Ready, Set, Go! (Stefan & Brenner Dornkirk)

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Yes!" Brenner exclaimed, "You have it exact!" He pointed across the table with a sharp jab of his fork,

"It's a matter of merit! A matter of deservedness versus perceived deservedness. They require the idea of personal gods... Divine, magical creatures who condescend to concern themselves with the affairs of men and upjumped beasts. They need those gods to explain why they merit otherworldly power, rather than face the fact that its origins are a taint, a.... a corruption that has spread like an illness. The Avialae are a capital example." He said, glancing down to the organ meat on his plate and skewering a corner with his fork.

"I don't know if you've read Gereon's Gelerian Bestiary..." Brenner didn't recall having mentioned it the prior evening, though he had. "But Gereon goes into great detail about the prevailing theory of their origins." He drew his knife along the tender meat in a smooth motion, severing the flesh as easily as if it were butter. "They were, themselves, mutated into existence from normal men by a mage in the interest of slaying some infernal beast that was assailing his province. Gereon doesn't go into detail as to whether these humans elected to undergo this procedure, nor how many were failed experiments that ended in death or deformity. But he makes one thing very plain: That mage sought to solve a magical problem with a magical solution, and the result had greater consequences than he might have realised. Namely, the genesis of an entire, unnatural species. Creatures built for war and, until the wisdom of Geleros interceded, beholden to none but themselves." He lifted the slice of liver he'd just cut and gestured with the fork that held it aloft,

"You're spot on, Stef. Kalzasi is an aberration. An abomination. I share your pity for the hoi polloi of that accursed city who are subject to the whims of an ancient mage's misstep. I believe it is meet that one day The High City of Karnor should effect a crusade to cleanse the blight at the root. Imagine how the teeming masses would rise up, emboldened by the sight of the Searing Victory at the head of a Zaichaeri armada." Brenner's teeth were bared in a prideful grin. He parted them to clamp down on the meat, tearing it from the prongs of the fork and tipping his head back as it slid between his lips to be chewed. He lifted his arm and nodded, as he swallowed down the offal.

"Hail Zaichaer." Brenner repeated, loudly enough to stir a few nearby tables to respond in kind. The moment passed, and the younger Dornkirk smiled at the elder's reveries and their accompanying compliments.

"No dessert for me, but don't let that stop you if you're inclined. I wouldn't mind a digestif to cap off a splendid meal." He turned his attention back to his plate, and let a few moments pass in silence that he might put more of a dent into the meal rather than waxing patriotic in prolix pronouncements of his stridency.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan's face alternated between animatedly listening to and agreeing with his brother and darkening at the ideas they were discussing.

"It is one thing to be disabled, damaged, by magic, we should have compassion for that. But glorying in the deformity?" He practically growled but contained himself for the propriety of their current setting. "One can not help how one is born but one must accept that, as with a body, for the good of the whole, the sickened flesh must be pared away. You don't let lepers breed, it would be a terrible cruelty to a child to be born thus. So it is with that city, you're entirely right, it needs to be cleansed. But will they do what's best for the continent? No." He shook his head, laying his napkin over his mostly empty plate. "Someone must look to the greater good."

A grin of returning pride in his brother and the image he conjured washed the darkness from Stefan's mood. He took up the polite hail that passed patriotically through the nearby tables and lifted his glass to toast it as well.

Shaking his head to the idea of dessert he patted the fine brocade over his trim waist. "You may get plenty of exercise on my ship but I spend most of my time behind a desk now, brother. I would hate to shame you by getting fat."

The chances of Stefan gaining weight were small. He did spend most of his weekdays at the factory but he was rarely physically idle for long and his weekends, when not taken up by social obligations, were spent running and working out.

He waved to the waiter and ordered two tonics meant to aid digestion then just sat for a little while, letting his brother eat, enjoying his company without the need for conversation for a few minutes.

When the small glasses arrive he took his in a shot, figuring he had best get the motion back into practice after all the evenings he'd spent sipping champagne from tiny little flutes.

"Shall we?" He stood, straightened his garb briefly, waited for his brother, then made his way toward the entrance. Their coats appeared promptly and Stefan let himself be helped into his without even looking at the man who was doing it.

"Where are we off to then? Shall I hail a cab or are we wearing out our boots this evening?" He wouldn't mind walking, the night was fine, though still cool, and he had been inside, alone, all day.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"To the greater good." Brenner agreed and ratified it with a clink of glasses.

The younger Dornkirk cleared his plate completely and, upon the arrival of the digestifs, he did not follow suit in shooting his down in one gulp. He took a light sip.

"You don't get out enough, Stef." He decided, as he polished the cordial off in a few more swigs, and joined his brother in rising and making for the front. He took his coat from the attendant and draped it over his shoulders, without slipping his arms into the sleeves.

