for. She certainly didn't make herself look any less suspicious as her expression grew thoughtful and her eyes continued wandering, tracing the ship's rigging and jack-lines, though her curiosity was for once innocent. Finally, she came back around to look at Anton as he handed over the gifts.

"Courting them already, Anton?" Vanessa joked, though it was clear she wanted to say more, something along the lines of 'Don't bother, they're already doing that among themselves', She was doing her best to present a professional image for Anton's sake, and that meant biting her tongue. It was difficult, but she managed it for now.

[Eitan Angevin]

"You're welcome to call me Eitan, but if Ms. Quill tries it, I'll have to have her arrested," he said, the deadpan lasting for a moment before he flashed a grin. Angevin nodded along as Anton spoke of his academic plans. So he did know Stefan; that was good to know, though he hadn't seen them interact at all at the début. Perhaps he needed to pay better attention when it social gatherings. Perhaps he was getting lazy about it, which wouldn't do him any good with Vigilant Richter.

"The College of Minders can always use bright young minds. I've found my work with the Order quite fulfilling." He nodded toward Albrecht. "They vetted Albrecht here and now, between him and me, the Gambit could likely fire upon Kalzasi itself and her shields wouldn't fail." He was exaggerating, of course, but whereas most airships in the fleet with wards had to have them repaired in port, the Noble Gambit could conceivably fly forever and the two of them would keep hers in top shape. He had invited Albrecht to this tour because he had already met Anton on two occasions and he thought it would put Anton at ease and keep Albrecht from spiraling, but he didn't know how either of those goals was going just now.

He laughed with surprise and delight at the well-wishing and the bottle of wine.

"How did you even know my birthday approaches? Perhaps you ought to consider the Watchers rather than the Minders. Thank you, Anton." He accepted the bottle and perused the label. A part of him didn't know whether he ought to be pleased or creeped out, but he told himself Anton had little experience with people outside of his family so it made sense he would go to some effort. And Eitan might have been baseborn with diluted blood, but at least he didn't go creeping around parties like he was looking for a virgin to tie to the railroad tracks. It seemed the Michaelis family already had connections with that sort.

"I've my own house now. My sister... Stefan's new wife... is going to help make it liveable while Stefan and I are on holiday. When I return, there will have to be a housewarming party. Nothing so grand as your début, of course. Perhaps you would do me the honor of attending something smaller, more informal, and sharing the bottle with me."

[Florian]

Florian had paid little attention to conversation until he was addressed directly by Anton. He was not quite lost in his own thoughts, either, and if asked, he wouldn't have been able to recall what exactly had been on his mind. It was maddening, to be so distracted by nothing. And then a gift was outstretched, and he took the tin.

"Thank you," he said, but he regretted the choice of words almost immediately. Upon the tin was a butterfly, and he wasn't displeased that Anton had gotten his reference in their meeting. It was when he opened it, at Anton's request, that everything soured. The tin dropped from his hands and clattered upon the deck, ice and strawberries alike going with it. Paranoid, angry thoughts circled. There was no way he could have known. Did he? Did he know? Was it out of spite, because he hadn't taken the strawberries when he had been asked to, or did it mean more? Unbidden memories sprang to mind, things he had taken great effort to conceal and numb himself to. He desperately wished that he would stop being reminded of her until he was ready to remember.

He leveled his gaze in Anton's direction, for his own benefit more than anyone's. Tears were withheld, but at great effort, and his voice was steady. Eitan would notice the flash in his eyes and the anger that hid within them. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so forward, but then, perhaps Anton shouldn't have given him a gift. It was not his birthday, and he was not important. Perhaps, too, he was being harsh, but he had spent the last few days cultivating a numbness to protect himself, and now this man had dared to cut at it.

"Bastard." He said, less venom in his voice than pain. With tin, strawberries, and melting ice scattered on the deck, Florian turned and walked towards the other side of the airship, an attempt to distance himself from his feelings. He knew it wouldn't work. He also knew Eitan would not be happy with him, but he was not of the mind to salvage the situation.

