Re: The PIRATES and the SOUTHSIDE WATERS

[Sal]

"Don't cry, Sal,"

A cold hand touched his face, wiping his cheek.

"Eyepatch!" Sal looked up at the blonde and hugged him gently. "You scared me!" His warm face dug into the man's clothes, and his sniffling slowly died down. That was one of the scariest moments of his life - having to see someone he cared about look so...lifeless. The image would haunt him for days, weeks, even. Somehow, he felt that this was his fault, because he hadn't been paying closer attention to Celes. Then again, he wasn't much of a babysitter to the rest of the crew either, but this was certainly discomforting. The thought that this could happen again sometime was what really made him worry. Since Celes didn't seem shocked at his state, could that have meant that it had happened before and would likely happen again?

"As your close friend and your captain, Eyepatch, I can't let that happen!" With a huff, Sal tightened his grip on the man...but not to hug him - Sal stood up and lifted Celes onto him. "I know I'm not the smartest, or the biggest, but that does not mean," Sal stated, taking a step, Celes' feet more or less dragging on the floor due to Sal's...lacking height for the task, "That does not mean that I can't be a good captain!" With that, Sal lifted his arms into the air (with Celes still on top of them), thus lifting Celes off of the ground at a sufficient height for transporting him. He began to walk out of the bathroom, with Celes in tow. He displayed little to no effort in completing this task - it was nothing compared to some of the other thing's he'd done.

"De-vo-rin! You have to help me keep an eye on him! Sometimes I think he just does not take good care of himself, and we need to make sure he DOES!" Sal would carry Celes all the way to the table (if he let him). He explained the situation on the way - The pirates would be hired as security, they would be paid, and they would even have their own island! All of that, and the fact that he would only decide to do it if everybody agreed. Hopefully the blonde would agree, because it might be good for him to be somewhere warmer. Placing the man in the nearest seat, he turned to him with the most serious face he could muster.

"Eyepatch...you need to be more careful. Or else I'll be upset!"

[Guest]

Wet fingertips dropped steadily into his lap, climbing across his pants to dry into the embrace of Devorin's "please take my hand". A mystified smile struck his lips. "As your close friend and your captain, Eyepatch, I can't let that happen!" No, they couldn't, could they. His smile vanished as quickly as it had come and he found himself staring at the caulk between the tiles where he sat in a heap. Yeah, that's what he was: a heap--a pretty little heap that no one could even guess about. The smile returned, brisk, cold, feverish. His eyes quivered slightly with the nausea that latched fervently to his state of being, nearly stopping his thoughts dead. Quiet deep breaths he took, quaking into his lungs like a bunch of boulders. Choking--choking still on those morbid thoughts, unresolved into always. No, he already knew what he would do. Karis was Karis and Celesto was Celesto; they would live their own lives now...separately. Being a pirate, while it gave him his fun, wasn't enough to sate the faraway calling of a lone cuckoo. Once a pirate, always a pirate. Celes would forever be Eyepatch and eternally be one of Sal's crew, however, that did not instate that he could not romp into the distance and stir up trouble elsewhere. Wolfgang of Gelemorté (not of but leader of) had asked him specifically to visit the far-off land which the blond had hardly known existed before. Such a thing was certainly intriguing enough, but Celes had a feeling he couldn't shake. No, it was no more just a feeling as it was...his own desire. His own? Something he wanted...for himself, was it? Hmm...could he be selfish this once--pursue some whim of amusement in a dire time of moving? He didn't even have the resolution to leave North city; Karis had given him that. This wasn't his decision, and yet... pieces of himself were placed inside of it--little glittery shards of choice rampant through a map as clear as the one Devorin placed on the table--in front of him as much as it was in front of anyone else. He would go.

Jostled from tyrants of thoughts, the blond was airborne. Unprepared to be anywhere else than where he was, inside, the gears crunched--a sickening, bone-crunching bellow of remorse. Wait, stop! Refusal to comply--inept at breaking the surface to speech, for they were spinning. Again!? Again, they were spinning. He fell back in as the waves dragged him bereft, barely allowing for a breath before brutally burying him beneath rusty clockwork. "I know I'm not the smartest, or the biggest, but that does not mean..." Vague recollection of thought, connecting one to the other like a plug into an electrical outlet cut of power. "...that does not mean that I can't be a good captain!" He felt himself nod, felt himself barely breathe enough to form the husky tick of his own, normal-sounding voice...as if nothing was happening at all. If nothing was something, it would be this.

