“Yes. Quite daring, but not inappropriate. May I see?”
An aside to Hieronymus Drake:
"Mr Drake, it is a delight to meet your august self at long last as well! I am not surprised that the first three virtues you attribute to me are widely discussed, I should have thought another would have taken the place of the fourth however."
To Phiri Ulfur:
"Oh how excellent! You’ve packed so much into so few words! And I am delighted by the contrast of giant, fearsome zee-sharks and tiny adorable zee-znails!"
Phiri blushes and smiles shyly at Sapho’s comment and silently passes the sheet to the Professor, against her better judgement. She’d truly written the zee-znail poem selfishly. She suddenly blinks and shake her head as though to clear it. "Mr Drake! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you before!" She remembered the question she had somehow missed earlier. "Jacqueline is well, though I think she misses your company. She was very fond of her lessons from what she told me, though I doubt there is much else you can teach her." She smiles and glances around the room. "More tea anyone? Or scones?"
edited by Iona Dre’emt on 12/17/2018
edited by Iona Dre’emt on 12/17/2018
Ondine laughs. “Be careful of assuming Drake’s lessons have run dry. The methods may have to change, but the man himself is a never-ending study.”
She smiles impishly. “If nothing else, he’s excellent practice in field medicine. I’m sure there are forms of injury Hieronymus Drake has not experienced, but darling, it’s only a matter of time.”
Sian looks up from his page. “If nothing else, have her wrestle out of him his formula for Correspondence-burn salve.”
Phiri laughs. “If Jacqueline’s told me anything about Mr Drake, it’s his constant desire for knowledge. She was learning the martial arts from him, and has regaled me with many a story of their bouts.” She smiles at the memory. “I have no need of such lessons, what with a pirate under my roof.” She smiles mischievously at the Pirate-Poet, who rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t if you practiced more,” the Poet admonishes her.
“It was a wonderful poem dear!” August said as Phiri had finished, when Phiri asked if anyone else desired some more tea he asked a cup “…if it’s not a bother please.” He looked at Drake and stood up to give the man a hand, Drake was that man whom the Zailors rumoured about, they once told him a story that Drake was a Zee-Monster himself due to his ease of navigation in the Zee. He believed little of it. “A pleasure to meet you Sir Drake, I’ve heard many stories about your exploits!”
Phiri puts another kettle on and arrays a few select types of tea on a plate. She passed August a cup and refilled those that were near empty. The spiced glass of something she had received had put quite a rosy glow on her cheeks and she could barely keep from smiling. She notes woozily that she should excuse before she goes under completely, and though that may take a while she reminded herself to go easy on the Greyfield’s for the rest of the night. Truly, she was a lightweight. At least she wasn’t giggling yet.
Captain Drake smiles at Phiri. “Well, then I shall certainly have to may Lady Blackwood a visit. I should hate to be guilty of neglecting a friend.” In regards to the poem, he largely defers to Professor Kan, but adds, “I also thought I saw a certain similarity to Japanese verse. But in a poem of that style, the znails would be evocative of some deeper emotional experience. Since in this case you are simply an admirer of gastropods, and intended no deeper symbolism thereby, I suppose that it’s less like a Japanese-style poem than it seems.”
With similar obliviousness he replies to Lady Sapho, “My apologies if I’ve neglected one of your virtues! I fear that I spend much time at the University and at Zee, and little at Court. My skill at flattery has likely suffered thereby.”
In response to Ondine’s comment, Drake’s face lights up with enthusiasm. “Oh no, there are many hazards of the Zee that have yet to scar me! And each one is unique. The “Correspondence scorch” that Ondine mentions is distinct from the burns of ordinary fire, as well as from the chemical burns inflicted by concentrated acids!” He begins to strip his sleeve to demonstrate, before remembering where he is and stopping.
Drake shakes August’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, sir. But call me “Captain,” please. I do not claim any of my father’s titles, not even the knighthood.
“Yes, I’ve heard those stories as well. I’m always kept in suspense, wondering what I’ll do next! You know how zailors are - they’re splendid at spinning a yarn, but prone to taking license with the facts.”
