MAIN SAGA PEARLS OF PERSIA | IC

[Kabboom]

Alim Arslan Yafir

As Alim walked toward the pier, he couldn't help but speculate and (perhaps unfairly) judge the roster so far. Naudar was a potential surprise - everyone in the party was a potential surprise - but if he proved to be consistent, Alim could expect a regular nerd with an ego to rival the Tower of Babel. Not too unlike himself, before he was humbled greatly by the underworld. Only in the privacy of his own thoughts can he confess this: he agreed with Razin on this one. Unless this wonder-boy has some dead language memorized by heart or a band of mercenaries hidden up his ass, then Naudar serves no other purpose than a loud mouth that needs feeding - and unless they're cracking advanced Greek contraptions at Xerxes' lair, then Alim can fill in the calculations and 'unintended security bypassing'.

The rest, well, he's made up his mind about them. All naive and dangerous at the same time. All stupid and clever at the same time. All predictable and unpredictable. At the same time. Alim held all these beliefs close to heart, but he's never stupid enough to consider the conflict in these statements. 'Better safe than sorry,' he calmed himself. Only the inexperienced would neatly categorize complex people into one or two traits, and only the wizened would think a person incapable of change. The last time he did one of these things, he either lost gold, or blood - both losses cut harshly.

The area around where that damned Puntling had gotten busy with spectators: sailors with the smell of sea salt and diluted grog clinging to their breath, gawking at the lady in the splashy pond like children seeing ducks for the first time. Alim also spied the characteristic feathery plumes of an Inspector chicken, bobbing around the crowd and probably cawing about regulations and fines and other idiocy. A risk of detection, and more than enough muscle to hold him at bay until the Headmen can show up and find his neck a permanent string home. Great.

Alim glanced around to make sure there weren't any active spectators, catching a glance of Errol moving past him. Bird-boy can serve as a further distraction for the officials while he did his little 'transformation'. First, he gave his gear a double-take, just making sure none of his conspicuous weapons or gear would be caught by eye or touch. After he was confident, he checked again - after he was confident a second time, he resumed. No one expects a lowly cowardly serf to be a dastardly asshole criminal - at least, according to Alim. His back became slightly more hunched, his face more upbeat and serf-like, and his arms began rubbing against each other nervously.

"P-Pardon me, gentlemen! If I may... very terribly sorry, sir... I must proceed..." A humble, slightly scared voice came out of Alim as he cordially passed through the crowd of sailors, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the Inspector. Making his way to the edge, he saw no sign of the Puntling except for bubbles popping at the surface. Of course she was submerged, what did you think, she's tall enough to stand up? Carrying on with the meek persona, Alim glanced around muttering 'oh dear's before settling on a solution. Grabbing a handful of little trash bits and scraps from the dock floor, he chucked a handful of the stuff at the bubbles, hoping that the splash - or the sinking trash - would catch her attention. Should she surface, he'd pull... oh who knows, some dubious shit like "Good heavens, my lady! We're about to be late, you must come!"

@Applo @MiharuAya

 

[Kuno]

HABBAS

One always longed to see their child whole and well. Razin's voice was unmistakable through the rabble, and that took away his sole concern: that the wayward girl had made it there without taking unnecessary excursions. But soon his worry was replaced with another. She rushed towards him, and close behind came the youthful face of another: Naudar, his assistant, trying his best to look unhurried in his pursuit. He focused in on the two.

Impossibly, Razin's father grew even more stern-faced.

"Now I would certainly hope that isn't true. Naudar? What's this about?"

"Teacher." Naudar was the picture of meekness beside him. With a respectful incline of his head, he went on, "I meant no offense to this woman. I merely questioned whether they had been chosen by you or another."

"Ah. So no insult to them then, no? No unprofessionalism?"

"I would never, teacher!"

"Mmhm." Habbas' eyes were hawkish. "So you're saying my daughter is lying?"

The light left Naudar's face. The young man stood there a moment, gaping, and as a groveling answer began to stutter from his lips, Habbas shushed him, deigning to shake his head lightly in rebuke.

"In the spirit of maintaining decorum: Naudar, this is my daughter Razin. Razin, Naudar. To the both of you–this is Emry," Habbas hummed, turning so that his hooved companion could be seen from behind him. He could tell the Aspect boy was hanging back a bit, and he smiled a little to encourage him. "He will also be joining us."

"Tea-"

"Naudar, where is our transport? Surely you haven't spent all this time dawdling."

Naudar's head tilted haughtily in spite of himself. "No, it's ready at the last pier."

"Well then." Seemingly oblivious to the fact that only Hama and Enaya awaited them, Habbas proffered his arm for Razin to take, even though he knew it irked her. "Shall we?"

—-------------------

Proud men of the sea, they had been called. Ah, and so they were; from the sun-kissed, salt-nicked skin they bore, to the calloused, rope-worn hands they wielded, inflections of their divine service to the ocean depths shone throughout their being. Proud? Yes, they were proud sailors alright.

Asra, a lady in distress?

Well.

Errol's words provoked more laughter, but ultimately, it died away, transient joy melding into tense murmuring as still, still the Puntling remained submerged. The mood of the crowd shifted.

"She dead?" Someone muttered. A dispassionate grunt answered them.

The tinny splashes of trash entering the water above Asra went unnoticed by most…save from the most unwanted attention of all: one of the Dock Inspector's. A shout went up, ungodly even by their standards.

"WHO THREW THAT? WHO THREW THAT TRASH?"

A feathered plume danced closer above the top of the crowd, until a puffed up Inspector shoved his way to the forefront. His eyes danced maddeningly over the leering crowd, looking and failing to find the culprit. "That's it! That's it for this common rabble! I'm calling the guards-"

It was at that moment that, alas! A hero had emerged amongst the crowd. He broke off as someone shoved past him and leapt into the water, much to the delighted cheers of the dock audience. Sputtering, he ran off, searching furiously for any guardsmen about.

 

[Red Thunder]

​

"Naudar? So very pleasant for you to make my acquaintance!"

Razin smiled broadly, the gesture vaguely predatory. This insufferable fool before her had been humiliated suitably for offending her father's chosen compatriots. Surely, he would think twice, no! thrice! before even considering such impoliteness again.

"I trust you are assured of these good people's capability, now, yes?"

She longed, oh, how she desired, to loose the venom on her tongue in retribution for such slight as she had given Habbas through his knee jerk assessment of them. Why, Naudar's attitude almost made her amiable toward the strange Aspects that Abba had chosen.

Almost.

"Ah. Another- very well." The haughtiness bled from her satisfied expression to be replaced by a long-suffering one. She raised a hand, proffering it to Emry. "Abba does not act without purpose. I'm sure you will prove useful to him."

She had prodded far enough. Maybe, perhaps, too far. Her eyes dropped to the water near them, seeking something, anything else, than Habbas' disapproval. At his indication, she took the offered arm, loathe as she was to do so. Razin has pestered enough, and she did not want the voyage to start with a lecture.

 

[Applo]

Water's embrace was a comforting one for the Puntling. Suspended by the air in her lungs, Asra floated with her eyes shut. Exactly how deep she knew not. Two times she had relieved the pressure on her ears with a reflexive motion of her jaw. Two times and no more. That meant she wasn't sinking deeper and that when the burning of her lungs for air became too great to ignore, she was no more than a few moments from the surface.

If it wasn't for the need for air, Asra knew that she would've fallen asleep. The ocean made for a better bed than any craftsman could ever hope to make. The water both comforted and covered the body while the quiet noise of the ocean soothed the brain. The soft roar of dying waves was weaved through by the clicks and tapping and chittering of the creatures of the deep. At this depth too she could hear the noises of the surface. Too muffled and distorted to identify any individual source, the noises blurred together into one thread of the rich but gentle tapestry that allowed the mind to slow to an almost glacial pace.

Tumultuous, the water suddenly shifted about her. Murky movements could be discerned from above; a shape, darkened in the shadow of the sun, swam towards her with practiced ease. In the blurred haze of the sea, a man could be made out surging down, a hand outstretched from him towards Asra.

A shadow passing across the inside of her eyelids was all the warning Asra got before something grabbed at her. At home as she felt beneath the surface of the azure fields, the sensation of being grasped by something unseen still caused a violent reaction to travel the length of body as the puntling instinctively drew away from her assailer. When her eyes opened, the water was cloudy with tendrils of red blood.

A shock of blue greeted her from beyond the blood. The man's eyes were wide and open; for a moment, his head reeled back a bit, but he quickly recovered, at length reaching out once more to grasp under her shoulder. Apparently for her benefit - or to spare another swing at him - he pointed upwards before beginning to tow her up, up towards the surface.

It took several long moments for Asra's brain to decipher the strange messages that her eyes were sending it and a few moments more for her to work out what it meant. Shrugging herself away from the strangers grasp. The puntling kicked her legs to follow the man, only for the strength of her forebears to push her past him. The shimmering mirror of the surface rushed towards her and beyond it she could see a huddle of massed shapes. Letting a stream of bubbles escape from her lungs, Asra kicked once more and propelled herself from one realm to another, sending water cascading down over her face as she panted for breath.

A cacophony of noise greeted her. Raucous cheers erupted amongst her assembled audience, and eventually a clap begun by an amused onlooker spread throughout, as loud as it was playful. Laughter echoed throughout.

A few moments later the puntling heard the sound of another figure breaching the surface and she turned to see the man whom she'd met what already felt like an eternity ago. Blood was already beginning to pool on their lip as it trickled from a crooked nose.


"Are you alright? Do you need me to help you ashore?"

Spinning in the water, Asra looked up at the silhouetted crowd.

"Is one of you a healer? This man is injured."

Crack!