[Vanessa Quill]

"Salt and Storms!" Vanessa cursed when she heard the clattering of the tin, snapping her head back from looking at the ship's hull to take in the scene before her. She looked first at the tin upturned on the ground, a dent in one corner of the otherwise sturdy lid, and then to the contents scattered over the deck. Her hand slipped down to her sword on instinct, rough fingers curling around the shark-skin grip. The display only lasted a moment until she regained reason. No, Florian was not a threat. He was hurting, but why? She had known Anton and Florian had met, but she had assumed it had been a good meeting, especially if it meant a gift for the abhuman. Vanessa had of course never met the man, and that left only one unknown. It was so easy to put the blame on Eitan. That she might be wrong in placing the blame at his feet did not once enter her mind. Vanessa trusted her instincts too much, and a life of crime meant she saw only the worst of what people could be. She leveled a scowl at him, grim as the Mists.

"You two talk. I'll see to him." She had to trust Anton to look after himself for just a few minutes. She was his sworn sword, but he was capable. Besides, all he had to do was stand still and talk. He loved talking, didn't he? Vanessa realized she didn't actually know, but again her lack of insight had never seemed to bother her. She took off after Florian, leering at Eitan as she passed. She caught up with the abhuman easily and tossed an arm over the man's shoulder. She pulled him in swiftly to her side, neck trapped in her armpit. The reason for their close proximity quickly became clear as Vanessa used her other hand to slip her flask from her inner coat pocket. She flipped the top off and took a swig, though with their backs to Eitan and Anton it was at least unlikely they would have seen. It was a strong cinnamon whiskey, and she tilted the end of her flask towards Florian.

"Drink first, then talk" Vanessa said quietly. her voice was hard, but there was genuine concern swirling there, though it too mixed with anger. Vanessa had to choose her words carefully, gods was she bad at that. Her brow knitted, and she clicked her tongue. "So, between two nobodies. Th' fuck was that?"

Well, she tried.

[Anton]

Anton made sure to smile at the pleasantries, even making sure to look in the right directions when laughing at Vanessa and Eitan's jokes!, before his face fell and he cocked his head in response to the Commander's surprise. "I had asked my mother to consult her calendar?" he replied, voice rising in a question as he was uncertain if that was ordinary behavior for women of high society. For all he knew, noting down social occassions - and the birthday of an Angevin certainly qualified for that - was a hobby that the Lady Michaelis had adopted after his birth led to his parents' self-imposed societal exile. "She is Gelerian," he provided, as if that clarified anything. He was uncertain if it did.

His confusion only grew as his fellow noble continued speaking, but he was far too polite to voice those questions. The Angevins and the Dornkirks were both certainly wealthy enough for a holiday after a wedding, but typically a honeymoon had the groom and his bride vanish from the world to celebrate the nuptials, not the bride's brother. He was quite certain that there must be some reason for it and a part of him did desire to know what it was, but the lordling forced himself to let the matter drop. While it was a strange and therefore interesting situation, importantly it was also one that did not involve him. "Perhaps I shall call upon her to see if I may be of assistance," he suggested instead, fully expecting the offer to be dismissed out of hand.

All in all, he was quite content with how the conversation had developed so far, even if his 'reformed' pirate of a bodyguard seemed intent on antagonizing the Watcher. He would need to insist upon a measure of discretion from her after they were done. Beyond that, his only complaint was the mutedness of Florian, the Private far more subdued than he had been even when Anton had last seen him in uniform. Something felt very wrong with the Lysanrin, as if someone had pressed out all the emotion from him. Privately, Anton hoped that his gift would restore his spirits, but by the Empty Throne and forgotten gods he did not know why he held that hope.