"I thought you had our whole evening planned out from soup to nuts... Pun intended, as I seem to recall a certain cat house having been mentioned as part of the mix?" He smirked, stepping out onto the clean streets of the district.

"I'd just as well walk, if it's all the same to you..." He paused, and took in a breath of the crisp evening air, which was scented with tinges of hearth-smoke. It wasn't the odour of factory smoke that pervaded poorer parts of the city, but the alluring, earthy smell of cookfires and lit fireplaces. Truly, it was a lovely evening in Brenner's reckoning. Although it might have been too cold for some, Brenner had always been one who appreciated coolness over heat. Surely that had factored into his career choice somewhat, as the cool air of the heights above did not daunt him. It was pleasant, like a pretty stranger's embrace.

"Did you want to slip into someplace seedier straight away, or shall we stick with the swanky for a bit longer? I have no preference whatever, but it will impact the direction in which we travel." He gestured up the street with one hand, and down the street with the other.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan rolled his eyes,

"Of course, that's the part you remember." His exasperated tone was a perfect combination of how each of their parents sounded when annoyed by the antics of their boys.

"For your information, I was to plan the start and the finish, while your illustrious self was tasked with dragging me to such low establishments as might accommodate a night of debauched drinking. I have done my part, brother, now you must show me what sort of places a ranking officer on a fine airship frequents when no one is watching."

Feigned annoyance falling away he nodded gamely, "I'd like a walk after the way I spent the day. You'd think I'd be used to sitting behind my desk all day but I spend a surprisingly small amount of time actually doing that while the factory is up and running."

Taking a few steps following the casual pace Brenner set he stuck his hands into his trouser pockets and sighed contentedly. "It's a nice night for it, anyway."

Considering the options on offer the elder Dornkirk glanced down the road,

"Let's see, we had a drink here, if we keep walking this way till Straße street crosses Fahrbahn there is that nice pub I end up in after work sometimes. We can have a few good beers there and then meander down Fahrbahn toward the factory district and the seedier establishments there. Making our way down as we go, you might say, eh?"

They would have to end up taking a cab back to the part of the city where Madam Sinnlich kept her establishment, but, by that point, they probably shouldn't be wandering. As well trained as they were in self-defense, with enough drink in them, and a good number of assailants, even the great brothers Dornkirk might be obliged to give up their dignity, and the contents of their pockets.

Vaguely leading the way he bumped his shoulder into Brenner's playfully, finding it a little odd to be close enough to look down into his brother's face and finding the strangeness sad.
"Tell me your adventure stories? You always come home with some." He wasn't sure if Brenner would remember telling him about his ship-to-ship jump and wouldn't mind listening to it told again while his brother was somewhat less inebriated.

They made it to the pub, which was in full celebratory swing, music flowing out the wide-open, brightly lit doors. The establishment catered to starting businessmen that were doing well for themselves, factory managers, and middling rank officers. Stefan liked it because the company was usually not rowdy and he was able to either talk shop or sit alone quietly and listen of a late evening.

At the moment it was more boisterously occupied by its usual clientele due to the holiday, all of whom seemed to be engaged in a reasonable rendition of a popular patriotic song. Pushing his way up to the bar the proprietor gave him a friendly nod and smile, raising his voice to ask if Stefan would have his regular. He told the man he needed two with a nod of his head toward his brother, having to repeat himself as the chorus hit before the man understood.

Taking the two drinks he moved to the second floor before he found a table to set them down at.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner shrugged,

"I can't help it if I have a mercurial memory!" He answered Stefan's exasperation with amusement. "I certainly don't know what sort of rake you take me for, Stef, but I only slum it when I'm with you." There was something of camaraderie in the playful assertion. It might have sounded like a joke for how he delivered it, but it was mostly true. If he did end up in some low pub, it was usually far outside the city proper when his duties took him to the outskirts of Zaichaer in zones where there was little to do for recreation apart from visiting the local dive.

"Very well." Brenner replied, perfectly content with the plan Stefan's mind wandered toward. He let his older brother lead the way, smiling over and letting his step lag to one side as if the gentle nudge had knocked him off balance.

"I wish I had more adventure stories to share, but last season was very much about showing force rather than exerting it. I'm afraid my ship's reputation precedes itself, and the enemies of the state scurry into their burrows as soon as her vast shadow spreads over the areas they haunt aboveground..." He trailed off, "I did get to play with my rocket pack a bit, but-... Wait, I told you about that last night, didn't I?" He grimaced at the murky memory, but shrugged. "Anyway..."

Ere long they reached Stefan's intended destination, and Brenner followed him inside. He had to step sideways to sidle between some of the individuals crowding the path to the bar, but once he reached it, he stood back and let Stefan order. He couldn't hear their exchange, but the barkeep's expression bespoke a familiarity with Stefan.

