flawedmemes | TEST DRIVE MEME

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test drive

TEST DRIVE MEME

01. ARRIVING IN PELEA
A cold wind singing down from the white-capped mountains which hang blue-black in the distance stirs your cheek, the tall grass all around you. A bough creaks as the wind makes it tremble, and the dappled shadows drift over you, leaves rustling. As you blink awake, you hear the quiet hiss of water over stones. You are not where you once were!

You and a large group of strangers are blinking awake, pulling yourselves up off the dirt, grass, and rubble near a small wooded stream. There is no evidence of civilization in sight, and as you exchange stories you realize that you must decide what to do.

Will you head past the trees and towards the mountains? Deeper into the forest? Stay put and wait for help to arrive? You might even try to meet everyone else, and either convince them to band together... or head their separate ways.

02. CITY SLICKER
There are many cities throughout the world of Pelea, and in most player characters, the Flaws, are welcomed as curiosities. From the pastoral villages or bustling, grand cities of Shousal to the massive, sprawling bureaucratic centers of the Empire, your characters will find a wide variety of cultures and races to interact with and investigate. They could be seeking empoyment, answers to the mystery of their arrival, or a quiet place to drink away their worries.

03. WILDCARD!

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This way. [With a - gentle - hand to her elbow, Charles leads Alysia towards his home, moving through smaller alleyways, where people have put out their laundry to dry in the sunshine, where kids are playing, noisy and alive like Nassau is in Charles' best memories of his town.

Inside his lodgings, though, it's much quieter. He opens the lock he had on the door and lets Alysia step in first before closing the door behind them, breathing out through his nose as he allows himself to drop the act for an instant, the pain showing on his face for just a moment before he steels himself again.]

You can boil water here. [He motions to the small stove in a corner of the room - the whole place is one room, only the commodes partitioned off. The bed is in one corner, furthest away from the kitchen area, while an abundance of throw pillows and blankets make up what Charles considers his sitting-room.] I'll get some clean linens.

[He goes straight to rummage through his dresser for clean strips of linen - he might not be his ship's physician but he knows better not to have bandages at hand, and pulls out an amount of them before sitting on his bed, groaning to himself.

Carefully, he removes his weapons from his sides, before shrugging off his jacket, then his shirt, closing his eyes as the pain rushes through him when he pulls at the wound. The hastily wrapped bandage around his side is soaked with blood and has gone through to his shirt, a dark patch by his elbow.]

[ She steps into the small room and takes a careful glance around, eyeing every single potential escape route she might have. A window, a single door. The furnishings are sparse but not inadequate, reminding her of her hovel after she had fled the house, and the thought makes her shiver a little bit. But Charles shows her where the stove is and she goes to get water into the pot, set it to boiling. She has very little in the way of a mortar and pistil, but what she has will have to do.

Alysia turns and sees him sitting, and she gives a critical eye to the injury he exposes. It's a nasty cut from a blade, slicing upwards, possibly as he tried to move. It's ghastly and will certainly become infected without some kind of help. She is of a mind to ask questions first and treat when he gives her answers, but the old adage holds true: 'you attract more flies to honey'.

So she approaches with care and crouches down to look closely at the bandage, frowning. ]

Can you remove it carefully, without tearing at the skin? We can wait until the water boils to dampen the bandage and pull it free easier.

[Breathing out slowly to avoid wincing too much, Charles clenches his jaw at the groan that escapes him involuntarily. He's lightheaded, and his skin is starting to feel clammy, but he works through it, focusing on his breathing.]

No, it's fine, I can.

[Carefully, he goes for the bandage and starts pulling at it, dried and coagulated blood sticking between the fabric and his skin, making it a painful, slow task. Her eyes are focused on his ribs as he exposes the gash further, his jaw muscles twitching as he grinds his teeth, attempting to offset the pain, to not much success.

Eventually, though, the bandage is off and the wound is plainly exposed, looking raw as it moves with Charles' ragged breaths.

Cauterizing it would have taken several applications of his blade to it. While the situation he's in now - with a stranger now knowing where he lives, and with a lot more control over him than Charles is comfortable with - sucks, it still feels preferable to his other option.]

You should see the other guy. [He attempts to smirk, but winces instead.]