And then everything went to shit. The clattering of metal and ice upon the deck was shocking enough, but the pained curse was far worse. He had made a genuine attempt to bring the man a gift with what little he knew of him, and he was certain that Florian would prefer something cheap but personal over expensive and meaningless. Anton wished he could say it was despite himself, but he well knew that it was because of himself, that he felt as distraught as he did at the turn of events. Whatever concern he held for Florian paled in comparison to his shame at having been wrong. Had he missed something? Nothing he knew could explain the insult he had apparently delivered, and before he consciously realized he had made the decision aether had already began to course through his body.

The pupils of Anton's eyes focused as his Cardinal Rune activated, sense and sensation flooding his mind. Taking a step back to grip the taffrail, the mage struggled to retain his composure as his sight blinded him anew. All around him the Noble Gambit shone, the majesty of the airship finally laid bare before him in a way few others could ever know. Her wards were stately and proud, a deep bass choir wrought by many hands for singular purpose, but here and there lighter voices joined the arcane chorus where Eitan and Florian had done their work. Yet even those paled in comparison to her hoard of dragonshards, the slumbering crystals of raw magic singing out to him with a purity he had seen only once before in his short life. For a moment he considered gazing into that heart of power, to reveal the shard's secrets one by one, to look only upon the fallen starlight for the rest of his days.

Florian's boots ringing against the deck knocked him out of his reverie, Anton pulling himself away from the splendor of magic untamed as he remembered why he had taken such a horrid risk. Anger and confusion and raw pain beyond anything mere strawberries could cause warred within the Lysanrin as competing strains, the man's symphony broken and discordant, lashing out at any who dared play upon their frayed and untuned strings. It had only required him to play one sour note. Why the gift was negative to begin with, he could not say, but it at least put many things into perspective. He was almost ready to consider himself satisfied, to shut his magic off once more, when he noticed yet again a softer refrain. Hidden beneath the agony, drowned out by the rage, Florian felt something for Eitan far beyond the professional loyalty of subordinate to superior. "Oh," ushered from his lips unbidden, but Vanessa took control of the situation before he could act upon anything he had seen.

"Perhaps she may have a point, Eitan," Anton said softly, attempting to discern what he may from the officer. It was foolish to continue taking the risk, but curiosity had its hold on him. A good look at Eitan's aura and then he would end his use of Semblance, he swore to himself. "You would know him best of course, but still. She has a way with these sort of things, I assure you," he continued with a soft shrug before his gaze shifted towards Florian and Vanessa. "It seems that the young airman is under great strain. I am certain he meant no offense, and I have taken none," he finished in a more confident voice, falling into formality and noblesse oblige as naturally as a bird takes to the air. His damnable and damning curiosity remained however, and the niggling question of why ate at him the more and more he thought about what had just occurred.

"I thought he liked strawberries."

[Eitan Angevin]

Albrecht's explosion was an unexpected interruption. Just when he had grown accustomed to his muted presence, he bloomed with vitriol. He didn't understand the look Quill leveled on him, but she had chased after Albrecht before he could react. A part of him wanted to shove past her; Albrecht was his responsibility, after all. But he was left with Anton and so he did what he could to control the damage done to the social call.

From what he had heard, the meeting between Albrecht and the young man had been strange, but not bad.

He inhaled, exhaled, and tried to recover the situation. "Well, I'm the bastard, so I must have done something to upset him." He paused. "He lost his mother quite suddenly. I had hoped work would distract him, but it appears he may need some time to meditate upon his loss. I apologize for his outburst, Anton. I don't believe you did anything wrong."

His mind cycled back to other things he hadn't responded to due to Albrecht's scene.

"I suppose your mother is just as thoughtful as you are." He couldn't speak to his own birth mother nor his stepmother, who had always maintained an emotional distance from him, which was better than her sharper hatred. "And I will send my address along to you. I'm certain Delia would enjoy meeting you. By the time she arrived at your fête, you had retired for the evening."

When Anton seemed to reel a bit and then recover, Angevin's free hand came up as if to offer aid, but the movement was arrested.

