[Closed; Mushverse Past] Basco/Marvelous voice testing/history sharing.

[captainmarvelous]

It still feels like I'm inside a dream as the startlingly red captain takes me onto his ship. I have the image of it first coming into view still burned to my eyelids; when I blink I still see it as it rose in the sky behind him, as red and bold as its captain. I haven't felt so drawn to something in my life, its call as strong to me as the song of the stars. It's as if even the blood in my veins longs for it; I don't think I could have refused the captain's offer to join his crew, even with how strong my pride can be.

He shows me the engine room, the impressive inner mechanisms that keep the ship airborne, keep it humming with life. And it does have life, more than any ship I've been on before. I can feel it humming under my touch as I grip a railing. This ship has a voice, has a story to tell me, or maybe one to make with me.

The brief yet concise tour eventually comes to the main living room, what I can feel just with my first steps is the heart of the ship. It's sparsely furnished, a small table with a pair of chairs, a tiny couch with coffee table, the main controls for the computer screen on the far wall. And of course the captain's chair.

I hover at AkaRed's elbow for a moment, drinking in my surroundings as he points out the stairs that lead down toward the crew quarters, the doorway that leads to the galley, and the other stairs that lead up to the crow's nest.

It already feels like home. Like I've lived here all my life.

AkaRed moves to sit in his chair, tells me to make myself at home, pick out a room for myself. I shoulder the small pack I brought with me, all I usually travel with, and spin around, drinking the room in all over again.

Comments

[weeks later]

[captainmarvelous]

I can't imagine AkaRed wasn't aware of the Zangyack ambush waiting for us when he sent Basco and I planet-side ahead of him, but I also can't figure he'd just let us fall blindly into this kind of trap.

There a ranger key down here, I don't think the Empire is after them like we are, but they sure seem to show up a lot when we're looking for them.

"Basco!" I shout, firing a shot at a Goumin coming up too close behind him. My bullet cuts close to Basco's face, brushing his hair aside on its way past.

I let out the breath I was holding when the Goumin goes down, though I don't have much time to worry about Basco. I have just enough time to turn and raise my sword to stop another Goumin from taking my head off.

[curryjolokia]

Marvey's sword comes up to block a Goumin mace; he holds it off long enough for me to whip a throwing knife across the battlefield between us, under his guard, sinking deep into the Goumin's throat.

I'm already spinning before it's reached its mark, because in the space of time it took for me to attack, another Goumin mook has gotten the idea in its head to try an attack on my throwing arm, where my guard is presumably lowered. The short sword I've braced across my chest, pommell driven forward in the palm of my off-hand, slices fast through its breastbone, ensuring no future generations of Goumin inherit the bright idea to attack a duel wielder under his dominant arm.

I've already reversed the grip on my short sword, slicing backwards and then sweeping out and around. But the mook on my blade is stuck there, the uneven bones of his ribs tangling on the serrations of my blade as it twists in my hand and his body. He's dead, but also dead weight, slowing my movements.

Slashing wide and low, with my cutlass I clear a half-second's space for myself, enough to twist my whole upper body in a forceful lunge. Like a stone from a sling the dead Goumin is flung from my blade, crashing through a rank of his fellows in the process.

Despite the ease of this fight, I can't relax. If I make it too evident how easy skirmishes like this are to me, Marvey will start asking questions. And I haven't yet decided if I'll tell him the truth about my heritage.

Situations like this, where it's clear AkaRed knew what he was sending us into and neglected to warn us, make me rather sure what our Captain would tell me to do. Were it any of his business, which it's not.

"You hanging in there, Cabin Boy?" I holler, grinning across the corpse-littered distance between us.

[captainmarvelous]

"Worry about yourself!" I toss back, teasingly. I know very well he can hold his own, but if he's going to keep calling me Cabin Boy at times like this...

I slash at an over ambitious Goumin, tumbling with him as he goes down and using that momentum to do a half handstand and whirl with my legs. I hook them around another Goumin's neck, feeling and hearing the satisfying crack of his spine as I drag him to the ground and get myself back on my feet.

I pick another few off with my pistol, the last few stragglers that are trying to retreat. My adrenaline is still pumping through me as I turn and cast a quick glance over the small battlefield, searching for Basco.

[Here, have a ball of feels shrapnel]

[curryjolokia]

When Marvey looks up to find me, I'm in the middle of crouching down to examine a bit of treasure half-hidden by the body of a Goumin who'd valued his orders to protect it more than his own life. As I crouch, I sever his head from his shoulders, planting the tip of my kaijin sword in the dirt and levering down its blade like I use the knives in the galley to slice scallions. His body seizes once and goes limp, revealing the artifact he'd been clutching so desperately.

When I notice Marvey's looking, I grin at him, lifting my plunder over my head in my off-hand to wave at him. It's heavier than I'd expected. Maybe it's made of a precious metal under all the grime and scuffing. "Got a shiny!" I call across happily.

I don't know what I'll do with it - I'm a poor musician at best - but maybe it'll be useful for waking Marvey up in the mornings when he pretends to be deaf to the world. Or maybe it'll have no purpose at all. But it's shiny, and now it's mine.