Like fat sausages, the man's fingers pinched around his nose, pulling it roughly into place. His eyes drifted to Asra. The brilliance of his eyes did not match the rough layout of his features. He was, by all standards, cheerfully ugly. Short sparse black hair now lay flat against his large skull, and he wiped his puggish nose of the blood with a hard wipe, his expression unreadable.

"Can't swim here," He finally said, his voice gravelly. "Might drown."

Without waiting, he turned away, swimming towards the wooden slats of the dock. His head turned a bit to see if she was following.

"I…"

Lost for words, Asra trod water for a moment before leaning herself forwards into the water. Once more the gifts of her ancestor meant that she easily caught up with the man as they reached the docks edge.

"It is good of you to be worried, but why would you think I would drown in this place?"

"Rip tides."

He hefted himself up. The crowd had dissipated now, perhaps in some disappointment that the event had concluded with little fanfare. Her companion was the only one to proffer a hand to Asra to help her up onto the dock.

"Rip tides? I am no child. I know the power of the sea. You may be strong in the water, but by my ancestors' blessing, I suspect I may be stronger still."

There was just the hint of indignity in the puntling's voice as she took the proffered palm, grasping the edge of dock with her other hand. Taking care to rely on the strength of wood rather than the strength of the man, pulled herself onto land. Positioning herself so that her legs dangled in the water, Asra began to squeeze the water from her hair. The crowd that had been standing on the docks was departing, and the puntling's eyes searched for the somewhat familiar figures of her group.

"Still I would be wrong not to thank you for risking much to retrieve me. I have nothing to offer, but if you find yourself on Punt, ask for the Bright-Water Clan of the Jagged Bay. Tell them you are a friend of their wandering daughter, and you will have their hospitality. And if I could ask more of you, what is your name? I ask so I will know the name of one good man in this city."

The man grunted, resembling an ox both in sound and appearance; indeed, on land the human was made larger, his tall frame looming over the sitting Puntling like a giant shadow. He hadn't so much as blinked throughout Asra's discourse, though those startling blue eyes of his had squinted some at her strength assessment.

"Punt, eh? Figures. Must be fresh from there. You're still green about the world."

He looked away, nursing his lips a bit as he scanned their surroundings. Abruptly, his eyes alighted on something, and his countenance changed.

"Take care, girl. I've got business to be attending to."

He waved lightly to her as he turned and lumbered away. As he went towards the Docking Office, he made a strange figure; his walk was oddly tilted, as if he was moving aboard a bobbing ship, and as the man passed a few sailors, the disparity between him and the others was made all the more clear. He was a good head taller than the other men.

Green eyes followed the hulking figure. Asra realised that she hadn't noticed how large the man was until now. They hadn't spoken their name, and she wouldn't be so rude to shout after them to ask. The man had left an unsatisfied curiosity deep in the puntling's soul but there was nothing much she could do about it, and so, with just a hint of reservation, Asra raised herself to her feet and scanned the crowd for the rest of her compatriots. She owed the little bird aspects a thank-you for holding to their word.​

A Collaboration with @Kuno

 

[Kuno]

Up, Up, and Away

Billowing chartreuse sails waved jauntily in the wind. The colors of the Empire waved the diverse group forward as it gradually reunified, Asra's reintegration into their party earning a bewildered look from Habbas until Naudar whispered in his ears the explanation. Then the older man sighed, both audibly and deep within his soul.

Naudar led them further. Down the sea-battered stone path and past the massive hulls of imperial and foreign ships alike, tainted in regality by the grubby sailors about. Past at last the shining dome of the Docking Office and the swill of men that petered in and out. They were alone when they finally found what they sought, far at the end of the shipping bay: a prize for their efforts. Habbas' eyes skirted away from the noticeably empty pier towards their right, his brows lifting.

Carefully tethered to masts about it, a silver, narrow sloop was perched before the pier on land. Unconventionally, its structure had been altered; the bowsprit was gone, as was the main and headsail. Instead, a great fabric cloud ballooned from the crown of the ship, stretching as far and wide as the full bulk of the ship. At its base stood a large metal furnace, the tongues of flames visible as they licked within. Smaller sails sprouted from its sides like protruding wings. Near the bow, the airship's name was embossed in black: Dimeria.

There was a man leaning against the gangway. A big one with a face puggish and ugly as sin - though the small smile that creased it made it more palatable. He reached out his hand, giving Habbas' own hand a firm shake as they met.

"It is good to see you."

"As always, friend." Habbas' smile was genuine. "Thank you again for accompanying us."

The large man shrugged. "You tutored my son all those years. It was the least I could do."

"Yes, well…In any case, everyone: this is Tinka, our pilot. He's been so kind as to lend us the use of his ship to more quickly reach our destinations."

The pilot's eyes drew to the assembled crew behind Habbas, lingering for a moment on the familiar face of Asra before drifting away, back to their leader.

"Is this everyone?"

Habbas nodded. "At the moment. Now - Let's be off, then, before the rabble rousers descend on us. Besides…"

We can finally talk in peace in the sky.

—----------------------

The more the Dimeria was buoyed gently up into the sky, the more Tinka grew more comfortable around them.

He told them things. About his ship, about his job, about himself. He was the type of man who did not believe in oversharing but instead divulged the barest facts one would need to know to ascertain the true nature of his character. Introductory dialogue, he believed, was the worst part of human interactions, and he preferred to spare people the laborious task of speculating about his person. Facets of his identity filtered through over the hours: that he'd been a sailor first before recently piloting, that he was in fact the half-breed spawn of Puntling and human (though he declined to share which parent was what), that he had one son, Kneyt, who was now in university, that he was a fairly polished cook with much experience, and that his odd limp was the result of his right leg being precisely three inches shorter than the left.

At length, after the cargo had been stored away and they had reached what he deemed a safe altitude, Tinka showed them about below deck. There were several rooms to be had at the forefront of the ship, albeit tiny rooms; each held two bunk beds, with a too wide chest buttressing the base and just enough room for a single person to stand before opening the door. Beyond lay the small galley kitchen, and adjacent to that was the storage room. For fuel, Tinka emphasized, though he did not let a single hand open it. At the other end lay a modest mess hall, and further down, a door opening to a tiny latrine. When asked where the waste went, the man merely grunted in ox-like fashion, eyes panning downwards.

On deck, the upper cabin sat a few yards behind the helm. There lay-in a fairly large space with a long table, chairs, and a map upon its varnished surface, with another partitioned space beyond leading to Tinka's quarters. Apparently this space was utilized often as a meeting hall.

It was here that Habbas called everyone to him as dusk drew upon them. The winds were growing brittle and cold as the evening's chill began to fall upon them, and the skies slowly melted into the golden hues of the waning sun.

A bottle of wine sat unopened in the table's center; courtesy of Tinka. The pilot himself had long disappeared into the kitchen galley, calling upon himself to fashion them some soup or something of the other.

GM NOTE

Hey y'all! It's time to get the mission report. Feel free to take your time getting to Habbas if you'd prefer to explore the ship, take in the view, or even bother the pilot. I'm sure Habbas won't mind the delay :^)

 

[MiharuAya]

Riffraff! Street Rat!
Nauder & Errol​

Never before had Naudar been treated thus in his life.

It was a cruelty stacked upon cruelties. First the ragtag, motley crew that Teacher had insisted on hiring, not to mention his insufferable daughter he'd brought along to no perceivable end. And now this: to be forced to share one of these "rooms" - and here Naudar used the term very loosely. For this hovel was no bigger than a corner of his personal wardrobe. No natural light was to be had; the room was windowless, and Tinka, for all his useless hospitality, had not bothered to provide a lamp or candle.

Fortunately, Naudar was used to peasant incompetence.

From a hook in the ceiling hung a candleholder, and the warm lighting illuminated the crowded space. The assistant scholar had his ample luggage thrown across the bottom bunk, and the top bunk he now sat rather imperiously, writing something of a fashion on paper.

When Errol had first laid eyes on the airship, he was in awe of its majesty. As a mere peasant, it has only ever been a far-off dream to step foot onto the flying vessel. But as he walked through its inner quarters, hanging on Tinka's every word, the dream had been made a reality.

Errol was far too enthralled with this development, that he hadn't bothered to pay attention when the rooms were assigned. However, as he stepped through the threshold of his room, his elation quickly dissipated. His eyes first landed on Nauder, the person who he least wanted to spend any length of time in a confined space. Though, as his gaze drifted down he spotted the other's ample luggage sprawled about the bottom bunk. The bunk that he was meant to be sleeping on.

As Errol stood in the doorway, he cleared his throat to try and get the others' attention. "Looks like we will be sharing a room…" He started awkwardly, trying to hide his displeasure. "There's a chest. Maybe you can put some of your things there?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a polite hint for him to move his junk. But considering they were be stuck together, Errol was trying to be as cordial as possible. For now at least.

Naudar did not even look up from his writing. "I did already. There's no more room."

His pencil slowed a bit as he paused, looking askance - but still not at Errol. He tapped his chin a bit, thinking. Then the scratch of his writing resumed, the boy muttering to himself a bit.

Errol's lips pursed into a tight line, still trying to hold his tongue. "I think you might have brought too many things…" He commented, his eyes wandering over the various suitcases. All of which appeared to be expensive. "Perhaps you can put some in the storage room?" Errol suggested a tinge of irritation in his voice.

"Why? There's plenty of room here," Naudar retorted. "Now can you please stop bothering me? Unlike you, I actually have a purpose on this journey, and I need time to work."

As Errol's eyes squinted, he inhaled a deep breath. "Right, of course…" He replied, stepping towards the bed. "Your right, there is plenty of room," While he spoke, a feathery arm reached forward, knocking the luggage off of the bed to land with a thud onto the ground.