It was somewhat quieter upstairs, with only a few tables occupied and acoustics that muffled the din of the music rising from below.

"So..." He took the drink Stefan offered and sat back and gestured broadly around them, "Haunt of yours?"

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The older man put on a face of deep offense, laying his hand over his breast,

"I am your slumming buddy? Of all the sailors you spend your days with?"

When they were settled at the table and able to hear each other speak in voices only slightly louder than normal conversational he took a pull of his amber-colored beer. Wiping at the foam the drink left on his face he turned back into the conversation.

"I wouldn't mind hearing about how she flew, the pack, not the ship, I know how she flies." The beer was one of the reasons he frequented the pub, the house brew was something he particularly enjoyed, it had a deep flavor while still feeling refreshing going down. After a long day, it was sometimes just what he wanted.

"Mm, indeed. I had to find somewhere when I want a quiet drink. Mother doesn't like me drinking alone at home, she'll let me do it but it had better be wine or an elegant spirit and I won't get any quiet while I do it. Sometimes I just want a mug in my hand after twelve hours at the factory." He shrugged one shoulder, not really self-conscious with his brother but knowing that others of his social standing would have judged him for the practice.

"Other engineers come in here fairly often, so I can even have a conversation with someone who doesn't think I could fire them for their opinions. The house beer is good too." He toasted briefly before drinking away the top half of his stein. "They have some quite good ales too." He had developed a palette for such things, from the light and sweet to the dark and bitter; another thing he couldn't really talk about outside this pub and occasionally with his man-servant.

"If you've a taste for anything in particular let me know, I've tried most of what they have. Sometimes I just take my notebook and come here to drink and go over my maths." He gave a wry laugh. "I don't have a galley I can sit with my captive peers in and drink of an evening like some gentlemen."

The song ended and he clapped along with the other smattering of upstairs patrons, not noticing how his large hands and innate confidence were both louder than any of the other tables.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"I mean..." Brenner began, through his teeth as he cast an apologetic grin to Stefan, "The Onneifer Canteen basically turns into a dive bar at a certain point in the evening, and I've been known to hang with the ensigns and non-commissioned officers there... does that count?" He shrugged and took a taste of the draught selected by Stefan. He ran his tongue along his upper lip to clear it of excess head, and nodded approvingly.

He sat back, and listened to Stefan's laments and his reasoning for frequenting the present venue. He smiled to himself, pondering how different his relationship with their mother was in contrast to Stefan's. He and Lady Sylana had more of a shorthand, and an ease with one another. She was more indulgent of Brenner, who'd been known to have hard liquor with dinner from time to time and nary a comment was shot his way. He knew, because she'd told him, that she feared her firstborn was prone to melancholy and that his overindulgence in drink might exacerbate the problem beyond the point of manageability. Brenner tried to dissuade this thinking, but Sylana wasn't known for changing her mind easily or often, and this instance was no different. Not even in the face of her baby's urging to the contrary.

"Ugh, maths." Brenner repeated with a shudder. He could plot a course using celestial navigation, but the kind of maths Stefan dealt with in ship design was an altogether different and far more daunting matter.

With one hand gripping the handle of his beer stein, he used the other to clap against his thigh as the song ended. He noticed a few odd glances cast in their direction, but thought little of it and returned his attention to Stefan.

"You're right to be jealous of that. I've never been to a pub as rowdy as an airship's galley on a clear night during Searing after a searing victory on the Searing Victory."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan was beginning to mellow, aided by his now empty stein. He tapped the rim twice when a serving wench made her way up the stairs and glanced around. She scuttled away again with a bob but his attention was already back on his company.

A chuckled came out at the expressed disgust,

"I know you hate it, dear brother, but it keeps you in the air on all those boring adventures you get up to." The pun was only semi-intentional but his grin flashed nonetheless.

"Jealous, hmm?" He questioned, perking a brow and watching more intently. "Getting rowdy with the boys, eh?" He shouldn't tease thus, not in public, but he couldn't help it, "How rowdy does the galley get on a drunken, searing night with the men?" The lack of capitalization was intentional. He didn't expect an actual answer, he hoped for, perhaps, a flush, a flustered sound, a rude gesture, something fun.

The maid eventually returned with a second beer for each of them, even though Brenner hadn't finished his when she had departed. Stefan didn't mind having both if it came to that, he was supposed to be getting soundly drunk, after all.

"I should have thought to come to the Airfield bar when you were stationed there. It's a little out of my way but what is the point of having a steam carriage all my own if I can't crash my little brother's nights of camaraderie? I still have a rank myself, technically, they wouldn't turn me away."

