01.28.3014: Sail Away, Sail Away...
Summary: Cyrielle braves the seas again with the aid of a few friends…
Date: 14 November 2013
Related: None
Balius Cyrielle Klaudea Nitrim 

Darmour's Revenge
See log.
Tuesday, January 28th 3014


For a sailing trip with a small, largely inexperienced crew that aims to stick close to the sub-tropical shores, a caravel has been chosen. While the ship could surely make a longer voyage, the shallow depth it sits at and the specialized sails it can bear make it ideal for closer operations- especially should any inlets, bays, or wide rivers need to be traversed.

This one bears the name — Darmour's Revenge — after a Hollolas ancestor who was the sole survivor after an intense battle with pirates during a storm. It comes from the Hollolas family's personal fleet based on the designs, markings, and amount of technology obvious throughout.

While Hollolas ships often appear as Old Earth ships may have on the exterior — with gorgeous woodwork and design — they are anything but beneath. Plasteel plating protects beneath the hardened wood and technology shows at every turn. Unlike much of Haven, these are things of battle versus foes other than Hostiles. Communications and data inputs at every turn. Hidden weaponry in case of attack on the seas. To be certain, the more mundane methods exist just in case, but one will never find themselves in discomfort aboard.

As the de facto commander for the trip, Cyrielle has taken the Captain's Berth. With a small crew, the others have been given individual berthing in officer's quarters. Nitrim and Ephraim earn the staterooms, while the others get the smaller (but still nice) rooms. For some, this is a downgrade. For others, it is an obvious upgrade. Officer's quarters are small, but a private room nonetheless. Everyone has a comfortable bed, storage for their belongings, and a private Infosphere display. A small handful of men and women assigned to House Hollolas berth in the crews quarters are along to assist in sailing matters, having been told to help instruct those new to the craft.

Much of the food has been prepared in advance to limit needs for anyone to actually cook. Simply reheat and serve. There is also ample booze available; ales, liquors, and even a special cask from the winner's of the last "brewing games" Hollolas hosted. This last is labeled with a warning- 'Not for the feint of heart.'

The sun settles squarely overhead on the second day of their voyage and Cyrielle stands in the sterncastle at the broad display and controls for the ship. A classic wheel does dominate the center, but it's only for use in emergencies. For the most part, the more intuitive controls are used. The sails are up and billowing as they make use of the clear skies. The ship is heading further towards Arboren now and temperatures are cooling rapidly. The Hollolas noble is wearing a long, sturdy coat in a dark navy blue that buckles securely across her abdomen, while billowing from her hips. She's squinting off into the distance and seems… rather calm and at peace.

The last day, for Nitrim Khournas, has been work. Having arrived at the harbor not alone, but with a formal chaperone and bodyguard by the name of 'Varlos', Nitrim has been shadowed everywhere he has traveled. The chaperone, with his dark coat and sword on his hip, the falcon-nosed an hawk-eyed Khourni isn't much of a conversationalist, and has more than once provided the young Khourni lord with a twitch of his brows when he steps outside of expected decorum.

The end result, is that Nitrim has been rather tied to his assigned work on the ship, has enjoyed conversation, dinner, and drink, and has not emerged from his stateroom until morning the next day.

Now, as he makes his way above deck, buckling the front of his coat up and tugging on a pair of gloves, he lets the ocean air whip the pulled-down cowl of his coat on his way to the sterncastle, where he sets his hands against the railing and leans at a respectable distance from his host, staring out across the sea.

"You seem to be in the element, Lady Cyrielle." Nitrim says to her, his dark eyes shifting to scan the horizon. "What do you see?"

Wearing his good green tunic and a thick coat, Balius Quellton is on the side of the ship, wind in his hair. The youth hasn't strayed far from the deck since they've arrived, not sleeping much thru the night. He's been giving occasional yells into particular gusts of wind. Overall more thrilled than he initially anticipated. At meals, he's been caught into studying for his classes…that he's skipping for the trip. (But he's not gonna tell anyone that.)

