Distant Star - Log 04 - To the Trove!
Jack grinned back, the expression lighting up his nearly sallow features and making him look suddenly younger and fresher in a sense. Using this expression he looked not far from the man painted in the brass ovals on the wall behind them. "By all means, it takes no energy to use, feel free to look at stars or moons, or distant planets - whatever you wish." He paused, and knelt beside her again. "This wheel brings the entire thing to pivot left or right, these twelve handles are manual adjustments for each section of the 'scope, this wheel controls up and down, and this level extends and retracts it." He shifted his lean hand to rest on the eyepiece where a series of delicate brass cogs could be seen connecting the eyeglass to the body of the telescope. "These bring the entire thing into focus." Jack said smiling. "It's really just a matter of fiddling with it to focus on your target. In practice, you get the instinctual handle on what's needed to adjust it." Jack stood up and pivoted in a lazy arc, arms swinging out before finding his pockets and he slunk to the far side of the deck, fiddling with the gramophone for a brief moment before suddenly, a gypsy-sounding music erupted from seemingly everywhere. Not overly loud, but the notes and beats were carried by the glass, the arch of the ceiling, the reverberation of the brass tubing running between the panes. He stood, slumped into himself, thin, bow-legged, looking frail under that vaulted ceiling and let the sound wash over him. The music was that of Jack's mother's homeland, a ribald, lively tune featuring quick strings, throaty brass, resounding drums, and a good deal of bells and cymbals and percussion. He stood still, eyes raised skyward in silence as the music swirled, demanding dance, demanding celebration, and drawing nothing at all from Jack.
Viira nodded at those instructions and bent to the task, worrying at the controls until she finally found the fuller moon. She'd been about to fiddle the focus when the music rang out and drew her attention away. It was full of life and excitement and it made her smile as she looked up, casting her gaze about for the source of the music. Seeing no instruments and Jack hunched as he was, she frowned, "How is that music playing... its beautiful, but I see no musicians." Rising, leaving the scope tuned to the moon, she padded towards Jack, "A perfect tune for a ballroom, really." She bounced a few steps as she neared, slowing when the music had no effect on him. Pursing her lips, she paused where she was and wondered if she might not be imposing on private thoughts.
Jack's grey eyes drifted until they landed on her face, though the rest of him did not move. "It's a recording, etched vinyl... This was the Enterian Court Orchestra... They were world-renowned... All dead now. But they did make such fine music. I used to dance at court to their melodies; in the days when I was welcome at court." Jack's smile was gone, and the eyes were stormy and dark, but he did not look unhappy - merely numb, dull. He paused, silent, the gaze drifting back to the sky beyond the windows, and in a murmur of sound he asked, "How is your moon? Still sailing the skies?"
She nodded at that, and then reached out to brush a hand over his shoulder in a gesture of respect. Whatever his past was, it weighed heavily on him. "I should hope so; otherwise we would have to go find it, yes?" Viira flashed a smile as she turned back to the telescope and sat down once more, pressing her eye to the viewer as she spoke, "If it helps, you can share your stories with me. Their burden is heavy enough to see in your eyes and while I might not be able to soothe them, at least I might offer a companionable ear." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye then returned to viewing the moon with its craters and strange forms. Swirls of what seemed like clouds played across the surface, kicking up dust that tinged its meager atmosphere teal. "So that's why it's that colour..." she mused aloud, fascinated.
Jack's mouth twisted into a rueful smile and a hand instinctually went to his solar plexus. "Ah, but this is mine to bear..." He roused himself and leaving the music playing, headed back across the floor to her. She sat viewing her moon, and he stood, glancing at the teal orb through the glass. "Tell me, Cap'n...Have you men of faith in your lands? Men of magic and mystic arts?" The tone was light enough, but Jack's hands were clasped behind his back and his shoulders rolled back for a change, standing briefly to his full height.
