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⋱⋱adventurous hearts aboard silver flights ⋱⋱; Active | Closed | Mature
Topic Started: Aug 24 2012, 08:00 PM (298 Views)
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"And what, pray tell, will you give me for accomplishing this task, sir?" Marlow asks, and I feel myself beginning to sweat. Stupid, stupid idea. I shouldn't have sat next to the fireplace. It's too warm in this tavern…like being shut in a room with no windows and doors with the sun itself. At this rate, my false beard's gonna slip down at any moment and give the entire ruse away. But I clear my throat (in a lower pitch than usual, attempting to get at that gravelly, almost ill sound that most men seem to make) and lace my fingers over the table between us, leaning forward, arrogance spread across my face like butter on toast.

<br><br>"I don't have the funding to pay you for your work now," I start, and I know that's the least convincing thing in the world, but it's the truth--I barely have enough money for the supplies alone. I can't even lie about payment, because most would ask for it upfront. "But I promise you that I will win the Queen's Tourney, and when I do, I'll give you a fair share of the champion's purse." I lean back in my chair with a confident glint in my deep brown eyes. "No one knows the skies better than I do," I grin. "It's in my blood."

<br><br>Marlow stares back at me for a moment, and then a smile dripping with pleasantries forms on his wrinkled features. "I tell ya what, Cap," he starts, pushing back his chair as he stands up, one palm pressed against the table. "I won't join your crew, and I won't help build your ship. But I will let you leave here without calling the authorities--that is, if you pack up your things and leave without a fuss straightaway. Now, how's that for a deal?"

<br><br>"W…WHAT?" I ask, hiding my sudden shock of fear with a thin mask of offense. "You dare speak to--"

<br><br>"Oh, we KNOW who we dare speak to!" a thug from behind me pipes up, and that's when I see the others turning around with expressions that were both surprised, but also smug, like children gathering excitedly to watch the little boy they hate being told off by the grown-ups. "You're no honorable, decorated captain, Gideon Doughtry. Or should I say--" he knocks off my hat with one wallop of his fat hand, causing it to fall to the floor, and my chestnut hair looses its pins, long tresses tumbling over my shoulder. "Gwen Thatcher." He kicks my hat behind him, and rips off my beard.

<br><br>"OW!" I wince at that as he laughs and tosses the beard into the fire, the flames instantly lapping it up. "It's Gwen Mauratius de Wynterstone to you, you foul, idiotic GIT!" I snap back as I jump to my feet, the captain's coat that I "borrowed" flurrying behind my knees.

<br><br>"Ohhhh, YES, we've heard tales of warning 'bout you, girl!" another man chimes in happily, his missing teeth reminding me of a flower with too many petals plucked. "The bastard from that sad little orphanage who thinks she's blood of the infamous sky pirate…you're a thief, a liar. Trust me, girlie, you're no more legendary than the dried mud on m'boots."

<br><br>"YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU BOIL-BRAINED SCUT!" I shriek furiously, smacking his ale off the table. The cup splashes his shirt before clattering to the floor. They're wrong, they're always so wrong, and they would rue the day they crossed me. I wasn't some child born and abandoned because I was unloved. My father left me to protect me after my mother's death. I know it.

<br><br>Suddenly, I realize everyone's gone quiet.

<br><br>I forgot--spilled brew is like a dead man to this crowd.

<br><br>The man who called me a bastard looks down at his soiled shirt, then grabs it, wrings out what he can, then flaps his damp fingers dry. "Grab her. DOLF!"

<br><br>I hear the clumping, heavy footsteps against the wood before I see him. And just as I turn around, I'm hoisted up, and I find myself dangling above a man who can't be entirely human. Dolf is the tallest, widest person I've ever seen, and my eyes go as big as saucers as he raises me up like a newborn babe. The slightest pressure on my ribs, and I know he could crack them easier than walnuts. And for the first time since this evening, I feel my sense starting to leak back to me. What was I thinking? I'm surrounded by these oafs! Thick they may be, but weak they most certainly were not. And I most certainly didn't want them dragging any officials into this.

<br><br>"Listen, boys…" I laugh nervously. "Maybe I was a bit hasty. Let me buy you a round of rum, and we can all have a pleasant night swappin' war stories?" comes my anxious suggestion. One man, Jed, I think his name was, seems to take it into consideration, walking over to Dolf and I. He's got the look of a womanizer on him. And the scent. So there was hope, although I wasn't sure what it was worth.

<br><br>"Well…" he says thoughtfully, hand going to pluck at his lapel. "Maybe we…" he begins, when all of a sudden, a new look washes over his face, a frown darkening his features. "Wait a moment, what's that?" I look down to see where he's looking, which is, unfortunately, at his wallet, and three others…poking out from the inside pocket of my coat.

<br><br>"Oh, that's nothing, it's--" I sputter, but he reaches over and retrieves them, quickly recognizing the leather. That certainly eases his decision.

<br><br>"DOLF!"

<br><br>Just his name, and the behemoth already knows what they want. With one smooth move, he tucks me under his meaty arm like a sack of flour, and starts carrying me off towards the door. He's so tall that my boots don't even scrape against the floor. I look up at him, cocking an eyebrow in question. "This is what we do to men who come 'round here 'n lie to us…insult us…spill our grog, 'n attempt to rob us blind!" he lets out a chaotic laugh, like a bunch of copper coins being shook hard in a tin can. I'm thankful that the dried crumbs in his beard don't tumble loose and rain on my face.

<br><br>"Ohhhhh, come on, Dolf, you know it was great fun," I force a laugh, swatting him playfully on the side, but it's to no avail. He opens the door, and the wind rushes into the warm pub immediately, flakes of ice beginning brushing past my cheek…cold slapping me in the face like a leather glove. Any fool would know what's going to happen next. Well…at least I'm wearing a thick bundle of clothes to cushion the fall. The only thing is that the ground is cold and slushy, and I don't particularly fancy getting wet when it's snowing. I don't even know where to find an inn in this silly town.

<br><br>Dolf whisks my hat off the floor and caps it roughly back on my head as I give a small grunt of discomfort. "The fun ends now, little Gwen!" he exclaims through peals of laughter, and the men behind him raise their mugs with a bunch of "good riddance", "AND STAY OUT!", "she deserves it!" and so on and so forth as I roll my eyes and accept what's coming. But just as Dolf is about to give me the old heave-ho…some man about my age steps into view, poor fellow innocently a-roaming down the street.

<br><br>"WATCH OUT!" I shout, but I'm already airborne, and I'm tossed right onto him. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for him. The fall's much nicer this way, with a couple of pounds of flesh beneath me, although it would be better if he had been a fat boy. "Ow, ouch," I whistle sharply--I've landed funny on my wrist, though it's nothing unmanageable. I'm not finished with that lot yet. Still perched on top the boy, I whirl around to look back at them as they guffaw, but before I can retort a single remark, Jed flings my sack of belongings back at me. The drawstring wasn't pulled tight, so bits of laundry, crockery, and other trinkets spill as I just barely manage to catch it and clamor a "YOU'LL BE SORRY FOR THIS!" before they slam the door, the square plane of light it provided vanishing with the sound of wood slamming. I grumble as I push off the stranger's body and kneel in the ice, stuffing my thingummies and doodads back in my rucksack.

<br><br>"Sorry about my friends over there. You all right?" I ask, looking back at him, my eyes flickering over him like a lantern in the dark. He was a looker, I could tell, even in this blue evening light, though he didn't scream of aristocracy. Which is a nice surprise, because it seems like the only ones who are able to afford beauty these days are the rich. I've been surrounded by the ugly poor for a long time, and it's not their fault. It's hard to keep young and pretty when you're scrubbing floors till you bleed and chipping your teeth in the mines.
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<BR>"Now, sir, I assure you, I can build you a fine airship if given the chance. I've never actually built one before, that's true... But that means nothing!" My hands come up, waving back and forth, "I know how. I know the ins and outs and in betweens and all arounds of these machines. I've just never had the supplies and funding is all. See, I could probably only build half a ship with what I have without selling my home and all." I give a sheepish smile, "Which wouldn't be very good, you see. A half a ship would surely not get you much of anywhere! Which, is why I need to work at your factory, sir! Mr. Griffith, I can assure you, really! I can bui-"

<br><br>I'm cut off. This isn't a surprise. I was rambling on. I never fail.

<br><br>"Mr. Proctor, please." The heavyset man grumbles annoyingly at me, and my perky eyes falter, but I try to stay optimistic. Maybe it doesn't mean no. "You have no experience. None whatsoever. Your resume is empty. Working at a clock shop does not mean you know how to build an entire airship." His annoyance falls away as he starts to laugh as if I am the most ludicrous person he has ever interviewed, his unpleasant chortles husky and soon followed by a cough, which is seems to 'remedy' by taking a drag from his cigar. He blows the smoke into my face, and while my eyes water, I attempt to not gag. "You, boy, are not working in my factory. Your attempts are rather cute, Mr. Proctor, but that is not what I need here."