Thrilled that his daughter is moving with the upper echelons of society, and hopeful it will interest in his daughter in more social pursuits, Vadim Blackfells splurged on a long, warm and weatherproofed coat for his daughter. Warm pants similarly weatherproofed match the garment, but haven't seen much use. It seems the girl is too used to having her feet firmly planted on level ground, and the wavering horizon line has not agreed with her stomach. Though she soldiers on when asked, as a good squire should, Klaudea has spent much time belowdecks, and little of sleeping and eating. She ventures up again, taking a deep breath of the sea air, but it does little to dispel the queasiness evident behind her gaze and downturn of her mouth. However badly her stomach is taking it, she doesn't seem to have problems actually moving, her innate balance taking care of that as she makes her way to the railing.

One thing of note is that Cyrielle has given herself over to something she otherwise would never suffer for this voyage… a brace. The awkward thing encases her right leg from the knee down, worn over her boots. She's around friends, who are prone to understand… though Varlos earned a wary expression upon coming aboard. Largely, she tries to pretend it isn't there and at the moment, there's no difference.

While the smooth displays and controls do most of the sailing, Cyrielle keeps a hand lightly on the more traditional wheel. She looks over to Nitrim, blinking briefly as her vision clears. "It's going better than I expected. As for what I see…" There's a glance to the controls. She's been teaching the others in bits and pieces. It's all fairly intuitive- you just have to know what you're looking at. "About the same as I should be, for the moment. The coasts are calm, with the stronger winter winds…" She glances up to the snapping sails, lips twitching in a smile. "Which is perfect for us." There's a glance over the decks and her nose crinkles upon spotting Balius, bemused. "Shame Klaudea is having a rough time of adapting."

"Well, you look like you're in the zone, Cyrielle. I'm proud of you." Tapping the rail twice, Nitrim nods silently towards the sea before him and turns, pressing his boot into the planking beneath him to adjust for the swaying of the ship. He's been a fast learner, hasn't suffered sea sickness, and has had what appears to be a good time so far working with the lines and knotwork. As he turns, he pulls a cigarette out and catches the watching eye of Varlos. Like a secret-police inspector, the man simply stares back as Nitrim nods.

"Balius, Klaudea? How are you two liking it so far?" Nitrim calls out to them, his voice slowing at the sight of Klaudea. Brows lowering as his eyes go white and he lights the cigarette with his palm, his chin juts up to call out to her. "Klaudea, I've heard if you look at the horizon it helps."

Rummaging in his satchel, Balius heads over to sea sick Klaudea. "This is AWESOME!" He says to Nitrim. The Quellton is shivering a bit, but he's not about to let that stop him. He leans and whispers to Klaudea as he hands her something from his kit.

Varlos, ever-watchful, cracks his brow towards Nitrim and turns his head to watch the hand-off from Balius to Klaudea with that sort of that had better be something appropriate weight on his brow. He has no say over them, but he sees all.

"The ship's doctor just gave me an injection, my lord," Klaudea calls up in reply. "He said it'll take effect soon." Her voice drops to a level that isn't really meant to be heard. "I hope." She rubs her fingers under her nose, then tucks a strand of hair tugged out of her braid by the wind behind her ear. As Balius hands her something, she gives him a nod and a grin, pocketing it for future use.

"Proud of me?" Cyrielle utters a soft laugh, glancing sidelong at Nitrim. "You've either not lost the contents of your stomach once, or kept it damn well hidden if you have." She's had a few restless nights, but on deck… she's been every picture what one might hope of a daughter of Hollolas, raised on the seas. Awkward brace aside.

The look Varlos provides to Balius and Klaudea gives the brunette the moment to look at Nitrim and offer a roll of the eyes. This guy, the look says. Something she's uttered to him in their own way. Klaudea's assurances called up earn a nod as the noblewoman leans back over the consoles, checking a few things.

<FS3> Nitrim rolls Awareness: Success.
<FS3> Balius rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Klaudea rolls Alertness: Good Success.