She dialed the telescope in further to better see the storm that currently ripped across the moon's surface and caused it to shimmer in the sky, "Mn, yes. Magic does not run thick in the blood of the Korinthians, however. The talents we see are three: Bardic abilities, whose voices can stir the hearts of even the most hardened of our crews. They have a knack for empathy and lore keeping... enviable skills, really. Then there are the Oracles, whose powers enable them to tap the future potentials and make guesses at a chosen path. They're all a little strange, though, with their gazes seeing more misty 'ifs' then the current facts. And the rarest among our mystics are the Shapers. You've met ours, actually. She's young yet but talented. They tap the energies of this world and have the strongest connection to the leylines of our people. The can call wind, shape storms, and most importantly draw fresh water from the sea. They're quite the individuals, really." She glanced up, "As for the Continent, all I know them is there are sects of mystics who study for enlightenment's sake and those who seek to catch and bend the Leylines to their will. I presume there runs a spectrum of doctrines and abilities to go along with those extremes. I spend little time on land, you see. My title and my bloodline mark me for trouble outside any port. Why do you ask?"
Jack listened quietly as she spoke, head still turned up to the sky above. As she drew to a close, his hands unclasped and trailed up his stomach to rest at the black ribbon tied at his collarbone. "Aah. I see. ...Then perhaps you will understand when I say, that where I'm from, there are beings who brought magic to my kind. Not merely a shaping of storms, but all forms of magic. They... how can I put this... They -know- things, about the universe, about souls and life and death, and about the hearts of men." He paused, and very slowly drew the bow slack and then parted the two ribbons. He unfastened his cream linen of his chemise and drew it apart, revealing tanned, sculpted pecks, chest, shoulders and then something writhing, black, alive and squirming beneath his skin. It ran down his spine from nape of neck between scapula, tracing vertebrae, and mirroring it, a plexus of black over his stomach from sternum to navel. At the centre it looked like a Figure 8, but it bled out through his skin like ink and blood, like a swirling bruise. Though she was too far to feel its presence, it had an air of icy cold to it that pimpled the skin to behold. Jack took a deep breath, and in response the marking seethed for a moment before stilling to a molasses crawl. "Sometimes," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Sometimes they pass judgment on men. They claim they must right the wrongs, take payment, impress a lesson of co-existence on us. Hubris, they call it, to believe we can act as we choose without consequence. And so they invent consequence and enforce it..."
She opened her mouth to speak as he undid his shirt then closed it again as his mark was revealed. Reflexively shivering at it, she shook her head for lack of words. "Jack..." she murmured, now fully turned away from the telescope to face him. “And that is your punishment? For what? And what gave them the right to pass judgment on the rest?" Her eyes flared in sympathetic anger, the very thought of being hedged by another's creed outrageous. She huffed and tossed her hair, that flash of indignance still bright in her eyes, "What does that do and what, then, if the lesson is learned? And who do they answer to their own mistakes for every creature that thinks and walks will make one at /some/ point." She frowned then sighed and came back to her question, her voice less forceful then before, "Why were you marked?"
Jack turned and looked at her, a hard, dangerous look flaring in his own eyes. "I'll not have ill talk of the Great Leveller, nor his kind. And if I were you, I would be careful of such words in -this- ship." He paused and shrugged the shirt up over his shoulders again, not bothering to fasten it now that the mark had been seen. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned to face her fully, the dark thing writhing and swirling between the two halves of cream. "My lesson is learned. It did not take me two-hundred years and more to struggle with it. But what good is that? It will not bring back the dead. My choice was made, and no amount of regret will undo time or how I changed it." He touched the mark and cleared his throat. "The Mark of Eight is a curse, Cap'n. It keeps you alive, no matter the injury, or illness or passage of time that strikes you down. It will keep you whole, and well and conscious of the pain it fuels you with until your debt is paid." he paused and offered a dark smile. "At least, that's how it usually works. But for my hubris the Great Leveller put the mark into me so strongly it will never fade, never be paid. It flows through my every vein, they say. "It keeps me from aging, and heals my wounds, constantly writhing to patch and mend and to force me to live through an agony equal to that I had caused."
