-The Mythics- RolePlay

https://www.backyardchickens.com/articles/the-mythics-archives.79046/
https://www.backyardchickens.com/threads/the-mythics-rp.1606467/

The crisp salty breeze felt amazing under Lichen's wings.

The harpy tilted her long brown hawklike wings, dipping closer to the sea as she scanned the horizon. She swept back up, up up, flying nearly vertical to the craggy cliffs and shooting up above them, looking down at Birds Point.

Lichen sailed smoothly towards the ground, skidding slightly on her deeply treaded boots as she hit the gravel. Her wings folded neatly behind her, and she brushed the stray hairs escaping from her long braid out of her eyes.

She loved being able to go out and fly, feeling the freedom and wildness of the wind and the sweet-smelling pines and the salt crystals that encrusted her feathers from the sea spray.

Was it dangerous? Probably. But that was the whole point. Lichen had a fierce love of the sense of danger, the adrenaline boost that shot through her bloodstream.

The tall harpy turned around, gazing out at the sea stretching out before her, listening to the waves crash wildly against the cliffs

Galen stood in a large clearing surrounded by forest. He sighed as yet another attempt at landing the knife in a far-off tree ended again in it bouncing off and tumbling in the leaves on the forest floor. This blade was off-balance even though he had spent hours crafting it. He shook his head in defeat and went to fetch it.
He knelt and brushed his hand through the leaves until it met hard metal. Grasping it firmly, his eyes wandered up and down the blade. This knife was supposed to be one of his finest works but something had gone wrong. this was not a good witness to his skill. It was beautiful but not functional.
He stood and placed the knife in his satchel. There was more work to be done on it.
In one strong beat of his wings, was aloft. He streaked up into the sky and then dipped and flew low over the trees toward home.

The wind hissed loudly, gnashing invisible teeth at the cutting edges of the wingtips, groaning and tugging untamable as it churned from the ocean and tumbled back into the pitch darkness again.
Biting, growling, whispering, and pulling, it ran invasively through the tight-nit crest of feathers, creating an ever-droning white noise of whistles and whimpers.
Darkness. The shrouding cover of mist and clouds engulfed the sky, absorbing any light that one may have imagined from the stars or moon somewhere above.
Lights flickered faintly like dying candles, distant below the low-hanging ocean mist, as if looking down at the stars on a hazy night rather than up.
Wings tilted back, the black feathers caught the torrential air, pulling backward before turning and swooping around again, continuing the ever-repeating lazy spiral.
Pirate's Cove glittered defiantly below, unmoving but alive in the otherwise pitch-black and ominous night. Ember cocked her head toward the sprawling town, red eyes flicking emotionless over the collection of lights.
She pulled tightly around again, hovering slightly as the wind shoved at her wings irritably. The Harpy looped around again, continuing her thoughtful observation of the community miles below, wondering absently if there was really anything worth her time here.
The spiral continued a few more times. Drifting, turning, hovering, before looping back - an endless cycle. Deathly silent against the wind, tucked invisible behind the hazy mask of clouds.
She finally yanked backward quickly, twisting in the air and tilting her wings back like sails on the mast of a ship. The frigid void of mist and wind streaked past as the Harpy was pulled away, soaring off toward the coast, leaving the quiet watch over the town behind.

Gecko stretched his dark grey wings and looked out at the peaceful ocean before him. The salty air smell brought back memories- good memories. Memories of when he was a kid and when he- his mind drifted elsewhere. He smiled and laughed in his strange way. Tesla. It wasn't even a year ago when he met the fancy human being. He wished he could find him again. Closing his eyes, he pictured the man trapped while he watched from his perch above. The place wasn't too far from where he was.

Gecko took to the air. Within minutes he arrived at the boulder that Tesla was once trapped on. The little stone hut that Tesla built for shelter was still there with its moss roof. Gecko peered inside, though he didn't go in. His large wings would surely cave it in from an accident on his part. The hut was dark inside from the lack of light. A bed made of moss lay on the right and a couple of forgotten food cans sat in the left corner. Cozy, Gecko smiled. He turned away from the hut and stood on the faded SOS that was drawn on the ground.

Tesla, when will we ever meet again? Gecko wondered. "He-he-hee," he cocked his head like his thinking wasn't all there. "Soon. Too soon. He-he-hee." Gecko flew to his old perch on the cliff above. Hunching down, he watched the boulder below as though he was a predator stalking its prey. This was where he spent most of his time, despite the traveler no longer being there.