[ She holds her breath as he strips the bandage off, eyes on the wound itself. No signs of infection just yet. This happened not so long ago. Alysia moves to soak one of the clothes in the warming water, wringing it out of all excess water before she returns to his side. Grateful her dress has no sleeves, lest she get blood on them, she goes to sit beside him on the bed. There's no hesitation or shyness; she nods with her chin for him to move his arm so she can begin cleaning the wound and staunching what blood she can. ]

I have a hope that the other person is rotting in an alleyway or in a barrel.

[ Alysia takes her time, careful with the tenderness of the skin. She is no doctor, not even a field medic, but she knows how to care for her own wounds. Once satisfied, she stands to go to her bag, the materials within it, before returning to the water. Hot enough by now, she pours some into...a rum tankard (because tea cups are clearly too good for his standing) and prepares it with the Eaphine. Only then does she return, pressing the cup into his hands as she begins to wheel out some of the thread she has. ]

Drink. It won't do much for the moment but it will dull the pain.

[Pulling his arm over his head, Charles keeps grinding his teeth as Alysia cleans the wound as best she can. He looks down, the ragged edges of the gash looking a ghastly white now the blood is washed off them, a stark contrast to his deeply tanned skin. It crosses through another scar - one of the myriad Charles has collected from childhood. He wouldn't be able to say where it comes from.

Her response makes him let out an amused grunt.] Bottom of the harbor, actually.

[He watches her intently as she moves through his space - he's hardly let any woman do that in the past, besides Anne, and Eleanor. But Alysia sniffs at cups and prepares tea in what passes at his kitchen, and Charles lets her, takes the tankard when she hands it to him, sips at the scalding liquid without a word.

He knows he owes her for this, so the least he can do is be as good a patient as he can.]

I can deal with some pain, just do it.

[ That garners a brief and derisive snort. ]

Fitting.

[ And discreet. He knows what he's doing. Alysia takes great care to thread the needle she has and she briefly returns to the stove to put it in the boiling water, clean it and sterilize it as best she can before she returns. When it has cooled, she begins. The process is a delicate one but she works as quickly as she might. She has no surgeon's precision but that of a woman who has learned to embroider - and who has applied the technique to other cuts and wounds the past. He looks poor in the face, a sign of blood loss, and he will need to rest for at least the next day to feel somewhat better.

At length, she finishes, and ties off the wound as best she can. She rises to get the next set of herbs. ]

If it opens, you'd be best suited to wash it in alcohol - as clean as possible - and cauterize. But this should serve.

[ A little bit of water goes into the second set of herbs she's bought, which she brings back with her. ]

This will keep it from getting infected and spur healing. You'll want to put it on every time you change your bandage. If the thread breaks, falls out, or if the wound opens, you can wrap some of the mixture into a cloth soaked in hot water and wrung out. It will help.

[ It will scar, undoubtedly, but the main issue will always be infection. A man can die from blood loss as easily as he can die from infection. ]

It would be best to rest for at least a day.

I take it you approve?

[Charles raises an eyebrow at Alysia, almost surprised by the snort - she seems very intent on keeping an unreadable facade. He's glad to have managed to get a reaction from her.

The stitching is hell - Charles closes his eyes and wishes he had something to bite on, but as it is, takes to fisting his hand into the blanket under him as she works. Despite the tea, he can feel every prick of the needle, the thread going through his flesh, pulling the wound closed. At this point, Charles is sweating profusely, breathing harder than he'd like, but he's still awake, at least.

She's no physician, but Alysia works quickly, and she obviously knows what she's doing. In his world, this is more than most can ask for, and some of his scars are proof enough.

When she's done and explains what to do with the herbs she got for his injury earlier, Charles nods and takes the bowl, settling it over his lap to start lathering the now stitched wound with it. Resting might prove - difficult, but he's not meant to set sail for a while yet, at least.

When she turns away, Charles reaches out rapidly, snatching her arm in his hand. He relaxes his hold immediately, a loose circle of thumb and forefinger around her delicate looking wrist.]

Thank you. [He puts all he can in the words; the implicit I owe you, and you didn't have to. Hopefully she'll get it.]

Does it matter if I do?

