Post by Lady Aislin Creed of Eohmark on May 10, 2008 20:12:51 GMT -6
Beathag-Business was good tonight for Charlie McSween. His till-box was full of good chink, one coin right after the other. Coppers, silvers, golds, notes for him to take to the money-changer to amake into bags full of sweet success' promised reward. "Molly Elizabeth! Gae on n' take another tray o' rounds upstairs tae her ladyship's tables!" He'd swat his daughter on the backside, along with every other free hand, his way of telling them to become occupied. Any common woman would be between Hell or high-water to be encased in the middle of so many baritone voices thick with ale, slick with glib impropriety that would make the ears of the soft burn. Thank the Gods that oddity was cherished in Skye. Bess took a piece of paper from a pair of hands as black as night, so when he smiled the white's of his teeth were like light in a dark sky. "Aye, ye'd make a good escort fer her, Heshzaw, a good one. Is ye language still as good as it was in Verona?" The black man stood to at an imposing 6'8, thick as bound oak tree trunks, but with a voice like waterfall over ancient stone. Even a trickle of it wasn't missed. " Yes, La Duchessa. Italian, of course. Spanish, French, Arabic, and German..""Aye, as Ah recall. N' armed. This man Aislin, is Heshzaw. He has been m'guide n' translator the Medeterranean ...ye speak languages ye'self, but Heshzaw is skilled in customs, mannerisms n' all tha'. Some folk be easer tae offend then others n' he will provide a certain finesse in case ye lack it, n' will make sure ye have access tae places o' education."
Aislin Creed-Dressed in the normal attire of men that she was ever so comfortable in, she sat in the chair off to the right of Bess with her black breech covered legs spread slightly wide to balance herself as she sat up straight so her slender back could rest along the back of the chair. Wrapping long fingers around the mug of juice, she watched from one male's face to the other and then back to Bess as she remained quiet and listened. Each tone was taken in, each expression and attitude. These were the men she would be with for a good portion of her trips, she would need to understand them. Ocean eyes went towards the large dark skinned male as him and Bess spoke. That was a extensive amount of things he could speak. It would not leave them short on resources. Aislin looked to the male and studied his face before giving a curt nod. "It be good to meet ye then. Ah appreciate ye skills already and will nay doubt them upon the up coming trips." Most of the other men were listening as well, showing respect while drinking their ales and meads. Not all were clean cut looking, for a life on the sea was lived hard and while water was all around them, it did not make it good or safe to bath in all the time. A few men held scars upon their faces from a life in fighting on lands before giving in to the call of the sea.
Of course, my Lady. It is my honor to be of service to you, and to the Captain." He gave a bow, before becoming erect again. Ale was not what he wanted, but a glass of burbon. Smooth.
Beathag-The extensive things he could speak were good, but it was what he could do while speaking them that made him an asset to any crew, " He is also good with Damascus steel." she commented in his absence to Aislin, crossing one brown pants clad leg over another, "Scimitars. Deadly with scimitars." There was not one man onboard her ships that couldn't hold his own. A couple of more were pointed out among the sodden, sea soaked riff raff. One had a film over his right eye, White Eye, they called him, "N' tha' one, is the lead gunner, cannon man. The ship ye gae on will o'course be given ample artillery. The Muriel can handle it.."
Aislin Creed-A cannon man? Aislin had learned about the cannons not too long ago. Exciting pieces of things they were. Aislin watched in awe when she first saw them lit and that massive bit of metal was sent out towards a target. Massive chaos.Ocean eyes followed the larger dark male as he moved from them to find a drink to his liking before she heard Bess. "Aye..any skill will be needed and wanted. " As Bess began to introduce others, eyes followed up and she gave each one a nod. Men of all shapes and sizes it seemed. taking a drink of her juice, she finished all of it before placing the empty mug back to the wooden table as the girl came around to refill others. "There will be a lot to learn it seems. More then just medicine. Ah do be looking forward to learning each man's skill with a weapon. Ah do nay think we will be going to many dangerous places, but it be better to over prepare then under it seems. " Taking a moment to look around the tavern, she noticed the people smiling and laughing. Conversations were held at any and every level, not caring on how loud or soft they were. The people seemed settled, happy and the war suddenly seemed worth it. So many had worked hard to be accepted here and make it their home. One could only hope that it was paying off. Turning her head back around so the man by her side, she listened to his story of a recent trip they had come back from. The scar over his left eye ran from hairline to chin, making Aislin ponder where he had gotten it from. Of course she would ask ."Where did ye get ye scar from. It...adds to yer charm." all the men began to laugh, including the one with the scar upon his face.
Max-"That it does. Long sword. I moved the run way and it went clean up the face, spitting everything open. I am lucky, my eye is fine and my bone structure is how it is. " His slender hand moved up along the line on his face to farther point it out.
