Goblin Town -- Logs

During a discussion of the fact that there are likely to be balls and parties during the winter, it comes out that Cinnamon doesn't know how to dance. Jaeger doesn't address this in public, however. Instead, he finds her alone, and smiles, "I wanted to ask if you know how to dance."

Cinnamon blinks up at Jaeger, pushing up her glasses, "Uh, n-no? Remember, I didn't dance at all at the full moon festival at the Trod of the Rowan?" She sighs a bit wistfully, remembering Shane inviting her to dance -- but then whisking off when she'd admitted she didn't know how. A moment later she frowns, "Um... were you there for that? I think you were...?"

Jaeger nods, "I suspected as much." He smiles warmly at Cinnamon, "There are likely to be balls and parties you'll be invited to over the winter. Much entertainment is inside, in the cold months in the northern hemisphere. I think we should perhaps get some lessons for you."

Cinnamon's eyes widen in horror, "D... dancing lessons?!" She winces at the nervous squeak in her words, then bravely rallies, "Oh! I, uh, I w-wouldn't w-want to put you out or anything -- I can always t-take a book with me!"

Jaeger says gently, "Cinnamon, you would not be putting me out... and you are no longer the wallflower that's being invited just because someone's mother insisted they had to invite the entire neighborhood." The elder of Elm adds with a quiet smile, "There are likely, indeed, to be people who quite look forward to seeing you, and to asking for a dance. Shane just for one."

Cinnamon blanches -- how had he known that?! It had been a class at school rather than a neighborhood, but still...! She blinks several times, the hurt rising up inside her again and choking off her throat for a moment -- but then she closes her eyes and takes a deep, slow breath. She picks her words carefully, since she doesn't want to insult the nice man who doesn't really 'get' how it is for fat girls, "That's, er, v-very kind of you, Jaeger -- uh, and thank you! I... I really appreciate it. But, um, I -- I don't -- er, d-dancing? It's... not really my 'thing.'" Whew! That was... relatively polite! She mentally congratulates herself on managing to avoid crying or blurting out how utterly miserable it is to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else have fun... without her... which, admittedly, wasn't even half as bad as the tittering and sideways grins and -- and the jeering or pitying looks... Cinnamon shakes her head sharply: no! No, she's not going back there -- not now and not ever!

Jaeger takes Cinnamon's hands in his and looks her in the face, "You are still living as if you are in a very different world in your head. The world you are remembering is not where you actually are. Yes, I was there at Rowantrod. I watched Shane come to ask you to dance. I saw that people loved having you there. I saw other people invite you to join in." He touches her cheekbone and then her temple with cool, callused fingertips, "I saw the longing in your eyes. You have grace. You were lied to for so long that you began to believe the lies, but you know better now."

Cinnamon's eyes widen in shock at the gentleness -- both in the tone and the delicate touches -- and then Jaeger's words register, and the shame and longing and misery and desire all rise up at once, choking and strangling her words -- and without meaning to, she's suddenly crying -- sobbing out old agonies and humiliations. Her words are tangled up with her sobs as she tries to apologize, tries to stop crying, tries to squash down all the pain yet again... but it's like Jaeger has flung open an unexpected door! It all comes flooding out... despite her efforts.

Jaeger lets Cinnamon cry as he wraps his arms around her. As with touching her, he's careful and gentle. But the elder of Elm is also a warrior -- and so is also quite strong when needed. It's something Cinnamon has really never had except in Elias: a fatherly figure holding her as she sobs out old hurts and wounds. Jaeger doesn't try to shush her. Cinnamon doesn't consciously register it, but Jaeger's non-judgmental reaction to her tears is enormously freeing -- she feels almost lighter by the time the tears cease falling. She reflexively apologizes again -- this time for getting his pretty silk shirt wet -- as she dries her face, wipes her glasses clean, and blows her nose... but then she get a curious sensation of... is this freedom? Like... like he's right, and her old life really is past... and... and she can feel a small, shy thrill of excitement at the possibility of actually being able to dance with Shane? Maybe?

Cinnamon sits silently, staring down at her now-cleaned glasses as she considers these very uncharacteristic thoughts... and then, with slow deliberation, she puts her glasses firmly on, and looks up at Jaeger. She's still a bit nervous, so it takes a few seconds to get her voice to work... but she finally husks out, "Y... y-yes, p-please? I, um... I think I would like to... t-to learn how to dance? Er, if I can, I mean, and I'm not... um, too c-clumsy?"