[ The deed is done and she has no say in it now. If he is looking for a reaction then, he does not garner one from her. She has no allegiance to this man nor any other. But she will admit to herself that he shows surprising control and strength, gruffness aside, something she can admire. Alysia turns to wipe her hands on one of the spare cloths when he takes her by the wrist. The act of it nearly has her reaching for the hidden blade at her thigh, beneath the skirts, and her expression tightens as she looks on him.

If Vane wants a reaction, he has it now. ]

Your thanks is not necessary...but appreciated.

[ Not many do so, far less since her fall in status. Instead, she allows him to continue to hold her wrist as she stands before him, tall, positions reversed from what they were in the shop. ]

I would like payment for my services. I have no use for coin nor would I assume you have much.

[ And she can gain far more besides in her line of work. ]

I require information, instead.

Edited 2016-07-06 19:13 (UTC)

Not really. [He shakes his head - it's too late for that anyway. He almost adds that he appreciates pleasing a beautiful lady, but he's in no condition of repelling an attack if the thought offends her and decides to descend on him.

Her expression already tightens when he holds her in place, her eyes hard on him.]

What kind of information are we talking about?

[Releasing her - somewhat reluctantly - Charles leans back slightly on his bed, getting himself more comfortable, his back against the wall. He's intrigued, now, as to what she wishes to know, and why she thinks he would have her answers.]

[ For now, she makes no move to attack or ensure that he will not move to harm her. Alysia trusts that he will feel indebted enough not to act rashly until she has what she wants from him. ]

You have a ship.

[ Or he is a part of a crew. He smells of saltwater and sea air. He has lingered about the docks for a reason, and she's willing to wager a guess that he is a part of some crew and must stay close to where his captain has cast anchor. And if she's to guess further, he has a high reputation or rank in that crew with the way he holds himself. He is experienced. ]

And so you have been to parts of Pelea I have not. [ That is the most she will give him in terms of weakness. ] I want to know what you have seen.

[Well now, this is interesting. He owes her, and talking of what he's seen during his travels is not spelling trouble for him as long as he chooses what he says carefully, but Charles has to be intrigued at the line of questioning.

He nods at her mentioning he has a ship. He has one now, and a growing crew now that he's taken care of another shitty captain. It's not his crew back in Nassau, but experienced seamen are nothing to spit at.

Leaning on his good side, Charles motions for Alysia to sit - should she so wish.]

What do you wish to know exactly? I've travelled from Ilasao to Cape Corren. Yet to get to the Glass Sea. Haven't seen much of the interior - it doesn't really hold my interest. I can tell you that someone like you - who seems to rely on alchemy of some kind - wouldn't do so well in Shousal, since magic is outlawed there. If you're looking to disappear, Eveka's good as any.

[He smiles.]

Of you could join a pirate crew.

[ She does not deign to sit, not yet, not until she feels more comfortable or more at ease. Charles is still a dangerous man who gets into sword fights, a man who can suffer a notable injury and still walk and assert himself. Better to have herself closer to the door if need be...at least for the moment. ]

I am unfamiliar with Pelea and its cities. Any information would be useful...but then, you say you do not often roam its cities and towns.

[ A true sailor. And a pirate, it seems, unless he's trying to have her on. Alysia laughs a little, quietly, the sound almost genuine. ]

And what role would I serve? Would you have me as your ship's doctor when I can only embroider? I cannot save a man who has lost a limb or too much blood. Would you have me as your crew's wench? You'd lose your crew in a day if you tried.

[ She'd kill them, one by one, or see them thrown overboard. The thought is almost satisfying. The smile she gives him is small but sharp. ]

I'm not running from anything or anyone.

[ At least, not in Pelea...yet. ]

As I said, Eveka is a good place to hide. There's much trade happening over there, not all of it legal in Vairaya, and a good place to find some rare goods. I've heard the same of Jiaport, but I have not visited it.

[He pauses, wishing he had his cigarette paper and tobacco on hand.]

Shousal doesn't do magic, Czilia is magic-friendly. I've found myself appreciating Vairaya cities more than any others; people have been more welcoming there - maybe it's because I'm a man.

[Another pause, and Charles scratches at his growing stubble.]