Jordan Tay slid from the roof and fell beside the child, groaning as her knees hit the wet road. Dark night hid her form amidst the haze of shadowed smog.
Blinded by the rush and flare of her beating heart, she clutched the child to her middle and crawled back. Voices buzzed ahead of the alley and the sounds pooled in her ears, unable to supass the adrenaline barrier guarding her mind.
No one seemed to take notice of the abrupt increase of the child's wailing, but she could see its damp mouth hang loose, and she could feel saliva drip onto her wrists.
“Quiet, quiet, quiet,” she whispered, and raised her sturdy palm to the child's mouth. She stood and limped to the back of the alleyway.
The yelling dulled, but the child's sounds still vibrates against her chest. She swallowed, but it did nothing to clear her deaf ears.
Her face red, sweat gripped her clothing. She fumbled for the ladder, smacking bruised fingers against the steel bars as she repositioned the child, who shuddered with tears.
“Shh.” She said, but it was a half-hearted command. The cold steel seared her calluses as she pulled up on the ladder, and her wet boots slipped in an unknown substance. Her jaw hit the bars, but she was not fazed by simple pain.
The child writhed.
Curse her for caring. The child didn't want a savior. It would have rathered dying in the god-forsaken streets.
She snagged the next rung and climbed, and her tight fingers slipped over the bars and stained red with rust.
The child jerked and cracked its skull against the steel. She could feel the vibrations echo through the rungs. “Everything sacred,” she cursed and pulled it close, feeling its small fingers twist into the middle of her loose shirt. “I'm saving you, pal, saving your blasted little life.”
Children never listen much to reason.
She gripped the rooftop and lunged forward, feeling the grit of each worn shingle with careful consideration before giving it her weight. The child wailed.
“It's okay,” she said. Her bad leg ached. No one would search for them on the roof and she thought they were safe. Her hands shook. “It's okay.”
She pried the child from her torso and pushed her sleeve against its bleeding nose. It hiccuped with excited sobs. She pulled it closer and looked ahead at the rise of smoke. Screams no longer affected her numb ears, though she could see the child react with renewed sorrow at each unheard cry. She leaned against the slant of the roof and held the toddler.
Boredom played at her mind and she scoffed at her body. Her chest pulsed with heartbeat, and her sore shoulders lay tight on the roof. If only she could calm herself. It was a rare thing to have utter control of her entire body. Now was one of the familiar instances where she sat and cursed herself for existing and for bearing the body of a coward.
The child wobbled in her lap and she wondered how loud it was crying. Her ears could not pick up on the slightest of sounds, overcome by the adrenaline rush. The blood pulsed in her temples, causing painful pressure. She lifted her stained fingers to the toddler's wet mouth and shook her head. “Quiet. Be quiet.”
Maybe she wasn't saying the words right. She couldn't remember how they felt on her tongue. She couldn't feel her tongue.
Water hit her cheek and she winced at the sight of rain, then sat up.
“We have to go.” She said.
The child shook.
She looked into its eyes and leaned forward so that they were inches apart. “Please be quiet.” She would pay to see such a request stated in a more condescending tone.
“Goodness.” She leaned back and shrugged her shoulders. “Be quiet.”
They never listen. Toddlers are unreasonable. Some folks found sympathy towards the sort of creatures that didn't bear the mental capacity to figure out what they must submit to in order to save their skin. Some folks called that ‘innocence.’ She wasn't sure she had ever bore such a title, and she wasn't confident in saying she had ever been called innocent. If she had, then the sayer would have eaten and choked and died on his words.
If she had been like this child when she was young, she would have died.
But to each their own.
Perhaps someday the child could conjure up some gratitude.
She stood and shifted the toddler to her hip. Its mouth opened in mid-cry.
“Quiet.”
Words. Curse the words. She hated remembering sacred words.
Rain splattered down. The child blubbered.
“Shut up.”
There.
She could remember that one.

Vhanya was not fond of horses.
Yet here she was, on the back of a bay mare, riding towards Pirate’s Cove. She was rather unlike the majority of her race, she shunned the Aqra’s solitary nature and always felt most at home in the bustle of the cove town. The busy streets ran rampant with all sorts of unsavory personalities; Vhanya liked everything best if it came with a little thrill, and she certainly considered running the risk of being shivved every time you set foot on the streets to be thrilling.

She looked down and considered the mare, she could put a hefty price on the horse -it was a decent beast, with a nice conformation and steady gait, even Vhanya could see that- and the gold could go towards repairs of her ship, the Quicksilver.
How a ship was the working beast’s superior! Yes, the seas were a cruel mistress, a kick from a mule would always be more tolerable than to plunge, forever lost, into the churning waters: But Vhanya never felt more free and more confident than when she was on her ship with whatever crew she currently had mustered. Her ego was already quite inflated; the high seas did nothing to help.

The roofs of buildings soon came into view as she rode, and the air gradually took on the salty tang of breezes sweeping in off the coast. Before she fully entered the view of the town, she took the safety measures of tucking her tail inside her trousers, she had bands on her thigh and calf to keep it in place; it had a bad habit of twitching whenever she was irritated, her tail’s quirks spoke volumes about her self control. She finally got her tail secured, then she straightened in the saddle, letting the breeze gently ruffle her raven hair.
It was good to be back.

The gentle rain slid off of Jintao's heavy sailor's coat as he walked down the cold sidewalk. New arrivals of people rushed by on the busy street towards hotels and taverns, some on foot, others in carriages or on horses. A busy man bumped into Jintao, knocking the package from under Jintao's only arm. "Watch it, will you!" the man growled. He pushed Jintao further out of his way and hurried to a nearby pub. Jintao bent down, picking up the carefully wrapped fish that was to be his food. He swept off the package and huffed. Nobody ever had respect for anyone around here, not even for those who were handicapped.

Jintao pushed past the busy crowd and went into the store he had so often gone to before. It was just as busy inside as it was outside. Strangers rushing for the first goods they'd purchase since arriving on this island shouted at those crowding them and pushed others out of their way. Jintao moved to the side of the check-out counter and watched hurried buyers pay for their new treasures.

"Back from another fishing trip, are ya?" Jintao turned to the clerk standing next to him. He was a short man with greying hair. "Not really," he replied. "I'm stuck on this side of the gate." "Ain't we all," the clerk smiled. He bent down below the counter. "Hey, I got those new spices you ordered," he stood up, placing a small package in front of Jintao. Jintao put his original package down and picked up the new one. "I thought you weren't allowed past the gate either," he said. The clerk placed his elbows on the counter and balanced his head on his calloused hands. "It doesn't mean I can't get what my customers want, does it?" he asked.

"I suppose not," Jintao placed the spices down and reached for his wallet. "Oh, no," the clerk placed a hand on Jintao's arm. "This is on the house. You've been one of my most faithful customers, so how could I not reward you with something special?" Jintao smiled in gratitude. "I don't know how I could thank you-" "Don't. Just keep returning here." The cleck moved close to Jintao. Like he had some secret, he looked around for anyone who might be listening. "I sell the best spices in all of Bayport and customers know that. That is all thanks to you and your taste buds. I wouldn't be able to sell what I do if it wasn't for you always noticing the flaws with every company." He patted Jintao on the shoulder as he walked past. "Let me know what you think of them. If they're good enough for you, let me know. I'll keep this place stocked."

"Will do," Jintao replied. He shoved the fish under his arm and carried the spices in his hand. He stopped by the door and watched the clerk serve another customer. At least one person cares. He exited the store and headed down the street. It took him twenty minutes to reach the neighborhood where he lived. There were apartment buildings on both sides of the street. Their chipped painting and dull lighting revealed that this was the poverty side of the city.

Jintao came to the building that he lived in. Its windows were dirty and the ladders were rusty. The front door was gone from when someone broke it a few months before. Jintao went to his apartment. It was on the first floor and was the second door to the left. He sat his packages down on the floor so he could unlock his door. There was no click on the lock. Another thief must have broken in again. It happened often, as anyone on the first floor was usually the easiest for thieves to access. Jintao picked up his packages and pushed inside. He sat the spices on the counter and put the fish in his fridge.