"Are you unwell? Would you like to sit." He was prepared to offer the man an arm. If he was disabled as Albrecht had reported, then it was the least Angevin could do. He would certainly find a way to turn his mind to the Pax Zaichaeri at the Greater Institute, and his contributions were as valid as anyone's.

[Florian]

Florian flinched from suddenly being grabbed by the tall woman, and it almost distressed him enough for him to deny the flask she had offered him in secret. But he accepted the drink and handed her back the flask before he removed himself from under her arm. Through surprise, the anger he felt had expunged himself, and he was back into reality, eyes back into grey and looking back at Vanessa.

"Does it matter? Why are you concerned?" He could fathom why, of course. He had just insulted her boss in front of his boss and then stormed off without context. She didn't seem angry, though. None of them seemed angry at him. She seemed concerned, and for someone he never met, it was a vaguely uncomfortable feeling. His own feelings required too much context that he was not willing to provide a stranger, and he now had to make an attempt to brush them off and away, even with the beginning of tears in his eyes. He took a deep breath to try and quell the feelings. It was one thing to be angry, it was another to show his grief. He wished that it was Eitan who had followed him, but he knew that in the constraints of this meeting, there was no chance of it. It was just easier when someone already knew.

"I don't mean to insult Anton, but the strawberries bring up memories I really can't deal with right now." He sighed. "I'd rather he brought nothing." He took a few steps away from her, both regretful that he drank the whiskey and thankful that it had been offered. Memories still stung and he didn't know how to handle the onslaught of emotions he was faced with without the assistance of alcohol.

[Vanessa Quill]

"if I only cared about things that mattered, I wouldn't be here." Vanessa said dryly, gesturing towards the windworks at large. She didn't stop him from wriggling away from her, and simply took another swig of the drink before she tucked it away again inside her coat pocket. "Look, I'm not worried about if you wounded his pride. He heard worse just last night, I'm sure of it." She paused, earnestly trying to think of the right way to avoid making things worse. It wasn't entirely uncharted waters for Vanessa, but she certainly lacked a proper map. "You're going to... be okay, right? Not like- fuck." Vanessa scrunched her face up, cringing. "Not the emotions. I mean, like, safe. If he's gonna chuck you in the brig I'll make a bigger scene so he forgets, yeah?" Vanessa's grin was enough to be sure that she wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, even if she knew Florian would have been mad to have approved.

"They'll probably be cutting it short anyhow. Take a breather, go and feel the breeze on your skin or the sun on your face if you can. No one can take that from you, dark as it gets." She said, letting Florian put distance between them. "I'll leave you to it."

She crossed the deck again, back to Anton's side. "Lad's a wreck, but he's holding it together pretty good. Better 'n me, sure as shit." It took her a moment to realize what she'd said, before nodding towards Eitan and turning her palms up. "Pardon the language." and at least for now the ire was gone from her eyes. Her attention then returned to Anton. She'd seen the look on his face before she'd stormed after Florian, but it had happened so quickly she had not been able to process it. The muscles in her arms tensed, but she exhaled through her mouth before the thoughts could before anything more than fleeting. She couldn't let on that Anton had done anything out of the ordinary. Of course she did not hide her emotions well, but her set jaw and piecing eyes also helpfully belied general fury at Anton for bringing such a rotten gift and causing the problem in the first place. This did little to make her appear less suspicious.

[Anton]

Anton did not move from where he stood upon the deck, the young man more intent on understanding than action. Which was a convenient enough of an excuse considering he had no idea what he would do regardless. Eitan's voice came at a convenient enough time, shaking the mage from his reverie and permitting him to truly see the officer as he had over a week ago. The same basic themes were still there, the outline of the man that he had come to know as Commander Angevin, but it was stressed and discordant with new strains bursting through his aura. A flare of needwantresponsibilitydesire made itself known periodically, the cluster of unclear emotions sounding in the lordling's skull as a crash of cymbals and trumpets and chimes with no clear orchestration.