She grit her teeth at his admonishment and met his gaze with her own strong, willful one, "And if I were you, I'd not be hasty to assume such things as independence were commodities to be claimed by another's crown. My people were forced from the continent generations ago, star farer, run off in a purge that demanded blood be the price of existence. There are ruins of our capitals, left to rot while the Barons and Mayors and Kings of stolen lands pry the resources of a land once prosperous. Do not tell me to bend to the will of a race that believes itself superior, Jack, for the reality to see now is the downstream current of a purge that changed the history of my world. They sing of barbarians ousted from lands, we sing of lives lost and stubborn heroes." She shook her head, proud and fierce as her people were known for, unashamedly giving voice to her opinion. Sitting back down once she realized she'd stood, Viira, turned to look at the telescope once more, "I do not know what you want me to say, Jack. That your Great Leveller was just in his injustice or question what you'll with the eternity given you. I do not live your life and I am responsible for ensuring the prosperity of hundreds." She sighed, a long low sound, "I do feel for you, Jack, to be marked like that... the implications are massive even on a moment's reflection. I still do not think it's fair to bind a soul to torment even if their lesson is learned - for when it is, that guilt and that knowledge rides with them without a geas to cause pain." Viira looked up then, her expression somber, "My only thought is to turn a curse into a gift. I don't know you, and I doubt I will know you fully by the time your ship departs, but given time and nigh on immortality, there is much I can think of doing to ensure the safekeeping of my people's innocents - perhaps you have a purpose you can bend yourself to." She stopped there, falling silent as she watched the moon.
Jack looked at her sadly, the first full emotion to have showed in his face. "You sound like I once did, Viira. I tell you, it is not the same. The Mystics do not claim to be superior. I truly believe that they are uncomfortable to be worshipped the way the Klergians exalt them..." A whisper ran through the room, a flow of static and sound, wordless as wind through reeds and water over rocks. Jack looked up suddenly and lifted his hands in a apologetic gesture. "No, she does not know. And she is not cut of our threads." A tinkle as if the echo of small bells. "Be that as it may..." Jack replied, shaking his head, and the music stopped. There was silence in the room. Jack lowered his hands and looked back at Viira. The sadness had gone, and there was a great deal of humility, and patience in his eyes, deep as the mountains. "I do not expect you to say anything." He replied softly. "You invited me to tell my tale. I begin with this, because it is where what I am now began. The Great Leveller has been exceedingly kind to me. He did not strip the treasure from me that lead to my fate, he has been my guidance and my friend these many long years, he saved my wife from withering away to dust as I remained...this you see before you." He paused, let the emphasis sink in. "I tell you this not for pity, not for solutions - for I seek neither. I tell you because it is the most fantastical of the moments in my many years. All else that came after, the adventures, the treasure hunts, the wars, the travels to strange worlds... All that becomes believable only in context of what I have been forced to survive. All the excitement since has merely bee a way to fill the minutes of endless days. I have no great cause, no great purpose. My years have taught me that. I will never again stand for any righteous cause. I will never again put myself in the way. I will live my life to as little resistance as possible, and like the mystics who keep me, I will try to keep the balance unperturbed. For that is what they strive for, Viira. Not conquest, not domination, not adoration. Simply to keep the elements in balance, to diffuse disasters so that the ripples do not radiate out and harm the innocent. It is not a cause that prefers any one race or planet or creed. It is merely the preservation of life." His voice had remained level throughout this, and indeed it was the most words he had strung together in a very long time. They filled the room the way the music had, obeying the acoustics the room was built for. There was a searching look in his face, a curiosity, a wonder if she could grasp the full depth of this, and doubt that she would not, a tentative delivery as if expecting to be scoffed at or waved off at any moment.
She looked at him strangely when he spoke to air and the music died, the quirk of her brow questioning. Viira remained silent as he continued to speak, her expression skeptical at the mention of kindness from a being that would doom a person to an eternity of torment. When he finished her thoughts were whirling, a spark of understanding lighting up her eyes as she took her time in formulating a reply. When she did, she spoke quietly, reserved and thoughtful, "I... understand what you mean to imply. There are greater pictures, larger balances but I am still left with this question: if you've gained such wisdom, and garnered such perspective over what I can only presume to be countless years, how can you do nothing with that knowledge? Isn't wisdom a facet of maintaining and preserving life? If there was understanding in this world, my people would not fear the land the landborne would not fear the seas..." She sighed, "That, to me, is a greater torment - to have the knowledge and understanding and yet be shackled by that same enlightenment. Would the balance you speak of not benefit from teaching others the importance of it?" She closed her eyes, not overwhelmed but saddened.