Jaeger nods, "We will start this weekend. You are not too clumsy. And you can. We will begin with the basics." He smiles, "We will start with the waltz. That is a Teutonic dance, you know?" He touches her cheek and her temple again, "You will do very well."

Cinnamon's small, shy smile up at Jaeger is a touch shaky... but she gives it her best shot! She's firm with herself, as well: she is going to learn how to dance -- and Jaeger has faith in her! Heck, maybe Elias and Aisling do too! Cinnamon's never asked them about whether they think she'd be any good at dancing, after all, since it never even occurred to her to try, after her previous childhood experiences. She takes a deep breath and nods nervously to Jaeger, her voice sincere, "I -- w-well, I'll... t-try my best?"

Jaeger smiles, "You will do wonderfully, then... because your best is very good." Cinnamon's smile in reply is both shaky and extremely uncertain -- she's not so sure of that! Still, she said she'd try... and she truly will.

The first lesson is at the Elmtrod Residence on Coblyn; it does, after all, have a ballroom. The room is high-ceilinged, with a lovely parquet floor, and there's room for at least thirty or forty couples to dance the kind of lovely, swirly couples dances popular in the Teutonic countries. Jaeger explains that Elm likes to hold at least one huge party there during winter, noting with amusement, "We like our Jul celebrations in the northern countries! There will be greenery and mistletoe, much dancing, and probably not a little drinking as well."

Cinnamon stares around the room in open-mouthed awe, "Ooooh... Jaeger, it's so lovely! It looks like... like the ballroom in Cinderella!" She feels a few nervous butterflies in her stomach as she says that -- the dancers in that movie had all been so delicate and graceful and... and beautiful! Not like her... but no. No, she's not going to dwell on that, darnit! One thing at a time -- and right now, the time is just for learning to dance. Nothing else! She firmly shoo's off her internal butterflies and manages a shaky smile up at Jaeger, "I, um... I g-guess you've been dancing for, like... centuries already?" Hopefully that will mean he's an understanding teacher, even if he doesn't remember his first lessons... and that he won't giggle at her clumsy efforts?

Jaeger smiles, knowing not to laugh because laughter would be taken wrong by someone that was bullied, "Ah, those ballrooms in the old stories are based on real ones, of course... that version is French, I think. The version the brothers Grimm recorded is more... grim." He steps forward and offers his hands in the traditional waltz position, "Now, this was considered almost scandalous at the time, but only because people had gotten ridiculously prudish." He proceeds to teach the young dragon the careful, simple steps of the basic box waltz, accompanied by the lovely, lilting strains of an actually rather modern song. Instead of something classical, the song is played and sung by Billy Joel: 'Piano Man.' Jaeger explains, "The waltz is in three-quarter time. It's important to learn the rhythm rather than trying to match your dancing to a particular song, so I find it better to learn the timing than to memorize certain songs."

Cinnamon nods mechanically, her entire focus straining to get the steps right! Unsurprisingly, her nervous state makes her movements rather jerky; not quite lurching from point to point. It's only when Jaeger gently coaxes her into humming the tune along with him that her laser-sharp focus is splintered enough that she starts to move more naturally and fluidly. Fortunately, Jaeger picked music that he thought Cinnamon might know, so he could get her to hum or sing along with it, and pick up the rhythm. He knows being distracted a little from the nerves of getting everything perfect can help. He also occasionally has to tip her chin up to look at his face, "Don't watch your feet, dear; dancing is a conversation! In fact, people often talk as they dance. I have had more than one very private conversation on the dancefloor." He doesn't say what kind of private conversations, of course! He has, in fact, flirted on the dancefloor, as well as had very serious conversations about matters of state... both because dance partners are very close, and the music serves as excellent 'white noise.'

Cinnamon laughs breathlessly, "C-conversations?! Oh my g-gosh, how?! My brain's already going in a million directions as it I-eep!" She hastily corrects an almost-misstep, flushing as she sheepishly adds, "Okay, gotta focus more, clearly..."

Jaeger takes her laughing as permission for him to laugh with her, "Don't worry, everyone stumbles at the beginning -- I know I certainly did! My father's dancing master called me out on it more than once. I stepped on my partner's toes many times, to the point that she told me I would completely warp her feet! She eventually forgave me, though."