<br><br>My round eyes widen as I feel a panic run through me. Not again. I don't need anymore rejection. "But, sir! Look at my designs!" I fumble to grab the rolls of prints that I had set down on the chair beside me, though I end up shoving some off, causing me to bend down and disappear for a moment as I scramble to scoop them up. I pull myself up swiftly, hair now horribly out of place as I place the prints on his desk. "I can do this. I can build you a respectable ship, one with features you never thought of before! If you would only give me a cha-."

<br><br>People are so awfully rude with this cutting off ordeal.

<br><br>"You have no experience, Mr. Proctor! You have never built a single airship in your lifetime. You've never repaired one." He's grumbling now, now more angry than amused. He won't even touch my designs. "I cannot put faith in you merely because you say you know how. You have never done it before! How do I know you won't waste my money on a ship that won't even take off? Or possibly kill a crew or civilians with a ship that fails within ten minutes after leaving the ground? I need a man with experience, Mr. Proctor, not some tinkerer with a new hobby."

<br><br>My face falls, my heart feeling as if it was trampled on by a horse. I swallow, slowly grabbing onto my coat which I had laid on the chair beside me instead of putting it on a coat rack as would be proper and slipping it on. I scoop up my prints carefully, nearly dropping them again, before I nibble on my bottom lip and look to the man, "Sir, if I could be so bold..." From the look on his face, I know I shouldn't even bother. "If no one will hire me due to lack of experience... How am I suppose to get it?"

<br><br>"Get out of my office, Mr. Proctor." Mr. Griffith snarls, "And go back to your clock shop." He smirks cruelly at me before he shoos me off towards the door.

<br><br>I nod, pressing my lips together as I give him a forced smile. "Have a fine evening, Mr. Griffith." With that, I gradually turn around, shoulders dropping, as I leave his office and shuffle my way out into the bitter winter cold. Gloved hands grip gently at the rolls of designs, wishing I had some sort of case that would fit them without mangling them, because right now it's faintly snowing, and as it melts upon the paper, it causes the ink to run. I sigh to myself as I cover them the best I can with my hands and arms, head ducked over them, acting as an umbrella. I'm hardly looking where I am going, but I know my route home fairly well. I could probably get there with my eyes closed.

<br><br>Of course, I don't account for the lady getting thrown out of the bar and right on top of me.

<br><br>Down I go, right into a chunky pile of snow, a couple of my prints rolling off to the side, and there she is, laying right on top of me. Thankfully, she's not a hefty woman or anything, but it doesn't make it that much easier. The wind is knocked out of me, and I bring my face to the side so I can cough and suck in a breath, while she twists and shifts on top of me, shouting towards the bar as I hear a clamor of a few items being thrown at her. Finally, she pulls herself off of me, and I quickly push myself up into a sitting position, grabbing the now soggy designs with a frown. Oh, bother. Well, I have more at home. It would be silly of me if I didn't make copies. It doesn't matter now anyway. What matters now is the poor young woman who was literally just thrown out of an establishment.

<br><br>"Oh, I am fine, really. Yes." I nod as if I'm assuring myself, brushing my jacket off before I get on my knees beside her and begin to help her put her stuff in her sack. "I'm glad I was there to cushion your fall, miss." I'll only have a few bruises, I gather. I give her a soft smile though it's hindered with the disappointment of my earlier meeting. "How about you? That seemed like it might have been rough... Back in, erm, there." I awkwardly gesture back to the bar. "I've never been in there myself. Not really my crowd." I laugh faintly, the idea of myself in with those brutes extremely humorous. I wouldn't be watching myself and I would say something that would seem off color to them and be not only in the snow, but with possibly a broken arm.

<br><br>Once all of her things are back where they should be, this is when I lift my eyes to actually look at her face. I find my mouth falling open and drying up, while I'm starting to sweat like I'm standing in a broiler room. "H-Hi." I abruptly blurt out, before a sort of toothy smile that rightfully belongs to a numpty crosses my mouth. She is the most stunning female I've ever seen, and with the flecks of ivory snow decorating her dark chocolate locks and fair skin, even flecking her eyelashes, she looks like an angel... An angel who must be almost as soaked as I am. "Would you like to dry off at my house?" I pause at how that sounds, before a flush splashes across my face, melting the snowflakes resting upon from my cheeks. "It's right around the corner."
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<br>He recovers quickly enough, thankfully, because the last thing I need is a whiny boy complaining about me breaking his leg or something. I can't afford those sort of grievances. But to my surprise, he says he's glad to have broken my tumble. "Are you?" my brow quirks into a half-frown, but my lips part with a smile, and laughter like the soft clatter of silver spills out, because he really looks like he could mean it. Very few men would actually jump at the chance to be a falling girl's goose-feather mattress…but then again, this is my first time in this town. He's even helping me pick up my things. He can't be lower class, can he? I'm so used to boys and men from my breed saying crude things and pushing and shoving each other all around--not kind things, and shoving my compass back into my bag for me.

<br><br>He comments on the men and pub being rough, just as I privately check my other inner pocket, where as luck would have it, the other's wallets still sleep peacefully. So it wasn't a complete disaster. Ironic that he's calling them the villains here. Usually I'd lie about this sort of thing, and agree that those men were out of hand. It would do me no good to point out that I'm really the one to blame. But there's something very…trusting, or blameless about his face. It's just the sort of countenance that makes it just a bit more difficult to lie to…and, well, besides, honesty costs nothing between strangers. "No, actually," I shake my head, pursing my lips--a habit from childhood…I'd always do that when I was telling the truth and expecting to be punished. "It's my fault. I deserved it," I give a short sigh, unsure of why I'm even sharing this, but I quickly change the subject. "But really? You've never been to the alehouse?" I ask, tying the strings of my bag. I find that hard to believe of any man that age, and a bright grin like a wink, a nudge to the ribs, crosses my features. "You should have a badge, sir."

<br><br>All of a sudden, he greets me, agai--no, wait, we never had a proper introduction. Our bodies met before our eyes, really. But I like his smile. It folds me in, like a warm cloak…the imagery which reminds me of how cold it is at the moment, and I try not to shiver. "Hello," I greet back with a trembling smile, my wet clothes grasping at my skin as if the chill itself was trying to grab its way to my bones. Before I can say that we both better be off before I turn into a statue of ice, he invites me to his home--a shocking notion, considering how innocent he was appearing before. But oh, no, it's just to dry off…isn't it? Yes, it is. I can trust him. And besides, even if he turns out to be some cold-blooded killer, I'm sure I could find some way out after warming myself. I always do, somehow--pirate blood's lucky blood.

<br><br>I sit there for a moment beside him in the snow, the choices of "yes" and "no" chasing each other across the plane of my face as I chew it over one last time. But the idea of warmth is just too enticing, tipping the scale much more than the idea of danger (in fact, sometimes the latter could tip it in favor). "All right," I accept sprightly, pulling myself onto my feet, and I hold out my hand, both to help him up, and in introduction. "I'm Gwen, by the way," I remark, nearly sing, my free hand going to dust the new layer of snowflakes off his shoulder after. "--at your service." Then I remember the wallets, and that those thugs could be popping their heads out and looking for them at any moment now. My feet scrape the snow impatiently. "Though I might be better at service once I'm thawed out properly, so you can talk and walk, right?" Just the teeniest, tiniest edge of panic lilts, and I grab his hand and start a quick stride away from the place.


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<BR>"Well, yes, yes, certainly." I shake my head in response to her incredulous response to me being happy I broke her fall. "Believe me, the street below is not very friendly." I half joke, able to feel the ache in my hip and shoulder as I think of the landing. I would much rather inflict common pain among myself than a young woman, or anyone really, if they didn't deserve the shove out the door. I don't see how she could have. My father would probably chastise me for not thinking the woman is capable of ill deeds, but I'm not about to judge someone I have only just met so harshly. My father is more sensitive when it comes to such matters, as my own mother ended up betraying him and me after knowing her for ten years.

<br><br>So, the girl surprises me when she tells me she did in fact deserve it, and my brows furrow, "Oh." Well, it takes a decent person to admit what they did and all, so she still couldn't be all that bad, right? Right. I'm sure whatever she did wasn't so awful. She was probably judged more harshly for being a woman in a man's territory. I don't care about such things, but the brutes in there aren't extremely welcoming of new things. Going by the woman's lack of skirts and crinoline, she isn't your average lady, and maybe she went too far trying to be equal with them. I give her credit for attempting it though. I don't know if I would be brave enough. "You live and your learn, yes?" I smile, nodding, happy with that response, before she ends up telling me I deserve a badge for never have been in the alehouse, as if it's some sort of accompishment. I blush at this, shaking my head, "I'd much rather have my drink away from those towering beasts." I chuckle in embarrassed amusement. "I don't know if I'd make it to the bar without getting myself pummeled. You are an extremely fortunate lady."