Beathag-Gunners were a new portion of some ship crews with the emergence of a cannon that was small enough to transport on a ship a dozen at one time and easier to mount. Port holes were cut in the shapes of squares with flap-like pieces set on a hinge. When the closure was lifted up, the muzzle of the cannon would push out of the space left open by the square's cut out. At first, they had been mounted on the upper decks. It was too dangerous though with the possibility of a firey shock that could occur if the impliment rolled back. The talk of cannons was to the left side of the table where the Gunner was discussing how the Muriel's hull was re-shaped in order to accommodate a dozen or so cannons on the second deck of the ship. Out of the ten ships in the Griffin's fleet, seven of them, including the three ships of the Aberdeen Shipping Company, were outfitted with the ability to use what was called artillery. "There's e'en a smaller..cannon, if ye will, ye pull it with just ye finger, called a pistol.." Men began to squabble like beer-filled scholars over the device, deeming it so far an unreliable edition unless you knew how to wield it. Beathag looked at her sister-in-law, tapping fingers against the gnarled wood of the table. A scar story, a keen story. Brogue chimed in on top of the laughter, "Ye forgot to tell the Lady why ye ended up split by a long sword tae begin with." It never did to leave out the best part of the tale! A man with four fingers on his right hand lifted it high, grinning, "Oh, let me! It was an honorable enough bent..duel gone wrong.." In the same one that left him with a stump. He pointed the index finger at his mate, the pair of them sharing some secret between them. "By the time they beh presented tae Eamonn, they will be a might more cooth..at least fer tha' hour, any how. Ye won't mind them bein' a bit crude mouthed, fer they can behave right well 'nough when tis time fer ye tae conduct ye business, n' there beh a good few who will serve in official capacity enough tae keep ye ventures lookin' decent while guardin' ye at the same time. E'ery place can have an inherant danger, especially fer women at sea. "
Max-Max had seen his fair share of things. He was in the prime of his life, never had a wife or children for he never truly settled down. Mayhap one day he would, but for now the call of the sea was still too strong within his limbs and heart. When his mate moved that less then perfect hand out and about, he picked up a harden bread roll and tossed it to him " Hush you..or I will tell the tall tale of how you lost those fingers. That was a sassy time you had there on those shores. " He teased with a wide smile before he looked to his still hot bowl of stew that was waiting for his attention. "It was not that interesting..so I slipped on a wet patch of leaves..it happens to the best of us. So you have said..I got some more charm out of the deal."
Aislin Creed-A line of men laughed at that before their meals began to come and each one leaned back, some patting their stomachs or chest at the arrival of a hot meal for their bellies tonight. Aislin leaned back as a server placed a hot plate of two beef slabs, roasted potatoes and a few veggies for her pleasure. Gravy was set aside before they moved off to give Bess her likings. "Ye need nay worry on me so much Bess. Ah do nay fear men with a bit more...attitude to them. Blunt has always been better in my opinion." A loud cheer of men with stuffed mouths echoed around the table before they slammed their mugs once and resumed eating, making Aislin smile wider of course. "They be a good bunch of men. Ah understand ye are taking all these precautions because my husband be yer brother, but remember Bess...ah do nay need to be babied. Ah lived long before Eamonn and took care of myself just fine then. Ah'll be living long after as well if he leaves this world before me." Aislin knew her sister-in-law was making sure she would be comfortable and settled. Aislin would be fine..she was always fine. It never changed.
Beathag-The the gravy came plates piled with shepard's pies, loaves of black bread with steam rising from thick crusts as each loaf was scored for slicing with the knives in individual possession. Beathag unhooked hers from a belt at her waist, slicing down into a half-loaf before using her fork to pile it high with beef, pouring a bit of gravy over the concoction. Between bites, she would illustrate points with her fork. By no means manners for a grand table. "Ah, ye beh m'brothers wife but ye were m'sister-in-spirit a might longer than Ah knew we was relation. All o' these precaustions are more than just because ye are known tae me. Or in wot ye station beh. Tis nay as simple a reason as tha'. Ye are a woman, on the sea, n' will need be surrounded by folk who can take a woman's orders, and in turn ye will learn from them when tae allow their weight to hold sway for ye. Ye will be gaein' tae places tha' are nothin' like wot we've known. Women do nay hold the sorts o' power we dae in most places unless they are widowed or have f**ked enough men tae steal all their money. Most women are nay this educated unless they beh cloister nuns. This journey..medicinal as it may beh, will take ye tae places tha' will test e'ery might o' patience e'en ye have, dealin' with such clouts with cotton in the head. Afore ye gae, Ah'll let Eamonn see the men n' their steel n' their courses, but twixt a few chosen imparticular n' m'self, Ah will make sure tha' ye can navigate a harder course, n' tha' will be e'ery bit o' business, e'ery nuance o' culture tha' ye will have to do twice as good as any man while still bein' a woman in the sense they are used tae, or it will be all fer naught in some cases."
Faeren-All was ready for her departure she'd be making in the neighboring morning. In her chambers her things were packed, the things she was taking with her, and her vardo had been scrubbed inside and out. The few windows washed, the wood polished, and all the nooks and crannies and built in furnishings dusted. She'd even moved all of her things in her caravan already, and set up her banners and other ornaments on the exterior of her summer home on wheels. All there was left to do would be to harness her horse. But, that would be left in the morning of course. For now, she was far past due in her usual evening indulgements, and now she made her way hence. Dressed in her extravagent arrangement of colorful fabrics; twisting around her waist, her midsection, and an emerald scarf fashioned around her head tied beneath her red curls with the two tails draping down her back. In her hand she clutched My Sweet Romance and pushed the door to the tavern open with her free one, getting herself first a bottle of spirits and then inquiring to where Bess might be and being directed up stairs. With half the bottle already gone.