The lesson lasts about an hour, with music ranging from modern pop to country to classic. At its conclusion Cinnamon is entirely breathless, and rueful at how often she messes up! -but also laughing and bright-eyed with happiness. Jaeger is a surprisingly fun teacher, she realizes! Somewhat to her surprise, she rather enjoyed herself, and is actually looking forward to the next lesson. That one, and the two after it, leave her with a growing pleasure in dancing with a partner. It hasn't happened often, but every once in a while she sort of clicks with Jaeger, following his smooth lead with slow-growing confidence, and actually beginning to 'feel' the music and the partnership happening between them both. It's exciting! Jaeger can practically track her increasing skill by how much her eyes sparkle with happiness each time, in fact.

At the next lesson, Jaeger smiles down at the little dragon, "I do wish we had another partner for you to practice with. It's best if you don't just dance with the same person all the time, after all. If you get too used to just one person's steps..." As if by cosmic coincidence -- though it's actually Jaeger's keen ears picking up his son's distinctive steps in the hallway -- Marcus passes by the door just then. The elder elf hails the younger, "Ah, and here we are! Marcus! Will you come here, please?" Cinnamon is actually mostly enjoying herself today -- she feels like she's maybe starting to get a handle on this waltzing thingie! She blinks interestedly, pushing her glasses up as she considers: would Marcus maybe be fun to practice with? She laughs softly to herself at the immediate response -- sure, he's cute! Plus practice means she won't be stuck with him for too long, if he's being a meanie. Perfect!

Marcus looks surprised and a little distracted -- he's just come in from running errands -- as he steps to the doorway, "Yes?"

There's still music playing in the background as Jaeger cheerfully replies, "We need your help! Cinnamon needs a variety of partners, and I need to check her technique from a distance."

Marcus manages not to roll his eyes, "Father, I'm rather in the middle of something here..." He does actually have things he's trying to get done; dance lessons were not on his agenda for the day. In the ballroom, Cinnamon grins with relaxed amusement -- she's not surprised at all that Marcus isn't really interested! No worries, though, since she suspects Jaeger's a better dancer anyways.

Jaeger mms as he thoughtfully strokes his chin, "True... and you doubtless have done no formal dancing in quite some while -- you've likely forgotten the rules of most of them! We really want someone who has all the niceties well in hand, to represent Elm." Cinnamon blinks at that... then has to cover her grin! Did Jaeger just wave a red flag in front of the bull, there?!

Marcus scowls a little, stung. Waltzing isn't his favorite -- he prefers the Latin dances, truth be told -- but to be told he probably doesn't remember the rules and niceties? He almost stomps into the room, snapping down the papers he was carrying on the nearest flat surface as he nearly growls, "I can represent Elm just fine, Father. It's my job now, after all -- and I do so remember the waltz! I had the same dancing master as you, after all." Cinnamon giggles at that! She's still slightly, attractively flushed from her dancing, and her eyes are almost sparkling with amusement!

Moments later, Marcus' form is perfect as he looks down at Cinnamon -- then blinks. He's caught off-guard by that sparkling smile and the pretty flush! For the first time, Cinnamon gets a good look at Marcus' real smile, as it's surprised out of him. The little dragon beams delightedly up at Marcus! Then, her arms also in picture perfect form, she turns her head to glance inquiringly at Jaeger for instruction. She has no idea what effect her expression had on the younger elf!

Marcus is -- contrary to Jaeger's obvious red-cape waving dismissal -- an exquisite dancer. His motions are fluid, and he proves to be an excellent lead -- even a wonderful teacher, in a way -- because he knows the newer forms of the waltz, and because he explains that it's quite fine to improvise once you're comfortable. Indeed, the younger elf has a much nicer time than he expected in Cinnamon's company. Cinnamon is delighted to see she's getting better, and her increasing relaxation unsurprisingly assists tremendously in aiding the fluidity and grace of her movements... and that, also unsurprisingly, means she's nearly alight with pleasure! Marcus even finds himself thinking, at one point, that she really does have quite a lovely smile! Jaeger watches this and is very, very good at hiding the smug feeling. Cinnamon is laughing and breathlessly exuberant once the lesson is concluded, thanking Marcus and giving Jaeger a heartfelt thank-you hug of appreciation.