"Perfect." Errol chirped, sitting onto the bottom bunk. "I won't bother you anymore." A mischievous grin pulled at his lips, as he leaned back onto the bed.

"How dare you!" Naudar seethed.

Task abandoned at once, the young man leapt from the top bunk, whirling on the smug Aspect boy with a scowl. Ruffians, the lot of them! Naudar wanted to smack that grin off his face.

"You'll pick that up right now or--"

Suddenly Naudar stopped midpoint, his eyes at last discerning Errol's face in full. Something unpleasant manifested in his eyes: recognition.

"Wait. I know that dirty face. You- you're-"

Suddenly his delicate features contorted, rage filling his full cheeks. "You little thief, I know you! You robbed me in the square two months ago!"

The satisfaction drained from Errol's face in a flash while his hands pulled this cloak further over his head. "I think you are mistaken." He mumbled, turning his head towards the wall. "I was raised with principle and honor. I would never do such a thing." The lie came smoothly from his lips, though he couldn't look the other in the eye.

"And I'm a griffin concealed in human form," the boy immediately snapped. "Please. You stole from me, you little imp. And if you think I'm not going to do anything, you're mistaken."

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to put his hands on Errol. But instead, he did something else.

"I'm telling Habbas."

Errol's eyes opened wide, "You're going to tell Habbas?" He shot up from the bed, staring up at the other with a puzzled look. "You don't need to do that…this is between us." Errol tried to reason, though he doubted Nauder would be the kind of man to show mercy.

No face was haughtier than Naudar's.

"Not when everyone's pockets are in danger. No - I'll have you punished the moment we arrive. If you'll excuse me-"

He turned to leave, nose in the air.

While Errol watched Nauder leave the room, he was frozen in shock. A whirlwind of thoughts ran through his mind. He couldn't afford to be kicked off of this mission, not when the reward could change his family's lives for generations. Errol wasn't about to let some pretentious snob ruin this for him.

Errol's feet moved on their own, nearly gliding over the wooden floor as he chased after Nauder. "Wait!" He called out. With the man's back insight and the distance closing between them, he lunged and tackled Nauder to the ground, knocking the wind out of the latter.

As he peered down at Nauder from atop of him, Errol found it difficult to find the proper words. Should he threaten him, or try and bargain. The idea of begging for mercy felt sour on his tongue. "You can't tell him." He spoke desperately. "If you do, I'll be kicked off the mission," Errol explained though he wondered if someone who has never wanted for anything would truly understand.

Breath returned to Naudar's lungs, and as they did, the initial shock that had paralyzed him dissipated in an instant.

"Get...OFF."

Forcefully, Naudar shoved the Aspect off of him, and he scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily. He looked crazed; hair mussed, clothes askew, and eyes wild with emotion rarely seen on the perpetually smug young man.

Errol tumbled back, his back nearly hitting the wall from the harsh push. Though, after he gathered himself, he slowly rose to his feet. He felt a wave of remorse flow through his body, but the feeling was short-lived.

"You're right," He breathed. "Telling him now is too easy. Why do that when I can punish you myself. Oh no; I won't tell him a thing - so long as you do as I say."

Slowly, he pointed at the luggage Errol had thrown to the floor.

"Clean that up."

As Errol's eyes narrowed onto the other, his jaw clenched, and breathing labored as he held back his outrage. The thought crossed his mind to hit Nauder square in his stupid little smug face, but his tightened fists remained at his side. If he hit him, then he would surely be discovered and thrown away from the mission. It appeared his only choice was to comply, for now.

"Fine," He huffed, feet stomping back towards the room. "Where do you want me to put them, your highness?" The sarcasm dripped from his lips as he silently seethed. Any remorse he felt for his actions, was replaced with a wish that he had done more.

"On top of the chest."

Naudar resembled a spider in his web, and Errol the poor insect that had been caught in its strings. He laced his fingers, smiling.

"Good. Now - let's discuss this…indentured 'arrangement' of yours."

 

[Doctor Jax]

Mohammed Ibn Sina
​

An airship - a real, bona fide airship. He had always wanted to ride one, the mythic contraptions having occupied an embarrassing amount of his young imagination when he had been a teenager and the machines were in their toddling infancy. Their rarity and their nearly magical countenance had been what drew him to the flying ships as a child, but it was the engineering that had kept him enamored as an adult. He had never truly pursued a ride - that was a gross waste of funds in his mind, not to mention little more than chasing a child's fancy when there were more important things going on - but seeing it at the dock...

Well, he certainly hadn't snubbed his nose at it. Now, he was wondering if he should have, torn between some discernable amount of terror at being so high in the air and scholarly - or perhaps childlike - awe at having gotten such a good view of the port of Isfahan leaving beneath them, in great detail able to see with a bird's clarity each of the Gates with which he was so familiar, taking pains to trace the roads to his mother's house through the animal siren of discontent and panic. The palace even seemed a child's toy, small enough to fit in your hand, yet brilliant in color and even from its seemingly tiny stature by relation, it sprawled in comparison to so much of Isfahan's contained borders.

A set of brown eyes slowly peeked over the gunwale, one more time. Oh, Allah, praise be upon him, that was a lot of water and a long way down. Still, he put the finishing touches on his very rough sketch of the city from above. After all, there couldn't be many who got the opportunity for a vantage point like this every day. The city was far enough in the distance now he wouldn't be able to invoke more detail, but he was happy with what he had at the moment. The day was growing late, besides, and it was time to meet with Habbas.

As he stood with his sheaf of papers (he'd done more than one sketch, each furiously scribbled with sweating fingers), several fell from his grasp in the wind, and he sucked his teeth lunging for them - gingerly. The small jumps of the ship with the wind made his nerves dance, his sketches spreading across the deck perilously, in the grand sweeps of wind eddies unseen.

"Ah, come back here, you--!"

 

[Takumi]

The Criminal and the Aspect
Alim Arslan Yafir and Emry Yilmaz
Collab with @Kabboom​

Alim finally found a room. For himself. No one else. Just him. Nobody but him and himself. Checking behind his back for a moment, Alim kept up what little composure he had left, making sure the coast was clear. Seeing that nobody was outside for now, he could finally breathe easy: he'd been trying not to shit himself ever since this goddamn thing took flight.

Why in the fuck couldn't Habbas have taken a boat?!

As far as the Yafir man was concerned, the sky belonged to three beings: birds, bird Aspects, and Allah. This… vessel is an affront to nature - and an affront to his bowels. His guts sank the first time he looked overboard and saw the ground leaving him; he felt that the earth beneath his feet had been taken away from him - because they literally were. Moreover, the safety concerns were innumerable: what if they run out of magic flying juice, or if they enter a storm, or if there's fucking sky pirates or something? At least with a sea vessel, he could hop into the water and swim (of course, Alim fails to consider his inability to swim) - what's he supposed to do on this airship, flap his fucking arms?

His left hand found its way onto his armored cuirass belly. The anxiety had passed for now. He rose to his feet and turned back to the entrance, arms moving to close it off from the world.

Emry had been more than fascinated with Tinka and the Dimeria. He had spent some time working on a sea faring vessel himself, and only those with the funds and status to so much as set foot on a vessel such as this ever got the chance to do so. He was rather grateful that he didn't feel sick being so high up in the air. While not finding too much to do other than speak to Tinka or explore places they were already shown, Emry decided to take a quick nap before he and the others were summoned by Tinka or Habbas for one reason or another.

As Alim went to close the door Emry went to enter the room that, as far as the Aspect knew, he was assigned, and upon his eyes landing on Alim first and foremost the Goat Aspect took a moment to take in the man's appearance and determined that he looked like he could very well gut Emry where he stood without a second thought and went about his day with little care. The thought that Habbas didn't seem the type to, hopefully, employ such a man for the task at hand kept him from growing too weary of his current roommate.

"It appears we're sharing a room." Emry spoke in way of greeting, cloak still on his person and hood still secure as of now.

"Appears so," said the robed man before Emry, staring slightly downward into his eyes. His nose crinkled as his lips pursed themselves, eyes glancing up and down. That face quickly softened and Alim turned to the beds. "Top bunk is mine."

As Alim glanced at him, Emry gave a slight tilt of his head, watching as the man went to the beds and chose a bunk for himself. Shrugging with a reply of "alright", he went and placed his satchel on his own bunk before sitting on it.

After a moment of silence, followed by him trying to get comfortable, Emry spoke again with, "I don't suppose you'll share your name? If you don't mind." Whether he was trying to determine what was too personal for his roommate or not Alim would have to figure that out on his own.

With his leg still on the ladder rungs leading up to the top bunk, Alim glanced down at the horned roommate he would have to… tolerate for the trip. He would've ignored the question if it was Razin, but an Aspect? He felt at ease for some reason. Mulling it over, he decided to just be honest - inconvenience grows when lies conflict, especially in a tight chamber like this group.

"Alim. Yours?"

"Emry." The Goat Aspect responded, meeting his roommates gaze with curious gray eyes. Mulling his own words over a moment, he spoke again.

"I'll do my best not to get in your way too much, but I hope you don't snore very loud in your sleep."

A scoff exited Alim's nostrils, his lips curved downwards to form a big smirk. "As long as you don't poke my ass with those horns." With another glance, the man seemed to make up his mind about something as he climbed down back to the floor. "Is this your first time on an adventure?"

The response earned a chuckle, an amused glint in the Aspect eyes and Alim's question was answered with a nod. "It is, outside of brief times of travel. Are you a seasoned adventurer, then?"

"I guess you could say that. Did Habbas find you?" Alim was now standing in front of Emry.