Max-Max was listening with keen ears to Bess and Aislin as they spoke. Being at Aislin's left side, left little choice in ignoring such a conversation. Moving the metal spoon within his stew, he stirred the thick broth about in the wooden bowl to keept he heat moving at every part within. Both dark brown eyes rose upwards while his head was tilted over the bowl so that the eye closer to the woman; the one that held the long scar over it; was watching them near it's cleaner opposite. It was true. The world was not meant to be ran by woman, or so many men believed. max was on both sides. He did not have a issue following a woman's lead if she was not dim in the head or more feminine then should be allowed upon a ship. Staying silent for the time being, he finally rose the spoon filled with the goodness of a hard cooked meal filled with meats and veggies to last a night in his stomach.
Aislin Creed-Aislin was not blind when it came to such things as the talk of preperation. She would need such, for she had not been in a ship where she would need to learn how to battle it up should things go wrong like pirates attacking. Aislin had learned a great deal about ships and how they worked while helping Bess in the shipping docks back in Inverness, however, she did not believe that she knew everything for only a fool would think such. Shifting ocean eyes towards her sister-in-law, she watched her face carefully as she spoke. She agreed and was fine with that knowledge. Inverness held much of the same things as the lead medicial professor there was male and confined to the church for his procedures. "Aye....fine that be then. Ah do nay think that will ease Eamonn's mind on my traveling. He can nay complain that we did nay include him though. "As she spoke, her hands shifted to grab up the blade upon the table and the pick to begin cutting into her thick slab of beef, making it suitable for the size of her wide mouth for faster and easier bites. The sound of the stairs creaking had Aislin stop in the pick halfway towards her mouth and shift her head to press that narrow chin to her slender, cloth covered shoulder as ocean eyes landed on the firey red head while she ascended upwards to their area. She could not remember the name, so perhaps someone else would kindly toss it out for her soon enough
Beathag-No, her sister-in-law was not blind, but by way the standards of the rest of Europe? She'd venture to only say naieve by way of experience. The medical professional in Inverness would nay hold a candle to what awaited her across the sea. "Nothin' will ease Eamonn's mind 'bout the travelin, or ye daein it. But, ye were matched tagether aye? Perhaps it was sae ye might be the thing wot...slowly opens up his mind tae a new light on a thing 'er three..let us re-interate slowly." She grinned, taking a bite out of the beef atop the bread, following it with a spoonful of broth from the bowl. He had his reasons to which his sister wouldn't refute, for they were logical reasons when he wasn't snorting about like a beligerant bull. The Highlander had a way of emphasizing the point of each; with the knowing Aislin was no fool coupled with the familial sense of pride in the work of a particular area. What Eamonn was to horses? The Highlander was to ships. Every rope, stern, bow. Starboard and port side. Every piece of rigging, maneuver, and circumstance had been lived or initiated. She watched men in her family take the wood of the land to make the floating behomoths of the water. Though she had a temper, Aislin herself had seen her smooth frazzled foreigners in a second at negotiations over shipping. Her sister wouldn't set foot on the boat until she had absorbed enough knowledge to be one step below formidable on a boat, for formidable would come with actual ship adventures. A crick in the wood turned her head over her shoulder, a hand lifting up, mouth opening after all the food was chewed "Evenin, Faeren! Will ye come n' join us fer supper, we were just discussin' some thins on' travelin. "
Faeren-Spotted and beckoned, Faeren obliged and approached the table. A smile spread fluidly across her lips, green-blue eyes engaging Bess, Aislin, and whoever else may be sitting there. "Good Evenin', is it not?" Pulling out a chair she set her violin case down on the floor and her bottle of whisky on the tabletop. Placing herself down on the chair, she looked up to Bess with red brows rising in interest. "Oh really now? Why, I'm travelin too." She grinned, it was really non such a surprise, was it now?
Max-This man, Eamonn was it? He would be a interesting fella to meet it seemed. Beathag spoke of opening a new light for the man and Max knew in a slight bit what that could mean. Change. It was why he never found himself a wife yet. A roll of his dark eyes was given as he went on to eat his stew, leaning over the bowl as that spoon worked in over time to keep the stew and chunks going into his mouth. His breaths were taken through his larger nostrils which flared every few moments as he inhaled beyond food going down the old wind pipe. At the sound of Beathag's greetings and another's following, dark eyes shifted up to see the red headed, younger woman making her way towards the table. Time was taken to finish up his meal before he wiped at his lips with the back of his dirt dusted sleeve upon that olive green tunic and eased back in the chair to settle his eyes on the red head. "Do you now? And how will you travel?" Entertainers....they were interesting folk.
Aislin Creed-Aislin heard Bess' words, for how could she not when her sister-in-law sat right beside her. She made no motion or words for those given from Bess. Eamonn was going to be how he was and in truth, Aislin wanted no other way. Sure, he could open up a bit, but Aislin was not like other woman. She had no reason for Eamonn to change for he suited her personality, or...what she had of one just fine. If he was happy being a angry bull for the rest of his life, so be it. Aislin was not spared in such a temper. Only one female on this earth could make that man smile like a fool and she was no more then five months old. More then likely sleeping in his arms somewhere right now. Sorcha had her ways to twist Eamonn around her little baby fingers. That was how it should be. Only their daughter should hold such power over a bull of a man. "Evening" Her head turned back around and she went on with her meal, shifting her eyes to Max for but a moment as he spoke and then looking down towards the vanishing meat.