Jintao went around his apartment picking up the mess the thief must have made. There was nothing stolen, except for the antique clock that was in his living room. He was poor and he owned nothing of value. The clock was left by the last resident, so as far as its value, Jintao had never considered it. He sulked down on his ragged couch and closed his eyes. It had been a long few days. His work was hard, and even harder with only one hand to help him do it. He hoped to drift off to sleep if his thoughts would allow it.

Alayna set down her water glass after taking a long quaff from it.
The day was only half over, and she was already tired and ready for bed. She blinked the tiredness out of her eyes and rubbed them as she leaned over the counter. She was only allowing herself to do this because the bakery was currently vacant. The morning rush was finally over and all of the stragglers had gone, taking about half of the work she’d spent last night working on. Her “too tired to care” mood she called it. Fortunately, one of her friends was supposed to stop by today, so hopefully that would raise her mood rather than make her more irritable, because honestly? It could go either way.
Layna finally sat up and absently started wiping down the counter she’d been leaning over. Cleaning while working was a habit she was proud of, really, though right now she wasn’t thinking much of it. She leaned over to pull a basket out of the display case in front of her that was emptied of the rolls that had been in it and set it in the back as she pondered what she’d do that night. She’d have to get tomorrow’s baking done before sunset, and she planned on making pretzels. She didn’t want to do anything after that, just sleep.
She glanced out the window expectantly, wondering at exactly what time he planned on showing up.

...

A tall man moseyed his way down the rocky streets, his hands in his pockets.
Can’t be too late.
Wilroc was glad the streets had emptied out as little. It wasn’t pleasant having your boot slip into horse crap when there’s no room to move out of the way.
Will eventually made it to the solid-looking wood cabin that was his good friend Alayna’s home. He stepped up to the door, giving it a few brisk knocks

At the knocking sound from the next room, Layna turned towards the back wall and pushed open the swinging double doors into the second building after tossing her towel on the counter.
Finally.
She walked through the hallway, taking the moment alone to take a deep breath. She let it out and unlocked the door, pulling it open and looking up at the man. She huffed a breath out as she politely smiled, stepping aside so that the visitor could walk in. “Took you long enough,” she said jokingly. “The morning rush was over ages ago, so I don’t have much to offer you, but you can try to find something to eat out of the other room.” She mentioned to the double doors, through which lay the bakery.

“My bad,” chuckled Wilroc, giving her a warm smile and heading toward the back room. It smelled warm and yeasty, wooden shelves holding a variety of bread loaves and pastries.
Will selected a croissant and an apple fritter, scarfing down the croissant in a few bites and heading back to the front room.
“So,” he began. “How’s this little plan of yours going to work?” He took a bite out of his fritter, brushing the crumbs off the front of his shirt.

Layna slumped against the counter again and dangled her hands over the front edge. “I don’t know,” she said sullenly, her expression becoming more aggrieved. “I don't even know who to target, to be honest.” she frowned at the soiled wooden floor where Wilroc had just walked. “We’re not in the wild, mate!” She said, offhandedly changing the subject. “You can’t just trample mud around in here! I’ve got an image to keep up.” Layna sat up and stomped through the double doors and grabbed a mop leaning against the wall. She began scrubbing at the floors next to Wilroc vigorously. “You do this about every time,” she complained, “whether snow or rainwater or whatever.”

The tall man blinked. “Right, my bad,” he said apologetically.
He stepped out of Layna’s way so he didn’t encumber her mopping.
“Hmmm… obviously we have to target someone important to make a difference,” he mused. “
But not too high profile, because we don’t want to destroy the entire world. Yet.” Will ran a hand through his messy black hair, tapping his foot thoughtfully. He tipped his head towards Alyana. “I think I’d need to be more familiar with the officials here though.”

Alayna scrubbed on in silence for a moment, running what Wilroc had said through her thought process.
“The soldiers on either side of this ridiculous war would mirror the beliefs they project, right?” She said absently, pulling herself up straight and gazing around the room with half-focused eyes as she thought. “I mean, yeah, I know either side would.. do that,” her gaze hardened,” but I’m not looking to wage war with the whole world right now. Just half of it. Or a third of it, technically.” She waved a hand dismissively towards the west wall of the bakery. “Whatever. I just don’t know how to find out who it was. We’re close enough to Freedman that it could be any number of the king’s supporters or just some soldier from down South.” Layna sighed.
“You can try heading down towards the Rebel base to see if you can figure out anything,” she said, leaning on the mop handle as she looked over at Will. “And I can send someone up North to check around there. I know it’s not safe, but I trust you. And I can’t go anywhere myself until we have solid information cause someone might need my help.”

"You're right. Process of elimination." he gazed up at the roof. "Yeah. I can do that."
Wilroc paced to the window that faced the street, leaning his elbows down on the sill so he could peer outside. “Tonight?” he asked.

“Sure,” Alayna shrugged. “Just, y’know, be careful. Per usual. I’ll go out tonight and..” she trailed off just as two men strode into the bakery, chatting with each other. The first one nodded agreeably to Wilroc as his shorter companion continued talking; “I mean, if y’have a good ‘un, I really wanna take it out an' try my hand. I’m not gonna ruin it or anything!” He elbowed the other man, who chuckled and placed his hands down on the counter, and leaned over the edge.
Layna quickly swept around the counter and placed a hand on the cash register, glancing between the two. “What can I get you?” She asked. “Two apple strudel things an a few muffins,” the taller man said nonchalantly, then turned back to his companion. “How’d I know ye aren’t gonna ruin it?” He questioned in a good-natured tone. “Will took it out the other day an' scratched the livin’ daylights outta it while hunt in’ those things!”
Alayna grabbed the requested pastries and wrapped them in a paper while listening to the two’s conversation. Her ears perked when he heard the name “Will,” and instantly thought of the other man in the room. She knew it had to be a coincidence though. The name Will was popular anyway.

Hmmm.
"Good talk," Will said, giving Layna a hearty pat on the back. Rather than looking at her, he was eyeing the two men who had just walked in. "Guess I'd better be off, it's getting late."
He lingered while though, pretending to observe a painting of a fox hunt that hung on the wall.