"I received a letter from him, and took the opportunity presented to me." He replied, ears twitching for a second as he studied Alim momentarily. From this angle he seemed a bit more intimidating, though Emry wondered if the man was aware of this fact.

"Ah, so that's how." Alim leaned back slightly, eyes glancing toward the doorway. For his suffering on this airship, the heavens had given him a newbie to lead - a newbie to mold. "Tell me, have you ever gotten yourself into danger? Maybe killed something? Someone?"

"The only dangers I've faced is upset seas, and I haven't killed, only gut game already dead." He replied, head tilting and eyes narrowing a smidgen as if trying to put a few pieces of a puzzle together. "Am I right to assume you have?"

"You are right, I have killed a thousand people." The deadpan monotone voice proclaimed, before turning into a chuckle. "Hahaha, got you for a second. No, I haven't killed anybody. But…" Alim sat on the bottom bunk, his eyes leveling with Emry's. "It would help if we stuck close together. Closer than the others. Yes?"

Emry remained quiet, thinking Alim's words over before giving the other a nod. He also didn't like Alim's attempt at a joke but he wouldn't comment on that bit.

"No doubt watching each other's backs during this journey would be beneficial for us both." He replied.

The smile on Alim's face grew even greater. "That is wonderful news. I think we'll learn a lot from each other, Emry."

While Emry wouldn't put his full trust in the man, he had no further time to think anything about it as the ragtag group would be summoned to a meeting with Habbas. The Goat Aspect's nap would have to wait, as he was curious about what Habbas had to tell them about their next course of action.

 

[Red Thunder]

Girl Time
Asra and Razin
a collab between @Applo and @Red Thunder ​

Dimeria. It was a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful … ship, Razin supposed. It resembled a traditional one, sure enough, though the stark differences lent an air of uncertainty to the whole contraption.

Not that she much cared. After running from port to starboard and back several times, her face bright and expectant, she had perched on the bow, leaning forward precariously. The head covering hung loosely about her shoulders. Riding the breeze, her hair spun and curled behind her. Her eyes were closed, and a peaceful smile caressed her face. For the first time that any save Habbas had seen, Razin looked to be truthfully at peace.

"Do you and your father travel like this much?"

Several feet back from the gunwales, Asra stood with one long arm reaching up into the rigging between the deck and the balloon. The skin around her knuckles was noticeably taught. Unlike Razin, there was palpable tenseness about the Puntling.

"I don't think I have ever been so close to the heavens. Not even the tops of mountains reach so high as this… ship. I am not sure creatures of rock and water should come so close to the gods."

"Hm. It's not so bad as all that."

Razin never looked back. Perhaps she should have. Indeed, proprietary said that she should take her mother's place as hostess, assisting her father in the care of their guests and managing specifically their food and comfort. Indeed, lounging in the foredeck was characteristic for her, as loathe to undertake responsibility here as she had been at the Estate.

And yet, the wind felt- right.

"It's freeing, Asra; don't you think? To be above the petty things of the sands? The squabbles of merchants, the wars of despots, the greed of criminals?" The Al Farsi daughter turned at last, leaning against the rail with all her insubstantial weight. "To go wherever we may, and to hell with the rest.

"Ah, but no: Abba has never brought me aboard such a marvelous device, though we have traveled far and regularly." She looked to where Asra gripped the rope and smiled, not unkindly. "Tis a bit far from your native ocean, I think. Would you feel better below decks?"

"Not really."

Lifting her other arm so that she could grab at the rigging with both hands, Asra smiled weakly before letting her gaze fall onto some distant point of the horizon.

"If I were to stay in the cabins, I would still know we are perhaps where we shouldn't be. Out here, I can stand straight, feel the wind in my hair and lay my eyes on the horizon. If your human gods are to strike us down, I would rather die like this than be curled up in a cabin."

Razin snorted at the comment but made no further reply, save to turn her head back toward the horizon. She let the silence linger, losing herself in the ambience of effortless travel. On camel-back, one could never relax; not for nothing were they called the ships of the sands. Nor on palanquin or … sea ship, she guessed she'd now have to clarify, could one wholly lay into leisure. There was always a measure of strain, of tension, transferred from the vessel to the occupant. But this! Ah, this was paradise. It reminded her-

"Why are you here, Asra? Not a one of us, save Abba himself, anticipated the journey thus. You could have leapt into the sea and been on your way home, and none might have stopped you. Indeed, I thought you had." Laughing, she turned back, head tilted in curiosity. "Your discomfort is palpable, but you stay anyway and have made no plans to depart us when we make landfall, as far as I know."

"I promised my services to your father. Just because things become uncomfortable is not a reason to abandon such ties, besides… the view from here is beautiful. One day I will return to Punt, never to leave it's shores again. I would like to see as much of this world as I can before that day comes.

For a few moments the gentle, ever present sounds of the wind and the creaking of wood filled the space between the two women.

"If it is not rude of me to ask, why are you here? I do not know much about your kind's ways, but is it not more normal for daughters of mankind to stay home. Why do you follow your father but your mother and sisters do not?"

Razin laughed, the sound as airy as their surroundings.

"'Rude'? Honored Asra, tallest and deepest blue of your race. If I, in my own flagrant lack of decorum, am so bold as to make such an inquiry of you, how than can I complain when it is returned upon me?" She stood straight and bowed low. "Abba bears with much, but even that might supercede the wide measures of his patience.

"No, you speak true. The responsibility of women is the home and the care of its occupants. I do not begrudge it, as some are wont; it is a good life, and there is honor to be found there." The twinkle of mischievousness returned to Razin's eye, and she smirked. "But I'm afraid that Abba has begun the slow march toward dotage, and, as his eldest is married off and Umi must needs stay with the Estate, and of course, Mila is as yet too irresponsible, his care falls under my purview."

"Why do I think your father would tell me a different tale if would ask it of him?"

The laugh of a puntling, even a gentle one, is a physical affair and the air around Asra revererated with amusement as she stared at her employer's daughter. The woman spoke the truth with her body, if not her lips.

"I do wonder if the lust to see the horizon will ever let me rest. I hope by my ancestors in their hallowed halls it will, but I fear it won't."

"Then your presence on this trip is a boon to you. As to the rest of us. At least, to me: being the sole woman caring for these hoodlums would have been tedious.

"Besides," Razin said, eyes wistful, smiling as she peered below, "You own the waters as a Puntling, and it is good to have one of that- inclination, as we have of the sky."

The last words faded as they were said, as if she said them to herself, and her eyes grew distant as she watched the horizon.

Once again the sound of the passing heavens dominated the space between Puntling and Arab. Wisps of cloud passed by as heartbeat by heartbeat the falling sun turned the view before the pair of the fieriest of oranges. It was the sound of creaking wood under foot that finally broke this tableau. From over a shoulder, Asra glanced back at Razin.

"Do not stare for too much longer. Your father has called for a meeting at sundown."

"Indeed? And at an hour so near his bedtime?"

She snorted, not otherwise moving. Her eyes were locked forward, entranced, and it was well after the Sun had gone to bed that Razin left her perch.

 

[Kuno]

On Cloud Nine

Paper, as is its wont, went where the wind carried it. Their wayward course fanned them across the polished wood like scattered leaves, darting hither and fro with each dip of the ship. One sheath of paper picked up into the air, hurtling towards the side –

It smacked against a bulwark. Tinka peeled the paper away from his chest, frowning a bit as he stepped onto the deck. His beady eyes roved over the scene before, quietly assessing.

He stepped forward. Remarkably, upon the strange tilt of the ship buoyed on air, his cadence was even. He drew near to Hama, wordlessly assisting in the retrieval of the scholar's sketches.

The scholar scrambled - cautiously - to grab his sketches, and he breathed a sigh of relief to see their captain grabbing a few himself, and managing rather well considering he had one leg longer than the other. Hama trotted towards him, smiling and nodding in thanks.

"Thank you, thank you… these are merely scribbles, but they are once-in-a-lifetime scribbles," Hama chuckled. He eyed Tinka with curiosity, and finally, unable to hide his nosiness, he asked, "You manage well with how much the ship --"

It bucked lightly with the wind, and he ducked as if to hit the deck, before laughing at his flightiness.

"-- sways and moves. How long have you been on ships, that you can walk on them as easily as land?" Hama asked, now that he had the opportunity.

"Since I was a babe," came Tinka's low rumble. The ship's movement had not so much as lifted a hair on his thinly covered head. "Father was a sailor, and he worked much. No time to mind me on land 'til the jobs ended."

He brandished the sheets of paper to Hama like a sword. "It gets easier. The ship's bucking, I mean."

Hama took the papers with something like awe. This was the best part of being a traveler, meeting people whose lives were so alien to his own. A whole life, spent aboard ships such as this, traveling the world and seeing sights he could hardly wrap his head around - and it probably didn't faze him at all!

"Amazing. Simply amazing. Well, I certainly hope so, as I worry I'll never get my sealegs - windlegs? Cloudlegs?" Hama joked gently. "The air must be more a comfort to you than the earth then. Well - how does this thing run, then? You must know the ship like the back of your hand. What does it run on? What's the farthest trip you've ever made? Was this your first ship, or did you have another ship prior?"

The questions were now spilling out, a barrage.

Tinka, to his credit, took them in a fair fashion. He scratched his chin a bit, pondering over the scholar's words. Or perhaps, thinking of something else; his eyes were on the dipping sun, momentarily caught aglow in its dying warmth. The hour was growing close.

"Ship's close to one that runs on water," He finally answered, glancing down at Hama. "We burn coal there-" He pointed a meaty finger towards the iron-wrought furnace affixed to the center of the ship "-at a constant rate to keep steam filling the balloon. The sails pick up the winds once we've reached the optimal levels, and I stave off the steam some. Keep us from going up. I take, eh, maybe two or three buckets of coal initially. Then I add half a bucket every two hours, give or take."