He thanked Phiri for the tea as he saw her getting tipsy. "My apologies Captain Drake." He said with a smile as he offered him a glass of Broken Giant as apology. "Oh yes, I do love the story where they say you were the Spawn of the Mountain and the Zee itself and that you strangled a Spider-Council when you were but a week old." He proclaimed with a laugh, while he did not doubt that Drake could strangle a Spider-Council or anything for that matter, he doubted he would be the child of the Mountain and the Zee.
edited by Honeyaddict on 12/17/2018
Sian coughs. "I am not Ondine, or at least not last I checked."
The lady herself has managed to unite Phiri and some buttered fungal scones. "Lovely scones. Did you make them yourself?" Sotto voce she adds, "It does go to the head, doesn’t it? Especially on an empty stomach. A couple of these should set that to rights, but let me know if it doesn’t. I’ve an old family recipe." Ondine leaves her hostess with a wink and strikes up conversation with Jolanda.
edited by Siankan on 12/17/2018
“My dear Mr Drake, it is not your flattery that is wanting, only your attention to salacious gossip!” Lady Byron answers with a soft laugh. “But there are one or two here how can catch you up on that subject, if it strikes your fancy.”
“Oh, no worry on that score, Milady,” Drake assures her gallantly. “I never pay attention to salacious gossip.”
"Well, the poetry sounds good." Osborn rubs his chin. "Unfortunately, that’s about all I can say about it. Asking me about poetry is a lot like… well, I can’t think of a comparison good enough. Trust me though, I wouldn’t know the first thing about writing a poem."
Osborn sticks out his hand at Captain Drake. "It’s a pleasure to meet you Captain Drake. Tell me, what’s it like being a zee-captain? Not like in the legends, or the docker’s tall tales, but what’s it really like? I’ve always wanted to be one, you see, but I’m not important enough, nor do I have the cash to buy a zee-vessel."
edited by Osborn Draiss on 12/17/2018
"Quite the interesting piece of poetry," Lord Gazter speaks up as he pours himself a glass of mushroom wine. "I’m sure I know a few friends of mine, who would enjoy such a piece." He places the bottle down on a table. The label on the side of the bottle reads 1868.
"I’m in agreement," he adds turning towards Captain Drake. "I’m confident that there are a plethora of stories you can regale us with of your voyages on the dark and still waters of the Unterzee."
"The resemblance to the poetry of the East is well-noted," Azoth remarked. She nibbled gently at a fungal-scone, savoring the vaguely sweet taste as crumbs dissolved like snowflakes on her tongue. You have to enjoy the littlest things in life. "Perhaps there is opportunity in publishing up above. I too know a few friends - cousins, really - in 中华 interested in these benthic depths. The people are discontent, and we remember humiliations, old and new."
The rest of the scone crumbled in her right hand - a year later, she still underestimated the strength of it. "The absence of deeper meaning can be ignored," she noted. "A surface reading of 李白 wouldn’t yield any deeper meaning either, and meaning is constructed into his poetry. Look deep enough into that emptiness, and we’ll all see something through a glass, darkly. Meaning is inescapable in poetry. It’s no different for the zee. All things reflect the way we perceive the world, and all we can do is share." She glanced at Drake. "That’s why we regale our peers with tales and living legends, is it not?"
“Deeper meaning. I always wondered if we should focus on producing one. Perhaps the meaning is inside each reader and the poet can only offer their own - and hope that something inside them touches something inside the reader. The poem brought me a bit of sadness, and it made me think of small lives tangled in grander, uncaring schemes. But our hostess might have had something else entirely in mind, or even nothing.” Jolanda sighs and then looks at August and Lady Sapho, to regain her smile. “Perhaps she will tell us, perhaps she won’t. In which case, I am afraid we will have to turn to salacious gossip… or another poem.” She looks at Phiri.
“Oh, but if we turn to salacious gossip we would be excluding Mr Drake!” Sapho exclaims in faux alarum. “Our host must needs provide us with another poem.”