<br><br>I find my stomach sinking down to the bottom of my core, heart pulsating as I wait for her response to my invitation. I am wishing and hoping it doesn't sound as disgustingly forward as it might. It is just to dry off, but she may be the sensitive type who looks more into it and sees more than there is, and therefore I get a stinging slap to the face and a lonely evening blanketed by my recent failure. I would supremely enjoy her company. The shallow part of me wants to admire her face, except with the sweet warm glow of my fireplace bathing her. Everything else craves for someone to speak with besides my father, and to help out a lady who seems to be in need. She looks like she might be desiring a glass of hot apple cider.

<br><br>To my absolute joy, she agrees in a manner far more pleasant than I was expecting, and I grin up at her in a dorky fashion, taking her hand gently while my designs are tucked under my other arm. I attempt to use my legs to help myself up instead of pulling at her, and I thank the skies above for not slipping on the icy floor and pulling both of us right back down into the snow. She introduces herself to me and touches my shoulder, and my face grows hot, feeling now as if I'm practically steaming. "That's so lovely a name." I breathe, a dreamy film crossing over my eyes before she suggests we walk and talk as to get out of the cold faster, my distracted self oblivious to there being any other reason. "Oh, yes!" I snap out of it a bit as she begins to pull me down the road. "Of course." It takes me a moment to realize her pulling me doesn't make much sense as we are suppose to be heading to my home, a place she has never been before, so I quicken my pace, getting a bit ahead of her, yet not letting go of her hand.

<br><br>"I'm Reginald, by the way. Reginald Proctor." I greet with a nearly charming smile. "There aren't many people out tonight, what with the cold and all, so you were fortunate indeed in falling on top of me." I huff out a laugh, my breath easily visible in this weather. "I know I haven't seen you around before. I know of most of the people around here, since I've lived here all of my life and well, I guess it's just inevitable to know everyone eventually, especially when you work in a shop and all. I'm hoping to change that but we just have to see. Where are you from? Is it close by? How are you liking it here?" I'm rambling off again, and I'm only stopped by the fact that I've already turned the corner and walked a good hundred feet (I don't have a considerably slow pace) so now I'm in front of my home. "Oh, we're here! Wonderful!" Forward I go onto the front porch, finally releasing her hand as I take the keys off my belt, the ring holding several belonging to the house, my workshop, and the clock shop. I unlock the door and shove my non-aching shoulder into it because it tends to get stuck, opening it up wide and pressing my back against it so that she may come inside.

<br><br>The house is made up of deep mahogany and cherry woods, the panels in the quaint foyer all covered in patterns engraved by my own hand, but I don't mention such things. I lead her into the sitting room once she is inside and I am able to shut the door and lock it. "It's not terribly much, but we can gratefully manage to be a tad more fortunate than most." I swiftly walk over to a side table where I can place my designs until I have the chance to put them in their proper place, making my way over to the fireplace in record time. The fresh logs are already in their place, so I grab the tinderbox from on top the mantle and scrape up a spark, igniting a radiant and crackling fire before I place the tinderbox back and pull the iron rack a bit closer yet at a still reasonable distance from the fire, before my jacket comes off and I lay it on top of it. "You can go ahead and place any of your clothes atop of here if you'd like, which I'm sure you would. If you need clothes to wear, I can certainly loan you some of mine." I'm flushing at this, but I'm glad it's not too horribly much. I'm only helping a lady in need. I strip off my gloves and vest and lay them over my jacket, leaving more room for her belongings. "Afterward, if you'd like, I could get you something warm to drink or eat. Whatever it is you need, mis- oh, erm, Gwen. Yes. Whatever you need, Gwen." I inform her in a gentle voice, a timid smile gracing my lips. "I am at your service." I add, repeating her words from earlier, though I gather mine are much more literal.

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<br> No one's ever told me my name is lovely. It's common, I think…there must've been at least four other Gwen's in my town--although one of them was actually a Gwenna. There's no real pride in it. Wait till you hear my last name, comes my thoughts, although I know I'm not going to tell him, despite my surname being the medal of honor I've worn with me since I found it out. Mauratius de Wynterstone. It's how the children of pirates always did it in the old days. You take your father's last name--Mauratius, and then you take the place you were born in, or where your mother was from. Wynterstone. The original thought was that pirates fathered so many children with their traveling that it would tell him who you were. I used to fall asleep in the orphanage, cropped hair against rough pillow, dreaming about all the siblings I had. I had a large family, I dreamed, and one day, I'd meet them all.



<br><br>Now that I'm older, I've come to the realization that the number is probably much smaller than the hundreds I'd imagine in my childhood…but I haven't given up on a reunion just yet, though what I really want is to return to Wynterstone first. I was born there, but taken to another country before I was even a year old. I've never seen their famed icy towers and frozen lakes, but I certainly plan to, once I have my ship.



<br><br>My stranger finally gives me his own name, Reginald Proctor, but my stubborn mind immediately christens him Reggie. Three syllables never lasted long in my town, full of anything except nobles and blue-bloods. In fact, when the baker's wife tried to chide me with "Gwendolyn", my confused eight-year old self informed her that my last name was nothing close to Dolyn. All of those nostalgic memories don't last long, however, because Reggie doesn't stop with that. I learn that he works at some store and he's never left this village, which I'm sorry for, because everyone should travel. I know it's not as simple as putting one foot in front of the other, but there're always adventures worth having out in the world, and you'll never find them if you just stand in a shop every day. And it's worse when you know this, which Reggie must, since he's trying to get out. My sympathy's interrupted when he starts asking questions, however.



<br><br>"Salwey," I respond with my town name, because it's too late for "nice to meet you now" 's what with his rambling, though I don't mind it at all. Silence is what I hate, so I think we'll get along well before I disappear on him. "It's a scorching little town, a bit less than a hundred leagues away." The memory of it makes the air feel even colder, and I shiver just slightly in my clothes. "It's almost always hot there, save for a couple of scattered days of winter. The heat's thick as jam and jelly, so all the women wear cotton shifts, and the children play in the mud when they try to cool down," I laugh, remembering, before I shake my head and turn to look up at the black sky, where more snow falls. "Nothing like this." Although this is much closer to my birthplace, I imagine."But I've just arrived here today, so you'll have help me form an opinion, Reggie," I grin, laughing a little more as our boots make mirroring prints in the snow.



<br><br>We arrive at his house, which is a pretty little thing, like something in a book. I've always liked porches, though the steps here are dusted with white. But it's a good size. Smaller houses are a blessing in the cold, what with the heat traveling all the faster. It makes me think of those rare, but biting, chilly nights in the orphanage. Old master Barclay would always wake up to find us tykes out of our beds, huddled together on the floor and curled around the heat of the hearth.



<br><br>"Wonderful indeed," I murmur, almost to myself as I glance around at the door, the pillars, my eyes eventually falling on Reggie gets the keys, my newly-freed hand missing his warmth. A brush of amusement on my lips as he slams his way into the house. "Thank you." I finally remember some manners as I enter the house, and discover that the outside does the interior no justice. The woods are rich and expertly carved, finer than you'd find in any house of the elite. But there's such a myriad of them that you know you couldn't be in one of those falsely-modest establishments. The artist spared none of his imagination. I drink it in with admiring eyes, not even looking as my feet just follow the sound of his.



<br><br>"We?" I repeat, sincerely surprised on that for a second, but I've learned the talk from other silly birds around the market. "You and your wife?" I ask with a teasing smile, giving him a friendly poke in the side as he passes by me to the fireplace. Compliments are the least thing I can give in returns for all this, though that may be my only form of payment. A tad more fortunate than most seems to be an apt description, though they've got a good load of knickknacks to spare. As Reggie starts up the fire, I find myself eyeing a particular little bauble that looks like it's made out of silver. And the next thing I know, my fingers are nonchalantly walking across the wood…wrapping around the thing.



<br><br>Suddenly, Reggie speaks up, almost giving me a heart-attack! I shove the trinket into my pants pocket before turning around to face him. "Hmm? Oh, thanks," I respond cheerily, going over to join him. I immediately kick off my boots and sling my thick wet socks onto the rack, revealing my thinner, hole-ridden stockings beneath. Ahhh, much nicer. I wiggle my toes against the hardwood floor already warmed by the fire, and I begin to take off my jacket. But at the mention of something to eat or drink, my eyes perk up like a child catching a whiff of sticky cinnamon buns from the kitchen. Reggie gives a small, abiding smile, so frightfully gracious. I clear my throat and address one matter at a time, though he's just reminded me that I haven't had anything for supper. I don't eat much, but I do eat.