"You are...a good captain," his sentence smiled as well as his lips in favor of judgement. The meaning carried through to his mind, reverting all thoughts of suffering to fragments of serendipity. Sal was picturesque of innocence, a chimera, Gluttony, but also a little boy of which Celes had known before the stone had. Not much had changed aside from the ever-present yearnful requirement of unneeded sustenance. In other words, he ate and ate and ate and ate until Celes grew bored of cooking. To Celes, Sal wasn't a little boy, a homunculus, a mishmash of human and animal, or a captain; he was an irreplaceable figure in his life--the closest a living thing could come to Celes' genuine smile. "I love you, Sal," He whispered suddenly, surprising himself in the intense moment of being blinded in an already blind eye. Through his teeth, it was whispered as if he were in pain. And he was, agony ghosting over his automail arm, lapping at the scars as it-- IT. The reoccurring haze of a face--a hallucination hovering about them. He knew it was fake. It was fake because Celes was off the ground where he should have stayed motionless for some time. It...The World--where he would be venturing into. Barely audible, a sound brought out from his distressed sigh--a whisper into the void of his Captain's ear. "'m moving to...Gelemorté...bback... Keep it a secret, ne." It grinned--a grimace and a grin at the same time, sucking in a brutal cackle of a sneer. White, faceless face--a mirror of everything and nothing in the moment yet never there. They couldn't see it. They couldn't see...That--that...that smile that brought...darkness.

[EXIT THREAD]

[Just to make it clearer, Celes passed out and I assume that's when Sal put him on the chair. Now, I think you guys should wrap this up and then post in South City and stuff to get things going with these characters. Celes is going to go to Gelemorté to work with Wolfy, but he's leaving without telling anyone. Sal is the only one he told. That doesn't mean they can't track him down or anything. He just feels like he's a burden to everyone there and he really needs to find himself a bit.]

[Sec Invidia]

Sec listened attentively as people around him expressed their own views on everything going on. Thus far, he'd given his views as First Mate, Marcie had offered up a Quartermasterly contract to be agreed upon, and Rebecca, their resident techie Boatswain had noted that she'd be of help to General Brighton in this matter. The Captain had already agreed upon this, unofficially, so it was now left up to Aren, Celes, and Grimm. Aaaaand apparently, Celes was stone-cold out in his seat. Lovely, now it was up to Aren and Grimm, then. Celes could think about it later. So glancing to the two, in no particular order, Sec smiled Secsily, and in his usual deadpan, with the slight accent that made it seem less deadpanny, he asked their views. "Aren, Grimm? Your thoughts on the move?" Honestly, people should be considering this event of importance more than their own personal dramas, or at least, in Grimm's case. Celesto's problems could wait until later. At any rate, Sec felt that with their stances on the matter, the conversation would be brought to a close soon.

[Guest]

"I....you guys can talk, I will come back. But I want to make sure everything is okay first..." And with that, the cat chimera was gone. The beating of her heart resounded in the silence of Euphemia's head and she slowly turned her gaze to meet that of the door--the unseeing gaze that she knew hid Celesto behind it. "EYEPATCH!" She cringed, her mind already knowing what her heart was dreading. Biting her lip softly, Aren closed blue orbs and shook her head--she would sit backwards from the group and think things over there. "Celesto..." She would whisper his name softly, over and over again. Truth's words echoed in her mind, a headache suddenly starting to grow in size. Suddenly, the Tall-One spoke, breaking that shackle that was holding the pain into her head. I think it's a good idea, Ms. Brighton. Pirates really don't belong so far from water anyways, and you do make a good point about us being security for South." Nngh... he was right, though her mind wasn't in any state to process it--the rest of his words flickered through her mind, unabated by thought processes. Reaching forwards blindly, Aren groped for something, anything. She just needed to take her mind off of all of this. Her long fingers gripped a glass, pulling it back and putting the coolness against her lips. The glass was raised into the air and though she didn't see it, soft drops of water started to slide down the smooth material, shimmering in the basal light. Smooth liquid slid down her throat and she slowly opened her eyes, feeling the headache begin to recede.