"Proud of you, yeah. After taking me to task on the training grounds and this, I'm starting to get the sense stars are aligning for you." Nitrim murmurs in the direction of the stern, eyes tracing over the flurry of activity while managing to avoid eye-contact with his chaperone. "Let's just say it was hard getting to sleep, aye? And we face our demons. Better time than ever…" Nitrim trails off, taking in a deep breath as he looks to the horizon. "…and it'll be dark soon."

Without a second thought to it, Nitrim drags off of the cigarette and grins to Balius. "Yeah, it's good, great man I love the power of the sea. I'm still getting used to the roll, though." He rubs his hand over his neck and his brows tilt, suddenly confused. "An infection? Shit, why? Infections are bad is there something I missed here?"

The two standing down on the deck exchange a couple words, looking out towards the horizon as Klaudea was instructed. She lays her hands on the railing, not really holding on, just curling her fingers to feel something solid. "Uh, does that look natural to you?" she asks Balius, as both of them seem to be looking at the same thing.

The Quellton shakes his head. "Lady Cyrielle, is that supposed to be getting bigger like that?" He calls up to the nobles behind them.

Even before Cyrielle can look up at the horizon, from the crow's nest, a Hollolas voice booms down (this is why they can all be so loud): "Storm off the port bow!"

Even before he has finished, the men and women beholden to Hollolas have set to work. The pair of sails that have given them such good headway are brought down and anyone standing nearby pressed to help wind ropes or fold the great masses of specialized fabric to be stowed away.

"Shit." Whether the Khournas chaperone likes it or not, there will be a fair amount of foul language as people get moving. Cyrielle goes white, even as the winds pick up. It's cold and the air is damp. She's frozen at the controls, hands splayed across the display.

Storm. The word that is yelled out for the crew brings a scowl to Nitrim's lip. Knowing well the worries of fires on deck, his arm extends to the side and with a flick of his fingertips his cigarette sails far over the rail and into the water below. His lips curl back to bare his teeth and share a concerned look with his chaperone, who looks none-too-pleased that the situation has turned dangerous. "Where do you need us, Cyri…" Nitrim trails off, pushing off of the rail with purpose, a desire to work on his eyes. Too long has passed. "Cyrielle Hollolas, where do you need us?"

Bracing himself and looking to Klaudea, the Quellton assumes that repetitive calls to the captain won't help at all. He remains close to the squire, as things seem ready to get all the more rocky.

At the sudden flurry of activity, nausea or no nausea, Klaudea is pulled forward into the work. She grabs and pulls at the ropes handed her and helps coil the rope, glancing to Balius. "So, still awesome?" she asks, giving him a grin to try and chivvy him into not worrying, and masking any fear she may be feeling.

Though they work quick, the storm is quicker and soon the winds whip up. For one that has never experienced a storm on the sea, this is a wicked thing. The ocean's surface just drives it on stronger and there is nothing to break it save for their small vessel. The skies darken and the angry clouds close in on them. A steady rain begins to fall

The seasoned sailors continue to work in a grim swiftness; most familiar with such things. There are a few snapped grumbles of the 'tourists,' but as they're helping out… so far they haven't been ushered belowdecks.

Alarms begin sounding on the console. Between those and the rain, Cyrielle is snapped free of her uncertainty. She draws in a sudden, deep breath and blinks. As her eyes clear, they've become white. Accidental or purposeful, the Awakened state gives her purpose. "Get the sails down," she calls to Nitrim as the winds rise. "The less a target the masts are, the better."

<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Sailing: Success.

"Sails. Alright." Nitrim replies, repeating her order to her as he presses a hand to her shoulder. Since it's a more friendly, supportive gesture than a romantic one, Nitrim's chaperone doesn't cry foul, and seconds later Nitrim is rushing down the deck towards the masts to help the other crew members take down the sails and reel in the lines. "Gonna be a wonderful fucking day." Nitrim grimaces to Balius, looking over to Klaudea with a long, careful look. His nostrils flare and his lips flatten before his head dips, eyes flashing down to the furious work his hands are doing.

Seeing as how Klaudea seems fine, Balius moves to help the crew with the sails. "Yeah, something like that." He says to her, sounding hesitant. The moment he turns to Nitrim his face is wide with excitement. Trying to maintain his volume. "Dude, this is freakin awesome." And he excitedly gets to work.