[Have some feels back at ya. :P (http://i49.tinypic.com/2mbmf6.gif)]

[captainmarvelous]

I press the tip of my sword into the dirt - okay maybe that's a Goumin's spine, wasn't really looking down at the time - and lean somewhat heavily on it as I beam at Basco.

I don't want to admit that one of the grunts slashed at my right arm, just above my wrist, and that it's bleeding. I hold my hand at an angle so that the blood maybe won't trickle down onto the visible parts of my skin.

"Can you even play that?" I tilt my head, trying not to pant too hard from the pain that's slowly building as my adrenaline wears off. "That's a musical instrument, right?"

[curryjolokia]

Picking my way across the battlefield requires me to glance down every so often, making sure not to turn my ankle on the barrel of a Goumin mace. I make it a dance, sauntering towards Marvey with my sword slung over my shoulder. "Probably?" I answer, shrugging. It doesn't matter what it is, so long as it's mine. Marvey understands that sentiment pretty well, I think.

"How'd you fare? Any shinies?" As I draw closer, my smirk dims just a bit; Marvey did have a harder time of it than I did, and seems to be pained. But he's still standing, which means he's fine enough for now. I'll hold back any serious concern until he's no longer able to do so.

He'd be insulted if I acted any differently. We know each other well enough for that much, by now.

[captainmarvelous]

"Just the key we were sent down here to get." I say, voice slightly tight from the increasing pain in my arm. It's sharp and throbbing, but not bad enough yet that I can't still pretend it's nothing.

I reach to wrench my sword back out of the Goumin's spine, but the movement just sparks a sharp jolt of pain from my wound, and blood not only trickles down onto the back of my hand, but stains the sleeve of my shirt.

I manage to only wince and not groan, though my eyes squint shut for a moment.

Must be a deeper wound than I thought.

[curryjolokia]

When blood blooms on Marvey's arm, I frown and step close, gripping his arm firmly above the elbow and tugging upward to help him keep his balance.

"That's a bit more than a scratch," I comment dryly, giving him a smile to show I don't think less of him for the wound. Whether he'll believe that or not isn't in my control, but at least I can be straightforward about my half.

"Let's get back to the Galleon. I'll get you bandaged up."

[captainmarvelous]

I frown when he grabs and tugs at my arm, my ears feeling hot from angry embarrassment, mild though it is. I held my own just fine, despite the wound; not my fault Basco doesn't have a scratch on him and I end up bleeding all over everything.

I do consent to him dragging me along back to the Galleon though. There's not much else we can do on this planet, and it will be nice to stop bleeding all over myself.

I flop down on the couch when we arrive in the main room, slouching down dejectedly, and set about rolling back my sleeve, hissing a bit when the wound stings.

[curryjolokia]

"Stop fussing." I fetched the first aid kit as soon as we were back aboard, and settle onto the seat beside him with composure, though I'm not above jabbing his hip with one of the kit's sharp implements to make him sit the hell up and leave me room to work. I do so for a few minutes, sanitizing the gash, putting pressure on both sides of it with my thumb and the knuckles of my middle and ring finger. My long fingers are useful in this case, because Marvey's wrist is easily encircled by my hands without my even trying that hard.

"This isn't serious." Well, it's not as serious as he's making it out to sound. "Quit your bitching. I'll have it all wrapped in a moment." One hand around Marvey's wrist, I tug his arm into extension, pulling it across his body toward me. I can't reach otherwise.

[captainmarvelous]

So what if I'm being petulant? I hate that he has to tend to me, that I'm the one that got injured, when he doesn't have a scratch on him. Cheeky bastard.

I honestly can't remember which attack was the one that slashed my arm open, and that's bothering me just as much as having Basco fuss over me is.

"I'm not bitching." I slump down a little again, wincing only slightly when this tugs at my wound, what with my wrist held firmly in Basco's hand.

[curryjolokia]

"Mmmmyup you are." I grin at him, drawling my words. "But I'm used to it. Mabe-chan has an opinion on ev~ry~thing."

With a final tug, probably more firm than it strictly needs to be, I finish off the binding with a square knot and hand Marvey's arm back to him, patting the back of his hand comfortingly.

"You should eat," I advise, straightfaced, but a smirk threatens to peel up the corners of my mouth in amusement at how adorably easy this is. He is.

"You've lost blood. You should find a good source of protein. And probably salt, and hydration, too. Pronto!"

[captainmarvelous]

"And you don't?" I grumble as he ties the bandage closed. He pats my hand and I yank it back from him rubbing at my wrist and testing how much I can flex my hand without pulling at the wound. The bandage is sound, and I still have all the proper motions left in my hand. Good.

Of course then he mentions food, and I can't exactly help that my mood brightens considerably. "Food? What kind of food?"

[curryjolokia]

I laugh - I knew even the slightest mention of food would perk his interest - and lean in with a cooing smile, spreading my palm flat and hot against his leg and rubbing a rough stroke up from the knee of his jeans towards his groin. I learned, last time, that I have to lay it on a bit thick to tip this one to any sort of culinary innuendo I mean to ply him with.

