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Zaida watched the woman, disguising her disgust. Why did she let men repress her like that? She couldn't look at the Lady for too long. It was so hard to see a woman abused like this.

She shifted her robes and listened only as long as she had to to find out where her room would be. She looked around, checking her map quickly before she went below. Prays in her room would be a private affair and only then could she think of anything else. She felt ill when she went too long without thanks for her life and the things she was given.

Aranel, unlike Aearion, didn't resist glancing at the woman's assets. What? They were everywhere! But it wasn't for the same purpose that the Mer likely would've done it, because it only seemed to fuel some sort of frustration she tried to keep a lid on. Of course, one could only guess once she glanced down to her own assets, or lack there-of.

The humming was noticed by her as well, and she'd only stare at the man as he walked. She thought it strange and mysterious, but passed it off as him hearing the hymn as well and simply having it stuck in his head. But it was such a quiet tune! Perhaps he had good hearing? Probably. She didn't try to ask and answer too many questions about it. It didn't matter to her.

After all was said and done, she retreated to her quarters and was surprised with quite a hefty sum of money! She hesitantly opened the pouch (just slightly) and peered inside. Hot dayum!

Absolutely riveted with joy, she fled to the bath to clean herself. When she was through, she hurried to dress herself in a long, simple dress, a faded yellow or beige in color.

After Aranel had finished bathing and dressing herself, she rushed to the first floor, shoving herself at a window (or rail, if that's there) and staring down below. She noticed earlier, during her rushed bath, that she began to feel a bit queasy, but passed it off as being famished. However, the more she watched the ground below, the more she began to notice the subtle vibrations of the heart of this beast - that which moved it. Everything slowly began to settle itself around her in some sort of uncomfortable suppression (or so it felt), and she settled to her knees at the window and began to whine and groan quietly to herself.

Her eyes were glued to the pretty scene below, but her stomach felt like it was coming undone! Oh boy. Someone gets motion sickness easily!

Despite appearing absorbed in text, Takurasho would peer over the brim of his book to note each of his companions. First there was Crow, who was indulging in peculiar refreshments {frog's legs were admittedly tasteful in his opinion, but seven glasses of water?}. Although he hadn't witnessed her exiting a portal or materializing from a flock of crows, he could sense the arcane radiance emanating from her sorceress blood. It was no wonder the two had gotten off to an icy start {manners aside}. While known to occasionally unite against a common enemy, such as a clergy or crusading paladins, spirits & witches generally did not "get along". To Takurasho, witches were a single notch beneath holy men on his list of undesirables. The devout were prone to destroying spirits where as witches preferred to utilize their powers.
He took into consideration that- despite the sticky history between their breeds- she'd committed no infraction towards him specifically... yet. For the sake of their mission, he would emphasize his efforts to tolerate her.

Next came Aearion. Oh dear. The book fell to Takurasho's feet, his jaw dropping & brows raising. He wasn't sure what to make of the atrocious disarray of fineries, but it was certainly alarming {Go figure, it's his first genuine display of shock & it's regarding a horrible fashion sense}. Being a lover of luxuries, the being was partially tempted to rush to the mer's side, insistent on advising Aearion rearrange his attire. After a moment of awe he reconsidered. The strange individual seemed quite confident in his strut, apparently pleased with himself. Well... as long as he's comfortable. The book was plucked up from the floor, vetala concealing his perturbed gaze behind it.

He didn't question the fact that Zaida was still amiss. Her desire for privacy had been obvious, & he didn't expect to see her outside of her quarters as often as the others, if at all. He had no desire to intrude, but if she didn't appear before they neared their destination he'd likely check on her. The lair of their employer was too questionable for absolute comfort.