It was suppressed by indignant horns of dignityprideshamehurt as the Commander made his self-effacing comment, the (assumed) jest almost drawing a smile to Anton's face despite the gravity of the situation. But only almost. Just as soon as it appeared however it was gone, the unorganized ensemble again taking precedence. "Give the Private my condolences, would you? He is awfully young to suffer such a loss," Anton told Eitan in a soft voice, the noble heir instinctively donning the garb of benevolent better as if he were not the youngest person present by several years. Internally he was confused, wondering just why he was told such a detail, but then again he was very often confused in this situation. "As for my own mother, she is the diligent sort, certainly. Would she have been invited I have no doubt she would have somehow known and selected a more tasteful gift. I shall have to consult with her on what your sister will most require assistance with."

His gaze shifted towards Florian and Vanessa as Eitan continued speaking, senses beyond sight revealing the general thrust of their conversation. He very nearly considered himself satisfied and was about to shut himself off from the power flooding his body when a similar discordant clash of instruments began to ring forth from the Lysanrin in tune with the Commander's own, and he forced himself to gaze deeper still. "No, thank you Eitan, that will not be necessary. As I'm certain you are aware, I am always somewhat unwell. While illness may have made me infirm, and its treatment irrespectable, I am not yet incapable," he assured the man even as he struggled to make sense of his senses.

And there it was. A drum beat slowly but surely within the Lysanrin, in time with the rhythm not of his own aura, but of Eitan's. As many questions were raised as were answered by the discovery, the mage confronted not just with his own confusion but a most unusual sensation within himself directed not towards what he did not understand, but rather at what he did. He chided himself at even caring, and again at even needing to do so, but before he could continue his introspection a series of horns sounded. Vanessa's anger was hot and vivid as she turned and realized what he had done, the flood of magic ended as soon as the two locked eyes, followed swiftly by his inability to repeat such a feat.

"Thank you for your concern Vanessa, and you once more for your hospitality Eitan. I think it may be best for all of us if I were to retire earlier than expected a second time. Tend to your soldier, it is clear only my presence stops you," Anton admitted, hoping against hope that the Order mage would simply consider him perceptive. Already he was making for the gangplank, expecting the trip down to be easier than the one up. It was halfway through that he remembered himself, turning back towards the Noble Gambit with a broad smile on his face.

"I truly did enjoy this outing, perhaps we shall have another. You may call upon me at your leisure when you return from your holiday. Safe travels, Commander Angevin."

[Eitan Angevin]

"I will convey your condolences," he promised.

"I apologize if I misspoke," he continued after Anton waved off the offer of a seat. "I will just have to trust that you will feel inclined to trust me to help when you require it." His gaze shifted to Quill when she returned and he nodded a bit more grimly at her assessment. He waved off her apology as unnecessary. While he was used to behaving for social functions, he was also used to a mess hall full of hungry airmen. A little rough language was a part of his every day.

"Thank you for checking on him, Ms. Quill."

When Anton beat a hasty retreat, he could only hope the young man was being honest and not just polite. There was a smile on his face and he hoped it would translate to his voice.

"May our next meeting run more smoothly," he said. "Fair winds until then, Anton. Thank you again for the present."

His, at least, had gone over well. He watched them go until they passed through the doorways where their presence would be tracked by Windworks personnel, then glanced down at the ruined strawberries. He sighed, then turned to seek out Albrecht and apologize for dragging him along. It was his job and his duty, of course, but Angevin might just have to order him to take tomorrow off so he would have some tiny bit of time and space to process his grief before they left.

He would clean up the strawberries before they left, of course. It wouldn't do to leave that for the Windworks personnel, who were making important improvements to the bird. Perhaps Albrecht just needed a meal and a nap. Little things would have to do while he wrestled with the huge thing weighing him down.

fin.