<br><br>"Fresh clothes would be--" I begin as I undo the clasps of my coat, and then remember…if I borrow his clothes, I won't be able to pilfer a nickel. Anything I take would go into his own pockets, so how would that work? That sounds like something from a fable. "--oh, actually that's not necessary!" I quickly correct myself, pinning on an assuring smile. I whisk off my coat and draping it on the rack. "I've got loads of layers." I start unbuttoning the vest, peeling off every piece (I wore more than usual, not only because of the cold, but because I hoped to look a little more manly. Sweaters and shirts soon join my jacket on the little iron frame. "But a bit of tea 'n biscuits would be lovely, Reggie," I murmur as I roll up the sleeves of my loose white blouse and pocket the cufflinks, getting more comfortable and making myself at home.



<br><br>As he starts with that, I give a peek at those papers he was carrying around from before. One prod of the fingertip is all it takes for one of them to unroll, revealing drawings, to my pleasant surprise. The ink's bled a bit from the snow, but it's still readable. They…couldn't be…or are they? "Reggie?" I call with a frown of amazement, one finger going to trace a line. "What're these scrolls?"



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<BR>"Oh, I don't know if I could survive such heat." I jest with her as she tells me of her town. It sounds horrid really. Sticky. "I've only ever lived here. Even in the summer seasons, the skies are overcast. I think I'd scorch in the sun." I chuckle, shaking my head at myself. "Well, Gwen, I am rather fond of my home, despite it's dreariness at times. The winter is breathtaking. The snow here is as white as I imagine stardust must be." Just then, a sharp wind passes between us, causing a shiver to run through me. This causes me to laugh, "And you could say the cold keeps you on your toes." The look in my eyes turns a little more tender as I look upon her, "I hope I can help you cultivate a grand opinion." I tell her softly, wanting her to enjoy this place enough to not just run through it.

<br><br>While we are in my house, Gwen seems to pick up on the fact that I keep saying 'we' instead of 'I', and she assumes that I'm speaking of a wife. A dark fluster crawls up my neck when she pokes me, causing an involuntary chortle to escape as I'm on the ticklish side. "Oh, no, no, no. I am most certainly not married." I shake my head as if this is ludicrous, and to some, it might be. "Nor am I courting anyone." I add quickly, maybe too quickly, feeling the need to clarify that I'm not attached to any persons at the current time. "When I say we, I mean me and my father." It comes out meekly. "He's off visiting a friend at the moment. He'll be back all in good time." He wasn't specific on his return, so it could very well be tomorrow morning or in a few days time. All he does tell me when he leaves is that he will return, no matter what. Usually, I miss him dearly, but at the moment, I'm sort of happy that he's not here, living me alone with my new company and not able to judge it.

<br><br>She seems to need my clothes at first, but then she must remember that she's all taken care of in the clothes department, telling me she doesn't acquire them as she has layers upon layers. Oh, goodness, does she. I was paying too much attention to her face to realize how bulky she looked, and now, as she peels off her clothing, I gulp, eyes flickering over her, but I catch myself and turn my eyes away, over to the wall, until she lets me know that she would like tea and biscuits to eat. I perk up as I shift my eyes back over to her remarkable visage, a large smile flashing across my mouth. "Yes! Perfect! Tea. Biscuits. I shall return... Erm, make yourself at home!" I nod in an elated fashion before I hurry off towards my kitchen. I pump out water for the tea into an old teapot and place it on one of the ranges on our cast iron stove, getting the heat started before I hear Gwen call for me, and as silly as it is, my heart jumps, and not in the way it does when you've heard an unfamiliar sound in the middle of the night.

<br><br>I head back to the sitting room, where I see her standing in front of my papers, and the rejection from earlier hits me, causing only a small smile to appear. "Oh, those." I cross the room til I'm right beside her. "That's an airship concept of mine." I push away my earlier grief, for it's not as if she's a potential employer. She's a curious new acquaintance. So, I grin, pushing away the print she had unrolled. "This one is my favorite!" I grab another scroll and pull it open, flattening it out across the table, shoving the others gently out of the way. I admire my own visuals, because, oh, how many hours I put into these, before I run my finger over the front section. "See, here, would be the helm, in front of this glorious window." I lift my hands and swipe them outward as if I'm creating a rainbow, careful to not go outside the lines of my body, not wanting to hit her. My hands go back to the ink, giving her a little tour of each room, before I get to telling her about the features. "It would be light. Faster than past airships, but it would be sturdy. If you brushed along something, it wouldn't tear it to bits, but at the same time, it would get you to where you needed to go in a much swifter manner."

<br><br>I laugh to myself in excitement, abruptly taking hold of print and sitting myself up on the able, right in front of her. "This, though, I love this." I say in a nearly breathless manner as I lay out the paper in between the two of us, the majority of it laying on my torso. "This." I point to where you can see two wing designs. First, there is the sort you typically see on such a vessel of flight, and then there is another, designed for something entirely different. "Flippers, I suppose you could call them! Fins like a fish!" I grin almost proudly. "You could go underwater with this one. Everything can be sealed off safely and a system sort of like an anchor is used to change out the wings." I hop off, loosening my grip on the scroll and therefore causing it to curl slightly. I'm close to her now, close enough to be able to look down at her, and I smile with my eyes. "This is my dream, Gwen. If only I had the funding, I would be able to build a fine ship! Fine ships, really, but if I could manage one, that would be a dream."

<br><br>My exhilaration doesn't last too long, for reality quickly hits. "However." I breathe out a sigh, my deep umber gaze soon turning sad as I look upon her fair face, admiring how it is tickled by the snug light of the fireplace's flame. "I cannot find myself someone who will give me a cent towards it." I roll the scroll up completely, giving it a slight squeeze in contempt. "For now, it's merely a dream, a wish, I'm hoping I can make come true." I put on a wider smile for her, taking this opportunity to turn the conversation back to her. "Do you have any dreams, Gwen?"

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I don't know why, but I feel the sudden urge to convince him of Salwey's greatness. Which isn't much, in reality, but Barclay used to say that I could build up a grand story about a twig and a leaf. "Well, I was born in the heat, you see," I almost protest, picturing the tall, tickling, dry grass, the moist, nearly cozy soil. "Everything was always warm to the touch…the cobblestone, the houses…it made everything feel alive, and when those balmy, spicy winds blew, it was like the whole town was breathing…everything down to the last pebble." I can almost see it now, and for one, weak moment…I wonder why I ever left. But no, I was nothing there, and that was all I was ever going to be if I stayed. Still, it was a tender spot in my heart, no matter my reputation. "It felt like being in the belly of a giant, with nothing surrounding you but life," I suck in my breath. "--the same feeling you get when you're on a ship." I add shortly after, imagining those planks of wood closing in on me, swallowing me whole. I'd welcome it.

<br><br>"But travelers don't stay long," I admit, understanding his aversion. The heat's as foreign to them as the cold is to me, maybe even worse. "They say it's like camping outside the gates of hell." They had a strong imagination.

<br><br>Reggie goes on to talk about his own town though, and I have to agree that the snow is pretty. Swirling little bits decorating the whole village. I just wish it wasn't so cold. It feels much colder to me than it would to any other person. I laugh lightly at the mention of stardust. "I always pictured stardust to be thousands of colors all at once," I murmur thoughtfully. "Maybe it's the same thing." Maybe all the colors together, smashed into one thing, makes that sort of crystally white. I wouldn't know.

<br><br>I tilt my head back, giving the snowflakes another ponderous gander. "When I sail those floating white cities"--the clouds, I mean--"I'll bring back a jar of stardust for you, Reggie." I promise it. I wouldn't mind coming back here for him. He's nice, nicer than anyone outside of home has been to me in a long time. Just then, an icy gust cuts through the air, another bite to the skin. I grin through chattering teeth at Reggie's comment about it keeping you on your toes. I have no doubts about that. "…I'll bring you back a bit of the sun, too." That would be harder, but I wouldn't mind paying the sun a visit either.

<br><br>"You're doing a good job so far," I reply. In fact, he was shaping my whole opinion. "Just keep it up." I gaze back at him, his face so kind. When life made him, they painted a true portrait of his heart. "A boy of winter and a girl of summer," I say aloud without meaning to, but then chuckle. "We've got the making of a fairytale between us." That's how they always go, right? Opposites. A blue horse and a red horse, a prince and a pauper.