Finally, there was Aranel. He appraised her neatness- a slight contrast to her quirky demeanor. Having taken accountability he meant to return to his book, legitimately this time, but as soon as he made to do so he noticed her gradual collapse. The moans of discomfort returned his attention to her. Takurasho frowned slightly, rising to his feet. He allowed himself a quick sip of scotch before setting down his poetry book & striding to her side. "Are you alright?" he questioned, moving to help her to her feet. He'd pause once he noticed her expression, immediately assuming motion sickness. Please, he thought with great discomfort, don't be sick on me.

Roughly fifteen minutes had elapsed before a loud voice pierced through the commotion of the guests of the ship. It was The Gentleman speaking over the Public Address system integrated in every room of the ship for total undivided attention of all passengers.

"May I have your attention please! We are preparing for departure for the Northern Country. Estimated time of arrival will be in a day and a half's time. I would also like to give a big round of applause for our guests of honor! Zaida, Aranel, Aearion, Takurasho, Crow and Clint! Again, the ship will be departing shortly."

Should there have been of the patrons around the individuals listed there will be a moment where all attention to be turned toward them and clap for a moment before going back about their business. The propellers of the ship began a faster rotation in further preparation for the voyage to begin. Should any of the group members still remain on the to deck, the ship will not begin motion until all were no longer top side.

[Enter Clint, the final addition to the group]

Down in the white haze filled rooms of the third floor sat the woman in green. Brash as she were, the beauty. The ruckus of the clapping clearly bothered her. She rose a finger to the bartender. "The usual." She spoke as her head slumped into her hand while she fanned herself. "Surprised someone like you even made it on his 'good side'. You may want to find your other comrades, introduce yourself and all." For a woman of her class her tongue did not reckon such status. The glass of the copper tinted liquor was placed down in front of her. Those sharp eyes peered at the rugged male's image in the distorted reflection. The Lady lifted one more finger then pointed to Clint; signaling for the bartender to bring the male the same class of whiskey only with a stronger volume to alcohol before picking up her glass and moving to reascend the floors and accompany her The Gentleman in their suite.

The airship was off. In a slow, but momentus acceleration the scenery below the aircraft began to shift, leaving behind the city and surrounding valley to bring into view consistently. Every so often the ship will pass through a large cloud completely veiling all outside view in a thick puff of intangible white.

They were on their way.

Almost aghast at his apprehension of his gaze, the frame of a sturdy male stepped from the shadows. "Good," said the man with a sense of coy. "I always prefer to test the favorite of the local waters. Maybe that's why I made it on his 'good' side." Finding a seat beside the succulent succubus, Clint's eyes narrowed as he produced his own shot glass, so the tender could only pour from the same bottle and ensure that were he to be poisoned, she would be ingesting the same. It was a simple defense he'd learned to raise over the years, and often left him with a bad taste in his mouth.
Fortunately, this was not the case as he lifted the rusty liquor to his lips. He'd wave as she left, then turned about to be on his merry way, in search of those aforementioned though yet anonymous comrades, all the while knowing he was about to find himself rather lost.

{Er, I think our Dungeoneer mentioned The Lady had already left to go upstairs, Clint '}

(>< Imma kill him. He gave me the post in skype and I read it, then here, and it just kind of meshed together @_@ I need to re, I'll edit. Thanks for pointing that out.)

{Not a problem :}}

Zaida made a face when she was interrupted, but was glad that if it did come, she was in her room. She let her eyes flick to the side, but settled down to finish her prayers. She ignored the hunger that squeezed her stomach.

Once she was finished, she got up, brushed her hair and covered it carefully. She didn't need a mirror (nor would she look in the one in the room) to know that she was covered. She thought again about the lady and shuddered.

She got up in search of food. Something plain. Something filling. That's all she needed. She just needed to eat enough to live, nothing more. The nice thing about this ship would be that she wouldn't be stumbling around the desert with too-little water.

"Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down..." Aearion would keep reminding himself as he passed a window on his way to the dining area, where a bunch of familiar faces were.

As his name got announced and an applause followed, Aearion couldn't help but grin widely, turn around and take a deep, graceful bow."Thank you, thank you! Please, you're too much." This caused the dead fox around his neck to fall off, though. He swiftly picked it back up, though, and went to the catering service.