A light was filling the tall man's face. A smile even graced his features.

"Think the farthest I've ever gone on air was Byzantium to Tehran, on this here ship. 'Twas my first and only. She's been good to me, she has. Named her after my mother."

"I can certainly understand why. She's a beautiful ship, and what's more beautiful than a mother?" Hama said wistfully, momentarily quiet. "I've never seen her like before, truly. This is my first time on an airship. Tell me, how exactly do you land this craft? Is it the same process, just letting off steam rather than adding it? Are there special docks for airships? Or does each city have a different means?"

Oh, if only he hadn't put away his pens, he'd be taking notes for later. Had he the time, he would have done a sketch of the ship as well. Perhaps he might, give it to the captain as a piece of his "fare."

"Mm, as you said," Tinka grunted. "You let off steam - slowly. Don't want to hurtle down to earth."

As if to emphasize this point, he came by the edge of the deck, easing himself down onto the floor slowly. He produced an apple from pocket.

"Not too many airships going about, since people are still...cautious," the pilot went on, raising a brow. "The Shah's given us clearance to land where we may in Persian cities, but that doesn't mean they're doing us any favors. If I can't spot a place to land, the Dimeria can anchor on the sea, at the docks."

Not that he particularly preferred that. He decided not to mention that in an emergency, the sea was much better to crash into than land. Hama looked to be still...adjusting. Best not to spook him.

Tinka looked up at him.

"Do you want me to show you how to land? When the time comes."

Hama's eyes lit up at the prospect. The entire mechanism of the ship was already a wonder of engineering, craftsmanship, and seamanship all. Getting to see how the process of landing?

"Absolutely. Yes! Do not hesitate to have someone find me, roust me if need be," he chuckled. "It's not every day a man gets to see a ship take off — well, haha, I speak for myself. Obviously you get that privilege, and a privilege it is. It's beautiful up here."

Indeed the clouds were so close, it seemed you could touch them with a simple stretch of the hand. Pink, purple, golden hues touched the clouds around them as the sun began its descent, the entire of the sky stretching in every direction— and below them, the sea. Waxing words, pouring paints, singing lyrics, nothing could quite capture that magic.

The wonder reflected in the younger man's face made Tinka follow his gaze, wondering absently if the sentiment could be shared. A thousand times he'd been lifted into the heavens, but none could compare to his first passage amongst the stars. He was admittedly jealous.

Still. He could not forget his duties while he reminisced.

"There's soup down below," The pilot informed Hama, his head swiveling with some reluctance to face him. The big man thumbed back towards the cabin entryway. "Beef stew. Tell Habbas if you happen to see him."

A collab with @Doctor Jax

 

[Kuno]

HABBAS

No salt-soaked winds tickled one's whiskers aboard the Dimeria. Nay, the air was crisp, the breeze refined in its naked purity, and the drifting clouds serene, the great sea down below made bellicose in comparison. The sun, blinking once, faded beyond into the aether, and shadows began to spill across its russet reflection. When the stars glimmered, Habbas Al-Farsi took his seat in the deck's conference room.

As a man sitting on the cusp of sixty, Habbas was pleased to know that there was still far more of the world that his aging eyes had yet to see. He had traveled more than a lifetime as his profession had dictated - but not in the skies. Never in the skies. He'd tried to describe the view in his letter to his family. A letter so soon, he knew - Mila would laugh at his promptness. Could you see the ground?, she would no doubt ask. And he would smile, not answering. His eyes had seen the skies from the room window. To lean over the side of the ship and peer down leagues below?

As a man sitting on the cusp of sixty, Habbas knew his nerves could only take so much.

"Tea, teacher?"

"Thank you," Habbas said, accepting the cup from Naudar. He took a sip as the young man sat at his right hand.

Naudar frowned. "Is this everything?"

"As much as I could bring."

The map - Tinka's map - had been pushed into the center of the table. Habbas had commandeered the rest of the space with his journals, scrolls, and pertinent notations. The book in front of Habbas was open, the massive artwork spanning the entirety of the two pages.

A woman sat on a throne. Massive, Roc-like wings sprouted from her back, and she smiled down haughtily at a fallen man beneath her heel, watching on as her chained leopard fed on the man's flesh. Evil and twisted - her eyes, drawn with no pupils, were those of the wicked.

Habbas looked towards Naudar.

"This is where we start."

 

[Kuno]

In The Interim...

Cairo, Egypt.

To Ustaaz Tall-Bones and Madaam Blackfinger,

Welcome to Cairo. You are cordially invited to share an evening at the Bayt Alshams in the interest of prospective business and subsequent lucrative gain. At the discretion of the employer, details will be shared in person. We hope you can attend.

Please arrive by six o'clock sharp. Ask for "fine tastes and flowing wine" to any attending servant.

------------------------------------------------------​

Each brick was lovingly sunkissed. The tanned, domed structure jutted like a grown projection from the earth, its golden brown pallor seamless with the sandstreaked streets before it. Bayt Alshams was one of the larger grand halls that Cairo held, and though it may not have shone like so many dazzling diamonds as Isfahan did, the building embodied an earthy warmth that enveloped its inhabitants like a lover's embrace.

There was a gathering tonight. The sultry notes of the lyre filtered out from within the mashribyas - the window screens - and even out the top of the windcatcher, lazy hints of dancing tunes drifting down softly to the streets below. Inside, scintillating lamps captured the reclining figures of revelers upon cushions, cushions, and various nooks throughout the intimate space. Servants quietly moved throughout, attending to whatever empty cup or plate they spied. Incense permeated the air; it was sweet, but faintly so, like the fading scent of a rose.

Pan took a precious moment to drink it in. Eyes closed, his goat-ears perked, a cup to the outpouring of the melody from the lyre's pitcher. His nostrils flared, the gentle intensity of Cairo so different than Greece, or even Constantinople. It was a beautiful city, filled with wonder and magic, and for all the advancement and progression that his new home in Byzantium offered, he found himself falling in love with this Egyptian paradise.

In paradise, the knife is the more unexpected. The moment was over, his savoring finished, and caution and indeed suspicion shoved aside the joy in his eyes. In every street, a possible ambush. In every handshake, a likely snake. In every shared cup, a poison. Pan spared a look to his sister.

"I don't like it, Mels," he said, his grip tight on a spear haft.

"Why, yes, I can quite tell," she stated, lightly smacking the grasp on his spear in a tease. Her brother was perhaps even more cautious than she— but nothing ventured, nothing gained. The stately satyr wore a mask of complete confidence, breezing through the space, to find herself a servant.

Snagging one, she smiled and said, in mellifluous tones, "I am in search of fine tastes and flowing wine."

"As we all are, madaam," the servant replied smoothly, not looking at her. There was no flippancy, however, in his words. After a brief pause to settle his tray of dirty glasses onto a counter, he turned his head her way, bowing it with a smile.

"This way, please."

Bayt Alshams stretched further back than seemed possible from its exterior. The man led them deeper and deeper into the haze of incense and flickering flames, the soft notes of laughter and sitar music coalescing into a steady thrum. They passed a partitioned room to their right; through the part in the ruby red curtains, they could glimpse a woman covered only in draping jewels and bangles, her long black hair protecting her modesty as her arms stretched upwards like a snake in a shimmying dance. An appreciative hum came from her obscured audience.

At last, the servant led them up a narrowed stairway, deftly stepping around a couple entangled in one another's arms. A single door waited at the top, and he urged them through.

"You will find what you seek here," He murmured as they stepped through. He did not follow; he instead inclined his head once more before closing the door behind them. The very subtle sound of the door being locked could be heard.

It was an intimate space. Lacking corners, the circular room held a short but wide low table at its very center. Candles encircled it, and the flames danced hypnotically across the intricate, sculptured phoenix in the center, giving the illusion that the legendary bird was set aflame. Gilded sconces lined the concave walls. In preparation for company, the servants had placed low sitting stools along the walls and thrown cushions atop it, albeit rather haphazardly.

There was a man sitting on the opposite side of the room facing them. Besides him was a table adorned with various decanters, spirits, and glasses, all of which he appeared to be studying with no small amount of concentration. At length, he chose one, wholly absorbed in this action and entirely ignorant of the two's entrances.

The lock shifting did not go unnoticed, nor entirely unanticipated. Pan spun, the room forgotten. He tried the latch, not gently, but it refused to give. Scowling, he beat his fist against the wood, caring not at all that the sound reverberated through the room, before turning his unhappiness toward their host. He eyed Mels, wrinkled his nose in disgust at the situation, and leaned back against the door in guard.

"We received a missive of some importance to meet herein. My guess is that you are our mysterious admirer," Mel stated, taking a seat herself. She wore a flowing chiton, her legs hidden beneath the embroidered cloth, owning the space with personality if not with size. No, that was Pan's job.

"There is some henquet here. Or perhaps you prefer wine," The man said in lieu of a greeting. "We have both."

He was dressed oddly. His outer coat was that of a Turk's, with blue beads lining the edges of the black patterned fabric. But he wore a wig like some of the Egyptian royals; it sat off-kilter on his head, something he either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared enough to notice. He sniffed a bit, finally looking Pan and Mel's way with small, beady eyes.

"Were you two followed?"

"Ask your man, who brought us," came Pan's husky reply. "Though maybe locking us in is a poor way to deter any tail. Or inspire trust."

This was Mel's domain. Courtesy, professionalism, business-manner. He was never any good at it, and the mistrust that had soured his soul since Greece had only made it worse. Thinking better of further words, he merely shifted his stance and scowled.