Sian turned to Osborne beside him. "You asked what being a Zee captain is like? It is rather like military service, really. Mind-numbing boredom, most of the time, punctuated by moments of horrific desperation. If you aren’t careful whom you hire, this could also describe onboard meal times."
Ondine smiled into her drink. The professor’s table–on shore, on the waves, or under them–had never been anything less than excellent, but she knew other captains, and she knew stories.
"The chief keys to success are to watch your supplies, keep the crew’s minds busy, and avoid hiring taciturn Scotsmen. You’ve no idea how many I’ve rescued.
"When our honored captain finishes his drink, I’ve no doubt he’ll share his stories of wrestling Zee-beasts. (All true, I assure you.) In the mean time, he and I sailed together once, to Tanah-Chook in the Tomb Colonies. Fascinating place."
The next few minutes were filled with stories of the Zee: aggressive corals, glim-falls, the peculiarities of Third-City Tomb Colonists. All fascinating and exotic to the land-based auditors, all familiar and reassuring to the veteran zailors. That tale finished, other voices cataloged the stranger perils of the Zee: drownie-song, attempted martyrdom, Polythremic undergarments.
It was a pleasant way to spend half an hour.
edited by Siankan on 12/18/2018
Drake grins at August. “Well, that would be a most Herculean origin, befitting a Neathy version of a Herculean tale! Like many a Zailor, I’ve Stone in my heart, Salt in my veins, and Storm in my skull, but I’m a mortal man. An Odysseus perhaps, but never a Heracles. Why, I recently crossed blades with a veritable queen of the deep, a malign demigoddess of sorts, who had me at quite a disadvantage, I assure you - ahh, but that tale touches a lady’s honour.”
Taking Osborn’s hand in turn, he assures the young man, “It’s most becoming to know one’s limitations. Humility is a virtue which I sincerely respect, even as I find its practice a challenge at times. In truth, no one is ever truly ready for his first command. I thought I was! To barbarously paraphrase a stubborn man, if ever a man became a perfect captain by study alone, it would have been I. But the weight of that responsibility is heavier than you can realize before you feel it. Every captain is a king, at Zee. And a father, as well. That’s the only thing I should add to Professor Kan’s description. Being a Zee-captain is like suddenly adopting two dozen teen-aged boys, and being required to trust them with one’s life!
“Well, that’s what it’s like when things go well. When things go badly, ah, that’s the exciting part! I could spin yarns about my voyages all evening, but I shouldn’t want for the Salon to ignore its own host -” he casts a shrewd glance at Phiri - “Well, perhaps one story would do no harm.
“I had taken the Rostygold Stag into the waters between Venderblight and Whither. An unusual number of ships had gone missing in those waters. I reckoned that either a new crew of pirates had begun to operate in the area, or that a Lifeberg had drifted into shipping lanes. As it turns out, I was wrong: it was both…”
Drake’s tale is fast-paced, the details few but vividly evocative. He describes extraordinary feats of arms in a matter-of-fact tone, as the sort of thing that anyone would have done in his place. The dominant emotion is worry for his crew. Thus, although the story does involve single combat with a Lifeberg, Drake’s narration places the dramatic tension on the unknown fate of his crew while he was absent from the fight with the pirates. When he successfully brings the monster smashing into the beams of the enemy ship, the tension is relieved not so much by the simultaneous defeat of the Lifeberg and the pirates as by the salvation of the men on his ship.
Drake speaks, in other words, as though wrestling a Lifeberg were quite an ordinary thing to do, whereas ensuring the survival of a ship’s crew were a feat worth boasting of.
Phiri is glad to listen to Drake’s story and sinks into a warm rapture. The Poet sits next to her on the love seat she perched on and surreptitiously twines her fingers with Phiri’s diminutive digits. Phiri gasps and laughs at all the right moments in the story and is wholly caught up in the tale, grateful to lend the reigns of the conversation to someone else for a short while. She is struck by Drake’s raw passion for the zee and his crew, and understands why Jacqueline was so fond of the man.