He got himself a big plate of tuna and looked around for a moment. All his allies were doing something! He'd take a seat near Aranel, but Aearion preferred to stay away from any windows. Well then, without any of his bard gear, what was he supposed to do? It was time to get to know his more mysterious allies. Starting with Crow. Back at the mansion, she wasn't so keen on talking, but maybe now she would've lightened up.

The Mer noisily put his plate down next to Crow and put up that big grin of his as he sat down."Why hello there. I didn't see you come in. Tell me, did anyone freak out when a giant flock of birds suddenly blocked the view or did you take the more subtle portal route?"

The little speech did flatter her a bit, especially since she was the second name! Still, her attention was on the ground below as it began to move and become blocked by clouds. The heights were both intimidating and incredible. She was amazed! And sick... augh, so sick.

It was a sort of comical situation. The girl had her face pressed hard against the window, wanting to much to fly alongside the craft, or at least watch the entire trip, and yet she felt so queasy because of it. Maybe that was another reason behind the groans? She needed a mom to cuddle right about now. Well, as long as that mom was stationed next to a window so she could make herself even more sick!

Speaking of moms, Takurasho suddenly appeared at her side, displaying concern. ((I kid!)) Concern both for himself and for Aranel.

Poor Takurasho. Had she remained on her knees, she might have regained composure enough not to donate her lunch at him. But nope! The sudden movement of the ship combined with quick personal movement stirred her up just enough to make her face go pale (well, paler) before she started being, well... gross.

At the very least, she hadn't eaten anything (tangible) for a solid day! So the most she wound up throwing up was water she drank recently before her bath.

Poor, poor, Takurasho. It could be worse though! Water's just water, right...? Even if it's been sitting in someone's belly.

The only color that returned to her cheeks was that bright red hue commonly accompanying embarrassment. And in an attempt to mask this embarrassment, Aranel began laughing. Like, with the whole nervous snorting in there, too. Whoa boy.

The awkward thing muttered something between her giggles, probably a joke. Was something along the lines of, "It's a gift!" And then that mortified expression again before she lowered her head and threw out dozens of apologies, still laughing. Eyes were teary, but that was likely due to both the laughter and embarrassment.

What a way to deal with things, huh?

((I'M NOT SORRY))

((Edit: I AM SORRY ABOUT DOUBLE POSTING THOUGH D; ))

((DOUBLE EDIT: I post this and remember this episode.))

{Hey, I'm sure Tak would make a great mom... look at him, he's adorable}

By the time he saw the {further} paling of Aranel's face Takurasho had only a second to react, which gave him just enough time to express utter horror that slightly surpassed the look Aearion's outfit had received. Give him a bloodthirsty atrocity from the abyss any day. Human bodily fluids? Ye Gods, no.

He'd sit there for a moment in absolute shock, motionless aside from the occasional twitch of an eye, seeming in absolute disbelief. Could reanimated corpses be sick, too? It appeared for a moment that he might. A gift? "Oh, well in that case, thank you" came the dry reply. Luckily he'd kept his handkerchief at hand. Bony fingers hurriedly whisked it out of the pocket of his bathrobe, then attempted to bring her face back into view &- if she allowed him, he'd dab gingerly at it with an awkward "Er... there there" followed by a small sigh. It was moments like these that he'd wished he'd possessed the body of a bird or something- humans could be terribly repulsive. He'd then fold the kerchief over & scrub violently at his bare chest.

"Perhaps," Takurasho suggested moodily, "we should get you away from the windows for a little while."