The Valkyrie is in harbor and waiting for Cinnamon, Thorn, Shane, Jaeger, and Marcus to board. The Havvarger had their trip with the Boy Scouts, followed by a couple of days doing maintenance, and acting as a sort of floating museum for people to see how old ships work -- Arvid had earlier explained that the pack makes money however they can, during good seasons. The four returning travelers are greeted with warmth and affection -- even with embraces, where it would be welcome. Thorn is excited to be aboard the Valkyrie again, and greets the Havvarger cheerfully. Cinnamon too is delighted to be aboard once more! She enthusiastically hugs anyone who'd like a hug, greeting everyone with pleasure and thanking them for being willing to sail across the Atlantic again on such short notice.

Fraser actually picks Cinnamon up and whirls her around when he hugs her, grinning mischievously before he sets her on her feet again. The little dragon eek!s in shock -- then gets a bad case of the giggles! She nearly scampers off after Fraser puts her down, needing a moment to recover from her hot blush! Fraser grins broadly as Cinnamon scampers off, then can't help glancing from the corner of his eye at Shane, to see how the half-beansidhe is reacting. Marcus (who was raised between Elm and Coblyn) looks a little... askance... at Valkyrie. It's not as if he's had limousines and such all his life, but he has been living in the Coblyn residence for several years now. This is... not that. He has not, however, made the mistake of wearing one of his elegant suits on the ship; he's dressed practically. Further, Jaeger makes a point of introducing his son to the leaders of the Havvarger, "Marcus, this is Captain Arvid and his first mate Fraser. On this ship, they are the authorities. Once we leave port, their word is law. It is how it has always been aboard ship."

As Cinnamon nearly ducks behind the big pile of luggage that has yet to be sorted out into the various cabins, she catches Jaeger's words. Huh! She's a bit surprised that Marcus apparently doesn't know that. After all, the captain's word being law was so stated in almost every piece of fiction with a ship in it that she's ever read! Thorn too -- on the deck and catching up with Alfred -- hears Jaeger's admonishment. He's a little surprised the Elm elder didn't tell Marcus this in private beforehand, and he hopes Marcus accepts this statement at face value -- otherwise it's going to be... a difficult trip. Cinnamon blinks at another thought, peeking over the luggage as it hits her: the Forest folk valet and butler were left behind! How interesting... is this Jaeger maybe trying to help Marcus learn how to 'rough it'? The younger elf has Cinnamon's sympathies, if so. Jaeger is head and shoulders nicer than Cinnamon's genetic father! -but the little dragon still keenly remembers the shock of one's expectations being shattered by reality.

Arvid nods to the younger elf, "Ja, ships must run that way. If a captain says move, you move." Marcus nods in quiet solemnity, though by his expression he's a little irritated that his father is making such a point of this.

Fraser grins wryly as he adds, "Aye -- and things get a bit loud and raucous sometimes! Sailors aren't known for our manners." That makes Shane, who is passing by with his luggage, laugh quietly.

Marcus nods, "Understood." His tone is level, and he glances a bit sideways at Fraser -- almost as if he'd rather not look directly into the big Scots werewolf's eyes. Of course, Fraser and Arvid are both rather imposing men. As he does so, Jaeger nods and shoulders his bag. Marcus does the same, and both men head for their berth. Cinnamon hastily grabs up her own duffel and bag, and follows, still musing to herself. Admittedly, it isn't easy for folks like Butler to move about Boston proper... and they'd have to hide belowdecks whenever the Valkyrie was in port... her thoughts are still racing (which helps her unwittingly lose the blush) as she follows everyone belowdecks to their new berths.

Cinnamon is, of course, given a berth of her own; she shyly thanks Fraser and Rafe when they show her that she'll have her own cabin this time around. Shane and Thorn are given the option of bunking together or having their own rooms. As it turns out, Thorn has no problem bunking with Shane, if the beansidhe doesn't mind. Besides, Shane is companionable... and indeed, he's happy to bunk with Thorn, since he prefers not to take up more space than needed. Jaeger and Marcus are also billeted together. It's not said aloud, of course, that Marcus is being put in with his father because the Havvarger don't know him and therefore don't know what to expect from him onboard.

As folks head downstairs, Shane leans a bit toward Thorn and murmurs, "I think that was Jaeger putting Marcus on notice that no one's going to put up with attitude... and maybe putting Fraser and Arvid on notice that he's absolutely OK with them checking Marcus!" He glances around, then lowers his voice even further to add with a small grin, "Is it horrible that I sorta want to see Marcus get on Fraser's nerves? Like... about a week out from the full moon?"