“I dunno. Maybe. Let me think about it first.”
The shorter man rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, then turned to Wilroc out of curiosity. “What do you say?“ he asked, “do you hunt?”
Alayna looked over at Will as she rang up the pastries.

Wings rustled uncomfortably beneath the dark cloak as the Harpy sidestepped quickly, her boots clicking over the cobblestones embedded in the street from the sudden shift in pace.
"Watch it!"
The burly man's words slurred groggily as he half stumbled half stomped past, the sour smell of alcohol and body odor wafting behind him, clinging to his disgusting clothes.
Ember tracked him with a frigid glare from beneath the hood's shadow, letting out a loud scoff from sneered lips before turning and striding back on her course, dark cloth whispering in response to the movement.
Pathetic humans.
There were too many pubs in this town. It seemed like every ten strides, another drunk sailor or thug lay passed out in the gutters of the narrow road or stumbled in and out of the various buildings. Dangerous or filthy-looking humans lingered around the shade of the wooden structures or sauntered loudly down the cobblestone, all containing similar or the same looks of suspicion or haughtiness on their dirt-smudged faces.
Ember sidestepped again around a pair of heavy and rugged men, both singing out of sync to some jolly, sea-faring tune, one leaning heavier against the other, drool dripping undignifying from his twisted grin. A loud and choppy, high-pitched whistle cut the mist-soden air from the direction of one of the larger buildings.
"Hey'a, yung lassy!"
Ember ignored the comment, slipping past a burly woman who stormed past with an armful of heavy sacks.
"Wat's a frail littl' thing like yeeself doin' out in te' stret this hour?"
Ember shot a cold glance from the corner of her eye, still maintaining her pace, watching the trio of sailors sharply. One leaned against a large barrel set against the wall of one of the pubs, the other standing arms crossed in the door-frame, and the third sprawled amongst a pile of crates.
"Why 'ontcha come an' grace us with yer fine presence this mornin' miss? Would luvta meetcha."
Ember focused her gaze ahead again, pulling the dark hood further down over her face.
"Of all the insolent rabble..." she hissed darkly, the rough leather gloves rubbing irritating against her skin with the movement.
The jaunty sound of the sailor's voices faded gradually, though Ember's irritation only continued to simmer.
Mist clung to her cloak, collecting and slowly soaking through the cloth, humidity seeping and stirring beneath the fabric and making her wings itch. The haze of clouds sagging over the town glowed faintly as dawn approached, the sun still crawling lazily from beneath the horizon.
A ship. That's all she needed. Pirate's Cove was crawling with smugglers and thieves, humans, and sometimes even Mythics willing to defy the king right beneath his very nose.
Ember turned down yet another unruly street, heading in the direction of the ever-present rumbling of the sea.

The day soon grew old as the sky darkened with night. Gecko took to the air, shortening his time in travel. He arrived at Pirates Cove exhausted. Gecko slid his torn cloak over his wings and headed for the bustle of the town. There were humans everywhere, but he paid them no mind. None of them were the one that he hunted, or were they? A drunken sailor tripped over a water trough nearby. He laughed at his foolishness despite his sudden wetness. Gecko fixed on him. Was it possible this was the one he was so desperately seeking? The sailor stumbled towards him. Laying both of his hands on Gecko's shoulders, he muttered something that the Harpy couldn't understand.

Gecko stared hard into the drunken man's eyes. This was not the one he was seeking. He stunk badly of alcohol, had salt-stained clothes, and held himself poorly. "Get your paws off of me," Gecko said, strangely calm. "Paws?" the sailor exclaimed. He burst out in laughter. Gecko grabbed both of the man's hands and pulled them off his shoulders. The sailor looked down. Gecko's hands weren't like normal hands, they were clawed. "Oh..." the sailor trailed off. Gecko shoved his hands behind his back, suddenly remembering that he forgot to glove them. "Go home," he said. "Your eyes are causing you to see strange things." With that, he abandoned the drunk and hurried out of the town.