Klaudea grins. She's more understated in her enthusiasm. It's more than likely that she's had to run or work through throwing up, even made to run until she does so. As such, her work isn't hampered by the sickness… in fact, the rain seems to be refreshing her somewhat. Or else that doctor's concoction has kicked in. Either way, she's lending a good strong pair of arms where needed, and oblivious to the look Nitrim gives her.

The crew is thankful for the hard work of the three- it makes things easier. At least this is just buckling down and taking care of things. It's a fair bit more difficult than it has been during the past day or so; with wind and rain pulling at the body, keeping ahold of ropes or sail corners is not easy.

Cyrielle is working in the sterncastle still. She's at least no longer frozen and instead leaning over the controls, legs braced on the deck against the wind that causes her coat to whip about her legs. Her hair was in a braid, but at this rate it won't be. The mechanics far below can be heard to groan as they fight the tides and the storm-churned waters. Staying upright isn't going to be easy, but thus far… other than the wind and rain… all is good.

<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Sailing: Good Success.

Working and rolling his arms with the ropes until he's cut out of the order, his part done, Nitrim rises to his full height and spares a quick look back to the sterncastle where Cyrielle is taking charge. She's the captain. Stepping out of the way like a hive-mind when a sailor rushes in front of him, Nitrim starts to walk towards Cyrielle's position, motioning for his chaperone to speak with him. "We're going to need to get our hands working on this until they push us below decks. I will not go beneath the deck until she tells me to, aye?" Nitrim says to Varlos, who leans in towards him to hiss in hushed tones while they walk.

Balius continues at his work, thrilled at the motions going on around him. He even gives a woo at the sounds of the storm, wrapped up in the heat of the moment.

Keeping her head down so that she doesn't stand out, Klaudea's drenched form begins to look the rest of the Hollolas sworn on the boat, except for the occasional correction needed to set her in the right direction, she gives a shake to get her hair out of her eyes when a wave crashes by them. Luckily her braid was tight enough to keep a decent portion of it bound when the rain started.

It's a brave soul at the crow's nest. The man has been all over the rigging, assisting in the rapid lowering of sails and spare ropes. He yells something, but it's largely lost to the winds. The Hollolas sworn understand, however, and start using the lower ropes that haven't been wound to wrap about their midsections, or wind around an arm. The others, above deck, are urged to do the same- unless they go below. A couple of the sailors do the latter… likely to ensure everything is secure lest the ship get too thrown about.

In the sterncastle, Cyrielle is a bit without such things and instead has braced herself between the traditional wheel and the control panel. The color has not yet returned to her features, but there's a firm expression there instead- one the Quellton may recognize from the horrors they faced on Lazarus Island. She has a place she goes when there's no other alternative… and that place is here.

The warning is well-placed, for soon the brave man above is rapidly descending to a more secure spot as he bellows: "INCOMING!"

<FS3> Nitrim rolls Athletics: Success.
<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Athletics: Good Success.
<FS3> Klaudea rolls Athletics: Success.
<FS3> Balius rolls Athletics: Success.
<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Sailing: Good Success.

Stopping somewhere between the mast and the forecastle, Nitrim places his hand to Varlos' arm to lean in and hear what the man has to say to him. Nitrim pulls back and the two nod to each other. Varlos heads to the rigging and Nitrim continues onward…until the wave hits. Both Nitrim and Varlos are nearly taken off of their feet, but manage to hold and lean into the spray. Spotting a loose rope, Nitrim quickly looks to make sure it isn't to something that will drag him overboard, then snatches it up and starts to secure it…thoroughly soaked.

As she saw sailors around her beginning to wrap themselves with rope, Klaudea followed suit, getting one wrapped around her upper arm and shoulder. Even so, the waves washes her backwards, her feet sliding along the deck in their braced position until the back comes up against the mast. Her back slams into it, and a little 'oof' of air and something else spews from her mouth, but she brushes her forearm across her face, and the rest is quickly washed away by rain as she pulls herself back to her place.