Thorn resists glancing over. "Probably true," he murmurs back. "Just a little surprised." He stifles a laugh at Shane's comment about Marcus getting on Fraser's nerves, murmuring in reply, "That wouldn't end well at all, I'm afraid!"

Shane turns a laugh into a cough, "No, it wouldn't, would it? Fraser wouldn't actually damage him, but it would be fuckin' hilarious." The beansidhe doesn't watch his language quite as much when there aren't ladies around; in some ways, he's really got some old-fashioned manners. He grins, letting Thorn know he really doesn't bear any real ill-will toward Marcus and wouldn't really want the other man hurt.

When Shane repeats that to Cinnamon (later, just as quietly, but without the swearing), the little dragon can't suppress her half-shocked/half-delighted squeak -- and then she giggles and whispers back, "You're so bad, Shane! So I guess... I'm bad too? -'cause now you've got me looking forward to this!"

Shane smiles, "I really don't want him hurt, though... and honestly, I don't wish ill on anyone... but sometimes you have to have reality shown to you in a shocking way to be able to understand it."

Cinnamon nods gravely at that -- she completely agrees, based on her own experience! "True, yes," Thorn says. "Hopefully he learns a bit more before we run into the Basque rogues."

For the first few hours after the Valkyrie sets sail, Cinnamon is a little tentative... but her stomach behaves itself admirably, rather than indulging in nauseatingly acrobatic flips and rolls. The little dragon is utterly delighted at that, spending her time scampering up and down the ship's length, re-familiarizing herself with the graceful three-master, and lending a hand wherever she can. Indeed, the first days out are fairly smooth, and the Havvarger easily fold the four familiar people back into the ship's life. However, when Jaeger gets his son out on deck, Marcus looks... a little green. It's quite obvious he's never been to sea. Cinnamon feels bad for poor Marcus! She'd like to be helpful if she can... so she sidles over and quietly suggests he maybe settle himself into a chair in an out of the way spot, with a blanket and a big mug of ginger tea, adding, "That's what they gave me last time, and it worked great!"

Marcus is holding tight to a rail; he glances sideways at Cinnamon, jaw clenched, and it's obvious by the look on his face that he wants to snap at her. Every muscle and line of his body is screaming 'irritated and grumpy' -- but then his eyes flick up and over her shoulder just as his mouth starts to open... and he swallows hard, merely croaking, "That... might be best."

Cinnamon beams cheerfully at him, "Okay! Let me see if I can get someone to help you, okay?" She turns and looks around, thinking... Alfred's the cook, so he's the one to get the tea from. Who's available to make sure Marcus is tucked away someplace safe but also on deck, in the fresh air? It's Arvid who is actually behind Cinnamon, not much farther down the rail. When Cinnamon moves away, Marcus leans very far over the rail for a bit, trying to be quiet -- because being seasick is not precisely the most elegant of things. Cinnamon smiles in wry sympathy at the faint sounds -- good thing poor Marcus doesn't wear glasses! To Arvid, she says, "Hi, Captain! Remember how nice everyone was when I was seasick, on our last journey? I was wondering... would it be possible to set Marcus up in an out of the way place, with that ginger tea, like you guys did for me?"

Arvid chuckles a bit, watching the young elf, "Oh, ja, we can do that. He'll get his sea legs eventually. It seems he's not been on much moving at all."

Cinnamon smiles and shakes her head, "I don't know, really... I suppose you could ask him?" She grins with infectious enthusiasm as she adds, "I'll go ask Alfred for some tea, then, okay?" She patters off, happily humming one of the sea shanties to herself as she goes -- and completely unaware that her general level of cheerful perkiness is likely just as nauseating as the motion of the waves to poor Marcus! Not long after that, Marcus is ensconced in an out-of-the-way spot with a chair and a cup of ginger tea.

Fraser wanders by where Cinnamon and Thorn have been set to coil some ropes, chuckling, "That one's going to have a rough crossing of it for a week or so."

Cinnamon grins cheerfully at Fraser when he approaches -- though at his words she blinks up at him in shock, "A week?! Oh my gosh, the poor man!" She pushes up her glasses and glances worriedly over towards Marcus, "Why so long? Is there anything we can do to help? Er, past the tea, I mean?"

Thorn blinks in surprise. "A week?" he blurts out as well. He's a little surprised at that!

Fraser chuckles, "Not just the seasickness. His father seems to expect him to help, aboard -- after all, Jaeger helps too. But have you seen the lad's hands? He's got hands like a girl's. They'll blister... and his skin's going to burn if he's not careful."