The rain fell harder and poured thick at every step. Her skin buzzed, numb and unfeeling, and mud-stained up to her thighs. She slowed through the street, her boots sloshing and squishing in the frosty rain. The child lay still beneath her shirt, warm against her torso, and unmoving.
Tavern lights shone with dim glow and cast no light out onto the street. She ducked back into the alleyway and dragged her fingers across the wall until she found the lip of the door frame, then rapped her knuckles across the coarse wood, and sighed as pain rose in her hand.
For some time she stood in the worst of the rain, head down, leaning against the door, knocking. When the door gave, she half fell into the room, caught in the thick arms of a blotchy, white-skinned man, whose dark eyes glanced back to be certain they were alone. He shut the door with his heel, then pushed the young women towards the hearth, frowning at the mud and water tracked in.
“Don't care to know,” he grunted, leaning close to her ear as he removed the heavy coat from her broad shoulders. “Not right now, anyway. It's rush hour. Plan more wisely, Tay, I shouldn't have need to warn you again, girl.”
“It's pouring,” she murmured, kneeling over the fire.
“Makes no difference to them.” He said, and he walked to the alley door and twisted the rusted brass lock.
“Get out, I have to change.”
He scoffed and crossed the room. “Come out here when you're ready.”
“What?”
He repeated the command and her eyes rolled.
“I want to sleep.”
“I want your help, mate, they won't leave soon due to that blasted rain. You have, eyy, near an hour.”
“Get out, Lanec.”
“Aye,” he chuckled, opening the feeble kitchen door. “Don't let those clothes sit wet in a scared corner for me, girl, you best ring and hang them on your own, now.”
“Okay,” she said, but again she did not hear him. Her eyes stared into the enticing fire. Lanec only teased because he couldn't often get away with such remarks on a usual day. Everyone knew him as Bartender, and she knew him as Lanec.
The kitchen door shut and she slumped against the wall, freeing the child from the grip of her wet clothing. It shivered, but remained quiet, too exhausted to cry.
“Good,” she said, setting the child down as she pulled off her wet overshirt. The toddler’s composition melted and it reached for her. “Oh, dear goodness.” She muttered, unobliging. “Dear goodness.”
She heard the kitchen door open, and she threw the shirt down over the child.
Lanec bustled in keeping his eyes low. “Sorry, sorry, just a minute,”
She didn't care. She stared at the fire and felt his footsteps vibrate through the worn wooden floor. The child stirred beneath her wet shirt and she reached a tentative hand toward the creature.
“Where's the money purse?”
“In my coat.”
“It's not.”
She took it from her pocket and threw it at him, still staring at the fire.
“Thank you,” he said in a soft tone, forcing her to strain her hearing in order to grasp the words. He began to cross the room. She stared at the fire. Her shirt stirred.
A wail sounded and she straightened, pulling the child across the ground and into her lap.
“What?”
“Get out, Lanec,” she said, but she heard him approach. She turned round and shook her soaked head. “Get out, get out, get out.”
He bent and pushed his stubby fingers against her sopping hair, then pulled her close so that his mouth touched her ear, “Children make sounds, Tay. Always make sounds. I heard it the moment you came in.”
“Oh.”
“Jah. You can't keep it, and don't give it a sacred name.”
“Go tend a bar or something.”
“Aye. Where did you find it?”
“You said you didn't care to know.”
“Aye. Where did you find it, girl?”
“I don't know. A few blocks west of the marina. I walked in on a scene out of Hell and I couldn't leave.”
Still holding her head, Lanec reached down and pulled away the shirt. The child was small, and its limbs were lean, but its belly was full. Thin blonde hair blended with its pale white skin, and the toddler's blue eyes had dulled with exhaustion. “We'll talk later,” he said, and his hand slid down her neck, then dropped to his side. “You did well. Keep it quiet.” He stood as she nodded, then wiped his hands across his thighs. “You don't have to come out tonight.”
“It's alright. I'll get it to sleep, then I'll come help you. It's my aunt Jane’s birthday and she's on a dinner date with her man, so I have the kid for a night.”
His brow arched and he dipped his head, walking back to the kitchen door. “Something like that. Though I expect no woman to trust you with their child, my girl.”
She turned to the fire. “Rightfully so, perhaps.”
“Aye.” He grunted, filling the doorway as he re-entered the kitchen.
She looked down at the toddler and answered his reaching arms. “Already moved on, have we?” The remark fell flat, and she sat the child on her thigh, body facing the warmth of the fire.

Galen wiped his brow and pulled off his gloves, slapping them down onto the table beside him. If all had gone well, his little project was finished. He'd lengthened the blade and added weight to the handle. The buyer would be pleased. It now lay beside the gloves waiting to be tested.
He absentmindedly examined his claws, long and sharp, they glinted in the firelight to which his attention was now drawn. The dying flames flickered slightly, red and orange casting strange shadows on the walls. After rousing himself from his trance, he splashed a bucket of water over the fire and tossed his cloak onto a peg on the wall.
Dusk had fallen and night was when the Harpies could truly come out, less likely to be seen, they were free to fly just about wherever they chose.
He swung the door open and after closing it behind him, strode to the cliff's edge and looked down at the foaming sea far below, and then, nonchalantly, he stepped off.

Jintao opened his eyes. His mind was racing. He lunged to his feet and nearly fell over with dizziness. It had only been a dream- PTSD, perhaps. He caught himself with the back of the old couch and slouched down to his seat. His sailor's coat was still on, which had soaked his previous seat. Gentle light shone through the dirty windows of his gloomy apartment. He looked at the clock for the time, then remembered it had been stolen. "Another rough day, huh?" he asked himself. Waking up with a steady floor was always hard, and with the terrifying memories that followed, it only made it harder.

Jintao rose from the couch slower than he had before. He went to his ice box and opened it to the smell of fish. There were three packages in the box, two of fish, the other he wasn't sure. One of the fish packages was old, and smelled like it. He didn't mind the smell, but used it to deter thieves from stealing anything from his ice box. He picked up the non-fish package and estimated its weight. About 10 pounds, maybe less, he estimated. He sat it down, still not ready to see what was in it.

Jintao closed the ice box and headed for the door. Stuffing his keys deep into his pocket, he left his apartment well-locked. The haze of the early morning hid most buildings out of sight. The streets were quiet except for the occasional dog barking as Jintao walked past. He wasn't sure why he was out so early. He rarely left his apartment when he wasn't helping the fishermen. Perhaps it was to get away from his thoughts. No bother, he assumed. His thoughts would surely follow him out here too. He did wonder, though, if there was something out here that was calling him. Perhaps it was someone in need or other. Either way, he wasn't sure.

Galen gingerly pulled the blade from his doorpost and began polishing it in careful strokes.
He had fixed it, and it worked beautifully. He had flown into Indian Territory to obtain beautiful stone to finish the handle with. It was an even weight from end to end and was extremely sharp.
Now to intercept the buyer. She had said she was traveling to Undermine and it had been his plan to meet her at some point in between. He had much distaste for Pirates Cove and just as much distaste for Undermine. The people who dwelt in both regions were unpleasant, to say the least.
Now the tricky part, finding them. There was a lot of open water to search and it wasn't entirely safe to just go flying across the ocean with no direction where anyone could see. This might be tricky but it wasn't a problem.
Galen walked quietly towards a perch in the corner and untied a small falcon. The bird hopped obediently onto his outstretched hand.
“I need you,” Galen gently stroked its soft breast, “to go find someone for me.”
The falcon cocked its head
“You know who, you saw her last week, the Harpy, yes.”
He brought it to the door “Start your search in Pirates Cove” and with a thrust of his arm, the bird took to the air and disappeared into the night sky.

The streets of Pirate’s Cove were especially crowded, the weather had lately been ideal for sailing ships, and smuggling was at its highest point of the year.
Vhanya was itching to take advantage of the activity, she had sold off the mare with little trouble and her earnings jingled in her beltpouch as she strode down the cobbled streets - they’d be enough for a new spiritsail on the Quicksilver, with maybe a little left over for her to treat herself to a new pair of earrings.
She soon rounded a corner and made straight for the busy docks, avoiding the elbows and shoulders of various pedestrians; she knew these streets like the back of her hand.

The docks of Pirate’s Cove were a different sort of challenge than its drunkard-riddled alleyways. The lapping of waves against ship hulls offered a constant white noise over the shouts of dock workers. Gull droppings were healthily plastered over the docks’ wooden boards, and shrill cries from the nuisance seabirds overhead never failed to remind one that they were always watching with their beady eyes, faithfully observant for any sort of dropped morsel.