"At any rate— you would not have asked for us and our discretion, if you did not trust in it. I would like to head straight for business, if I am truly honest with you," Mel stated as she took a seat. She took note that their exit was singular, her eyes on the man before them. He did not have them remove weapons, and so she had no doubt Pan could handle the more physical aspects of confrontation.

"I choose not to imbibe on business deals, thank you," she said with a smile. She looked to Pan, patting another stool for him to sit.

"Yeah, you're mercenaries, alright," The man grumbled. "You people can never answer a damn question straight, can you?"

Shortly after, his glass was quickly downed, and he poured himself another in one fluid motion, muttering inanities under his breath all the while. A long, pregnant moment paused before he finally spoke again.

"So. I've been instructed to tell you that there's an expedition underway in the foreseeable future. An acquisition of assets wanted by my boss and the Persian government, something like, eh--"

He paused to pull a crumpled piece of paper from his inner coat pocket. He shook it out roughly before leaning, peering at it with squinted eyes.

"Let's see, eh...something something gold, something something Za-Zara...oh, Xerxes. His crown." The man flapped the paper roughly, eyes darting to his audience. "The King's Guard or whatever want you to find a crown stowed away in the treasure vault of Xerxes. They're promising 10,000 gold for a job well done. Yadda yadda. You get the gist."

Back into a crumpled ball the paper went, and he shoved it back into the depths of his pockets with unnecessary force. "Now you two have been specially requested for this. This job offer stands for the duration of your time in this room. Once you step outside these walls, the offer expires. Tell anyone else about this offer, and the offer expires. Understand?"

His gaze kept darting to the door, his words impatient.

Pan raised an eyebrow. His sister's invitation to sit had gone ignored; the totality of everything was making his neck hairs stand, and he wanted to be in the best position to protect her.

"Understand, sure." Their host's shifting gaze had not gone unnoticed. "Just us two?"

"Yes, clarification would be appreciated. Ten thousand is a lot of gold to be flinging about, and I haven't the foggiest idea who my employer is. The way you talk, I imagine it isn't you," she said. Her eyes narrowed. "If we do take the offer, we want at minimum a quarter up front."

The Crown of Xerxes… a mythic item, easily a wild goose chase. Expedition or not, she did not wish to waste precious capital on something that did not exist.

"A quarter up front," The man scoffed. "A quarter up front, they ask me. You'll have to take that up with the boss."

For even as the last word left his mouth, the door behind Pan unlocked with a faint click, and the knob turned slowly. But the door stopped against the satyr's large frame.

"Who is that?" The man with them had leapt to his feet, and he brandished one of the butter knives from the refreshments table like a sword. "No one else is supposed to be coming!"

"No? Good!"

Pan moved back half a step, giving the door that much more room to swing open. When it inevitably did so, he dropped his shoulder and slammed against it. He grinned at the resulting oof before ramming the spearhead between the planks and the door jam as a rough wedge.

"Well?" he asked generally, focus on the door. "What's the plan?"

Mel seemed unmoved by the intrusion, primly standing from her seat. She brushed down the front of her chiton. So— there were those who would intrude, to such a clandestine meeting. Good. It lent credence to their claim.

"Is there a window?" Mel asked, looking about. "Or, we could let my dear brother handle the nonverbal communication."

A terrible place for a meeting, with one way in and one way out. Her eyes cast about the room, searching. Table cloths may hide them in the meantime, and then out the door they would go behind the backs of their intruders. Yet it would leave them vulnerable.

There was a moment of silence from behind the door. Then - a throat cleared.

"Well. That's one reason to always knock," a male voice sounded from behind the wood, and their associate's jaw dropped. Whoever it was sounded thoroughly amused. "Aziz? May I-"

"Step aside! Step aside!" The man - Aziz - suddenly exclaimed, throwing the knife aside in his haste.

Shock spread across Pan's face. He blinked twice, first at 'Aziz', then at the door and the voice behind it. A moment later, he yanked the spear free. He stepped back, haft in both hands at low ready. Clearly, trust had to be given in such circumstances, and if Mel was willing to speak thus professionally, then Pan should trust her judgment. But that didn't mean he would be caught off guard. He eyed the door curiously, awaiting its opening.

The doorknob turned, perhaps even more cautiously than before, and the door revealed not one, but two persons in the entryway: a servant bearing a platter of white bread and an even whiter face, and another man.

"Gods! You said you weren't coming."

"Well, I had a change of heart," the stranger said, his eyes crinkled with amusement. He patted his chest. "A possibly fatal change of heart, it seems."

He was apparently of some financial means. Dressed in a finely woven white kaftan, the man was clean-cut and well-groomed, and his mustache had been fixed into a neat, trim style. His green eyes surveyed the room's occupants with unabashed interest, and he smiled handsomely.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. But I was curious." He eyed Pan's spear as he entered the room, and he patted the burly satyr's arm good-naturedly. "No hard feelings."

"This is Phineas. Your employer." Aziz sounded exasperated.

"Financier," Phineas corrected.

"Financier. Whatever. He is the one who summoned you."

"Excellent!" Mel chirped, having subtly calmed as she realized the voice was recognized. Her eyes darted over him in a full sweep, gauging. "Then as financier we might discuss this venture of yours."

"Assuming there's no more surprises," Pan snorted. Tea and smiling faces and an admittedly considerable sum in payment was- nice. But would there be more guests? And what of those newly arrived?

Closing the door, he leaned against it again.

"The question was, I think, whether we'd get a quarter of the payment prior to. That was our condition. Uh, Phineas."

"Call me Fin- Ah, Aziz, you're much too tense," Their financier said as he massaged the latter's shoulders. Aziz held the demeanor of an angry cat, and he swatted away at Fin's hands as the latter adjusted Aziz's wig. "Have a drink."

"They want money before we begin," He retorted, ignoring him.

"Hm? Do they now."

Despite being almost constantly in motion, Phineas managed to give all of them his constant attention. Even as he poured himself a drink, his eyes would glance routinely between the three of them. The last look he gave Mel was accompanied with a wink.

"So!" He finally went, holding two glasses aloft. He bypassed Aziz and sat in front of Mel, proffering the glass to her. "My lady wishes to discuss the venture. Let's have at it...after this fine young gentleman here joins us."

Grinning, he offered the other glass of beer to Pan, gesturing with his head to the seat. "Come now. Let's have a talk. I won't bite."

"I'm less concerned about you," was the retort, the implication of his actions earlier obvious, but Pan obliged nonetheless. The spear, he sat across his lap. He took the beer but didn't drink. "I'll leave the talking to my sister."

"Well done," Phineas chuckled, nudging Pan with his elbow. "Yes yes, deference to the finer sex. I like it.

"Well, let's cut to it. I am sure my associate here briefly mentioned what I'm after. I'm the sort of vein of fellow that desires, eh, the treasured things of life. I'm not ashamed to admit that I have a substantial amount of money...enough to use on ventures deemed frivolous by some. Yes; I want the crown of Xerxes. As do other enterprising minds - a few should be accompanying you, ergo this will not be a private party. I've elected a dear friend of mine to lead the charge, so to speak. I don't fancy myself qualified enough."

Bright and intent, Fin's gaze swiveled towards Aziz.

"What have you told them?"

"Enough. You want the crown, you're paying well for it, don't tell anyone or else-"

"Grace, did you have to butcher it so?" Fin cut in, chagrined. Aziz threw his hands up in a defiant manner, and the nobleman tutted his tongue at him disapprovingly. "If you're going to work for me, you must show some more refinement, hm? This is no longer the swindler's den I plucked you from. Ah - no comment necessary from you, thank you. Now…"

The full force of his brilliant attentions returned to Mel.

"Have either one of you ever heard of the Ananias Square?"

 

[Doctor Jax]

Mohamed IBN'SINA
​

He wasn't one to do things on an empty stomach.

It was one of the first things they taught you, really, in the university. There were certain parts of the body that must be attended to first, and the stomach was one of them. A poorly fed patient was a dead patient, eventually, and no amount of medicine could fix starvation. That was all the more reason that he popped down to the galley to grab himself a bowl of beef stew - which smelled heavenly, Allah be praised, given this was a ship - and quickly ran up the stairs with a second bowl for his kin.

Naudar and Razin could fend for themselves.

The scholar peeked into the conference room to find that he was the first inside, and he immediately bypassed Naudar to hand Habbas a bowl of stew.

"From downstairs. Evidently, Tinka is a master of many crafts, not least captaining. This stew is delightful," Hama said softly, though his eye was drawn swiftly to the map and book in the center of the table. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the large illumination sprawled between two pages.

"Now where did you get a thing like this? I'm sure you'll save the best bit for last," Hama huffed to himself in amusement, but he did lean forward to get a better look at the detailing.

Gruesome. He removed his headwrap, unveiling a head of curly, silver-streaked black hair, showing signs of age years earlier than perhaps his vitality belied. Absently he tossed it down in a chair, sitting down and looking to Habbas for an answer.

 

[MiharuAya]

Razin & Errol
Collab by @Red Thunder @MiharuAya @Kuno

​

Once Errol had finally managed to collect the many unnecessary belongings that he had tossed onto the ground, the aspect huffed. If it wasn't for that pretentious scribe's threat, he would have left the rubbish where it sat. But alas, he was resigned to grin and bear this humiliation. At least, for the time being.

While Errol cursed Naudar under his breath, he decided that he needed some fresh air to clear his mind. As he reached the top deck, the rush of wind blew the hood from atop his head. As his feathers ruffled in the wind, the aspect closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. For a moment, it almost felt as if he was flying. An instinctive yearning that can never be fulfilled.