<br><br>Inside his house, Reggie laughs--though I'm not sure if it's because of the idea of a wife, or because he's like my old friend Yorke, who would laugh himself to pieces at the slightest touch. Either way, his quick giggle makes me smile, almost like the swift clinking of a teaspoon tinkling in a cup. The smile vanishes at the mention of his father, however. "Your father?" I repeat, eyes widening on those two syllables. The thing about me is that...the older folks and I tend to get along fine…so long as they don't have high standards or very strict morals. Those factors usually don't pertain to parents, at least not one like Reggie's. I've never met his father, but I can tell from Reggie that he seems to be a good enough man, and that would mean he would have the brains not to like me very much. Parents can sense things about me that other adults seem to overlook. I think it's because they know children too well. I can picture Reggie's father coming in here right now and giving me a smack with a poker…and keeping at it till I leave, just the way the tough old inkeep used to do it.

<br><br>"Is he coming back soon?" I ask, with the worried look of a naughty child who broke a window, and just spotted her mother walking towards the door. With that thought, I glance towards the window myself, but it's too dark to see anything. Reggie having a wife would've been bette--no, it wouldn't have been. That would be worse, much worse. Disappointment bites me harder than shame. I like this more.

<br><br>Reggie immediately starts rummaging around in the kitchen for the tea and biscuits, and I would've followed him, curious to see another room and to watch. Kitchen's have always been my favorite part of the house, not just because they're the warmest. They always have so many…things. Pots and pans and silverware and crockery…and just the best smells. But before I can, I discover his scrolls, and he tells me they're for…"Airship?" I echo, and I don't know why I sound so surprised because I've seen hundreds of pictures of them before, but it's just so…it's so ironic that it's almost hard to believe. Could he possibly be what I've been hoping for all this time?!

<br><br>Reggie's quick to show me everything, his words breathing even more beauty into the ink on the paper. I can see it in my mind…just as he explains…and I couldn't imagine a ship more perfect for the Queen's Tourney. Fast, and sturdy…but fast. I'm rendered speechless (something so unusual for me that it would give my poor old caretaker a heart attack). But then Reggie pulls himself up and shows me another design, shocking me out of dazzled silence. "It's the same ship?" I stutter, almost unable to comprehend a ship that could both fly AND swim, whenever the captain so chose. And it wasn't just the usual swimming…it could be completely submerged!

<br><br>"Oh, Reggie Proctor, you are BRILLIANT," I exclaim, one hand going out to his arm and giving it a squeeze."..just brilliant!" With a ship that could go underwater…I would be unstoppable! Yes, YES! This is what I've been waiting for!!!

<br><br>The mood takes a slight turn when Reggie informs me that no one has been able to provide funding for him…although it does little to damper my own mood, because I'm about to turn that all around. My lips turn a bit sour when he takes away his designs so fast, but I know a bit about what it's like to be turned down constantly...though his case is more unfair than mine. All he wants to do is build. I don't know why anyone would turn him away. While with me…well, they see a bastard girl with no acclaim. That'll change, though. All of it will change now. I can see everything so clearly with him by my side. My dream will come true, and so will his! Oh, I could kiss him!

<br><br>But I won't, I mean, I've never even, I…I suddenly realize that he's asked me a question. "Me? Oh…no, no dreams. I'm just…ordinary, boring, not worth the trouble of listening to," I shake my head swiftly, nudging that aside. Time enough for that later."But back to you!" An idea's hit me already, and I move around him, grabbing the back of a chair by the table and pulling it closer. "If your designs could speak for themselves, you'd have no trouble at all…" People would be fighting to hire him. "But unfortunately we don't have any enchanted ink, so the problem might be…with your own voice," I give a sorry look, because oh, I didn't like saying that, even for my whole speech. I don't believe a word of it, of course. The problem's always with the other people who turn you down.

<br><br>"Thankfully, I'm very good at this sort of thing. I'm certain I can help you, Reggie!" I sit down, rubbing my hands together. "Pretend I'm a prospective employer, and you've just finished showing me all your work. The closing statement's the most important, so...how would you end it?" My hands clench my knees and I look up at him eagerly, my soon-to-be mechanic. "Go on!"
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<BR>"You make it sound like the coziest place in this world, Gwen." I say in a fond tone as I listen to her describe her town. "Though you're accustomed to the heat. Like those travelers, I'd probably melt there." I'd melt over there just like she looks to be so entirely freezing over here. It makes me long not to be a stranger to her, so that I could be able to envelop my arms around her and make her toasty and comfortable. Oh, what a blessing it'd be to be close enough to her to be able to do that. I find myself imagining the two of us invading the other's personal space, taking in each other's scents (I'm sure she smells incredible), and listening to each other's shaky breaths. I'd brush back that chocolate cascade of locks behind her shoulders and brush a thumb over those snow white cheeks, a nervous pit growing in my stomach as I debate over closing that last bit of distance to allow our lips to meet, able to imagine how scorching they'd feel in this weather.

<br><br>I swallow, snapping myself out of my wild imagination, and a great flush runs over me. I've never felt like doing that with any woman. I mean, I've attempted being with other women, but it hardly works out. Maybe now I know why (Though part of it is that they don't particularly like me), because I've never felt like a magnet finally meeting it's compatible match before, pulled towards her glorious presence. It's silly, but it's how I feel, which makes me feel like a foolish child. I push it back though. She's a traveler passing through. This isn't something to act upon.

<br><br>"It is." I whisper, confirming her observation regarding the stardust. "White light has the presence of every color in existence." I admire her profile as she looks up to the white speckled skies, and she tells me that she'll bring me back some stardust when she gets to sailing through the skies, even part of the sun too, and I laugh at that. "As long as you visit and tell me all about your adventures, stardust or no stardust." My father used to tell me every bit of us is made up of stardust. So, I suppose... That would make her my stardust. Maybe we are made from the same dust. Maybe I'll tell her that someday.

<br><br>"Am I?" I grin widely, glad I'm making my town sound appeasing, rocking a bit on my heels in glee at that. "I shall do my best." Oh, I'll keep trying. Maybe I can make this her second favorite place... Though, if she's going to be traveling, she'll be seeing a plethora of places far more incredible than here, but possibly, I can make it appeal enough to be like a second home. I can wish, can't I? She makes a point to mention how opposite we are, like some fairytale duo, and I blush as I chuckle, "That would mean we've got some adventures ahead of us." That's a nice thought. She probably has a slew of adventure ahead of her. I'm not so sure about myself.

<br><br>Gwen almost doesn't seem to like the sound of the fact that I have a father who lives under the roof we stand under, and I briefly wonder why, before she asks me if he's returning soon. "I'm not positively sure actually. He didn't give an exact time." I shake my head, "It won't be tonight though. My father only returns in the mornings." He's an early riser, and I am quite the same. We get far more done by the time the sun rises than most others. "It could be a few days from now. Don't worry though. I'm sure he'd find you lovely." Who wouldn't? However, how he responses after he meets her and takes a minute to evaluate her is another story. My father seems to want to keep me safe from women who's intentions seem anything but pure, the sort of thing I'm blind to.

<br><br>I'm so thrilled to be able to share my ideas and designs with someone who's genuinely interested in them. My father is encouraging, but he knows the world out there isn't so kind, and makes sure to let me know I shouldn't be too idealistic. This doesn't stop me from being just that way, but lately, each new rejection is causing that dreamy outlook to dim. This girl, though; The look on her face as she listens to me makes me feel as if my ideas could truly be the somethings I want them to be. She only raises my confidence when she elates that I'm brilliant once I'm finished, the grip she gives on my arm making me give a cute and shy smile in response. It's so nice that she thinks so. I wish everyone else did. I wish everyone else would actually bother to let me show off and explain my designs.

<br><br>I want to hear about her, want to know what her equivalent to my desire to build is, but she brushes off the question, saying that she's boring, of all things, and not worth listening to. This causes my mouth and eyebrows to drop into a sour expression. That's preposterous! "No, you-." I start, but she's still talking, turning it back to me again, so I shut my lips and wait, curious as to what else she has to say. First, she compliments me, basically telling me my designs are grand enough to get me anywhere if they did the speaking, but then it turns into an insult, as she tells me my own voice is the reason for failure. My mouth falls open, a bit hurt by that one, especially since I wasn't expecting it. "O-Oh... Do you truly think so?" I murmur with a fallen face, a sad look that rivals a puppy stuck in the rain coming to my dark eyes.

<br><br>She informs me that she is able to help me with this, and so she sits down, asking me to act as if she's a possible boss and I have to give a finishing statement after showing off all that I've envisioned. "W-W-What?" I stutter, eyes going wide, as I take a short step back. Why do I feel so nervous all of a sudden? I let out a strained laugh, my stomach feeling heavy and my throat growing swollen. I've never gotten to this part of an interview, considering I've never been given a chance to show off my prints. "I would... I-I-I would-." I stop, trying to think, but nothing is coming to me. "I don't know really." Oh, I've got to snap out of it, instead of looking like a bumbling numpty without a clue. You are brilliant, Reginald. She said so herself. You are tarnishing that. "I-I would say that I-I am determined to, erm, to deliver the best sort of work, the best ship, for him." I gulp, though it's a struggle to get down. "And-And, erm, that I would so greatly appreciate the opportunity." I feel a cold sweat running through me, on top of that feeling silly for being jittery over something that's fake, but that must be because I'm trying to seem impressive to this marvelous woman sitting in front of me. I am doing a horrible job, I'm sure.

