taxonomites | [ Location : The Uroc ] [Open RP for folks on a boat :3]

The Uroc may be safe, but it hardly cozy. While the outside of the ship glimmers with an odd nacre, it is very dark inside, and the nonsense-topography of random masts, spires, decks, windows and balustrades that pepper its circular bulk hint at the odd warren of passsages inside it. The Brucolac does not lead his guests very far inside, at first. He gathers them on the inverted deck that hangs at the lowest point of the ship, built around an anchor chain as thick as a tree trunk. Then, as a group, they go up a staircase and into her guts, down endless curving hallways and up spiral staircases. As he walks, he turns on gas lamps set in intervals along the walls, leaving a trail of visibility through the otherwise pitch-black space.

At one point, the passageway opens out onto a walkway over a silver cistern that yawns stories deep, brightly, blindingly illuminated by a softly-rippling lake of white moonlight. More light trickles in, collected from its masts and poured through artery-like channels throughout the ship to collect here in this hold. The vampire offers no explanation for this phenomenon, and simply leads them back into blackness and the gentler, buttery light of the wall sconces.

Not long after, the group comes to a suite of rooms that branch off a central lounge. There's a large round window here, giving everyone their first glimpse of the outside since leaving the deck. From its angle, they are in the Uroc's upper hemisphere - odd, as there weren't that many stairs. Their host opens the center panel of the window and begins pulling sheets off furniture, sending clouds of dust whistling out into the night. This room and the bedrooms leading off of it aren't particularly large, but the furnishings that emerge are rich and eclectic, if dusty and little-used. Low couches of soft brocade, wing chairs made out of some kind of soft leather, small stone tables, a desk and a number of glass bookcases (only a few volumes in English) decorate walls. The beds are covered in what looks like un-dyed, brushed silk. There's nothing on any of the walls except for a large oil painting in the lounge of a woman with a mischievous grin and a bee the size of a kitten cupped in one hand. There is a hatch, and the wall around it reveals the first signs of disorder, of life - they are cracked and clawed, as if someone ripped the hatch out of the wall not long ago.

"Please make yourselves comfortable. I've got hatches to batten down, so to speak, but raise your voices and I will hear you."

[OOC: OKAY I AM GOING TO SLEEP NOW. Please feel free to fuck around in the moonship as you like, everyone who is coming and going - it's sortof like a giant cruise ship meets a gothic/victorian mansion meets Howl's Moving Castle. HAVE FUN, I'll be with you in the AM!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As always, Ethan prefers the notion of waiting for fiery death somewhere comfortable, somewhere he can perhaps open the bottle of scotch that he prudently brought with him. (He is a man with priorities; he has with him his violin, something to drink, and a few of the books that he couldn't bear to part with.)

...once he gets sufficiently bored, though, the Strad comes out of its case and he takes up 'flight of the bumblebee'. You know, for mood music.

Well that's...that's a sound that doesn't get heard on this ship very often. The Brucolac reappears, sticking his head in to find the source of the fiddling, gives Ethan a 'well look at you!' sort of look, and then disappears again for a little while. He comes back once he's got the forcefeilds installed,

"That's a golden fiddle you've got there."

"They say Nero fiddled as Rome burned," Ethan replies, stopping long enough to do so, "and while I'm almost positive he didn't, far be it from me to break with literary convention."

Elena has ended up in charge of an angry cat and unaccompanied, which is not how she wanted this to go, to put it mildly. She is curled up on a couch next to the cat's carrier, hugging her knees and trying to maintain anger instead of fear: she will not cry. She will not cry.

Maybe if she says it a thousand times she'll stop wanting to, tears of frustration and outrage layered over terror burning in the back of her throat. Normally immaculate, she's wearing nothing but jeans and a plain t-shirt, her hair is out of place, and she quietly wiped off her eye make-up in anticipation of failing at her mantra. She will not be the girl with smeared mascara. She will not cry.

Angus meows, plaintively, and she says, "Oh, just shut up."

Juliet and Dog are sitting in the corner of the lounge, and Juliet's got Dog in a death grip, really. The colors are not bad, but the swirls of reds of all shades and the occasional gray... Juliet feels incredibly uneasy, and only by keeping a tight hold on Dog is she able to function without collapsing into tears.

But there is one aura, one that is so pure and blue and white and red and soft, reassuring, and Juliet finds herself drawn to it like a moth to flame. The girl who has it-- Juliet remembers her, and she thinks maybe if she sits closer to this aura, she'll get some of that energy, the clean and gentle feeling she can feel even from as far away as she is.

So she finally musters up the courage to quietly make her way over; Dog follows very closely, causing her to trip over her own feet, but she doesn't complain. He's just trying to protect her.

Elena remembers Juliet, in turn, although their conversation was brief; the girl still reminds her of Bonnie, and right now that's a good thing.

"Juliet," she says, smiling and patting the space next to her; Angus is not particularly pleased by Dog, but Elena isn't sure what to do about that. "And--Dog, too, I'm glad you're here. Are you okay?"

Edited 2010-03-04 06:17 (UTC)

Juliet actually smiles a little when Elena pats the couch next to her, and she settles down on it cautiously and drawing her knees up to her chest. Dog makes a snuffling sound and sits on the floor in front of her, tongue lolling out, and Juliet basks in the warmth of the colors, closing her eyes briefly and resting her head against her knees.

"I'm okay," Juliet replies once she's opened her eyes again. Her smile widens, and she tucks her hair behind her ear before continuing. "J-just... kind of uncomfortable, h-here. I don't trust th-the colors."

Elena shifts sideways to bring them closer together, touching Juliet's shoulder lightly and encouraging her smile with one of her own. If she can just keep Juliet distracted, maybe things will be better for her. For both of them, really.

"We'll be fine. I know it's kind of weird, but the Brucolac seems like--he won't let anything happen to us on his ship." She's not actually sure of this, but it seems like the right kind of lie to tell.

[ Location : The Uroc ] [Open RP for folks on a boat :3]

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