lawrence (darkestviolet) wrote in eternal_arcadia,

( knowing your place. )

Lawrence was not one to take chances. He had found himself in more and more questionable situations, however, he still tended to stray from those positions now that he had finished his temporary employment with the crew of the King of Rogues.

Vyse's determination was beginning to get irritating (moreso than it usually was); and he could see the figures descending upon him at nothing short of a human-pace. The jolly, old, fat Captain of the ship had stalled his crew to wave a hand to the two youngsters. It was strange to see two faces here - as the glaciers were usually void and barren and free of any life; except the occasional monsters that were scattered around this area.

Lawrence did not turn to glance back at them, and instead (perhaps in hopes that they would not see his face), he boarded the ship to prepare it for ascent.

"Ya' boys okay?" The Captain yelled to the duo atop the glacier, in a stout, gruff voice; weathered from the many skies he had seen. He had come to this land in search of the undiscovered moonstones that lay scattered beneath the ice. He was wondering, though, what two young boys were doing in these harsh parts...
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"Fine!" Vyse called out, waving back to the captain. "What brings you and your crew to this tropical paradise?" Suddenly, a flash of purple caught Vyse's eye and he followed it up the gangplank with his gaze.

Could it really be Lawrence? No -- as any sailor knew, the vast skies tended to be a small world, but not that small. Vyse had been lucky to encounter Lawrence once, just when he needed him. Meeting the master helmsman twice would have been something beyond coincidence.

Probably, anyway. Vyse didn't know too many men who could pull off that shade of violet.

Vyse stumbled slightly as Ramirez lightly collided with him from behind. "Tch! Careful, Ramirez. You need new boots."
Ramirez quirked an eyebrow at being called a... boy. He had been 24 when things had happened, however long ago, and he’d been banished to the ice continent... but he always felt much older. Still, compared to that old captain... he eyed the old sailor. Of course, this meant he didn’t notice when Vyse stopped until too late, and even then should have been able to stop if it wasn’t for that tiny slide.

"Tch! Careful, Ramirez. You need new boots."

“Thank you for informing me, I had not noticed.” The silver-haired man said, dryly, hoping the sarcasm wasn’t something the air pirate would somehow -not- register. You never knew with the rogue’s intellect... and if Ramirez wasn’t giving him enough credit then it was only correctly so. Afteral, he’d never seen Vyse do or say anything of any intelligence... the few good decisions the pirate had made Ramirez had assumed someone else had suggested.

Not that he was going to underestimate the enemy in any other aspect. Ramirez stepped carefully away from that same enemy, and tried to not look as unsteady on his feet as he felt. There was a reason he didn’t stroll about on the surface much, and this was twice in one day- albeit nearly a full day between ventures.
ooooohmuhgawd that sucked. >_>

Er, I'm blaming it on my massive migraine. *Sweat drop* It's barely coherent. <_<
It's okay, really. ^_^; A migraine is a good excuse.

I'm female, headache is the standard excuse for things. :P

No, but really.. ^^ I about stabbed myself in the foot when I re-read that post.
Yes, meeting the helmsman twice would be a great coincidence in Vyse's favor, no matter how much Lawrence decided to charge. However, the moons seemed to be on Vyse's side, so why couldn't the Fates?

Lawrence was finishing with the last few boxes, helping a few other sailors load them into the storeroom below, strapping them down for takeoff. Lawrence felt that it was his obligation to stay away from the young blue rogue. You know, merely looking out for Vyse's best interest - free of charge.

The old man gruffed at Vyse's words, and a wide grin spread across his dried lips showing his three large golden teeth. What a charming boy! "Moonstones, my'boy!" He let out a laugh and then patted his oversized belly. "Nothing less than that would drag us out here. You should grab some before you head back. It hasn't been mined for ages."

A short, bearded sailor hurried up to his captain, saluting and briefly explaining their takeoff situation. The captain stroked his own gray beard, though his eye was still upon Vyse and his silver haired companion. "Wait just a moment for the take off, boy..." He replied, and then turned back to Vyse. "Are you sure that you boys don't need a lift?"
"We're okay," Vyse says, smiling. He jerks a thumb at Ramirez. "I've got my own ship, and this one won't be leaving. I'm glad to see the trade routes to Glacia are traversable -- I was concerned that with no one on this end of them maintenance would be a problem."

The useless prattle never ends. Ramirez thought, with barely an audible sigh to mark his slight impatience with the situation. He was, ordinarily, as patient as a block of granite when he needed to be... but to be honest there was no need right now.

Regardless, he’d still be on this cursed ice block until his luck renewed... and no matter how close he’d been to admitting a kind of loneliness in his own personal journal- Vyse was hardly someone he wanted hanging about. The pirate seemed to get further and further on his nerves by the moment- and his grip changed just slightly on the borrowed cutlass.

No. Thankfully for the often-oblivious captain himself, the Silvite had more self control than most. Who else could ever resist cutting down one of their most despised enemies in this drear situation? Let the crew tear him apart after, he was tempted... it wasn’t like it mattered much anyway.

No. I -will- get off of here, I -will- bide my time appropriately. This one will taste my vengeance... but I -must- chose my ground. Barely a grinding of the teeth and clenching of the fists could betray the fact that Ramirez was having... difficulty. His breathing flared, letting out a single visible puff into the frigid air- a frustrated and annoyed mark of silence.

Otherwise, he seemed perfectly normal- as though traipsing about on Glacia with his sworn enemy within slapping range was an every day occurrence.