Beathag-Max could get the details of Faeren's journey on the table along with the plentiful food and drink, where it belonged. Enjoying her second slab of meat to cut, she had her own thoughts on Eamonn needing to accept change. Mm, perhaps accept was too strong a word to use - tolerate was a better choice. He was who he was, world without end. The only thing the bull could do with was an occasional stop to absorb in his own good advice or realize that a good piece of know-how could be stumbled on to instead of having it beat him in the face when he ended up on his backside, usually pierced, cut, or some combination of the two. Then again, he thought she should act a certain way too. God forbid if Sorcha inherit a streak that was as stubborn as her father or aunt. Oh well . "Wot place calls tae ye know, gypsy woman?" Wrapping her hand around the pitcher of ale, she poured herself a mug to tha twent to the brim to wash down her supper
Faeren-"Caravan o'course!" And how excited she was to hop back onto that drivers seat with the open country road ahead of her, to begin new adventures to tell around the next winter's fires. Taking a swig from her bottle she licked her lips then turned her gaze back to Beathag. "Mm France an' Ireland. Not sure which one I'll go see first. I know at some point I have tah visit some family in Eire." Just how close of a relation this family was she was going to visit she would not elude to. Not yet anway. Even she spends her entire night at the tavern, well, who knows what knowledge may be imparted when a considerable amount of whisky has been imbibed.
Max-Ah. A Gypsy was she? He should have known with that violin, but the hair gave away celtic roots somewhere within the strands of couplings. Caravan? That made the tall, seated first mate smile wide, curling back those thin and firm lips. Hard to see dimples tried to press themselves beyond the scruff of hair that dusted across his cheeks, chin and the underside just along the upper area of his neck. It figured. Thicker fingers laced themselves upon his upper stomach, feeling the small swell of muscles beyond the material of his olive green tunic as they flexed involuntarily and then eased, waiting for the meal at hand to start disbursing it's nutrition upon his body.
Anulia of Amora-Pulling up the light skirts of browns and blacks, the dark skinned woman moved around those that were in their merriment at the generous use of coins upon the evening. A soft smile was given to any and all who may have looked her way before she paused by the wooden counter and spoke to Charlie in a voice that only he had to hear. It was not uncommon for taverns to share items with each other and such would be the same in this case. Rosa was running low on sweet mead and since most did not drink it here, why not put it to good use where others that held a lighter stomach could take it in.
Aislin Creed-Aislin remained silent for some time, letting others speak as she finished her meal, wanting to feed the secret within her body as well as herself. When she was finally done, a cloth that had been set aside by one of the many passing servers was taken up and used to wipe her mouth clean of any juices or bits that might have escaped her hungerous mouth. Once finished, her ocean eyes shifted towards Faeren before that slight bit of curious nature took over. "What else be seeing ye to travel besides visiting family. Do ye be having other plans as well?"
Faeren-Crossing a leg over the other, then settling her hands in the lap of her skirt. Which was a skirt worn over a number of other, thin skirts. All torn in layers so one could see the multi patterns of them all. She wore a white, long sleeved blouse beneath a wine red bodice, and was actually sparse on her jewerly except for some small silver hoops adorning her ears. Looking to Aislin she nodded. "Aye, I will be reuniting with m'Gypsy clan. My other family," She smiled brightly and fondly. "Travelin, entertainin'. Things o'that nature. Then I will most likely be returnin' again when the season turns."
Max-So It seemed Aislin did have a curious nature as Bess had stated before. Well that could be of great use when it comes to traveling. If she really wanted to learn as much as she presented, then Max had no issues trying to teach. Dark eyes shifted from one woman to the other before he heard a few mugs moving about and the shifting of a chair and table. Eyes peered over the railing of the top area to see down below as he leaned back in his chair, making it stand on the two back legs while he balanced the weight evenly. Two men had stood up quickly and were arguing over a card game. It was not the first time such men would worry on small things and it would not be the last. "Pardon me" he said as his chair planted the front legs firmly on the wooden floor and his tall frame pushed it back to stand then stretch. He was going down for a closer look. If played right, this could turn into a nice squable and the male in him simply had to watch it.
Anulia of Amora-With a beaming smile towards Charlie, she thanked him for his help and made the arrangements to have the barrels taken over by the next day. Rose was going to be thrilled to have it in stock. Hearing the shifting of others, she turned around to look over her shoulder, sending long braids with lace threaded through some of them, to sway. Chocolate eyes watched as the two men snarled at each other and others simply moved their chairs farther away, not really careing but not wanting to loose their drinks either at this point. Why did people fight over the smallest of things. It was not as if it were food, clothing or anything that they would need in life. She had heard stories that people would kill each other for the trading disc. How tragic.
Aislin Creed-"Is this something you do every year then? Like the birds?" Aislin inquired as she shifted her chair around to see the woman better. Watching Max move from his seat, she followed him until he was heading down the steps and out of view. She had no care for the men who may or may not throw blows to each other. The hour was growing late and she would have to be getting back home soon enough.