Nobody can save a man who has lost too much blood, and we don't take wenches aboard. The men all have their favourite whores in different harbors. You'd be surprised how little they like to share with each other.

[Leaning back, he looked straight into her eyes, squinting at a beam of sunlight coming through the window.]

I used to sail with a woman - she scared the rest of the crew shitless. She was incomparable with a sword, and not afraid to use it, which is all you need to sail most of the time.

[With a smile, he sits back up, the wound on his side feeling cold and numbed now under the drying paste Alysia made for him.]

You have added skills; you can patch up people, and help ferret out better returns from cargo - we know nothing about the value of these herbs you seem to cherish, but you do, and these are being transported between Vairaya and Czilia all the time.

[He raises an eyebrow.] You'd see a lot more of the world.

[ A pirate with standards? In truth, the only pirates she's ever met call themselves sailors and never seemed the type to divulge. Charles is a curious one indeed. Alysia gives him a considering look, leaning back slightly to put more weight on one of her legs. What he's offering - as far-fetched as it is - resonates with her. Freedom, the seas, an opportunity to start anew. She doubts she should take it...but it isn't a poor offer, either.

In fact, she quite likes it. ]

I do not wish to see the world for its splendor...though it would be a particular bonus. What I want--

[ To learn. To know weaknesses. To deal in secrets. To never allow someone else to disgrace her again. To go home. She cannot allow Lorelei to be alone, not when an assassin is following her every movement.

Her tone is firm when she speaks: ]

You cannot offer me what I want.

[ No one can. It isn't Charles' fault, in that sense. Alysia has lofty ambitions and would see the demolition of all she calls her enemies. But what he offers, in turn, is something she's never had before. In truth, she doesn't know what to do with herself now that she is a mostly-free woman. There is a glimmer of uncertainty upon her features, there and gone in a second, of a woman who is mulling over a life's worth of choices and looking for the next step. It is a single moment but it is a vulnerable one.

And again, the facade returns. ]

But what you are offering me is...tempting, I will admit.

[He can tell that his words hit somewhere close to home as he looks at Alysia, and the minute shifts in her expression. A slow smile spreads over his face as he keeps his eyes on her, letting her consider what he's talking about.

He's got nothing to lose, talking about his life in Nassau. He's got nothing to lose, telling her about what little he knows of this world. He's only got to gain here - a crew member is a crew member, whether it grew up in skirts of not.

He wonders about her life; where she's from, what she does, or used to do if she's not a native like him. Back home or here, Charles is keeping to his main rule; he is his own man, follows no one but himself. His freedom is his most prized possession, that he's fought for, time and again. It doesn't matter where he is, he's never giving it up.

But then, she tells him straight that he can't offer her what she wants. Charles grins then, giving a shake of his head.]

Probably not. But I can offer you a lot more than most men.

[It's as much another push at a job offer, and a proposition at the same time. He's been behaving himself until now, but he's relaxed since his wound is now stitched up and lathered in ointment - feeling less close to death reminds him that there's never a bad time to get laid.]

You don't look like someone who's given in to temptation very often. You should try it.

[He resists winking. Barely.]

[ A great deal more than most men. Most men try to ply her with trinkets and gifts, promises to marry her out of her household so she can no longer play handmaid any longer. Foolish; if they looked a little closer, they'd understand she never had any intention of leaving her house or her duty. It's a romantic's way out, and utterly disgusting. No man has ever really known Alysia. No man except for Deron...and he's given her everything and more.

And now she'll never be able to return to his house. ]

You don't know very much of me to make a statement like that.

[ There's no malice in her voice, only skepticism, even if he's right. Alysia holds Charles' gaze while she turns the ring on her finger slowly, the motion thoughtful. Oh, she hears his proposition, she simply chooses to ignore it. He's not the first and certainly won't be the last. Some part of her wishes to remain in the city and build influence...but the trouble, of course, is that she will never travel - and if she does, she will be alone and mostly unprotected. She can build influence and learn secrets, sell them at her leisure, and make a profit as she roams the seas. Charles may not like to venture into ports and towns, but she does. ]

And what are your terms, if I were to accept such an offer?

[ Only a fool would simply say yes without knowing the fine print. ]

Edited 2016-07-08 13:58 (UTC)

I wouldn't pretend to know you after only such a short time. But I know myself.