Taking a pull from his new drink he tilted his head a little, at the stage in his drinking when he was comfortable making more eye contact, at least with Brenner. "Do you ever wish I'd stayed in the Corps full-time instead of getting out on a genius grant at the request of our father? I do. Sometimes." He sighed,

"Not really, but everything was simpler then and I didn't have to be away from you for months at a time." Pushing his legs out from the polite tuck he'd had them in he pressed his calf against Brenner's. "I want to have my life, my work, and I want you to have yours, truly. I'm just missing being children I think."

Laughter followed, "Can you imagine? How angry would I be at myself if my twelve-year-old self could hear me? Knuckles bloody from father keeping us at boxing all day, spitting more of the same onto the sawdust. I would have spit in my own face." The laughter continued until he drown it in drink.

"You outrank me now. If I ever get pulled back in to fight in your glorious wars I'll have to touch my hat and call you Sir."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Rowdy enough..." Brenner said vaguely, eyes locked with Stefan's for a pregnant moment that might have hung longer if not for the return of the barmaid. He broke it off, to glance up at her and accept the second stein, which he placed down besides the half empty first.

"You should have, indeed. Regardless of your vestigial rank, I know all my men would be over the moon at the idea of meeting the man who designed our ship." 'Our ship,' this time. "They'd get you proper drunk, buying round after round for the father of our bouncing, baby girl." He offered with a chuckle, taking a few sturdy gulps toward catching up with Stefan.

"You know..." Brenner contemplated the hypothetical. "I can't remember a time when I didn't know your destiny was design. Obviously our parents made it abundantly clear, but... Even thinking back to when I was a kid playing Sky Captain, I remember you drawing the ship more often than serving on it. We couldn't both be captain, and I got frustrated, so Eitan Angevin became my first mate. He's got Elf blood, so he's naturally the submissive sort..." He trailed off.

"I wish I got to spend more time with you, but no... I don't really wish you'd stayed a full-time soldier. That would mean I'd be the one stuck at the Windworks doing the maths and, even if not..." He glanced up with a wistful grimace, "I'm not sure I'd be able to really make a name for myself if you'd stayed on. Or... if I'm being too deferential, then maybe you wouldn't. One of us would be lesser for the other being greater if we lived in the same lane. What's that Olde Gelerian saying mother used to..." His eyes returned to meet Stefan's, as he recalled the quotation:

"'Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere."

He smiled slightly at the notion of such martial deference upending the natural order of their relationship as dictated by their respective ages.

"Your mind for design will always be more useful to Zaichaer than your blade or blunderbuss, brother mine. We but wield the instruments of destruction that you conjure into existence."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The response to his ribbing was less than what he'd wanted but about what he'd been expecting. For some reason, it caused stirrings of thought and blood to move, subtly, through Stefan. He was about to say something, he knew not what, when the girl had arrived and the moment was gone.

"I should wait till I have an actual child. They can toast me for the ship and I get to have the type of celebration our peers would give someone who spent actual time with them." He sipped then added, belatedly, "I hope she doesn't bounce that much. The new stabilizers should help. Do you remember me talking about those last night, or are they too lost on the boring maths part of when I speak?" He was teasing now in no uncertain terms.

He sobered slightly as the reference to his destiny was made, but not over-much, "I never really wanted to fight it. I enjoy what I do, I would want to do this even if our father was a textile magnate. I got lucky. I think you did too. You always wanted to be the Sky Captain while I scribbled away. Eitan Angevin, do you still keep track of him?" The families had mixed often enough that a pre-adolescent Stefan would have called the elf-mixed young man a friend. They had drifted apart when he'd started the Academy, as he had from all his childhood friends and most of his ideas along with them. He hadn't formed the kind of close bonds with the boys at the Academy that many did. Secure in the knowledge that his tenure in their ranks would be limited after he graduated he spent more time studying than he did practicing with firearms or ropes. He had done both, of course, as was required. He was a fair shot and could handle rope with all but the most skilled, but he had looked on the learning of them as part of understanding what a ship would need to support its fighting men.

"Didn't he have a sister? At least that would be someone that I sort of know. I could be alright with a submissive wife, so long as that was her natural inclination.

"Nor can one Empire brook a double reign." He quoted back, nodding his head.

"You're probably right, we each need our own sphere in which to flourish. At least your adventures don't take you too far for too long. Thus far. When we were children you seemed to go on great journeys of exploration more often than you fought battles in the protection of our great city. Let's hope, should the time come that I can still stand in Zaichaer's defense without bringing shame to my famous brother."

Standing and stretching he lifted his second stein and drained what remained. Extending his hand to Brenner in an invitation he took on the tone he'd used when they had 'adventured' as boys,

"Come, brother, take me somewhere far below my dignity and show me how the Everyman lives so I can unbutton my vest and make a great fool of myself."