Beathag-"A gypsy moves when she feels the need tae dae sae, she's an unusual sort o' bird tha' way." Beathag interjected as she turned to watch Aislin get a view of actions below. Ah well, such was common, especially with sailors! "Oh, lemme guess, they beh bound tae row o'er somethin stupid..they won't e'en remember why..though the Gunner throws a damn good right hook," whistful little sigh. She missed salt air underneath her own "wings" as it were, blowing to make the sails full bellied. As it was, she was filled with good food, good drink, and the only place she was set to hit would be the back of the horse "Shall we, lasses? M'thinks tae make this a rovin' party, afore Ah fall asleep where Ah stand, tha', and the lads need tae be rowdy."
Aislin Creed-Dressed in the normal attire of men that she was ever so comfortable in, she sat in the chair off to the right of Bess with her black breech covered legs spread slightly wide to balance herself as she sat up straight so her slender back could rest along the back of the chair. Wrapping long fingers around the mug of juice, she watched from one male's face to the other and then back to Bess as she remained quiet and listened. Each tone was taken in, each expression and attitude. These were the men she would be with for a good portion of her trips, she would need to understand them. Ocean eyes went towards the large dark skinned male as him and Bess spoke. That was a extensive amount of things he could speak. It would not leave them short on resources. Aislin looked to the male and studied his face before giving a curt nod. "It be good to meet ye then. Ah appreciate ye skills already and will nay doubt them upon the up coming trips." Most of the other men were listening as well, showing respect while drinking their ales and meads. Not all were clean cut looking, for a life on the sea was lived hard and while water was all around them, it did not make it good or safe to bath in all the time. A few men held scars upon their faces from a life in fighting on lands before giving in to the call of the sea.
Of course, my Lady. It is my honor to be of service to you, and to the Captain." He gave a bow, before becoming erect again. Ale was not what he wanted, but a glass of burbon. Smooth.
Beathag-The extensive things he could speak were good, but it was what he could do while speaking them that made him an asset to any crew, " He is also good with Damascus steel." she commented in his absence to Aislin, crossing one brown pants clad leg over another, "Scimitars. Deadly with scimitars." There was not one man onboard her ships that couldn't hold his own. A couple of more were pointed out among the sodden, sea soaked riff raff. One had a film over his right eye, White Eye, they called him, "N' tha' one, is the lead gunner, cannon man. The ship ye gae on will o'course be given ample artillery. The Muriel can handle it.."
Aislin Creed-A cannon man? Aislin had learned about the cannons not too long ago. Exciting pieces of things they were. Aislin watched in awe when she first saw them lit and that massive bit of metal was sent out towards a target. Massive chaos.Ocean eyes followed the larger dark male as he moved from them to find a drink to his liking before she heard Bess. "Aye..any skill will be needed and wanted. " As Bess began to introduce others, eyes followed up and she gave each one a nod. Men of all shapes and sizes it seemed. taking a drink of her juice, she finished all of it before placing the empty mug back to the wooden table as the girl came around to refill others. "There will be a lot to learn it seems. More then just medicine. Ah do be looking forward to learning each man's skill with a weapon. Ah do nay think we will be going to many dangerous places, but it be better to over prepare then under it seems. " Taking a moment to look around the tavern, she noticed the people smiling and laughing. Conversations were held at any and every level, not caring on how loud or soft they were. The people seemed settled, happy and the war suddenly seemed worth it. So many had worked hard to be accepted here and make it their home. One could only hope that it was paying off. Turning her head back around so the man by her side, she listened to his story of a recent trip they had come back from. The scar over his left eye ran from hairline to chin, making Aislin ponder where he had gotten it from. Of course she would ask ."Where did ye get ye scar from. It...adds to yer charm." all the men began to laugh, including the one with the scar upon his face.
Max-"That it does. Long sword. I moved the run way and it went clean up the face, spitting everything open. I am lucky, my eye is fine and my bone structure is how it is. " His slender hand moved up along the line on his face to farther point it out.