"Whatever kind you would like, though I suggest meat...or sausage. I could feed you~" I trill, watching the crinkle of his nose and the curl of the corner of his lip, gauging his mood. "Like a pair of lovers~"

[captainmarvelous]

I grumble uselessly, leaning away from him as he coos at me.

Though my dick responds a little to his wandering hand, my stomach responds much more forcefully, giving a strong growl at the idea of any sort of offering of meat.

"Stop that." I force a frown, and stare him down. "I'm hungry."

[curryjolokia]

He wants to try and stare me down? Fine. Bitch eyebrow on full volume, I give him a pissed, pursed little frown and lean back, crossing my arms with a dignified little 'tsk'.

"Oh? Then perhaps you should really go eat something." Me, I'm not moving. Does this look like the face of a guy who goes out of his way for you? Nope, didn't think so.

[captainmarvelous]

I sigh at him, rolling my eyes. My mood is still shit, my pride still wounded from my injury.

"Fine." I shrug, moving to get up off the couch and head for the kitchen.

[curryjolokia]

Oh, now he's the offended one?

I cover his ass through the whole fucking battle, bandage his wound, don't once imply any sort of disdain or even silent commentary on the fact that he got wounded on what was supposed to be a milk run (and though I can't expect him to give me credit for what he doesn't realize, which is that I'm pointedly not dissing his hero Aka-Red in front of him, that's another little effort I'm extending him).

And now I'm a jerk for sulking because I don't like getting turned down?

"Don't flip off your cook if you don't want to have to cook for yourself," I shout after him, rather more petulantly than is probably reasonable.

I tell myself I don't care. He started this bullshit. I get off the couch too, stalking over to the barrel we've recycled into a small table and workbench. I've got a new trumpet shiny thing to poke at.

[captainmarvelous]

"I'm hungry." He knows I can't focus on anything else when I've got an empty stomach.

And it's not like he was the one wounded in the fight.

I grab a large bit of cured sausage, some cheese, and a hunk of bread, tearing the bread vaguely in half and then squashing the sausage and cheese between between the pieces. It's sort of a sandwich. It's food, at any rate.

I take a large bite as I leave the kitchen. After that first mouthful I'm already feeling a lot better.

[curryjolokia]

Great. He's happy; it doesn't take much to fill his head. I don't much care about how uncharitable that might be right now; I'm pissed, and he's a simpleton.

And for some stupid reason, I care.

While he's in the kitchen getting food, I'm headed up to the crow's nest with my trumpet. I don't know how to play it, but the air's cold up there and sharp, which is what I'm in the mood for. I'll tool around and see if I can't get a few useful notes out of it.

[captainmarvelous]

I munch on my slapdash sandwich as I wander back into the main room. Basco isn't there, and for a few moments I simply don't care.

But then I think maybe I should go find him, I know I would be a tiny bit irritated if I was turned down for sex.

I head up to the Crow's Nest. If he's not up there then's he's probably in his room, and the Crow's Nest is closer.

[curryjolokia]

Na na na na nananana nrreeeekk--

Basco lowers his new trumpet with a grumble and a scowl. He fixes it with a glare that lays upon its brassy shoulders the faults of all undignified sounds in the known universe, particularly the very undignified one he just managed to produce from it. All he was trying to do was repeat one note, the same note, in a uniform manner. Was that so much to ask?

Back to the mast, Basco slides down to a crouch, then to sit, long legs folded over on themselves to allow him to sit on the small floorspace of the Crow's Nest. The wind up here is sharp, not too chilly, but after a while it begins to cut through a body, especially if that body's a breed not used to even moderately cool temperatures. Like himself.

The shawl isn't just a fashion statement. He pulls it tighter 'round his shoulders, toying with the rotating sphere mounted to the bottom of the trumpet. He hasn't found any function for it yet, but it seems to relate to the other copper and bronze-toned parts of the instrument.

It's almost like a normal brass trumpet had other bits grafted onto it, and rather than let his thoughts drift through topics he doesn't want to think about, or even know how he feels about -- examining this new shiny is the much safer option.

[captainmarvelous]

It's a warm night, with a comfortable breeze blowing. The view isn't much to look at, this system is pretty dull, but it's not the worst I've seen.

I'm already halfway through my sad excuse for a sandwich when I make it up the stairs. Basco is seated against the mast, and he seems... troubled, I guess? More moody than normal anyway.

He can't still be irritated that I turned him down. It's been, what, ten minutes already?

"Nice night." I lean on the railing as I work on finishing off my sandwich.

[curryjolokia]

He's followed me up here, and I'm not sure if I'm surprised or not.

"Hnn. Chilly." Even my afghan isn't enough, quite, and the bugle trumpet thing - for which I've been working on inventing names - is becoming painfully cold against my fingertips.

My nose tells me what he's got in his hand; I don't need to glance up. The compulsion to say something can just as easily be spent on idiotic small talk as an argument, and the former's far simpler. "You got food. That's good."

[captainmarvelous]

"It's alright." I shrug, and take another large bite from my sandwich, sort of humming vaguely while I chew.

After a heavy swallow I gesture at the instrument Basco's holding, his new little treasure. "Any luck with that thing?"