Cinnamon blinks again, looking down at her own hands, "But... I have girl hands too...?" She frowns thoughtfully, then looks up at Fraser, her eyes narrowed, "Wait, let me guess: dragons heal faster than elves do?"

Fraser grins and turns Cinnamon's hands over to look at the palms, rubbing them with his thumbs, "Yours blistered a little at first, didn't they? Or got rubbed a little raw, right? On the ropes?"

Cinnamon considers, "Well, yes, but... it wasn't bad by the next morning...?" She grins shyly up at Fraser as she adds, "Honestly, the six or so hours of hiking in Ireland were a whole ton of pain worse -- I thought I was gonna die by the end of it! But by the next morning... all healed up, you know?"

Fraser nods with a smile, "Aye... and yeh, dragons and werewolves both heal faster than elves." He grins at Thorn, "You're going to be needed a bit, I think." Thorn nods to Fraser, though the healer does hope there's nothing quite so dramatic that'll need doing, like there was in the last trip! Fraser pats Thorn on the shoulder and glances toward Marcus with a shake of his head, "I wonder if Jaeger is throwing that lad in the deep end on purpose..."

Cinnamon murmurs with a hint of pity in her eyes, "Poor guy!" She sighs, adding, "I hope Jaeger knows what he's doing!" She can't help feeling a bit guilty about caring what happens to Marcus, especially since she knows Shane (amongst several others, herself among them) is somewhat amusedly waiting for Fraser to growl at Marcus! Nevertheless, she keenly remembers her family dragging her through camping trips and sports-related outings where they knew she wouldn't be able to keep up, yet insisted she come along regardless... and being humiliatingly disparaging of her resultant (and expected) physical issues. Consequently, there's a small part of Cinnamon that worries a bit for poor Marcus... and wishes she could help.

As they watch, Shane actually wanders over to Marcus and crouches by him. Even if he does want to see a confrontation between the Scots werewolf and the somewhat haughty elf, Shane is... still Shane. Marcus looks a little stiff as the half-beansidhe is talking with him, holding his tea in both hands. After a few minutes, though, Shane shrugs, stands, and moves off. Cinnamon glances wryly up at Fraser after she watches Shane, murmuring to the Scots werewolf, "Let me guess... Marcus has been huffily refusing help, too? That's silly, if so." She gently pulls back her hands from Fraser's, so she can keep helping Thorn with coiling the ropes, as she adds, "Though... I honestly don't know what to offer to help. Just the day of rest and fresh air and ginger tea did it for me, you know?"

Fraser nods, "I think that'll get him past the seasickness." He grins as he adds, "But I'm wondering if we'll get him in the tops." He winks and pushes to his feet, wandering off to his own work.

Cinnamon blinks bemusedly after Fraser, echoing him, "The tops...?" She glances confusedly at Thorn, "Does he mean, like... up in the rigging, maybe?"

Thorn is concerned, and gives voice to his worries, "There's nudging someone to be a better person, and then there's pushing them past their limits. If working in the tops would actually help Marcus, fine... but the top of the rigging -- and that's what Fraser did mean, I think -- isn't for everyone."

Cinnamon nods thoughtfully as she watches both Fraser and Shane saunter off to their respective jobs... then she looks down at her hands, curiously inspecting them. No blisters that she can see -- just smooth skin the same color she remembers it always being. Of course, she doesn't often inspect her hands... and Fraser's thumbs had felt oddly nice against her palms. The unexpected thought pops into her head: how would it feel if Shane did that? She blinks startledly, her cheeks turning pink at that thought -- and hastily continues coiling the ropes!

Marcus does indeed seem not to be seasick the next day, but Fraser was apparently only teasing about getting Marcus in the tops -- because the younger member of Elm is not up there. Instead, he's seen with his father, learning to negotiate lower parts of the rigging. He is... actually rather good at it. He's dressed in leather leggings and what looks to be some kind of linen tunic, with his hair loose. His nose and cheeks are sun-pinked, and his expression is almost grim. Cinnamon smiles as she spots Marcus up in the rigging. As the wind tugs her increasingly flame-colored hair out of its braid, she pushes it back and admires the graceful way the lithe men swing through the ropes -- very pretty! She hopes Marcus eventually learns how much fun the rigging is too!