Beathag-Gunners were a new portion of some ship crews with the emergence of a cannon that was small enough to transport on a ship a dozen at one time and easier to mount. Port holes were cut in the shapes of squares with flap-like pieces set on a hinge. When the closure was lifted up, the muzzle of the cannon would push out of the space left open by the square's cut out. At first, they had been mounted on the upper decks. It was too dangerous though with the possibility of a firey shock that could occur if the impliment rolled back. The talk of cannons was to the left side of the table where the Gunner was discussing how the Muriel's hull was re-shaped in order to accommodate a dozen or so cannons on the second deck of the ship. Out of the ten ships in the Griffin's fleet, seven of them, including the three ships of the Aberdeen Shipping Company, were outfitted with the ability to use what was called artillery. "There's e'en a smaller..cannon, if ye will, ye pull it with just ye finger, called a pistol.." Men began to squabble like beer-filled scholars over the device, deeming it so far an unreliable edition unless you knew how to wield it. Beathag looked at her sister-in-law, tapping fingers against the gnarled wood of the table. A scar story, a keen story. Brogue chimed in on top of the laughter, "Ye forgot to tell the Lady why ye ended up split by a long sword tae begin with." It never did to leave out the best part of the tale! A man with four fingers on his right hand lifted it high, grinning, "Oh, let me! It was an honorable enough bent..duel gone wrong.." In the same one that left him with a stump. He pointed the index finger at his mate, the pair of them sharing some secret between them. "By the time they beh presented tae Eamonn, they will be a might more cooth..at least fer tha' hour, any how. Ye won't mind them bein' a bit crude mouthed, fer they can behave right well 'nough when tis time fer ye tae conduct ye business, n' there beh a good few who will serve in official capacity enough tae keep ye ventures lookin' decent while guardin' ye at the same time. E'ery place can have an inherant danger, especially fer women at sea. "
Max-Max had seen his fair share of things. He was in the prime of his life, never had a wife or children for he never truly settled down. Mayhap one day he would, but for now the call of the sea was still too strong within his limbs and heart. When his mate moved that less then perfect hand out and about, he picked up a harden bread roll and tossed it to him " Hush you..or I will tell the tall tale of how you lost those fingers. That was a sassy time you had there on those shores. " He teased with a wide smile before he looked to his still hot bowl of stew that was waiting for his attention. "It was not that interesting..so I slipped on a wet patch of leaves..it happens to the best of us. So you have said..I got some more charm out of the deal."
Aislin Creed-A line of men laughed at that before their meals began to come and each one leaned back, some patting their stomachs or chest at the arrival of a hot meal for their bellies tonight. Aislin leaned back as a server placed a hot plate of two beef slabs, roasted potatoes and a few veggies for her pleasure. Gravy was set aside before they moved off to give Bess her likings. "Ye need nay worry on me so much Bess. Ah do nay fear men with a bit more...attitude to them. Blunt has always been better in my opinion." A loud cheer of men with stuffed mouths echoed around the table before they slammed their mugs once and resumed eating, making Aislin smile wider of course. "They be a good bunch of men. Ah understand ye are taking all these precautions because my husband be yer brother, but remember Bess...ah do nay need to be babied. Ah lived long before Eamonn and took care of myself just fine then. Ah'll be living long after as well if he leaves this world before me." Aislin knew her sister-in-law was making sure she would be comfortable and settled. Aislin would be fine..she was always fine. It never changed.
Beathag-The the gravy came plates piled with shepard's pies, loaves of black bread with steam rising from thick crusts as each loaf was scored for slicing with the knives in individual possession. Beathag unhooked hers from a belt at her waist, slicing down into a half-loaf before using her fork to pile it high with beef, pouring a bit of gravy over the concoction. Between bites, she would illustrate points with her fork. By no means manners for a grand table. "Ah, ye beh m'brothers wife but ye were m'sister-in-spirit a might longer than Ah knew we was relation. All o' these precaustions are more than just because ye are known tae me. Or in wot ye station beh. Tis nay as simple a reason as tha'. Ye are a woman, on the sea, n' will need be surrounded by folk who can take a woman's orders, and in turn ye will learn from them when tae allow their weight to hold sway for ye. Ye will be gaein' tae places tha' are nothin' like wot we've known. Women do nay hold the sorts o' power we dae in most places unless they are widowed or have f**ked enough men tae steal all their money. Most women are nay this educated unless they beh cloister nuns. This journey..medicinal as it may beh, will take ye tae places tha' will test e'ery might o' patience e'en ye have, dealin' with such clouts with cotton in the head. Afore ye gae, Ah'll let Eamonn see the men n' their steel n' their courses, but twixt a few chosen imparticular n' m'self, Ah will make sure tha' ye can navigate a harder course, n' tha' will be e'ery bit o' business, e'ery nuance o' culture tha' ye will have to do twice as good as any man while still bein' a woman in the sense they are used tae, or it will be all fer naught in some cases."
Faeren-All was ready for her departure she'd be making in the neighboring morning. In her chambers her things were packed, the things she was taking with her, and her vardo had been scrubbed inside and out. The few windows washed, the wood polished, and all the nooks and crannies and built in furnishings dusted. She'd even moved all of her things in her caravan already, and set up her banners and other ornaments on the exterior of her summer home on wheels. All there was left to do would be to harness her horse. But, that would be left in the morning of course. For now, she was far past due in her usual evening indulgements, and now she made her way hence. Dressed in her extravagent arrangement of colorful fabrics; twisting around her waist, her midsection, and an emerald scarf fashioned around her head tied beneath her red curls with the two tails draping down her back. In her hand she clutched My Sweet Romance and pushed the door to the tavern open with her free one, getting herself first a bottle of spirits and then inquiring to where Bess might be and being directed up stairs. With half the bottle already gone.
Max-Max was listening with keen ears to Bess and Aislin as they spoke. Being at Aislin's left side, left little choice in ignoring such a conversation. Moving the metal spoon within his stew, he stirred the thick broth about in the wooden bowl to keept he heat moving at every part within. Both dark brown eyes rose upwards while his head was tilted over the bowl so that the eye closer to the woman; the one that held the long scar over it; was watching them near it's cleaner opposite. It was true. The world was not meant to be ran by woman, or so many men believed. max was on both sides. He did not have a issue following a woman's lead if she was not dim in the head or more feminine then should be allowed upon a ship. Staying silent for the time being, he finally rose the spoon filled with the goodness of a hard cooked meal filled with meats and veggies to last a night in his stomach.