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"Oh," I try not to sigh TOO loudly with relief when Reggie assures me that his father won't be stepping through the door any time soon…not till morning, at the earliest. But at that thought, I suddenly realize that I don't know where I'll be staying tonight. It'd be so nice to just stay here, with the roaring fire and pretty carvings, and…a friend. But it's more likely he'll have to point me towards an inn once my clothes dry and we've had tea, unfortunately. It's been so long since I've just been able to talk with someone, much less someone my age! I wish tonight could last longer, but…I could never stay one one page for too long. I always have to be moving. Stillness and silence fit me as well as my baby linen.

<br><br>I have to smile a bit when Reggie says his father would find me lovely. Lovely in iron chains, maybe, with a good distance between him and his good son. "Can you promise that?" I ask, teasingly, because I know he can't, no one can. If his father came home, I think I'd be flung out a door for the second time tonight, only this time, there'd be no gentle Reggie to land on, and then it's not half as fun.

<br><br>After my rather lacking compliment, Reggie smiles at me…that small smile as sweet as cakes drizzled with honey. But then…it's instantly whisked away before I can even really savor it, all because of me. I realize how badly it's come out. "NO! That's not what I…I was--I meant that--" I reach out to him, actually seizing him by the shoulders, but my words get all twisted up and I'm tongue-tied, actually tongue-tied! "…I was only trying to say…" Ugh. I blow a wisp of hair out of my face. I'm rotten at this. "…s-sometimes people care a great deal about their dreams, so the words don't come out right. I do it all the time!" I assure him…and then roll my eyes, dropping my hands by my sides. "…I'm doing it right now." I sigh, but through a small, expectant smile, hoping he could forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, that's what's truly, and I know it, I don't think it.

<br><br>Reggie's surprised at my proposal, which he has every right to be, because I'll admit hat it's all rather sudden. If I didn't have a shred more willpower in my stock, I would've employed him two seconds ago, without any of that (regrettable) nonsense! But that's not how I've dreamed the meeting to go. I've always wanted it to go…proper. Like I was a real, already-honorable captain! I've always dreamed about people so anxious to be on my crew that just waiting outside the door to sign up…their palms would go all clammy, and they'd barely be able to hold the quill. Maybe that's a bit of a far-fetched dream for now, but I'd happily settle for a few closing words of an interview.

<br><br>I wait for Reggie to start, only grinning back at him when he stutters and stands back. He almost reminds me of a time when some traveler came to town, and he needed some money to stay at the inn. He tried to earn a few coins by dressing his pet squirrel in doll's clothes, but the poor little thing just scampered away when it saw the large crowd of children. Reggie's much braver than that, though (although just as endearing, I'd say), and he manages to deliver his speech well enough. I can see how much he not only wants to build, but how much he wants to help. His designs already sold me to start with, but now…now I just feel like we were meant to work together. I don't want anyone else but him!

<br><br>"Perfect!" I exclaim, after he finishes, clapping my hands together I jump up from my chair. "Fantastic!" I spring across the floorboards, instantly embracing him as tightly as I first wanted to when he showed me the flying, swimming ship! "Welcome aboard, Reggie Proctor," I murmur elatedly before pulling back, beaming up at him, face feeling warm even though I've stepped farther away from the fire. "You are hired," I lightly smack the side of his upper arm before giving it another squeeze, biting down on my bottom lip as my grin takes its more mischievous, excited turn. I can see the confusion beginning to surface, so I quickly explain myself, releasing my hold and taking a step back.

<br><br>"I may not seem like much," I start, clasping my hands behind my back. I'm certain I seem that way, especially to him, because to Reggie, I'm just a stranger who was thrown out of a pub who he's been kind enough to lend a hand to, offer a warm roof for a while. "…but in reality, I've got more than a couple of copper shillings…just enough to buy the materials for a ship, actually." I raise my eyebrows on that note, leaning forward, but I continue on instead of waiting to see that twinkle of understanding in his umbers.

<br><br>"And more than enough intellect to win the Queen's Tourney, and her champion's purse!" I proclaim, brandishing my words like a shining sword, not a smidgen of doubt in my voice. I can feel my blood racing just talking about it. I know that I'll win. It's what I've always been meant to do. There's no other alternative. Do, or die. It's oddly reassuring, knowing I just have this one purpose. Despite all the frustrations it's given me in the past…the imagery of the day I step foot in the Queen's palace and receive my acclaims is more than enough to keep me going. I can just picture that smooth marble floor beneath my boots…no...stockings…

<br><br>My old, worn stockings, nearly threadbare. I find myself staring at my feet, and it reins me back into reality, for just a moment. I dread saying the next part, but I know it has to be done. I won't lie to him. I didn't do it with the others, and while Reggie's could actually be kind enough to trust in a lie I give, I won't take advantage of his compassion. "…so…I can't say I could pay you for your work straightaway," I mutter, digging my heel into the wood, chewing the inside of my cheek petulantly before I look back at him. "But I promise to pay you FOUR times the amount after!" I swear, and I'm not the type to break a promise, ever. I'm no fickle oath-breaker. "I know I could win with your design, Reggie!" I swear that too, the hunger for just the CHANCE to be in the contest in my eyes, and for a moment, I almost feel like seizing him again to convince him. I look down at my hands, clench and unclench them, and then back up at him, almost afraid of what I'll hear now.

<br><br>"…the offer's yours," I almost choke out, stupidly enough. I give a small smile then, my heart beating fast. The fire's died down, and I've got to face the ashes.

<br><br>My dream's yours.
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<BR>My eyebrows fly upward as Gwen seems almost overly excited about my acted out finishing statement, hopping up from her seat with her positive words and actually hugging me. I only hesitate a moment before my arms return the favor, not about to pass up that opportunity. She tells me welcome aboard, pulling back from me, and my face scrunches up in confusion, wondering what she means, when she informs that I'm hired. Hired? Hired by who? Is she pretending to be some overwhelmingly friendly potential boss that doesn't exist out there? The look on her face only perplexes me further. I have no idea what she could be thinking. I look at her, a befuddled front over my features, simply waiting for more elaboration, and soon enough, she gives it to me.

<br><br>"You seem like plenty." I get out as soon as she says she doesn't seem like much, and I flush at my boldness, but last time she downed herself I couldn't get a word in, and she's just too wondrous a lady for me to allow such talk about herself. True, I hardly know her, but there's something there, something that makes me want to really know her. "Sorry." I apologize, muttering the word as I wait for her to go on, and she ends up relaying that she has the money necessary to build a ship... Did I hear that right? My mouth falls upon slightly, the gears in my mind whirring, wondering if she's only fooling me, but why would she do that? She precedes, and soon I know that she's serious. I have heard about the Queen's competition, which would grant you a luscious prize that you could only dream of receiving if you won. I never thought anything of it myself. I can hardly find a regular job, never mind a captain daft enough to want to take on a beginner like me (Even though I know I'm plenty capable), so I hadn't given it a second thought. "Y-You're a captain?" I get out, taken aback by all of this. She's a captain, a female captain, which is unfortunately rare, and she wants to hire me.

<br><br>She wants to hire me. She wants me to actually transfer my ship from paper to reality. She believes in me enough to conquer such a task, and allow her to win the tournament. She has that much confidence in me. What a fantastical opportunity! Not only will I finally have the funding and support to build my concept, but she's the one I'm working for. Not only is she the loveliest girl I have ever laid my eyes on, but she's not some stuffy manufacturer. She's a captain, who can use my ship for adventure, who can truly appreciate it the way I want it to be appreciated. Could I ask for anything better?

<br><br>My eyes are twinkling as I think over this, not realizing her silence while I ponder over how wonderful this is going to be. My dream is coming true, and all because I decided to help out a pretty girl who had gotten herself thrown on me. She speaks up again, snapping me out of my thoughts, a faint smile already on my features, and I look at her, waiting for her to call me out on my silence, since I haven't even agreed yet, when she warns that she wouldn't be able to give me any compensation right away, but that's just fine! My father would think of me as foolish, but I don't need to be guaranteed money for this. As long as I am getting what I require to build my creation, what else extra could I need? Besides, she's promising to reward me once she wins, and she has such confidence that she will, my design being a big help to her, that I have no doubt that she'll win too. What have I to lose?