No one, thankfully, is lost. The fella in the rigging proves his worth by the fact that once the wave passes… he's still there. He's quick to scramble the rest of the way down and check on Klaudea. "Ye alright, lass? Deep breath, cough it out. Whiskey later." Even as he speaks, he's grabbing hold of ropes, looking up towards where Cyrielle is.

The Hollolas is barely visible, but she's there. Cyrielle is working the ships controls and even as those mechanics hum loudly below, the wood of the ship creaks. The plasteel beneath, however, holds firm and likely is part of why the vessel is able to turn - slowly - away from the storm. Another wave crashes over, however; this time from behind them.

<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Athletics: Success.
<FS3> Nitrim rolls Athletics: Good Success.
<FS3> Balius rolls Athletics: Good Success.
<FS3> Klaudea rolls Athletics: Success.
<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Sailing-1: Success.

Both Nitrim and his chaperone, Varlos, weather the storm. With ropes lashed around their waists, the wave that comes over the back of the ship it connects with their strong backs, but does little do bowl them over. Varlos gets to work with the rigging and Nitrim growls against the spray, whipping his hair out of his eyes to yell to the Khourni chaperone. "You didn't sign on for this. Get the fuck below!" He calls to the man, his eyes going white. "Klaudea are you still with us!"

Nitrim reaches out with his mind to Klaudea, finding her easily as they've communicated this way before. «KLAUDEA! Where are you!»

The water clogs her ears as it douses her again, and Klaudea automatically drops to a knee, getting a lower center of gravity, more of her in contact with the deck to keep her on the deck. She shifts the rope to wrap around her waist, then she's following the crew member she was working with before. « Ouch! A bit busy here… don't know my port from my starburst anymore. »

Nothing can be seen through the wind and rain; the clouds press in close and the waves threaten them continually. With their back to the storm, however, the waves are weaker. They break over the sterncastle before hitting the rest of the ship. This puts Cyrielle right in the way of it… and it's a good thing she wore that brace. Once it's clear that Klaudea will be alright, the spry man makes his way up to stand by the Hollolas noblewoman's side, lashing a rope he brought up around her. "Can't be going home one less!"

Maybe she has her own chaperone, of a sorts. Cyrielle's head doesn't lift; she's still working at the controls. The ship groans and shifts as it fights against the wind. And right now, it's the wind more than the waves that can affect them; debris starts to come aboard. They're close to shore, based on the branches and leaves that whip around.

<FS3> Klaudea rolls Finesse: Failure.
<FS3> Nitrim rolls Finesse: Success.
<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Finesse: Failure.

With so much water and spray everywhere, Nitrim has no idea how Cyrielle is able to keep her bearings through the absolute hell that is this storm. Feet rocking back and forth with the pull and sway of the ship as it turns, Nitrim narrowly avoids a plank of driftwood as it flies past his face and connects squarely with Varlos' temple. The chaperone goes down like a sack of dirt, forcing Nitrim to sever his mental round-robin with Cyrielle and Klaudea. They're fine until he hears screaming. Instead, Nitrim rushes to the downed chaperone and pulls him to his feet, starting to help the man towards the entry to the lower decks.

Although Klaudea doesn't get smacked with debris, the sailor next to her isn't so lucky, and he tumbles into her legs, causing her to go down hard on the deck. She lifts a hand to her lip where her teeth sunk in, but if it's bleeding, the rain is doing a good job of washing it away right now. Rolling over and hauling on her rope, she pulls herself, and the other sailor to their feet.

Up at the controls, Cyrielle has been doing a good job avoiding most things. However, the sailor that's arrived has her just distracted enough and he's too late to warn her as a branch hits her square in the back. The woman stumbles forward and luckily, the man is there to help her stay mostly upright. However, her hand brushes over the controls in just the wrong way and the ship lurches to one side.

Lucky for Nitrim and his dead weight of a chaperone, one of the Hollolas (a broad-shouldered young woman) is at the hatch to below decks to assist him.

<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Athletics-1: Success.
<FS3> Nitrim rolls Athletics-1: Success.
<FS3> Klaudea rolls Athletics-1: Great Success.
<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Sailing-1: Good Success.