A gull attempting to gorge itself on someone’s fishing catch narrowly missed Vhanya’s boot, she cursed under her breath; she was certain that kick would’ve landed. Her yellow eyes followed the bird as it winged away, then turned to gaze fondly at her ship, which was docked neatly, just as it had been a month ago. Despite the overall anarchy that ruled Pirate’s Cove, there was one unspoken rule: “Ne’er bother with some-other’s ship, ore‘else summat bound to happen to ’ye” she could practically hear her grandfather’s voice saying it.

The Quicksilver was a rather beautiful specimen- The ship was a frigate, sleek and fast, ideal for navigating the rocky seas surrounding the Island. Her sails were a smooth gray, and her hull was painted a charcoal black accented with crisp white stripes - a very expensive paint job, mind you.

Vhanya was pleased, her ship had been properly taken care of; she wouldn’t have to kill anyone in retribution. She reached up to fix her braid, it had gotten rather tussled by the sea breezes.
Now to assemble a crew.

...

Ember paced restless up and down the cobbled boardwalk that edged the docks.
The place was disgusting. Ships and planks and railings crowded with filthy sea birds, each one as dangerously brave as they were generously messy. Half the boats were unkempt or looked deserted altogether, a few barely even sea-worthy. Sailors occupied nearly every pier and strip of dock, unloading and loading ships, organizing supplies, cursing at the birds.
Ember watched it all warily.
Over the past hour or so, she'd narrowed down her options to three ships. The fastest or the cleanest, the smaller and lighter, less busy ones. Less troublesome ones.
All she had to do now was figure out which one was willing to go her way.
There was a low-hulled cargo ship, dull and basic, but clean and organized. Probably interwoven with the king's shipping management, but it had a calm and quiet aura to it.
A private owned shipping boat, painted a mellow, boring shade of light blue. Only one old sailor had been tending to its cargo and sails, slowly hobbling up and down the small boarding plank, the clunking of his peg leg easy to distinguish.
The third ship was a frigate- a gorgeous glossy black with pristine highlights that seemed to glow in the gloomy morning mist. It was without a crew, deserted of all except, of course, the gulls. A lone sailor stood gazing up at the sleek vessel, pressing back her matching crow-black hair.
Ember leaned back against the wood building behind her, arms folded tightly over her chest as she watched, motionless, the organized chaos of the docks proceed.

...

Often, Vhanya’s sixth sense let her down. She had her race to blame, the Aqra’s relied more on their quick wits and even quicker striking tails to keep them alive than some supernatural sense, but she couldn’t help but curse its unpredictable nature.
Yet now, even through the thick morning gloom that dampened one’s perception, she could tell she was being watched.

She bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. Her flintlock pistol was tucked, concealed, through her belt, but as a precaution, she very slowly slid her tail out from her trousers. Her greatcoat was long enough to hide it, and masked her movements.

She shifted her stance so she could look out of the corner of her eye; it took her a minute or two, but she soon saw a cloaked figure, standing suspiciously idle by a fishing hut. Her sense prickled, if but a little.
A Mythic, that one, and it’s obvious they’ve got their eye on me.

She decided on confrontation, as usual. Spinning on her heels, she began picking her way through the sailors and dock workers toward the cloaked figure. She didn’t bother with being subtle, she wanted the watcher to notice her approach.

...

"Feh. Predictable."
The sailor was a Mythic. Ember could feel the voiceless sense of familiarity in the creature's presence, writhing through the air between them, tugging at the depth of her mind. Strengthening and clearing as the tense woman approached, sweeping her way down the busy dock.
The Harpy nonchalantly tugged off a leather glove, pulling the small, claw-tipped hand beneath the shade of her cloak as she repositioned against the wall, slouching to let the hood fall further across her face. Several ribbons of glossy black hair slid and dropped past her temples as she carefully inspected her claws.
If this Mythic was the one who owned the frigate, the Quicksilver, so the name read, she might be of use yet. But that depended on how fate flowed in the next five minutes or so.
Pirates weren't the only ones quick with a draw.

Vhanya sidled next to the Mythic, and nonchalantly leaned against the wall of the fishing hut.
”What’s your business? I know full well what you are - that sense is mutual, I take it.”
As she spoke, she imperceptibly pressed the barb of her tail to the thigh of the cloaked Mythic, not with enough pressure to pierce, but if the person -a harpy, she guessed, that cloak was too bulky to not be hiding something- made any sudden movements, they’d be dead before they hit the docks.
She wasn’t intent on killing anyone today, but wasn’t also about to have a fight break out and get both of their Mythical identities revealed. It was best to quietly take care of things; she already had planned how to deal with the body and not be noticed.

Ember scoffed quietly, sliding her ungloved hand up her head, pushing black waves of hair through her fingertips and up into the hood.
"My business is not any business of yours," she muttered tartly.
She tugged off the other glove and crossed her arms again beneath the folds of the cloak, fingering the leather between her claws.
"Do you own a ship?"

Vhanya chuckled slightly, she always relished showing off her ship.
”Not very chatty, are you? And why yes, I do-“ She lifted a hand with a flourish towards the Quicksilver- “that fine specimen right there.“
A thought crossed her mind.
“Say, I’m on the lookout for a crew, and if you agree to work for me while ‘yer on board the Quicksilver, I’d be glad to ferry - or if you have any cargo,“ she lowered her volume a notch, “whether it be legal or not, I’d be willing to move it.”
Her voice took on a boasting tone, “There may be plenty of smugglers in Pirate’s Cove, but rest assured, if you choose to use my services you’ll be in good hands..”

"Where are you headed?"
The Scorpion's air of self-importance was stifling, but Ember wasn't spiteful enough to ignore that the Quicksilver was one of the better ships at port. If her captain was a Mythic- albeit, an annoying and rather unnerving one, but a Mythic nonetheless- the situation could prove surprisingly useful.