[Many people - Eleanor included - underestimated Charles throughout his life. Thought him weak, thought him dim, thought him easy to manipulate. But none of it was true. He was excellent at what he applied himself to, and it rendered him dangerous. Eleanor, Flint, even Jack! Made the mistake of not believing so, of trying to twist him, play him, use him. They'd all regretted it, one way or another.]

Terms are simple - you follow my command, and you get a share of every prize we get, equal as the rest of the crew. On board, my word is everything, and my men know it. I'll make sure none of them try anything with you, but you also need to know that you might have to fend for yourself. Make yourself indispensable to them, and you'll have their loyalty.

[Holding himself up to be able to lean closer, Charles put a hand close to his wound, keeping his face straight.]

Cross me, and you end up like the man who did this to me. Help me, and you can become a rich woman, feared across the land.

[ She immediately senses the loophole in this argument: On board, my word is everything. She can use it to her advantage when on land and exploring the towns, cities, and ports. It isn't that Charles is not a man worth following so much that she does not know him - she does not know his codes, his laws, his morals. He's a pirate, of course, that much is certain. He pillages and plunders and takes what he pleases. But does he murder children or take slaves? And that's where the sticking point is. Alysia gives her all into her work but will not follow someone with morals far different from her own. ]

I feel I should know more about how you operate, sir, if I'm to make such a decision.

[ Still, it's clear she's at least considering it. ]

And if I choose to leave your crew one day, to go my own way?

[ Unless he is a dread pirate who slaughters children, holds slaves, or tortures innocents, she doesn't see herself crossing him. But she also needs to know if 'moving on' is considered betrayal or not. ]

Edited 2016-07-10 13:16 (UTC)

[The first thing that comes to his mind when she asks about how he operates is the kind of prizes he takes. He remembers how angry he was at Jack when he was made to pursue a slave trader - how it brought so much to the surface, brimming just under his skin. He almost tells her right then, that he was a child slave himself, that he saved himself and went back later, saving the rest of them, but he swallows it down.]

Ask away. I'm guessing it's about morals, isn't it? Are you worried we're a bunch of animals? We're not. I am not.

[He'd never agreed with everything that happened with Max; there was little he could do with the black mark Eleanor put on him, but he'd always planned on letting her go.

And now...He doesn't care if his men don't agree with his morals; usually, they don't care enough to ask, either. Often, any disagreement gets resolved right away - with his crew backing down, or someone getting injured. Just like back home.]

If you don't owe me anything, you're free to go your own way.

[After all, crew members switched from one crew to the other regularly. Of course, it always could turn sour, but Charles didn't really care about it that much. People got tired, scared; people fell in love.]

[ There is a ghost of a laugh on her lips, more derisive than anything. She glances at him from over her shoulder. ]

I can handle animals. I can handle men, too. I wonder, instead, what line you will not dare to cross - and if we are alike in mind.

[ But he's not offering anything specific, and so Alysia cuts to the chase. After all, she has nothing to lose by showing what she will not stand for. If anything, she can ask as many questions as she wishes and it might paint a more conflicting portrait of who she is, something she would be all too glad to do. ]

Your stance on recruiting children, for instance. Slavery. The role of women - either on your crew or upon ships or isles you plunder.

[ She can take care of herself and ensure no one touches her. That isn't her concern. ]

And do you take indiscriminately or do you have a particular code for that?

Children are not fit to be on ships, so I don't recruit them.

[They make for good errand runners on land, but on ship, they're too small, too easy to slip into cracks and disappear forever. They're not strong enough to man sails, either. They're useless mouths to feed.]

I don't abide slavery, either. I don't chase slavers for prizes, and I don't sell people.

[Again, he's reminded of Max, the closest thing to a slave he's had, and he'd been set on letting her walk as soon as he could. It was his crew - his then crew - that had been responsible for the rest, but he still bore it as another scar. Just like all the scars from his own slavery, especially the cross under his collarbone.]

As I said, if you can handle the men, as you said you could, then you shouldn't have a problem. I don't take women, and most of my crew is happy to pay for them. If they're unsavoury on land, I can't do much about it. We rarely sail with women, but when we do, it's women who can keep men at bay and earn their keep.