<br><br>Her last words falter though, and I notice that she's not even sure if I'll agree to all this. She's not confident anymore, thinking there's a possibility I'll say no, and how ludicrous is that! Oh, how I hate how that grin isn't decorating her face anymore. She should be so happy that she can't even contain laughter. Of course I'll say yes! I'd be an imbecile to make any other choice! Now, I just need to do the actual saying yes part, instead of just standing there with wild bewildered eyes.

<br><br>A joyous chuckle finally escapes me as I throw my hands up and outward, "Gwen, the offer is more than I could ever dream!" I swiftly close the short distance between us, and wound up in my excitement, my hands wrap around her slender waist and I scoop her up and swing her around, setting her back down at a hundred and eighty degrees so we have switched sides, a broad grin lighting up my face as I move to grip the section right above her elbows, "I get to build for a captain. I get to build my ship. Y-You think I can do it and t-that's remarkable! Truly remarkable and wonderful and splendid and-and... Oh! Thank you so much!" I exclaim, my arms looping around her as I give her a snug embrace, rocking side to side somewhat before I pull back, my face just pure joy. "You've got me in the clouds, Gwen, dear. I couldn't ask for more. I would be so much more than happy to build the ship for you! She's yours!"

<br><br>I'm breathless now as I make my way back over to the table, spreading out the ship design, the fine lines of ink all popping out at me. "Oh, I must begin immediately! We must get started tomorrow, yes? Yes! When is that Tourney again? I have to make sure I get this done. Oh, so much to do. I will get it done though. You can be sure of that, Gwen. I won't disappoint you. No, no, no, no. You will be a happy captain indeed! I can be sure of it. You can be sure of it. Yes! This is going to be terrific!" I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself down. I suddenly feel overwhelmed, because now I'm actually going to have to do this, and though I have faith in myself, it's still a lot to take on. "I can do this." I breathe out, saying it mostly to myself. "You will have yourself the finest airship, Gwen." I turn to look at her, my chestnut eyes full of mixed amounts of glee and frantic anxiety.

<br><br>Queen's Tournament, here we come.

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"Aye!" I wink with that glowing pride of a boy who just won a game of dice against his father, when Reggie stammers and asks if I am captain. That's all I ever try to see myself as. Not a girl, or a bastard, or a possible orphan. Not just some kid who's run about her entire life with a dream beating down on her shoulders. But a captain, a sky captain!…the only problem with this is the small, unimportant detail that I've never actually flown a ship before…I mean, how could I? No commander was about to let some grubby girl grab hold of the wheel of his shining ship. The only way to get lessons is if you know someone, or if you sign on to help with the Queen's forces. Unfortunately, the only people I knew really well were the people in the orphanage and the other simple villagers in town, from that crooked fish-monger to the kindly baker. And I certainly wasn't gonna waste my life away in some stuffy uniform and fly my ship through clouds of fire.

<br><br>But I did what I could, and that was read. I read more books about the skies and weather and flying that I would bet my left ear that I know enough to fly safely. I wouldn't be the best at first, but I'd master it with experience. I'm quick when it comes to learning things I really care about, so all that reading came easily. And for once I was glad that I didn't bite Barclay as much as I wanted when he slapped my knuckles with his ruler and forced all us kids to learn our letters--he'd say it would make us more desirable to be adopted, and if we weren't…well, at least we'd be all right on our own when we were booted from the big creaky house and forced to look for work.

<br><br>And I didn't only read. I listened, too. There were more than a couple of nights when I was older when I snuck out of the house, down to the taverns, where visitors would chew over a haunch of venison and drink chilled autumn ale and tell their stories, some about failed flights and what went wrong, and I'd learn from that too…or if not, at least get a cup of cold fruit soup from my friend who worked in the kitchens.

<br><br>But Reggie's approval tastes much sweeter.

<br><br>He says it's more than he could dream, and promptly lifts me off my feet in a dizzying but fully-welcomed hug, causing all my fears to evaporate, and pure laughter to ring from my throat (my feet were never meant to be on the ground, truly). He'll do it! It's done! I have my builder, with his designs all ready, and now all that's left is the actual building and we'll be there, in the starlit heavens, racing against men and gods alike. I'm about to say that it looks like we'll be bottling that stardust together, when I suddenly realize that Reggie's just building the ship. He's not coming along. That wasn't in the (verbal) contract, and if it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have even assumed that. It's just that Reggie's so much fun to be around, I wish he could join me on the trip. It'd be awfully lonely with just me and the few stops I make along the way, but it's too much to ask of someone. The journey won't be a short one.

<br><br>The word "think" pricks my ears and brings me back into focus. I don't like that word very much. "No, I KNOW you can do it, Reggie!" I correct curtly, wiggling a finger in front of him, but with an impish grin. He really has no cause to thank me, but he does, anyway, and gives me another hug. And oh, for a moment, it's as warm as summer, as if I'm just back at home again, my snug blanket of heat tugged 'round my shoulders, and my features are painted with glee when we meet again, Reggie wearing the same expression. I can't believe that I've actually found someone as excited as myself for this! "Mr. Proctor, I daresay you were worth all my waiting and searching," I beam, taking his hand in both of mine and shaking it, for now the deal's been struck and there's no going back.

<br><br>Reggie immediately returns to his diagrams, and I don't hesitate to join him, my palms pressing into the table as I hoist myself inches off the floor for just a second, admiring the drawings once more. "Oh, that would be WONDERFUL!" I chirp when Reggie tells me he plans to start tomorrow already! I didn't want to wait any longer. "It starts on the first day of spring, so you'll have about…four months…." I murmur, grimacing just slightly, because I know that's not much time. I would have wanted a whole year for my crew to be able to work on my ship at their leisure, but it doesn't look like that can happen anymore. But Reggie seems so confident and capable that I realize I can't afford to falter. We can't waste time on doubts, so I don't ask him if he thinks he can do it all in that time. I hear Reggie convincing himself, smiling a bit at that before he turns to me and says I will have the finest airship. Overcome with my sudden happiness, I bounce up on my toes and kiss him firmly on the cheek, like I did with Barclay the day I left. "I will."

<br><br>After pulling away, I hurry over to my one of my jackets, the one that was on the bottom layer of my attire, so it was actually dry and I had ust set it aside. I pull out a heavy gunnysack from the pocket and drop it on a blank space on the table.

<br><br>"Will this be enough for the supplies?" I ask, tugging on a string and unveiling the contents, free fingers strumming by my side. There's crowns and sovereigns and pounds of sterling…everything from a half-penny to a gold guinea! A good deal more than I bet anyone would ever figure a girl like me to have, but I've kept myself from squandering away on useless stuff. I eat only the simple stuff (or the stuff I pick off trees), and I try to get free room and board whenever I can. I've also stolen enough to make a Father go to sleep if I went about confessing every single crime. Don't worry, though, I've never nabbed a lot from those who couldn't afford to lose some, and I try to take a little bit of money from a lot of people, instead of a lot of money from a little group of people. I know that small mercy wouldn't hold up in court, but it was the only way! What could I do…find an honest job and work there for years and years while the Queen's Tourney passed me by? Not a chance! I had to get right on the move as soon as I could.

<br><br>Thinking about stealing makes my pocket feel heavier all of a sudden, and I'm reminded of the little bibelot I swiped from the Proctor household. A shade of shame passes over me like a cloud, but it's all right, because I'm gonna put it right back, first chance, promise. What sort of Captain would steal from her first mate, after all? I'm not so bad, at least! I don't thieve just for the fun of it.
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<BR>A space of four months is awfully tight. It makes me wish I had myself a time machine so that I could get started before I had even met her! Better yet, I could have found her earlier and have known her longer. Of course, time travel doesn't work like that, but it's a nice idea. No matter, I can get it done. It's going to take an incredible amount of work. I will be working day and night, with hardly a break for myself. It's intimidating, but it's something I want to do. It's what I'm willing to do, for my own dreams, and her's. How much I wish to make her dreams come true. I want to see that radiant smile lighting up her fair face as she runs to me with delight and wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight in her thanks. I want to be her hero.

<br><br>It's a silly notion, but the idea of being the hero was always so nice to me. However, I've never been a true hero type. Those are the men who are tall and strong, with deep confident voices and a sort of unwavering bravery pulsating from them. They are the men who aren't afraid of war. I've always been the one held up in his little shop who dreamt of much bigger things, and while always brightly optimistic over it happening, was never quite sure it would. On top of that, the idea of finding a partner for myself, of impressing an enchanting lady enough to make her my wife, well, hah, that seems so far off the spectrum of my mind! Most of the ladies I've attempted to court in the past did not seem impressed by my passion for building airships, for inventing, for immersing myself in my work. They had no sense of adventure or discovery.