Jack looked at her for a moment, a serious expression on his face, then he chortled, a shallow, nearly wheezing laugh. "Oh, woman, to say those words to THE Black Jack Finnegan!" He contained his amusement and flopped to sitting on the deck beside her chair, and slumping his shoulders, hooked his elbows around his skinny knees. "I have no doubt the Mystics strive for such enlightenment, and recently the Seemian people on my world have begun to perpetuate their teachings planetside, striving for the balance and the gentleness the Mystics teach. But I am an imperfect creature. I understand the ways of the universe, the flow of energy a leyline, and cosmology. But I am no great teacher. In fact, I'm wretched at it. I have too much fame, too much notoriety to be that monk you extol." He tossed her a meaningful glance and shook his head. "All those in my world either want me dead, want my ship and then me dead, my treasures and then me dead, or for me to fight their battles for them. Not a one who has tried to climb into my hold or my bed in the last hundred years has had the slightest ear for philosophy, and would likely never take such council from the man who killed so many. He paused, and then, looking up to her sidelong. "Do you know, there are some who have Marks of Eight put into them to keep them alive? Intentionally so, and by those who have learned the Mystic Arts, not a true Mystic, for a price? Disgusting, mocking the meaning of it as a grab at half-life... But there you have it, that is the world you would have listen to me." He shrugged heavily and flicked a hand through the air.
She blinked, taken aback by his comment, "What's that supposed to mean?" Frowning, half-convinced he'd mocked her, she crossed her arms and eyed him with a petulant look, "Well I'm sitting here quite fascinated by your tales and your technology and not only am I unscathed, I'm learning. I don't think you're quite so awful as your supposed reputation claims." Viira regarded him over the top of the chair with a curious expression, having turned so she could hook her hand on the back and her feet around the back legs, "Then they're fools. I hardly know anything of your worlds and such a mark means more to me then a grab at an eternity I'm not sure I'd want." She frowned, "And if there is one who would listen to you, there are others. Ideas are hard to kill, after all, and with time – as you apparently have quite a bit of it - your story will likely become legend and pass into myth." She blinked and laughed, "Which I suppose feeds back into your philosophy of creating as few ripples as possible, hm? You've trapped me in my own logic." Bemused, the captain flashed a smile at him, "S'far as I'm concerned this so-called Black Jack Finnegan's an intriguing man with a heavy past. You've my respect, star farer."
"Well sure," Jack replied, grinning rakishly, amused further. "But you're a reasonable woman, and honourable from the looks of things. It helps, a'course that you've not been raised from swaddling clothes on tales of the notorious Black Jack Finnegan, half-steeped in the very ether of time, of rotted soul and endless wealth, roaming the stars in the Ship of Dreams, combing all of time for power enough to undo the Leylines themselves and make himself a God." Jack quirked his eyebrows at her. "I mean, honestly! And people believe this poppycock." He snorted and shrugged. "I think any truth of me has already faded to myth, m'dear. But aye, they are fools that think this curse is a blessing in disguise, and that my treasures would be so trite as power over others. I have had that, and I do not relish what it has reaped, I tell you truly." He looked up at her then, the ghost of a smile on his lips, and was silent for a moment. Then, he pushed himself to his feet as if he were an old man and stretched himself out. Offering a hand, the smile still faintly present he spoke softly. "Come, I have much more to show you..."
"It also helps that you weren't raised believing my peers and I are Pirate Kings bent on pillage and rape and terrorizing the seas." She arched a brow, "At least you can rest this evening knowing you've left a positive impression, yeah? I would hope that helps." Rising as well, she took his hand and laughed, "If you have marvels greater than your telescope, I will be most impressed. However, I do request a return here. I'm afraid I'm rather smitten with your device." She cast a fond look at it as he led her away, "Where to next?"