“Wherever the winds take me, but I’m intendin‘ to drop by New Bayport.“ Vhanya paused, “don’t let that put a dagger in our business though, you should know I’m interested in what you have to offer.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the harpy woman yet, she wore a shrewd expression and seemed to be judging Vhanya’s every movement, but that was a trait ideal for smuggling jobs; she could tolerate the Harpy’s standoffishness if she turned out to be a capable crew-mate.

Ember was silent for a long time, tapping a slender claw against her armband thoughtfully, relishing the quiet and ominous clinking that sounded from it. She gave a slight toss of her head, looking the Scorpion up and down with quick flicks from sharp red eyes.
"Have you ever been to Undermine?"

The Harpy was making an infuriating clicking sound with her nails; Vhanya talked quickly in an attempt to drown out the constant clink clink.“I’ve been ’round every bay on this blasted Island, you can be sure I’ve haunted the coasts of Undermine.”
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as the Harpy looked her over, her birdlike red eyes assuming a faint glow in the morning haze.
”The name’s Vhanya, since we’re gettin’ acquainted - Captain Vhanya Marriott, Queen of the Quicksilver.” She said the latter title with a small grin, she’d had the nickname since she was an insolent little girl, known by sailors as the granddaughter of Alastar ‘Turncoat’ Marriott, the loyal king’s soldier gone pirate.
“What’re you lookin’ to do down in Undermine, if you don’t mind my inquiry? I’m not a nosy sort, but you seem a woman with some duty on her mind.”

"If you're not the nosy sort," the Harpy's tone pricked defensively. "Then you will have no problem keeping it out of my intentions."
Ember pressed off the wall, standing straight and tugging the hood low.
"But if you can captain that ship, I'll be willing to contribute some amount of assistance, in return for secure travels."
She turned her head sharply, fully to face the sailor, fixing Vhanya with a steady, emotionless stare.

“You have my word,-“ Vhanya could tell that the Harpy knew better than to trust a pirate’s word, but she said it anyway, more for her own image than concern about the Harpy’s privacy- “although, you’d best know that once on a ship most intentions are bared, no matter how secret..”
The Harpy had turned to face her, and Vhanya now matched her stance, keeping her tail close and hidden under her greatcoat. “Call it a deal,” she stated, reaching out for a handshake to seal their agreement.

Ember regarded Vhanya's outstretched hand for a long, skeptical moment, one thin eyebrow gently arched.
There was no trusting the captain, but her best option lay now with the Quicksilver. Besides, if anything went south, she would just sink the sorry ship, fly back to the mainland, and regroup.
Who knew? Maybe- somehow- the scorpion would prove useful after all.
Ember slowly extended a hand, watching Vhanya sharply as she gripped hers in return.
"Deal."

Vhanya shook her hand firmly, a grin slowly spreading across her face; she didn’t bother to hide her sharp incisors as she did around humans.
”I’d like to know your name, if you‘re going to sail with me- and there are some small rules for those on my ship, nothing terribly restrictive, but it’s best you’re aware.”
She reached into her coat’s inside pocket while she talked, grabbing her pair of kidskin gloves and slipping them onto her hands, the sea offered a chill to the air as the sun set, while Aqra’s had superbly tough skin they were very much intolerant of the cold.
“Firstly no smoking of any sort, dropped tobacco will stain the deck. Secondly, no drinking in excess - now I’m not sayin’ no drinking, but don’t get so plastered to prompt any unnecessary retching,” she stopped briefly to start walking in the direction of her ship, and gestured for the Harpy to follow, “and lastly, please, if there is any confrontation, let me do the talkin’.”
She halted at the edge of the port, the last licks of sunshine caught the shining black paint and neat letters on the Quicksilver’s hull.
“I’m certain there won’t be any questions needed.”

Ember kept several paces behind Vhanya as they walked, keeping a watchful eye on the sailor's movements, still wary.
"How long before we're out of port?"
She didn't care for the scorpion's rambling, most of her words falling as empty noise over the Harpy's feathered ears. Besides, she would never pollute herself with the same low-life smoking and drinking habits the captain seemed so worried about, and it was for her own dignity, not any care for the ship, that obligated her to uphold any rules.

Vhanya pressed a gloved hand to her chin, “Well, if you haven’t already noticed, my ship doesn’t have a crew apart from the two of us… I doubt we leave port until we can rouse up some other’uns to help us.” She turned her yellow eyes to the harpy, “Unless you’re implyin‘ you think just us two can man a ship on our own, if that’s the case you’ve got some sickness in your feathery head.”
She gestured towards the Quicksilver, ” Would you like a tour of this fine vessel here? And you still haven’t told me your name. We don’t have to get all chummy, but if I don’t get your true moniker you’re bound to end up with some unwanted nicknames - from me or whoever else we recruit.”

Ember folded her arms again, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I'm Ember. Ember the Harpy."
"And I know you can't man a ship with only two people, but I was hoping you already had a crew. After all, the 'Queen of the Quicksilver' ought to have subjects, shouldn't she?"
The Harpy didn't wait for a reply, dropping her arms again and striding up the boarding plank to the ship.

“It’s a pleasure to be acquainted, ‘Ember the Harpy’”
Vhanya fixed her coat, then started up the plank beside Ember, talking amiably as she walked, “Most of my crew I hire on commission, the last batch all died, unfortunately-“ She stopped talking abruptly to whip out her flintlock and blow away a curious gull that had landed on the spotless deck, she walked to what remained of the bird, and with a look of disgust on her face, threw it overboard into the harbor. She then resumed talking as though nothing had happened.
“I’m not fond of keeping set crew around very long, I’ve found everything is much more efficient in rotation.”

Ember sidestepped away from the boarding plank and leaned against the railing of the black ship, casting a lazy gaze down at the rest of the port as Vhanya continued talking.
If I'd known she'd be this chatty, I might have turned down the deal.
"Hm. Pray tell, how did your 'unfortunately' late crew all die again?"
Ember brushed several strands of hair out of her face, slightly pushing the stifling hood back to give her a better view of the busy docks.

Vhanya paused, and began slowly, “One of the crew went berserk when he found that a few of us were Mythic - slit their throats as they slept, he didn’t stop there either - until everyone else was dead. I tagged him with my tail, but before the poison claimed him he threw himself into the ocean… From what I’ve gathered he was a part of some group intent on the deaths of Mythics. Rather unsavory lot, really.”
She turned away from the railing to the sea, watching the varying vessels come to and fro. “We’d best stay on the lookout for potential crew mates. I try and ask anyone who looks capable. Usually, they’ll agree to work for food and pay."