"He took a plank to the head!" Nitrim bellows to the sailor at the point of handoff, helping the unconscious weight off of his shoulders just in time to suffer the lurch of the ship's sudden turn. Grabbing the edge of the hatch for balance, Nitrim's feet hold true as he looks out to the deck, trying to find other sailors to help. Spotting some more loose rigging, he rushes over to help tie it down.

Back on her feet after helping the sailor, Klaudea feels the deck begin to roll and takes a hold of her rope with one hand. She turns sideways to the roll, bracing her feet apart, the back one wedged against a cleat. It leaves her other hand free to reach out and grab the hand of woman that comes sliding down the deck, her frantic hands reaching for the rope that came untied from around her waist. She gives a grunt of pain as the woman's sudden stop yanks at her shoulder.

Though she's hunched over in pain now rather than against the winds and rain, Cyrielle is able to focus on the controls. They let her navigate, even without being able to see. It's a far cry better than the days of old. So while the ship can be controlled as in the old ways, well… They'd be at the mercy of the storm, rather than using it to escape.

« Brace yourselves!»

It's a wide-band telepathic call from the woman and unfortunately, her focus is splintered… so everyone gets a hint of the pain in her shoulder from the debris that hit her. Still, the warning comes because she's turning the ship — with a sudden rev of motors deep within — into the cove along the Arboren shore. This is why she chose the shallow-bottomed boat. They have no fear of inlets like the one she's trying to aim them towards, but it does take another sharp tilt of the ship. At least this one comes with warning.

<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Athletics+1: Good Success.
<FS3> Nitrim rolls Athletics+1: Success.
<FS3> Klaudea rolls Athletics+1: Great Success.
<FS3> Cyrielle rolls Sailing: Good Success.

Digging his feet into a lean to fight the lean of the ship, Nitrim ends up planting his shoulder into the mast and taking refuge with a few of the other sailors from the Hollolas lands. Grabbing hard against the ropes, the ship tilts and one of the sailors starts to fall free of his grip. Thinking quickly, Nitrim's hand lashes out to wrap around the man's wrist and hold him tightly, nearly losing his footing in the process, but it's just enough to help the sailor get his footing and find his grip once again.

Although she winces at the pain she feels come through the telepathic connection, Klaudea almost laughs at the storm, now. With the woman secured once more, she narrows her eyes into the pelting rain, letting it wash down her face as she lets her balance rotate and roll as needed when the ship turns through the waves.

And in the cove, there's suddenly calm. The reason soon becomes visible as they pass through the clouds and the heavier rain. There's still rain and a biting cold wind, but a vast cliff face looms up alongside the ship. Wood creaks; the sound pitched high above the engines churning water below. A few rock outcroppings do scrape the sides of the ship and Cyrielle adjusts, leading them further into the small, protective inlet.

There's a loud *ka-chunk* and the clattering of a large, heavy chain. The bow dips slightly as the anchor releases, falling to hit the ocean floor below. Once once, the Hollolas noblewoman sinks against the wheel, following it until she's sitting on the deck. Her eyes come brown again and she looks up to the man that had joined her up on the sterncastle. "Thank you, Aren. Make sure everyone is fine. Open some of the good stuff." He gives a sharp nod and heads down to do just that, stopping in with Nitrim and Klaudea even to make sure they're doing well.

Letting out a deep breath, relieved that they were able to get to safety, Nitirm offers Aren a stern nod of his head. Soaked from head to toe and dripping water as he walks, Nitrim unties the rope from around his waist and steps forward along the deck in the direction of the forecastle. His first stop is to Klaudea, offering her his hand and checking her over. "Hey." He says to her, not the most poetic of things, but it does the trick in a pinch. "You alright? Looks like your sea sickness just got beaten out of you." He smirks, glancing up to Cyrielle before looking back to Klaudea. He'll get to Cyri in a moment.