Jack tossed a glance over her shoulder to the telescope. "That? Faith, madam, that is nothing but a trifle. And expensive one, I'll warrant, but nothing compared with what my Ship can offer." He paused, glancing up, squinting, trying to remember. "I wonder if I still have that...Surely, someplace...." He shook his head, amused and led her up the steps to the landing again. "I may have a parting gift for you, if it is still in any condition to be gifted. We'll have a look before I leave. And as for my telescope, you are welcome to use it as much as you'd like. By all means, have your navigators make charts of your moons, if you'd like it. In the meantime, you have choices. What would you like to see next? Mechanics of the ship, or quarters, or, perhaps..." He paused on the threshold leading out of the room and peered at her, looking into her face earnestly. He leaned forward, gazing into her eyes, looking for something. "Mystic's blood if I have misread you, but I offer this now, and once only: would you care to see my Troves?"
Viira shook her head at the potential of a gift, "I came asking for nothing but a tour, friend. You don't need to part with anything unless you truly wish to." Her expression, however, belied the reflexive response and curiosity danced in her eyes. "I may just map the moon myself... I've some cartographer in me yet." Bemused, she followed after him and considered her options, ready to answer when he paused on the threshold, giving her reason to hold her tongue. When he leaned in close, her brows drew down and she readied a smart remark for his proximity when he asked she would like to see his troves. The quip died on her tongue and she grinned, unsure of what he was looking for - she held no ire or desire to manipulate, that he was freely showing her even 'trifling' wonders was enough to please, "I'll see whatever you allow me to see, so yes." She knew what a trove was for her people so it must be like the treasury of the Stormseed, his cherished tokens and heirlooms.
He smiled faintly at her response and tugged lightly on her hand. "Come then, stay close to me." He led the way to one of the brass ladders and releasing her hand, took to the rungs at a swift pace. He descended to the first landing of the hold, one of the very platforms they had seen upon first arriving. When she stood with him on the planking, he grinned at her. "Well, it doesn't do me any good at all down in storage. I have no need for it with the fine instrument you saw above... And I thought you might appreciate a Telescope of your own - even if it is somewhat well-used." He reached out for her hand again, and with the other reached into his pocket. When he withdrew it again, there did not seem to be anything in his grip, but he held his hand in the form of one holding a key and pressed this forward into a solid door before them. There was no handle, no lock hole, and no defining features in the slab of metal. Nonetheless, Jack emphatically turned his hand as if unlocking the door and a loud click resounded behind the thick metal. Looking over his shoulder at her he grinned. "Come on... You're the first person I've had down here in...faith, nearly 170 years!"
"Ooh, well then. If you insist." She gestured for him to lead on and followed after him with excited steps, her strides a little more sure. Following him down the ladder, dropping through its length with practiced ease, she stepped up to him again and took his hand with a questioning look. "What..." She began, wondering of his miming and then metal clicked, "It's an invisible key?" Highly amused, Viira laughed, "An effective safe guard. Is more of your special devices that allows that, like the teleporting?" She returned the grin with her own, feeling more like a child being lead into a cave of wonders then a captain. It was... breath of fresh air and stoked her youthful dreams of exploration and learning. "If I grin like a fool, not a word is to be breathed to my crew, understood? I'll never live it down otherwise - image to preserve and all that." She winked and looked beyond him, awaiting this trove, "And I am honoured by the trust, Jack. I'll do my best to repay the favour."