...

Pirates Cove.....
A good place to get stolen goods and things from around the world. Dangerous? Yes, but that didn't bother Lichen.
The cove wasn't far from Birds Point, and she went there often. But today, there was something new.
Lichen caught a wind current and drifted, leaflike, over the harbor. A huge, sleek ship bobbed in the waves there. Never seen that one before.
She could see two figures on board. One of them looked to be a Harpy, but not someone she recognized. She sailed closer.
Yeah, no. Too interesting to worry about basic safety.
Lichen twisted into a dive, smoothly dropping out of the sky and landing on the front of the bow with a solid thump.
"Sup guys?"

Ember nearly jumped out of her cloak, the flurry of dark feathers and wild hair dropping into her vision, sending a loud thud across the deck of the ship.
"Flames and feathers-"
Heat pulsed defensively into the Harpy's fingers, sending waves of stifling air up the sleeves of the cloak, making the cloth suddenly itch. Her wings twitched viciously under their cover, making the feathers stick and brush uncomfortably against the fabric. Ember clenched her fists, knees bent, braced for a fight.
"Who are you?"

“Woah, cool it,” Lichen said, rolling her eyes and lifting her clawed hands. A Phoenix?
“Just checking things out. I’ve never seen such a fantastic vessel here in grubby Pirates Cove.” she took a step closer, tilting her head.

What a brash Mythic!
Vhanya had her pistol leveled at the head of the Harpy as soon as she hit the deck. “No sudden movements, Harpy.”
She circled around the stranger, her tail twitching, ready to strike at any given moment. “You’d best be glad the night hid you, there are plenty of folks here who’d like to see your wings up on a wall.“

“Cool it,” Lichen repeated, in a softer tone.

"Hold it, Vhanya."
Ember's wings twitched again, the urge to defend rising unsettling. She swiped her own hood off her head, pacing toward the scorpion and outstretching a thin, clawed hand toward her pistol.
"If you shoot that Harpy, it'll be a lot more than our deal that's ending," she hissed quietly, leveling a stern gaze on the sailor, red eyes glowing dimly.

Lichen's eyes flicked over to the other Harpy. She thinks I need to be defended! A flare of irritation flashed through her, making her wings twitch.

Vhanya barked out a laugh, her eyes flicking between the Harpies.
”Are you threatening me on my own ship? And don’t strain your dear heart, Ember, I wouldn’t shoot to kill, I don’t want too much blood on this nice clean deck.”
Ember drew near to Vhanya, a hand outreached towards her flintlock, her red eyes fixed on the pirate, what she didn’t realize was her proximity; within poison tail‘s reach. So in a flash, Vhanya had the barbed end poised to strike a deadly blow on the Harpy. She hadn’t lowered her gun -still trained on the stranger - a hair‘s-breadth either.

Woah. Scorpion. Lichen hadn’t seen one of those in a while. She shifted her weight to her other foot calmly, flexing her claw-tipped fingers.

"That wasn't a threat. I'm warning you."
Heartbeat pounded in her ears, Ember couldn't tear her eyes away from the otherworldly stinger. Her eyes pulsed with light as her adrenaline rose, and she curled her fist again, hoping the pirate wouldn't notice the occasional licks of smoke sliding between her fingers.
"You-" she jabbed a finger at the other Harpy without looking. "-State your business, your name. Why are you here, and for the love of all that is holy, why aren't you wearing a cape?"
Her gaze flicked back to Vhanya, locking eyes with the scorpion, hoping that by some miracle, she'd keep her loud mouth shut long enough to resolve the sudden issue before the tension snapped.

“If trigger-happy over here is planning to blow my brains out, I don’t think my name is of any importance to you,” Lichen said in a level tone. “I already stated my business, and my cape? I don’t believe in living in fear like a skulking coward.” She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.

Ember's head snapped around, fixing the Harpy with a burning stare.
"Are you calling me a coward?"
Her voice was dangerously calm, slow, daring the woman to reply. The Pheonix could still see the looming barbed tail out the corner of her eye, and the ever-ready flintlock leveled on the Harpy.

“I never said that,” Lichen said. “I simply stated my preference. I don’t care that you folks run around hiding in cloaks.”

Ember‘s pleading gaze made Vhanya drop her tail; if someone was going to get killed, she’d rather the Harpies go after each other than have more blood on her hands than necessary. She still kept her gun raised though, as a precaution.
She watched, amused, as the Harpies bickered, silently glad that she didn’t have a pair of large wings to have to conceal.
She sidestepped over to Ember’s side, and whispered to the Harpy under her breath, “I have some strong narcotic darts at hand, I can put her to sleep and get her tied up - unless you’re just itching for a fight.. “

"Give it a minute," Ember murmured, dropping her fist back to her side as Vhanya's tail fell.
"Let me get this straight," The Harpy raised her volume again so the other Mythic could hear her. "You were just causally flying over a pirate-infested town, saw a ship you thought was pretty, and decided to drop in? Tell me why I should believe that."

“Correcto mundo,” Lichen said. “You don’t have to believe me, doesn’t matter either way, to be honest.”

...

The Falcon glides into Pirates Cove, circles once, spots its target, and flies away.

Back home it swoops into the door and alights on Galen’s folded wing.
“Ouch!” He gently shook the bird off, “My hand, you must land on my hand.”
The Falcon came to rest on his gloved hand.
“Did you find ‘er? In the cove?” He rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing to do. Best leave this” He tugged his cloak and gloves off and hung them up, “in case we need to make a quick getaway, can't get all tangled up.”
He ducked out the door and closed it behind him.
“Alright,” He flexed his wings, “Lead the way.”
The falcon took off and in one large wingbeat, Galen was also in the air. He flew down along the edge of the shore and trailed one finger in the water before slowing his flight and shooting upwards, getting a clear look at the cove below. He spotted a large ship and his falcon circling it below.
He angled his wings and streaked downwards toward the water before suddenly snapping them open with a loud woosh and landing gently on the deck.
“If you so much as aim that thing at me,” He had seen what was happening from the sky, “you might regret it”