[Which is he certain she can do.]

We go for big game. We're earning our name, right now. Sizeable prizes are what matters.

[ No children, no slaves. No selling people. Charles has a rather proud view on women, something that garners an actual, albeit brief, smile from her. He understands the limits she will have and she's quite grateful that she does not need to assert herself to him in any way. She will need to lay the groundwork, to be true, but she would have needed to do that anyway. ]

But you've sailed with competent women before.

[ That much is very clear by his tone.

The promise for big game isn't what sells it to her. She can score larger pockets of gold doing less dangerous work by continuing to be a bard. But doing both can gain her reputation and a name - whichever name she takes - and she's keen to see what this sort of life might hold for her. Better still, that it will allow her to discard an identity if and when she leaves to do something else without any sort of shadow over her name.

Charles seems a likable man, as well. If he's to be her employer and captain... Well, it could be much, much worse. ]

I'm interested. On one condition.

[ And this will be the trickier negotiation, she knows, because she certainly can't say all that she does. But Charles can know some, can have a taste of it, especially if she can sell it as something that will benefit the both of them. ]

When we dock, there are things I would like to do and take part in. Bartering, selling, collecting. You are the captain and the one I hold loyalty to. In this, I will not falter.

[ That's the complete truth. ]

But I have ambitions of my own. So long as it does not hinder the crew, the ship, you, or our position, I would ask for leave to do what I wish when we are docked. I work with herbs, as you can see, and I would like to know more of the world. I won't be able to do that while remaining on a ship for the rest of my days.

In return, if I find something interesting and worthwhile, you'll be the first to hear of it.

I have. [Anne Bonny is more than competent, to be true, and he'd never let any of his men discard her. She was an awful person, sure, but she could play a rapier better than most men, and she gave him respect.

Sure, she'd betrayed him, but Charles had never been truly mad about it. The men she slaughtered had been raping a woman for weeks, and he'd been gone. It was almost surprising it took so long for her to do what she did to the rest of the Ranger crew.

And then, she said she was interested. Charles smiled.]

My quartermaster can show you the ropes, what you're expected to do while we're at sea. His name's Mr. Titch. He's my best officer, and if I'm not around, his word is law on the ship. The men follow him just as loyally as they do me.

[Loyalty. That's a word Charles cherished, needed. When she mentions hers, he nods.]

You're free to do as you please off the ship, as long as it doesn't mar my, or the ship's reputation. When we're docked, everyone scatters. Some of the men even have families. You're not going to be a prisoner. You're going to be freer than you've ever been before.

[Freedom was all Charles craved at all times. He'd bow to no man, ever again.]

[ You're going to be freer than you've ever been before.

Something tightens in her stomach and a wash of guilt sweeps over her enough to make her nearly drown in it. For a moment, she feels as if she's betraying the two people she loves most in her life - both of whom are in terrible danger without her there to protect them. It makes her skin crawl just wondering what might be happening while she is trapped in this world. The conflict plays out within her, without much change in her expression. If anything, for a moment, she seems thoughtful and far away, in another time and another place.

The moment passes. So long as Deron and Lorelei are not in Pelea, she can do very little but bolster her own influence and skills in the interim. If they should appear, she will know of it, one way or another.

Instead, she turns to Charles and gives a decisive nod. ]

Consider this my acceptance of your offer, then. When do you set sail?

[For a moment, she disappears inside herself, and Charles just looks at her, taking in her unusual beauty. She's paler than anyone ever could be in Nassau, assaulted as they were by the constant, unrelenting sun of the Bahamas, and her eyes hold something so distant, so cold, it appeals to Charles.

She's obviously self-serving, but he can't begrudge her that, and she already pledged loyalty to him, something Eleanor had never done, too busy stabbing him in the back, repeatedly, while pretending to love him. The thought makes his stomach twist; he'd done so much for her, and all she did was betray him, over and over, and call him a monster, an animal.

Killing her father had felt good. Liberating. He was free of her.

Alysia comes back suddenly, her eyes snapping to his, and when she accepts his offer, Charles' grin grows wide, a little predatory.]

Welcome aboard. [He'll need to talk to the men.] We leave in three days. Just long enough for me to get back fully on my feet.

TEST DRIVE MEME

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