Jack saluted her with a light air and nodded. "Understood, Cap'n. I too have airs to upkeep. But it is more than an invisible key... it is the Key of Troves. A treasure yes. I believe it will speak for itself..." And so saying, he stepped right through the solid metal, pulling her by the hand. They stepped through and into another world entirely. The space that stretched out before them was midnight black and speckled with stars. The landing extended only a few more feet and then there was a gap and floating in the midst of nothing, completely unprotected was an asteroid of porous deep grey rock atop which sat a collection of goods, at the midst of which was a massive glass horse. All around them, floating about at various heights and momentums, some lazily spinning in the void, were other chunks of rock. Jack grinned at her, and he - like she - was enveloped in a thin membrane of golden dust and light. "This is but the first room of the Key of Troves. Shall I show you some of my treasures?" So saying, he stepped lightly off the landing and half-leapt in slow motion, half-floated onto the asteroid, hand clasped firmly and strongly around Viira's. He landed lightly on the rock, bouncing slightly from the almost non-existent gravity on the asteroid's surface. Around them were a motley of items, from wooden barrels to good ol' chests of gold and jewels, to standing globe spheres, to standing instruments like pianos and propped up paintings draped in white sheets. The glass horse stole the scene of course, towering some twenty feet in height and faceted as if made of crystal and diamond. It glittered in the myriad starlight and stood at the ready, facing the door they'd just come through, which from this angle merely looked like a slab of raw metal jutting up from the stone.
She braced against him when he went to pull her through, not too terribly inclined to walk into a wall. But then he seemed to phase through it, followed by his arm and then hers and then she was through, a faint tingling playing across her body that caused her to shiver. Then she shuddered and stilled, her grip on his hand tightening quite a bit, giving away her strength as her gaze was instantly grabbed away from the back of his head to the spacestuff around them. She wasn't even looking at the horse yet, too concerned with the lack of anything remotely resembling a floor... and that Jack was dragging her towards it. Instinctively holding her breath, she balked again as he dove off the edge, afraid that he'd just decided to leap off into nothingness and intent on ground him her own weight. The gesture, however, failed to do as expected and slowed her own momentum and sent her turning awkwardly over in the strange gravity as she choked, "First room!?" Kicking her legs as they spun over her head she grunted as she tried to find some means of righting herself in a place with seemingly no bottom. Breathing quickly, her grip strong enough on his arm to cut off circulation, she wondered what she'd gotten herself into. "Jack...." She murmured, half afraid breathing would somehow make things worse, "Help? Notice, remember?" Her eyes were wide as her gaze settled on the asteroid he'd pulled them to, flicking from gold to paintings then coming to a rest on the horse. "You like statuary?" The entire experience was so odd, she wasn't entirely sure she was seeing right.
Jack looked over his shoulder to the surprising sight of his guest upside down. "Whot are you doing?" He asked, baffled, and pulled her down to standing. Once her feet touched the rock, the gold film on her skin rooted her a little and she shouldn't have too much difficulty staying right-way-up. "Statuary?" Jack asked curiously, and followed her gaze to the horse. "Ah, the Mirror Horse... Beautiful isn't it?" He asked, admiring it. "It was an interesting task to get it up here, let me tell you. I didn't have the Talisman of Gruub, then, y'know. One of the Thirty-Two greatest treasures in the Known Universe." Jack said, and turned to look at her. "It makes all of this undetectable, unseeable to anyone outside of its space. You don't really think I'd trust my treasures to just float aimlessly through raw aether, do you?" He flashed a rakish grin. "Because of the Key of Troves, this place has become a part of The Good Ship Ptarmigan, and yet isn't. This space we are in can technically be reached from the outside, sailing along and plotting the right Leyline course, but even if one managed it, no instrument would pick up these things here. And if they tried to sail right through it, they would, and the Mirror Horse would keep them invisible, intangible, ultimately protected from anyone." He paused, looked at her, a spark of excitement straightening his spine again. "What do you think of it?"
"Flailing around like a floundering fish. What does it look like?" She returned when her feet finally set down and she inhaled deeply. Smoothing her coats down with her free hand then looked up as he explained it, "What's a Talisman of Gruub? I didn't think you had hammer space in your ship either...." Viira shook her head, "I think you have a very unique taste in treasure, good sir, and that your giant horse is quite amazing but I'm more in awe of the fact I'm not floating off and lost in this.... space. Those look like stars, are they really?" Give a cat a toy and it plays with the paper bag. Viira smiled, "I think it's also quite beautiful... is it magic?" She was trying really hard to pay attention to the horse but the mystery of their surroundings was quite distracting.