That image will forever be stamped on my brain, Takurasho. Lol. ))

All seemed to be going well. Everyone was mingling quite well even with Aranel's..mishap. A familiar face came to view to those who acknowledged his presence as he weaved through the Crowd to take it upon himself to seat. "Madame Crow." Such an old voice still he had yet a charitable expression. "I am not one to particular whisper poison in one's ear, but what I am about to ask you is from one Inquisitor to another." The Butler, he was. Leaning forward and in a somewhat hush tone. "What do you so desire from working with one such as The Gentleman? You hardly know those whom you are grouped with yet you decide on a whim to join his 'divine crusade', hm?" It was clear enough that the Butler was not here to fight or cause a noticeable ruckus, never minding Aearion's presence for now.

Meanwhile on the lower deck; floor 2, the door providing passage in and out of Zaida's room had been opened. Whatever drew her from her quarters was of little concern, but there was something to impose. Another visage of the Butler with hands folded so politely behind his back. "Madame Zaida." Wait.. two of the same entity?! Then again.. neither could possibly know of either appearance simultaneously . He continued after hopefully grabbing Zaida's attention. "Your time will come soon, but not in death. Something that transcends the concept of death. The road into the afterlife does not strike pause in such a mediocre stage of the spirit." Should Zaida turn to give attention to the initial visage of the familiar neutral party will his voice begin to project itself from behind her once again although he seemed closer. "I must also warn you. You are and your group are not alone on this flight. Peace is temporary." Clearly there was a visage of the individual behind Zaida at this point as well and it mattered not that either be acknowledged so long as both are not seen through the same eyes at the same time. Both pivoted and took their leave.

The Butler which sat across from Crow remained, still trying to pry information from her. He was already aware she was not so much a talker herself, but did keep composure in wait.

Going to fast forward soon to the nightly sequence))

Zaida listened, but didn't turn her head. She didn't need to. The owner of the voice was not threatening. She listened to each word, taking them in account. She closed her eyes and nodded, "Isn't it always fleeting?" She stroked the handle of the hidden blade, trying to keep herself from drawing it.

She was uneasy there. Trapped in the air. She just let it go, though. She opened her eyes and stood, "Thank-you." She murmured in another language, "السلام هو كذب قدمها الأنبياء الكذبة"

Crow's tome was placed upon the table, in front of her, her right hand picking up a knife, while her left hand picks up a fork, around the same time that the waiter delivers her platter of frog legs. After cutting pieces off of the leg and lifting her fork to her mouth a few times, Crow's gaze drifts upwards, at the mention of her name. Her first three glasses of water were delivered to her table, and her knife was paused upon the longer frog leg. A few of the staff were looking towards her and clapping...

Crow's fine eyebrows pinch together, and she shrugs indifferently. Lifting a piece of frog to her mouth and pausing in her consumption, her pale gaze falls upon the Mer, and his bowing. Crow returns to her frog legs, on her last bite, when the Mer sits down. With the fork still in her mouth, her lips closed, she turns sharply, looking at the male's face, then at the seat he occupied, then at the male's face. Crow's expression was neutral, but her gaze was sharp. After the Mer's greeting, Crow pulls the fork out of her mouth and sets it upon her plate, chewing silently, until the last bit of frog vanishes down her throat. She does not turn towards the Mer when speaking, "That is because I arrived before you did. No, and if you were paying any attention to my method of traveling, you would know I had walked to this location." Crow turns to face the Mer. "What you had hoped to gain by sitting near me, when I had concluded you to sitting elsewhere, is likely folly. Your assumptions of my part in the portal that brought me to this ship, as a result of my decision, is folly." Crow's left hand places the knife upon the plate, and reaches for the first glass of water, bringing it to her lips to drink. Crow's hand sets the glass down, the glass being empty now. "The way you brought attention to yourself, by creating a loud noise, either signals that would find me to be startled by your presence, if you did not draw my attention to you, or that you have nothing important to say, and merely wish to make noise with your vocal cords, and actions." Crow turns to face the Mer, her hands folding into her lap as she sits, straightened, in her chair.

Part 1. The Talkative Crow.

http://www.ebookcenter.biz/Books/ON/B2/E2363G10541/04MB2363.html

{The Crow and the Fox}

Part 2. Witches and Inquisitors.