<br><br>Things are different now though. It's happening, and now, the person making it all happen, is this beautiful woman who makes me all a flutter inside and makes me feel warm despite the weather being so cold. If I could build this for her before the first of Spring, and have it be the best airship she could ever ask for, I could be somebody worthwhile to her. I would make her so purely happy. As sad as it is, her sweet happiness when I am finished would be enough payment for me. I am unfortunately already smitten with the girl, which might be dangerous for me in the future, but that's alright. I want to take the risk. I need more of it in my life.

<br><br>I get a taste of that happiness I crave with her response to me promising to make her the most fantastical ship I can, a kiss from her soft as velvet lips landing upon my cheeks, and a crimson color floods my face immediately. A sheepish smile forms upon my mouth as I duck my head down slightly, trying to hide my embarrassed face. "You will." I assure in a soft murmur as I lift my eyes to meet hers, admiring their elegant beauty and hunger for adventure. She pulls away rather quickly though, and I watch with curiousity as she pulls a large sack from one of her coats, before dumping it's contents all upon the table, asking if it'll be enough for supplies. My eyes grow wide as I take in the many trinkets, jewels, and coins of various value. "W-Where did you get all of this?" I ask her, furrowing my brows, glancing up at her before I go back to taking it all in. It should be enough. I mean, look at it! It's in such an array though. It's not only coins. She surely didn't look like she had all of this. My suspicion passes quickly however, because I am sure this girl isn't some low-life thief or anything. She's merely been smart about saving, and maybe her past work was simply paid with valuable things rather than regular money. "Oh, that's a silly question. It's not as if you stole it." I laugh, waving the subject off with my hand as I shake my head. That'd be blasphemous.

<br><br>"This will be enough, for certain!" I grin as I reach down and pick up a gold guinea, admiring it for a moment before I gently place it down. "Though I might have to give up just a bit of my own money." Possibly more than a bit, but it'll be figured out as I go. I don't mind helping to pay however. This is a ship I aim to be proud of, and I want to make it with the best and most practical materials, which means it'll be on the costly side. It will be worth it though. "Oh, what a ship this will be!" I exclaim with a wide grin filling up my face, when all of a sudden I jump about a foot when the tea whistles sharply. "The tea! I forgot!" I shout with a laugh, squeezing her arm before I jog into the kitchen, and being a panicked fool, I grab hold of the tea kettle handle, forgetting to use a mitt or towel. "OWW!" I grit my teeth and shake my hand out before I swiftly grab hold of the mitt and slip it on my other hand, pulling the tea kettle off the range before shutting it off. "I'm okay!" I shout with a crack in my voice, not wanting her to worry, though my hand hurts pretty bad. It's not a big deal though. My hands have gone through their fair share of cuts and scrapes and burns before. Sometimes I'm not as careful as I would like to be.

<br><br>With a throbbing palm, I pour the hot water into two mugs, the Earl Gray tea soon following, before I grab a plate, putting the last of the biscuits I had made just yesterday morning and two scones, in case she's extra hungry. "Tea and treats coming right up!" Carefully, I hold the handles of the two tea cups in one hand and the plate of nibbles in the burnt one, the cool bottom of the plate helping a little. I make my way back into the living room, and with more grace anyone would ever think I could have, I manage to sit down cross legged in between the fire and the coffee table with no hands, the cups and plate finding the table soon after. "Come, come and sit!" I grin quite happily, attempting to hide my bright red hand as I move a cup of tea towards where I would like for her to sit, which is right across from me, the table beside us and not between us. "Why don't you tell me more about yourself, Gwen? Unless you'd like to know about me but I doubt that. I'm not so interesting of a fellow." I smile humbly, shrugging my shoulders as I move the cup of tea to my lips, taking a tiny sip of the piping hot beverage and awaiting her response, eyes eager and intrigued as they gaze upon her.
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I start to laugh when I see how his eyes practically bulge out of his head when he sees how much money a little girl like I could be carrying around. Oh, how I do love shocking people! It feels so good to prove them wrong. Not that Reggie was thinking of anything ill against me before, I'm sure, he's too kind to, but there are loads of others who would think it impossible for someone like myself to amass such a fortune. And it certainly wasn't easy. I've been careful about spending, not only to save up for the ship but to keep myself from becoming a target. Only fools flashed their gold in the type of places I've been to. Before I can answer Reggie by telling him very simply that I'm quite brilliant, however, he makes a comment I didn't plan on…saying that it's not as if I stole it, which is the whole truth of the story.

<br><br>"…why?" I sputter before catching myself, and part of me is about to ask if that would be a problem, and for a moment I feel so sheepish that I feel like just gathering up all my spoils of war and running out. No one's ever made me feel like this before…this bad about it. But maybe that's because in the company I've always kept, I've always been the better person. Everyone else was some type of thug or ruffian who had no doubt slit a couple of throats before, and engaged in their own type of dishonest work. What was wrong with stealing from them? There shouldn't be…yet I feel the guilt, anyway. And if it wasn't all so important to me, the feeling might've been enough to make me pack up right there. But Reggie is my salvation. I can't afford to lose him, so, I clear my throat, stash away my conscience, and remedy my words. "--why, that would be something!" I pretend to laugh, beaming at him, and quickly accepting the change in conversation.


<br><br>The guilt changes to disappointment, which isn't much better, when Reggie says he'll have to lend a bit from his own purse, still. "…oh," I say, frowning, a petulant expression forming on my lips. That's no good. I should already be paying him upfront for his service, and now he wants to help pay? "I was hoping…" I start, when suddenly, Reggie exclaims in excitement about the ship he's about to build, startling me. He's not…upset about it? Before I can say anything more, the tea kettle interrupts and he runs off to the kitchen, leaving me to erase my own distress. He doesn't mind. He truly doesn't seem to…he really does want to just build a ship. That's all he wants to do! Oh, his potential employers were all fools, and I'm the luckiest, filthiest sky captain on the planet.


<br><br>Reggie suddenly lets out a cry of pain, and I can hear a soft clatter--he must've burned his hand. I'm not stupid. He's just so…eager, a shade I'm unused to in anyone but myself, and it's so, so wonderful. He immediately squeaks out that he's all right afterwards, though it doesn't sound like it. And while it's a horrible thing to laugh about, I do. Not because he's in pain, of course, not at all!--but because Reggie's just so jumpy and excited and energetic, and the best person I've ever known, and now he's on my crew and guilt be damned, I couldn't be happier!


<br><br>So, stifling my giggles, I get up and go over to the window, opening it with a grunt. Snowflakes and frost threaten to blow out all the warmth from the room when I do, but I quickly gather up a handful of snow from the sill and slam it shut. Not to throw a snowball, of course, how cruel do you think I am?! I wrap it up in my handkerchief, just as Reggie's coming in. I turn around to see him already seated and setting the beautiful little plate of biscuits and scones on the table. "Oh, that's lovely!" I chirp as I sit down in front of him, and Reggie begins asking me about myself…all the while, hiding a hand. He did burn it.


<br><br>"Come on, don't be silly," I reprimand mildly as I give him a knowing smile and reach for his hand. It's redder than I thought it'd be…but come to think of it, didn't the water boil awfully fast? Maybe that have some sort of special kettle that gets hot quicker. Hm. I press my handkerchief wrapped in snow to his hand. "…or at least, in this way, because I do love silly," I clarify with a laugh, hoping the cold helps some. Reckless, childish things...I was all too used to them. I release his hand then, grabbing one of the biscuits after hesitating only for a second because they look entirely delicious, and I'm a bit of a stranger to being offered such delicacies. I live off of bread and butter, never any of the fancy stuff.


<br><br>Without waiting, I take a bite, snapping the biscuit in two. "Mmm," I grin while chewing, lips pressed together as I wipe my mouth. "Fantastic. As for my story, I'll tell it, of course, being that we're partners now! But only if you share you're own too, because you're the most interesting fellow I've ever met, Reggie Proctor," I declare, grin widening. I take a sip of tea then, and finally disclose my truths…at least, the ones I'm proud of.


<br><br>"My last name's really Mauratius de Wynterstone," I start, the pride coming out in my voice at the first part. "My mother was from Wynterstone, and my father…he was Captain Grayson Mauratius, the terror of the skies! The most fearsome, the most spectacular sky pirate captain of them all!" My face lit up like a burst of sunshine just imagining him and all his scarred glory, a sky captain, a proper sky captain… "With a whole crew of cyborgs!" Oh, I could picture them too, clunking about the ship with their immense strength, grand and terrible as they were. "…of course, I haven't met him yet," I simmer down a bit at that, reaching for another biscuit as I give a little puff of disgruntlement. "But I plan to, soon after we win the Tourney!"</div></center></BR>[/dohtml]
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SKINNED BY ALISON WONDERLAND OF ATF.