Aislin Creed-Aislin was not blind when it came to such things as the talk of preperation. She would need such, for she had not been in a ship where she would need to learn how to battle it up should things go wrong like pirates attacking. Aislin had learned a great deal about ships and how they worked while helping Bess in the shipping docks back in Inverness, however, she did not believe that she knew everything for only a fool would think such. Shifting ocean eyes towards her sister-in-law, she watched her face carefully as she spoke. She agreed and was fine with that knowledge. Inverness held much of the same things as the lead medicial professor there was male and confined to the church for his procedures. "Aye....fine that be then. Ah do nay think that will ease Eamonn's mind on my traveling. He can nay complain that we did nay include him though. "As she spoke, her hands shifted to grab up the blade upon the table and the pick to begin cutting into her thick slab of beef, making it suitable for the size of her wide mouth for faster and easier bites. The sound of the stairs creaking had Aislin stop in the pick halfway towards her mouth and shift her head to press that narrow chin to her slender, cloth covered shoulder as ocean eyes landed on the firey red head while she ascended upwards to their area. She could not remember the name, so perhaps someone else would kindly toss it out for her soon enough
Beathag-No, her sister-in-law was not blind, but by way the standards of the rest of Europe? She'd venture to only say naieve by way of experience. The medical professional in Inverness would nay hold a candle to what awaited her across the sea. "Nothin' will ease Eamonn's mind 'bout the travelin, or ye daein it. But, ye were matched tagether aye? Perhaps it was sae ye might be the thing wot...slowly opens up his mind tae a new light on a thing 'er three..let us re-interate slowly." She grinned, taking a bite out of the beef atop the bread, following it with a spoonful of broth from the bowl. He had his reasons to which his sister wouldn't refute, for they were logical reasons when he wasn't snorting about like a beligerant bull. The Highlander had a way of emphasizing the point of each; with the knowing Aislin was no fool coupled with the familial sense of pride in the work of a particular area. What Eamonn was to horses? The Highlander was to ships. Every rope, stern, bow. Starboard and port side. Every piece of rigging, maneuver, and circumstance had been lived or initiated. She watched men in her family take the wood of the land to make the floating behomoths of the water. Though she had a temper, Aislin herself had seen her smooth frazzled foreigners in a second at negotiations over shipping. Her sister wouldn't set foot on the boat until she had absorbed enough knowledge to be one step below formidable on a boat, for formidable would come with actual ship adventures. A crick in the wood turned her head over her shoulder, a hand lifting up, mouth opening after all the food was chewed "Evenin, Faeren! Will ye come n' join us fer supper, we were just discussin' some thins on' travelin. "
Faeren-Spotted and beckoned, Faeren obliged and approached the table. A smile spread fluidly across her lips, green-blue eyes engaging Bess, Aislin, and whoever else may be sitting there. "Good Evenin', is it not?" Pulling out a chair she set her violin case down on the floor and her bottle of whisky on the tabletop. Placing herself down on the chair, she looked up to Bess with red brows rising in interest. "Oh really now? Why, I'm travelin too." She grinned, it was really non such a surprise, was it now?
Max-This man, Eamonn was it? He would be a interesting fella to meet it seemed. Beathag spoke of opening a new light for the man and Max knew in a slight bit what that could mean. Change. It was why he never found himself a wife yet. A roll of his dark eyes was given as he went on to eat his stew, leaning over the bowl as that spoon worked in over time to keep the stew and chunks going into his mouth. His breaths were taken through his larger nostrils which flared every few moments as he inhaled beyond food going down the old wind pipe. At the sound of Beathag's greetings and another's following, dark eyes shifted up to see the red headed, younger woman making her way towards the table. Time was taken to finish up his meal before he wiped at his lips with the back of his dirt dusted sleeve upon that olive green tunic and eased back in the chair to settle his eyes on the red head. "Do you now? And how will you travel?" Entertainers....they were interesting folk.
Aislin Creed-Aislin heard Bess' words, for how could she not when her sister-in-law sat right beside her. She made no motion or words for those given from Bess. Eamonn was going to be how he was and in truth, Aislin wanted no other way. Sure, he could open up a bit, but Aislin was not like other woman. She had no reason for Eamonn to change for he suited her personality, or...what she had of one just fine. If he was happy being a angry bull for the rest of his life, so be it. Aislin was not spared in such a temper. Only one female on this earth could make that man smile like a fool and she was no more then five months old. More then likely sleeping in his arms somewhere right now. Sorcha had her ways to twist Eamonn around her little baby fingers. That was how it should be. Only their daughter should hold such power over a bull of a man. "Evening" Her head turned back around and she went on with her meal, shifting her eyes to Max for but a moment as he spoke and then looking down towards the vanishing meat.