As Errol opened his eyes, he spotted Habbas' daughter standing on the other side of the ship staring out at the passing clouds. Although he was still uncertain about the girl, especially with her open disdain of aspects. However, if they indeed were going on this perilous journey, he still wished to have a positive relationship with the members of the group.

Errol hesitantly stepped closer, clearing his throat to get her attention. "Good evening miss," His hand raised to offer a slight wave, along with a shy grin. "It's a great view."

"It is."

The wind still caressed her face, playing gently, lovingly with her hair. How long had it been? The years were passing so fast now, and she couldn't recall. Razin leaned into the breeze, eyes closed against it, smiling. She gave no further answer for some moments before turning her head to see who had joined her.

"Ah." The lightness, the levity with which she'd addressed Errol before, disappeared in a moment, a desert lizard at the swift rising of the blazing sun. Her expression became distant. "Come to feel the wind for once, a feat your wings never managed?"

The tone was strained, the words forced out from long habit rather than genuine bitterness. Certainly, there was no disdain in her eyes, which she turned back to the cerulean sky. Her meager weight leaned against the railing, and she sighed.

"What do you want?"

Errol's eye twitched in annoyance at her words, but he swallowed down the tinge of rage he felt ignite in his throat and threatened to dance on his tongue. With a deep inhale, he felt the cool air pass through his lungs and calm himself.

"I apologize if I interrupted you," The words weren't quite sincere, but were said out of politeness. "I came to take a gander at the view myself," Errol explained simply, pausing as he turned to face the open sky. "And, perhaps avoid a certain gathering below." A sour expression formed on his face as he was reminded of that rotten Naudar.

A snort was Razin's only reply for some time, though whether she had nothing to say or she did not wish to interrupt the whisper of the wind was unclear. She merely continued staring, eyes fixed at some distant point on the horizon.

"This will be dangerous, Errol, whatever the details involve," she finally said, her voice low and laced with a mixture of concern and anticipation. Her glance did not shift. "Abba has acted strangely before in his various business ventures, and heaven above knows he is eccentric. But lately, he-"

Her jaw worked, words apparently escaping her.

"He is preoccupied. Worried. And you are so young to be risking yourself. Why do you journey with us? Money? Your youth and health is worth far more."

The hint of concern wasn't lost on the aspect. Though, he couldn't help but think it strange that Razin would even trouble herself with these wonderings. After all, just moments ago the girl seemed to detest him. Perhaps, somewhere deep down she might actually have a heart?

Errol paused in thought at her question, letting his gaze drift downwards towards the sea. "That may be true but, obtaining this money can have farther reaches than just myself." His voice was soft as he spoke. "I can help my family, my clan…to me it is worth the risk."

"Someone who has never known true hunger wouldn't understand," Errol added, his tone slightly sharper now.

The ennui that seemed to plague her evaporated, or maybe she found something better, more immediate, on which to focus her attention.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Razin's eyes flashed, and she stood up, straightening every inch of her meager frame. "I have known a starvation you could never dream of, Aspect."

She almost spat the word. Her voice grew quiet, strained, the calm before the potential storm.

"Have you ever craved the love of those who hate you? Have you ever starved of function? Hungered for-" She looked at the staff. It lay nearby, quiet and unassuming, propped against the railing. "No. No, it is impossible for you to understand. You are petty, small, cast about by the Wind against your feeble intentions."

As the storm breaks before it is full-wrought, so did Razin's voice relax, softening to conversational tones. The fire remained in her eyes, but she turned away once again to stare at the place of meeting, where sky and earth joined but never mingled.

"Do not presume to know what I understand."

As Errol's lips parted, he sucked in a deep breath as he prepared to refute the girl's words. However, as he did a sound caught his sensitive ears.

Unner stan…

Shrill and faint, an echo followed Razin's words. A trill, light and harmonic, sounded.

Unner stan...to know. To know!

It came from beneath. The high pitched, warbling mimicry drifted from the clouds, puncturing the stilled silence with precision.

"Did you hear that?" Errol asked, his feathered ears pricked upwards. As he glanced around, he wore a look of confusion. "What was that?" He asked aloud, before looking back to Razin.

Hear? That? The phantom voice parroted back. Another trill resonated; it was strangely akin to a laugh.

Razin stood up, her head turning this way and that as it sought the source of the sound. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape in surprise and wonder.

"It cannot be," she whispered. Staff in hand, she flitted from one edge of the airship to the other, seeking the Thing, leaning dangerously far over the edge as she did so in an effort to find it.

Beady brown eyes peered up at her.

In a burst of wind and color, a pink beast flew from within the sumptuous shroud of clouds. Swishing side to side like a snake, it danced about in the air, its long, fur covered body extending as it curled about to peer at Razin. It cocked its large, ferret-like head.

Cannot be. Beeeeee. The Atena crooned, bobbing gently alongside the ship. Indeed, it was an atena - a larger one at that. Its arms were half the length of Razin's body, and they stretched towards her, pulling at the fabric playfully.

Errol swiftly followed Razin to the other side of the airship, peering over the edge to catch a glimpse at whatever she had seen. When he caught sight of the Atena, his eyes went wide in surprise.

"What is that?" He shouted incredulously. Although he was wary of the creatures, he couldn't peel his eyes away from it. Never had he seen such a beast, and he certainly never expected to find one up in the clouds with them.

"An atena," Razin replied. She smiled, moving the fabric in slow undulations to keep the creature's attention, and to return the play. The atena's appearance had brought her peace again. "People think them a nuisance, and to be sure, they can get carried away with their own desires. It is fun to them, to pester and steal and otherwise interfere.

"Yet I find their spirit inspiring." She tugged her clothing gently, goodnaturedly teasing the atena. "They are truly free in a way of which mere mortals rarely dream, and to see them in the sky, separate from all civilization, is a blessing."

As the beast drew near, Razin touched its nose. Hesitant only a moment, it pressed into her. She turned her head toward Errol, beckoning him forward.

"Come! He is very soft."

Errol gave Razin a look of uncertainty, unsure if it was an intelligent idea to bother the creature. Though, the aspect could admit that it was a beauty. The way it moved through the air was graceful, as his fur swayed in the wind. It was indeed foolish, but he was almost a bit envious.

As Errol reached out a timid hand, his teeth gently bit into his lower lip. His hand softly caressed the Atena's delicate fur. Errol toyed with the strands of fur between his fingers, admiring the colors and texture.

"It's beautiful," Errol murmured, gazing at the beast with delight.

The Atena was warm to the touch. Emitting a pleased trill, it hovered close by the boy, nosing into his pockets.

Beau...tiful!

It's large head rose away, finding nothing of interest in the robes. It peered at Errol and Razin, gaze shining between the two of them with glassy focus.

Then it chittered something low.

Follow! Follow...them! Beautiful...djiiiiiinn.

Gleefully. Carelessly. The words spilled from its primitive vocal cords, words that had not been uttered by either party - and yet the atena had heard them. Recently, too; the beast's brains were fickle and could only recall so much.

Suddenly the flying beast, losing interest, spun around and rose, dancing away towards the massive balloon of the ship.

Razin's brow raised then lowered as her eyes followed the atena. She leaned against the staff heavily.

"Hm.

"Well, seems we are late for a meeting. Through no fault of my own, of course." Chuckling, she began drifting forward herself. "Let us join my dear, ancient Abba."

While Errol was still bitter as he thought about Naudar, the Atena had eased some of his anger. As his gaze drifted along with the creature, he slowly sighed. "I suppose we should," He replied sullenly.

With one last glance towards the Antena, he stepped away from the edge of the airship. It was only the beginning of this journey, but he was already experiencing wonders he had never dreamed of. And, he was feeling rather thankful. "We don't want him to get too angry at us." Errol added, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

"Who? Abba? No, no," Razin grinned, the spirit of mischievousness having returned in force. "Save that you interrupt his midday nap, I should say that you are completely safe from his wrath."

With gusto, she threw open the door to the meeting.[/I]

 

[Kabboom]

Alim Arslan Yafir

'Fuck this boat. Fuck, fuck, fuck this boat. It isn't even a boat. It's a bird pretending to be a boat. With people on it. Completely unnatural.'

Thoughts like these lined the walls inside Alim's head as he navigated his way to Habbas. The insurgent had to mind his own self-image as he was in public - as public as you can get inside a heretical gravity-defying wooden whale's belly. His own gut was churning with the invisible yet tangible motions of the craft, and he hated himself just a bit more with every step. To further distract himself, he tried focusing on his techniques. His right hand begun flicking itself slowly, rolling counterclockwise and flexing, before contracting into a fist and tilting his hand down, then rolling it counterclockwise and flexing, before contracting it--

Nevermind. He's there. He moves to open the door, letting anyone behind him enter, before closing it neatly. He admired the door handles, fiddled with them a bit, and then finally turned to settle on a seat. Closed doors help his nerves.

The doctor and Habbas were both armed with food. Appealing on the ground, but abhorrent in the air. Alim's face winced in pain, as his belly voiced its nauseous complaint. He tried his best to ignore eye contact with the meals, and leaned back on his chair. His gaze was fixed on Habbas, who was perusing a book that he couldn't bring himself to care about right now. "So?" came the only word out of his mouth.

After he said that, Razin busted in the neatly-closed door to the meeting room. His belly churned a bit more.

 

[Kuno]

HABBAS

Habbas' brows raised at the bounty placed before him. His younger cousin knew him all too well; he had forgotten entirely about eating. He thanked him quietly, setting the bowl close to him, and Naudar silently cursed himself for not bringing the stew for his teacher.

The professor chuckled at Hama's tone. "From the College, shockingly enough. I wasn't aware of its depths; the library holds far more than it appears…"

Alim entered, looking fairly green about the gills, and soon after came that rambunctious Razin and Errol. Habbas spared a moment or two to allow for Asra and Emry to make their own appearances, but after a significant look from Naudar –

Yes, of course. Best to get on with it.