"Of course they're really stars." Jack replied, a bit miffed at her disbelief, but all in good-natured fun. "Here," Still holding her hand, he pulled her into him as if for a dance and turned her about to face perpendicular to the horse. Pointing over her shoulder with his free hand he murmured against her ear, keeping his head close to mimic her line of sight to make sure he pointed at the right one. "That orange-ish red star, the one just above that small chunk of rock? That's my home sun. We call it Sol." He quirked a half-smile and paused for a moment, before stepping back. "The Mirror Horse, Magic? I would assume so. The Mystics built it. I got it from the Arbas Moon of Selook."
She tensed as he pulled her against him then blinked and followed his finger, nodding when she spotted the orange start, "Sol... it's so small.... so... this is space? Really? The stars aren't much bigger." She mused, a little disappointed, "And you just float through the... you called it aether? like this? I thought... the way you spoke it'd be different... fuller, maybe." Figuring it had just been her imagination running wild, she turned away from the stars and set her attention back on the horse to give its proper respect, "Is their moon all crystalline then? It must be beautiful to behold." She'd mistakenly taken the comment to mean the moon was made of crystal too.
"Sol is very far away from here, many Grande Leagues away. It takes a considerable amount of aether and leyline plotting to get there, and a number of weeks at full speed jumps." Jack replied easily. "You see that film on your skin, and on me? That's Aether dust, what I spoke of that we use to move through nothing? It enables you to breathe right now. Without it, you'd not last five minutes in this." He turned to regard the Mirror Horse again and stared up at it, stern and majestic, towering above them. "It is a shame..." He murmured. "I would love to show you Arbas. It is beautiful. The moon is made of rock, but there are great veins of this substance. They jut up through the crust, like towering pillars of crystal. It's this black landscape pocked with silver and light. The Mystics of Arbas call the moon The Temple."
"Oh." She leaned back to inspect herself after she found the orange sun again, surprised, "Why? It just seems empty." Quirking her lips in a quizzical expression, as if tempted to find out what it was like without the dust, she tilted her head at that. "Does it take less time to get there then it does to your Sol?" Her question was leading, and on its tail a request, "I would like to see it. What prevents you from showing me - besides your entanglement with our leylines? I have no taken a shore leave in nearly a decade..." Viira mused, half to herself, half hoping he might consider actually showing her.
Jack eyed her contemplatively at that. "Selook is within the same solar system as Terrene, as is Ogrun Na." His glance took on a mischievous light, and he was standing fully to his natural height. "How long is your shore leave? I could show you worlds, wonders, magic, treasures the like you could not imagine..." His voice was quickening at the prospect, and he gave a tentative squeeze to her hand. He paused, thinking it through to himself. It had been ever so long since he had found someone who was honestly that innocent of his reputation and that in combination with her complete lack of knowledge about his world, the things he'd seen.... His heart was beating at the thought of a friend, a new adventure, a chance to push the darkness back for a while longer... Suddenly he blinked and looked at her. "Viira... You're in my dimension. Right now, here, you are in another universe from your own." He grinned, as if the adventure had begun already.
"Aah, that depends on how much time I can negotiate from my crew. There's a lot that I do that's not just signing paperwork and settling disputes. Usually it's a full lunar cycle... about sixty two days, and starts on a double new moon." She bit her lower lip and flexed fingers as if moving an abacus back and forth, "If I do well, I could get a double shore leave, considering how long it's been and since it's not actually on the continent, my crew should be more at ease. Losing a Captain's a blow I'd rather spare them and the Continent's dangerous, as I said, so I usually go back early." His comment brought her out of her mental tallying of favours and debts and she blinked in kind, "Huh? We just came from your ship, or are in it... something like that. I'm not sure." Her brows drew down in a look of confusion until she dismissed the attempt to puzzle through this wonder and simply held up two fists, bobbing one then the other, "My world. Yours? How'd we jump from one to the other without me even noticing?" Why seemed to be a question she was always asking, never quite satisfied with a basic answer. Still, the look on his face and sparkle of joy she caught in his gaze was infections and she grinned in return, "Well, you have a very nice universe, Mr. Jack." She squeezed his hand back in an excited gesture, "Why are you grinning like a fox? Should I expect to be turned upside down again?"