Flipping the sodden hair out of her face, Klaudea gives Aren a grin before she looks down to her waist to untie herself. She takes Nitrim's hand and gives him a chuckle. "It's the old knight's trick. Whatever ails you is bet gotte over with a good beating." She glances up towards the stern, looking for the Lady Cyrielle.

"Come on down below once y'all are ready," Aren says, with a nod to both. He trots on down below decks, already handing out orders to those that are down there.

Up on the stern, the noblewoman is not immediately visible. Cyrielle is taking a moment to collect herself. Once her breathing is under control and she's sure things are calm, she lifts her right — the good side — arm up and hauls herself up to view the console. Trackers for the storm dominate the display that she hunches over, frowning.

"She's not gonna be doing well." Nitrim comments to Klaudea, nodding to Aren as the man walks away. A stream of water flicks off of a stray lock of his hair, right into his eye, forcing Nitrim to rub at his eye socket and harrumph his lips dry. He slicks his hair back and claps Klaudea on the shoulder, and then moves to the forecastle, stepping up to Cyrielle from behind.

"You know when I was on Ignis, down in the mines, I faced my fears." Nitrim speaks up to get Cyrielle's attention. "And it didn't feel like a victory, but it was a test and I passed."

Nodding at Nitrim's comment after she sees Lady Cyrielle rise to her feet again, Klaudea lets him to go to her first. Looking around, she finds places to help coil rigging that came loose, and take down a sail and refurl it properly. She keeps busy with the others for a bit, now, the teasing from earlier changing in tune now that she's weathered the storm on deck with them.

"We're too far from anywhere safe to dock," Cyrielle mumbles, bringing up a map. A feed from The Ring, likely, where weather stations can observe. "We'll have to pass the night here…" She tries to straighten and winces, curling inward on her left side. "How's… what's his face?"

It takes her a moment to really process the last and finally, Cyrielle turns to Nirim, brow furrowing slightly as she studies him. "Did I pass?"

"That's up to you, but everyone's alive and my chaperone's unconscious for a while." Nitrim replies, stepping up to the console beside Cyrielle, offering his arm to her for balance as he looks over the storm reports, the radar, and the view from space over the region. Things have calmed but that hasn't stopped his face from being pelted with rain, his cheeks a mess with the water streaming down from his hair. "All in all I'd call that a win." Nitrim murmurs, then looks to Cyrielle's face to offer her a confident smirk. "Welcome back."

Turning his side to Cyrielle, the young drake of Khournas looks down to the deck to Klaudea and calls out to her with a whistle. Nodding upwards sharply to her, he motions to Cyrielle, as she's become free for more visitors.

At the sound of the whistle, Klaudea glances up and nods, finisheing her coil and handing it over. She takes the steps two at a time on her way up, hands sliding along the railing to either side of her. She gives the Hollolas woman a wide smile and even a little salute. "Aye, Captain."

"Ha!" It's a half-hearted sort of exclamation as Cyrielle sinks against the offered arm. "I suppose it's a victory then, if you get a bit of respite from him. He's a pesky bugger, isn't he?" She looks towards the console and shuts it off. Shifting back a few steps, the Hollolas gestures towards the door that leads to her quarters. Pausing as Klaudea speaks, there's a wry smile.

"Glad to see you two made it through unscathed. Sounds like we didn't lose anyone, just some injuries…" Based on Aren's words before he departed below and the lack of a report on those lost to the seas. "Join me for a drink and some time out of this thrice-damned brace?"

"Fuck I could use a drink." Nitrim growls, blinking the rain out of his eyes as he lets Cyrielle take his arm for balance. "And some sleep. I'm going to be hurting in the morning." Nitrim blinks, grinning as he glances down to Cyrielle's brace, her coat, and then to Klaudea with a laugh. "And she won't believe us, right Klaudea, but she looked pretty good and handled it well." Nitrim winks, then nods towards the cabin. "Fuck this rain…I need a break. Let's."

At the mention of the chaperone being unconscious, Klaudea gives them a grin. "I don't think I should drink anything just yet. I'm sure you guys can handle the bottle on your own." She will accompany them towards the cabin, but find a way to sneak on to her own quarters and get dry and lay down for a real bit of sleep.

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