"I hope you have all gotten a chance to eat." Habbas' fingers steepled before him, a tent for which to gather his thoughts. "I will do my best to maintain the brevity of this meeting, but unfortunately there is…much to discuss. Including a change of plans after the events of this morning. Early this morning, I received an urgent summons to the city gates, a message I answered with immediate haste. As you may or may not have been aware of, during this time someone breached my home and went through my office stealing anything relating to this…'quest' of ours. Notes, diagrams, maps – anything that they believed was of consequence to me, they took.

"This summons was quite obviously a means of getting me away from my study, leaving it vulnerable. No one was there at the city gates, and the summons, upon further inspection, was a forgery. Whoever planned this was successful in their ruse. Unfortunately…"

Habbas reached into the knapsack at his feet and produced a long, thin leather baton with papyrus rolled about it. Between his fingers, a soft glow was emitted; the Sumerian script shone faintly even through the layers.

"I suspected something. So I took the Ananias Square and the rest of my research with me. I don't know who is behind this, but at any rate we've lost them from our trail. Tinka assures me that any and all pursuers would be visible behind us; I also highly doubt the presence of a second airship in Isfahan without the city guards' knowledge. If you have any concerns about this, we can discuss it later. But for now, I'd like to tell you about where we make our next moves."

The art of the winged woman in bloody triumph bore witness to the Ananias Square as it was unfurled and flattened at her feet. Several inches wider than her pages, the luminescent march of imprinted spiders bordered the entirety of the script. The papyrus was left largely empty save for a scrawl of Sumerian across the top right corner. Just beneath was a new addition from what Hama had previously seen at Habbas' home; a single word in Persian.

Belatsunat.

Habbas placed his finger there.

"This is the woman in the picture, our answer to the first riddle. It asked for that who bled the Earth of all but death, greed and corruption encapsulated. Rejected by life and death together…There have been many selfish rulers in our day and age, but none quite as terrible as Queen Belatsunat."

"She was one of the first Endowed individuals," Naudar weighed in. "It made her power hungry. She began to talk ill of the gods, boasting that she had ascended even them in power. She instructed her people to worship her instead, which of course angered the gods. They then punished her and imprisoned Belatsunat at the temple of Ur for the rest of her life."

Habbas quickly swallowed a spoonful of stew. "Temple of Araia, actually. It was built on top of her supposed prison."

The older man's eyes drifted, meeting each person at the table's gaze with intent focus.

"In light of this, I believe it is best we make a stop at the temple of Araia before Cairo. Our puzzle points us there first."

"Possibly," Naudar countered, "But if we go to Cairo first, we can get more concrete information from the Mouseion on the location. Belatsunat could reside elsewhere. Furthermore, reference to her rule could make the next piece of the key lie where her throne once stood."

"Hm. Perhaps."

Habbas looked at his assembled party.

"The temple is on our way. We can, of course, circle back to it from Cairo, but I say it is best to suss this out now. What say you?"

 

[Red Thunder]

​

"I say what the scholars have always said: 'Around every corner, a secret yet unseen, and none may know what the turn yields, save the gods themselves.'"

Razin drifted over to Habbas, glancing with vague interest at the parchment laid about before them. Her brow furrowed, though minutely; Sumerian runes. And they glowed. Did they always do that? Her mind ran, but it caught no answer. Shrugging, she lifted a bite of meat from the stew, wincing only slightly at the warmth.

"What is more precious, Abba?" she asked, words muffled for the food in her mouth. "The time we might otherwise lose in seeking information? Or the information we might need in venturing into the haunted depths? A bad choice, I think, with no good answer.

"Though the stew is at least decent." Smiling, Razin helped herself to another bite. Pulling it out quickly, she managed to splash some broth on Habbas' blouse. She grasped for a nearby cloth and began to hurriedly clean it. "Forgive me, Abba!! Perhaps your clumsiness is more thanks to ancestry than dotage, and I have, alas, inherited it."

Her voice dropped then suddenly, a whisper in the gentle movement in the air, meant only for its hearer.

"I have news, Habbas. Urgent. Best I address you privately, as you may.

"There!" she said, more loudly. Standing up, she grinned smugly. "I appreciate your passing along the inheritance, Abba, but I pray you keep your clumsiness to yourself."

Snatching one last bite of meat, she darted away before her father could give her the punishment she deserved.

 

[MiharuAya]

Errol Demir​

While Errol took a seat at the table, the Aspect shot a dirty look towards Naudar. If it wasn't for this important meeting, he would much rather not be in the same room as the other. However, it seemed that this wouldn't be possible. So instead, he kept his mouth quiet by filling it with the delicious stew.

Errol couldn't remember the last time he had the pleasure to eat so many fine meals. They were warm, and he could eat until he was full, something that was rare where he came from. And, for the first time in a while, he felt himself gain back much of his strength. Even if this mission was a failure, he still counted himself lucky.

As Habbas began to explain that it appeared that someone had been after him, Errol listened quietly. If the details around the quest were true, it would be understandable that others might want to steal information revolving around the treasure as well. "Even if we've lost our pursuers, for now, we should still keep our heads down in Cairo. As a group…we are likely to stick out." He added, ever wary.

Even though the Ananias Square and the history that it told was unfamiliar to Errol, he still did his best to keep up with the scholars. He might not have had any schooling, but he wasn't dumb. When asked which route he would rather take, he answered "I think we should head to the temple first," Although he mostly thought this was the best course of action, he also choose this because it was the opposite of what Naudar wanted to do.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Mohamed ibn'sina
​

The scholar sat patiently, eyes on his kinsman as he spoke further of their findings, their plans, and their troubles. It was of no surprise someone had attempted to steal the Ananias Square, and it was honestly to have been expected. They were after an artifact of great value, worth whole countries. No, what truly had his eyebrows raising was the mention of Belatsunat, the bloody queen of Babylon. So that explained quite a bit.

His eyes tracked down to the ancient script in front of him, brow furrowing. Rejected by life and death together… His eyes tracked to Naudar.

Ah, youth. So sure in the first answer he came across.

"There is another it could be mentioning," Hama said, steepling his hands in front of him and frowning pensively. "Her son, Nimra. Arguably as vicious, if not more, he burned an entire village as an offering to Baal. We should consider we have other options for 'Despicable of the Most High'. I would need to know more of the text before I could say. Araia..."

He rubbed his eyes, making a face. Of course, they would take the most difficult route forward. He gently gestured to Errol, as if in deference as he explained.

"The temple is unfortunately a ruin, yes, but it's not unoccupied. I've heard lately it's been the home to cultists, ne'er-do-wells, those who seek to live out from under the auspices of the Empire of Persia in a less than peaceful way... We would encounter resistance immediately upon arriving there. I say this, so you may consider that option."

Hama sighed. This was little information to go off of. No, Razin was correct, there were no good ways about it. They would fight those in the temple of Araia, only to find the key was not there. Or, they didn't find it, and whoever was targeting Habbas would realize where they went, snoop around, and find it themselves. Alternatively, they lost valuable time by going straight to the Mouseion, giving someone else a lead. Was it worth a struggle right away?

Did they have the luxury of time?

There was also the not-so-little fact that he despised Cairo. Cramped, angry, beset by corrupt guardsman. It didn't help he had been forced to pay a hefty bribe to even take a box of dates back home to his mother.

The hatred won out.

"Those same ne'er-do-wells may have served as the key's keepers unwittingly, however. Anyone chasing us down, or attempting to, would have to fight them as well. In the interest of time, we should consider the temple first. If we are wrong, our next stop should be the Mouseion to find more information. Naudar, how confident are you that Belatsunat truly fits the description?"

@Kuno @MiharuAya

 

[Applo]

In a room full of mainland folk, it is impossible for a puntling to lurk. Rather, Asra loomed over the gathering, her neck cricked somewhat so that the top of her head wasn't pressing against the cabin's ceiling. There was no food in her hands as there was in both her employer's and his daughter. Asra had plans for later in the night once most everyone would likely be asleep and she was saving her fair ration of the meal for then. With nothing to distract her, the putnling's eyes strained over the parchment in front of her employer as she mulled over the question the man had posed.

"If there are people seeking what we seek, I think it would be better to go to the place they do not know of while they do not know about it."

Asra caught Naudar's gaze for a moment. Something in the human's eyes unsettled her slightly.

"Is there a reason you know of why we should not follow Agha Al-Farsi's plan? Respectfully I see no reason why we should not stop at this temple of Ariaia. Even if it does not hold what those papers promise, it would be time well spent to find that out, no? Especially if we have not wasted time flying in this machine to Cairo and back again. Our captain may be talented, but even he can not make two journeys take the time of one. These cultists Agha Ibn'sina talks of will be there if we go to Cairo or not too. Wasting time going to Cairo gives our pursuers a chance to discover this temple and then we might have cultists in front of us, and our pursuers at our back. That would not be a smart thing to do."

For a moment the Puntling's words hung in the air of the cabin and a feeling of embarrassment began to grow within Asra.

"Truthfully though, I do not mind where we go first. I do not know enough about how you humans think or the history of your lands to know what is best."

This time, Asra's words were accompanied by a creaking of wood as the deck shifted under the Puntlings feet as she began to shuffle towards the door.

"If you would excuse me while you decide. This room does not suit my height, and I feel the need for fresh air."

When the door shut behind her, Asra took a moment to enjoy the cool, rarefied evening air as she had said she wanted to. A moment was, however, all the indulgence she allowed herself. The Puntling had other plans on how to spend her time now, and she started to tread the strange ship's deck as she hunted for its captain.​