"...If the rest of the crew agrees, then you and I will draw up a contract, General Brighton." She blinked--what had Marcelina said? "I concur upon this poin'. Movin' down to where wa'er is only makes sense!" There was that accent that came from Miss Rebecca. That was two people in agreement of such a point. Breathing out, Aren slowly lowered her eyes to meet the closed one of Celesto. She had felt it--he had fallen unconscious... but what was this... standing up suddenly, Aren held up a hand to the group, her mouth closed tightly. Without a word, she turned away from them, storming off towards the woman's bathroom. Clean walls greeted her, though she would not know them as clean for much longer. The feeling that existed in her stomach grew further and she dropped to the ground onto her knees, leaning over the sanitary seat known as a toilet. The feeling spread up her chest, she opened her mouth and her stomach was emptied into the water. Loud retches escaped into the air, echoing throughout the quiet bathroom. The scent that permeated into her nostrils made her feel even more sick than she did, though she didn't understand why. Why was she feeling like this? Why had she come to that point of vomiting? Eyes widened in pain and Aren's body shook with each new push. A few more seconds of retching and her moment in time was over.

The toilet was flushed, Aren's hands were washed and she wiped a hand across her lips. More shaking came from her body and she reached a shaking hand to her forehead, soaked with a cold sweat. She stared at her own face in the mirror--was this who she was? A cold blue stared back through the mirror's eyes, Aren shaking as she stepped backwards from the basin. She would return to them now, apologize and give them her verdict, despite wanting to fall over with each step. She slowly traveled back to the table and took a seat, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Apologies; I needed to use the toilet, all of a sudden." She swallowed the bile in her throat, picked up the glass of water and threw back the cleansing fluids once more, draining the glass tumbler completely. "Ahh... Well, you have my opinion--I will accept this move." A calm smile crossed her lips. She just hoped this wasn't... the wrong decision to make.

[Marcelina H. de León]

Marcelina mentally counted the votes as they came in. “Aye” came not only from Sec and herself. Rebecca expressed her interest, as did Aren. Sal, Celes and Grimm were still absent. Sal had said before he would go with the majority, and thus had an “aye” as well. While she would've appreciated the opinion of Celes and Grimm... in all reason, the majority had already made the choice. Two “nay” were not going to change the course of this vote. The decision had been made. The dread pirate crew of the Ole Miss were going to South City! Huzzah! But now it was time to get down to the details... something Marcelina was truly going to enjoy. How best to ensure the safety of the crew and the ship? She doubted that General Brighton was of the backstabbing variety, but a pirate could never be too careful. So therefore a clause in the contract would require that in times of war or strife in this country, the pirates would not be twisted to be a scapegoat. Pirates they would be seen as, honorable and “proud” of their nation. Or at least, as proud as was necessary under the contract. Marcie didn't like the idea of waving around an Amestrian flag and singing anthems, but she could feel a sort of pride for her adopted home.

What else was necessary to add at this time? More personal clauses could be discussed in a more private, piratical setting and added to the contract when the pirates arrived in South. AH. Yes. No uniforms. Marcie wrinkled her nose in distaste. They could take her hat and coat from her when she was dead and not before. She supposed that when required for security detail that a certain level of decorum would be required as well as... Marcie shivered a little. Sobriety would be expected in such things. Or at the very least, no “drinking on the job.” Well... she wasn't going to mention that unless Shula did.

Content with the minimal items she had come up with, she slid herself out of the booth, reaching for Parley. She casually placed the sword belt over one shoulder, resting Parley back at her side. It was a gentle weight but one that Marcelina thoroughly enjoyed. She gestured to Shula to move and join her to a table on a different side of the cafe. She waited for the small general to sit before she shifted Parley to sit down in the chair. “At this point General, the contract will be rather loosely based. Once I've fully discussed parameters with the crew, then I can provide you the official contract when we reach South City. Suffice to say that your terms for security detail. Two conditions that must be accepted now. There will be no uniforms. If we are to be security detail, maybe we will allow a badge. That bears further discussion amongst the crew. But there will be no forced costumes.” Marcie wrinkled her nose again and then continued. “Secondly, if for whatever reason Amestris is put in dire straits, we will not be expected to participate like your usual military. A new contract can be arranged for our services, but we are not at your beck and call. We will also never be made scapegoats for any wrongdoings.” She leaned back in her chair, hand gently resting on Parley, more as a typical gesture than as a threat. She tipped her hat back a little and smiled faintly. “Do we have an accord, General?”

[Reila Tsukino]

I'm formally closing this. The pirates have moved and are now in South City. SO GO POST DAMMIT.

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