The table that Crow was seated at became more populated. Crow's right eye peered at the Mer, while she drank her second, and third glass of water. The waiter delivered another three, the Butler addressing the witch. Crow turns to face the Butler, her left hand grasping her fourth glass of water and setting it near her. "That is a proper greeting. What do you wish to say." Crow's hands fold upon the table, overlapping over one another. "Is that what you are, an inquisitor?" Crow's expression remained neutral when the Butler leaned in. And if the Mer was still at the table, Crow did not turn to look at him.

Crow's fine eyebrow lifts, faintly, "I desire nothing. I am not working with the Gentleman, to desire anything. It may be assumed that I am, as I take part in his resources, but I am grouped only with myself. I am not a part of his plans, that involve my actions and his benefits. I am curious as to why he is bothered by mundane arts and those that use them. I care not for his cause, nor the payment offered to me." Crow's hand lifts another glass of water to her lips, tilting the glass upward until it emptied. Crow sets the fourth glass down, and the waiter comes by to collect all four empty glasses

Aearion couldn't help but be amused by her reaction. Well, at least she spoke."Heh, you over-analyze far too much. I was simply trying to make some smalltalk, really. Dropping my plate too loud was an accident. You're new to the group after all. I wouldn't want you to feel ignored." His tone sounded friendly. Perhaps a bit too friendly. His grin didn't show much friendliness, but rather amusement. He was about to speak again, but suddenly there came a familiar face.

This confused the hell out Aearion. Didn't he leave? For as far as he knew, the Butler had no ties to the Gentleman, and suddenly he was on his ship! That didn't make sense! He stayed quiet and listened in for a while.

After Crow's answer he stood up with his plate."Well, I know enough now." He spoke as he made his way for Takurasho and Aranel, giving a slight frown as he noticed the vomit."Can't stand the height either, can you?" He mused, refusing to look at the window."Seriously, though. Is anyone else seeing the same butler from the Wittaker mansion here?" He sounded worried.

((Takurasho... that made me wanna do this....))

At least he responded well! Although the reply was dry, she felt it was an attempt to be humorous and understanding of the situation. Still, his moody voice suggested otherwise. It was pretty funny regardless of all that, and she still felt ungodly embarrassed, but it seemed to be working out well in the end.

"But I like the windows...," she said, looking toward it once more, though she didn't pull too fast so that he could no longer dab! Meaning yes, she did let him. Why not? Just meant she didn't have to do it! That feeling of nausea began to creep up on her again as she glanced out and she had to force herself to look away, this time toward Aearion as he approached and Crow and the Butler behind him together. Wait, the Butler?!

"AH! How did he get here?!" she asked, her initial outburst silenced as the second sentence began, now speaking in a whisper. It was a funny image. A half sick lady doubled over while standing, just flipping out.

Aranel added, still whispering, "I thought he was a ghost? Dead? How is he here? N-not that I'm complaining, I mean he really helped us out back there. If it weren't for him, we'd probably be dead...."

Airborne at last, Clint could barely contain himself. There were only two things he feared, and one of those was heights. He hated flying, jumping off high cliffs, climbing ladders, and anything else that took him away from the ground. At first he'd stumble around, trying to gain his footing while navigating the ship. He could hear a ruckus coming from an upstairs room, so he took to the flight (no pun intended) and began his ascent, much to his dismay.

An unmistakable aroma permeated the air. Meat, fish, sauces and other sorts of delectable options. Was there a banquet he should be attending? Or... crashing? Either way, he was sure he could graft his way into a plate of eats.
Kicking his feet as he wistfully strode toward the room, he paid close mind to the conversations. These people are absolutely nuts! he thought. They'd make wonderful patsies, though...

Before he could finish that thought, Clint had stumbled upon the group, staring at each one individually with a deer in the headlights expression. "Uhm... bonjour."