Beathag-Max could get the details of Faeren's journey on the table along with the plentiful food and drink, where it belonged. Enjoying her second slab of meat to cut, she had her own thoughts on Eamonn needing to accept change. Mm, perhaps accept was too strong a word to use - tolerate was a better choice. He was who he was, world without end. The only thing the bull could do with was an occasional stop to absorb in his own good advice or realize that a good piece of know-how could be stumbled on to instead of having it beat him in the face when he ended up on his backside, usually pierced, cut, or some combination of the two. Then again, he thought she should act a certain way too. God forbid if Sorcha inherit a streak that was as stubborn as her father or aunt. Oh well . "Wot place calls tae ye know, gypsy woman?" Wrapping her hand around the pitcher of ale, she poured herself a mug to tha twent to the brim to wash down her supper
Faeren-"Caravan o'course!" And how excited she was to hop back onto that drivers seat with the open country road ahead of her, to begin new adventures to tell around the next winter's fires. Taking a swig from her bottle she licked her lips then turned her gaze back to Beathag. "Mm France an' Ireland. Not sure which one I'll go see first. I know at some point I have tah visit some family in Eire." Just how close of a relation this family was she was going to visit she would not elude to. Not yet anway. Even she spends her entire night at the tavern, well, who knows what knowledge may be imparted when a considerable amount of whisky has been imbibed.
Max-Ah. A Gypsy was she? He should have known with that violin, but the hair gave away celtic roots somewhere within the strands of couplings. Caravan? That made the tall, seated first mate smile wide, curling back those thin and firm lips. Hard to see dimples tried to press themselves beyond the scruff of hair that dusted across his cheeks, chin and the underside just along the upper area of his neck. It figured. Thicker fingers laced themselves upon his upper stomach, feeling the small swell of muscles beyond the material of his olive green tunic as they flexed involuntarily and then eased, waiting for the meal at hand to start disbursing it's nutrition upon his body.
Anulia of Amora-Pulling up the light skirts of browns and blacks, the dark skinned woman moved around those that were in their merriment at the generous use of coins upon the evening. A soft smile was given to any and all who may have looked her way before she paused by the wooden counter and spoke to Charlie in a voice that only he had to hear. It was not uncommon for taverns to share items with each other and such would be the same in this case. Rosa was running low on sweet mead and since most did not drink it here, why not put it to good use where others that held a lighter stomach could take it in.
Aislin Creed-Aislin remained silent for some time, letting others speak as she finished her meal, wanting to feed the secret within her body as well as herself. When she was finally done, a cloth that had been set aside by one of the many passing servers was taken up and used to wipe her mouth clean of any juices or bits that might have escaped her hungerous mouth. Once finished, her ocean eyes shifted towards Faeren before that slight bit of curious nature took over. "What else be seeing ye to travel besides visiting family. Do ye be having other plans as well?"
Faeren-Crossing a leg over the other, then settling her hands in the lap of her skirt. Which was a skirt worn over a number of other, thin skirts. All torn in layers so one could see the multi patterns of them all. She wore a white, long sleeved blouse beneath a wine red bodice, and was actually sparse on her jewerly except for some small silver hoops adorning her ears. Looking to Aislin she nodded. "Aye, I will be reuniting with m'Gypsy clan. My other family," She smiled brightly and fondly. "Travelin, entertainin'. Things o'that nature. Then I will most likely be returnin' again when the season turns."
Max-So It seemed Aislin did have a curious nature as Bess had stated before. Well that could be of great use when it comes to traveling. If she really wanted to learn as much as she presented, then Max had no issues trying to teach. Dark eyes shifted from one woman to the other before he heard a few mugs moving about and the shifting of a chair and table. Eyes peered over the railing of the top area to see down below as he leaned back in his chair, making it stand on the two back legs while he balanced the weight evenly. Two men had stood up quickly and were arguing over a card game. It was not the first time such men would worry on small things and it would not be the last. "Pardon me" he said as his chair planted the front legs firmly on the wooden floor and his tall frame pushed it back to stand then stretch. He was going down for a closer look. If played right, this could turn into a nice squable and the male in him simply had to watch it.
Anulia of Amora-With a beaming smile towards Charlie, she thanked him for his help and made the arrangements to have the barrels taken over by the next day. Rose was going to be thrilled to have it in stock. Hearing the shifting of others, she turned around to look over her shoulder, sending long braids with lace threaded through some of them, to sway. Chocolate eyes watched as the two men snarled at each other and others simply moved their chairs farther away, not really careing but not wanting to loose their drinks either at this point. Why did people fight over the smallest of things. It was not as if it were food, clothing or anything that they would need in life. She had heard stories that people would kill each other for the trading disc. How tragic.
Aislin Creed-"Is this something you do every year then? Like the birds?" Aislin inquired as she shifted her chair around to see the woman better. Watching Max move from his seat, she followed him until he was heading down the steps and out of view. She had no care for the men who may or may not throw blows to each other. The hour was growing late and she would have to be getting back home soon enough.
Beathag-"A gypsy moves when she feels the need tae dae sae, she's an unusual sort o' bird tha' way." Beathag interjected as she turned to watch Aislin get a view of actions below. Ah well, such was common, especially with sailors! "Oh, lemme guess, they beh bound tae row o'er somethin stupid..they won't e'en remember why..though the Gunner throws a damn good right hook," whistful little sigh. She missed salt air underneath her own "wings" as it were, blowing to make the sails full bellied. As it was, she was filled with good food, good drink, and the only place she was set to hit would be the back of the horse "Shall we, lasses? M'thinks tae make this a rovin' party, afore Ah fall asleep where Ah stand, tha', and the lads need tae be rowdy."