Fraser is actually a bit surprised at the way Marcus moves in the ropes... until he's reminded that the Elmtrod elves live in a woodland trod -- it's the Rowantrod elves who are beansidhe, and live in an underground trod. "Huh. I'd forgotten that. I'd expected the little ba... so-and-so to not know what to do once his feet left the deck." He snorts, head tipped to the side and eyes narrowed. He's got that expression that says his ears would perk if they could... and then he snorts again as he moves off.

Cinnamon blinks startledly up at Fraser... then gets a worried look on her face. Does she look clumsy and awkward in the rigging? -and also... what has Marcus done, already, that Fraser's kind of down on him? Thorn glances up at the cut-off imprecation Fraser growls. His thoughts mirror Cinnamon's: what has already happened, to make Fraser (at the very least) unimpressed or dismissive of the sidhe? Shane also glances after Fraser, brows up as he looks back at Thorn and Cinnamon both, "I really was joking about wanting to see Marcus step on his toes, but I wonder what Marcus did...?"

Cinnamon nods to Shane, a bit wide-eyed, "Me too! Well... that, and wondering if I pissed him off too, on our first voyage... though I, um... hope not?" She sounds a little uncertain.

Shane shakes his head, "I don't think any of us did. He seemed pretty chill up until, well... until he didn't, you know? And even then, he wasn't not-chill. He was just... extra-Fraser-y."

Cinnamon has to stifle the giggle that causes! After that she grins and relaxes a bit... though she also makes a mental note to be extra-specially polite around Fraser! If he's having a hard time with this trip, she certain doesn't want to be the cause of yet more issues, after all. Thorn too stifles a laugh at Shane's comment, then adds, "I didn't get the impression any of us torqued him off either. Hopefully whatever is irritating Fraser about Marcus will pass soon."

Cinnamon murmurs dryly -- and very quietly, "Or it'll blow up entirely!"

Thorn remembers Fraser escaping from the room he'd been put into and the mess he made. "Definitely," he worriedly replies.

Cinnamon grins at Thorn, "Well, at least he won't be a werewolf for it, right?"

On the second or third day out, Marcus is still learning moving around in the rigging -- and he slips. His hands have been getting sweaty and, yes, he's been blistering. But he's also been not saying anything about it. That day, the blisters break... and that, along with the stinging sweat, cause him to lose his grip while he's twenty feet above the deck. Cinnamon is pattering across the deck with several coils of really big rope, but she glances up reflexively at the startled and pained yelp -- followed almost immediately by a shout of alarm. She sees someone dangling from the rigging by a hand, flailing madly to grab at the individual strands of the rigging -- and she reacts instinctively. Dropping her coils, she darts over to stand under the flailing person... though on the way there she realizes she's not really big enough to catch whoever that is and keep them safely from striking the deck at all! Consequently by the time she's in position beneath the person, she's also in dragon form... and can sit up tall and cup her large, taloned paw-hands underneath them. Her rumbling voice is reassuring, "Easy there, I got you...!"

While the Valkyrie is large, the sudden appearance of something the size and weight of dragon-Cinnamon does cause some change in the ship's weight-distribution! The ship bobs a few times, causing some shouts and confusion as people slide and have to grab onto the rigging -- but the Havvarger are used to changes in the pitch and yaw of the ship, so it's not a huge thing. Marcus, upon feeling something solid under himself, lets go of the rope he was precariously clinging to -- and falls into Cinnamon's hands, panting. Cinnamon smiles toothily down at him, "There you go!" then blinks, sniffing, "You're... bleeding?!" She turns her head to call for help, though it comes out more like a quiet roar, "Thorny! Need help here, please!"

Belowdecks, Thorn thumps against the bulkhead as everything abruptly shifts, and wonders briefly if they impacted something, or if the wereshark is making a return visit....? When he hears dragon-Cinnamon's voice, however, he figures the immediate danger is past but she needs him now. He grabs the nearest first-aid kit and scrambles up onto deck, to find Cinnamon cradling Marcus. He blinks, then notices the sidhe's bloody hands, and goes quickly to Cinnamon's side. "What happened?" he asks, spotting hemp rope fibers on Marcus's hands.

Cinnamon holds her paw-hands out to Thorn, rather as if she's offering him the bloody-handed elf, "Marcus lost his grip in the rigging, so I caught him. Can you bandage him up and find out why he's bloody, please?" She glances around curiously, wondering where everyone is... she'd have thought Jaeger, at least, might come running?

Thorn helps Marcus from Cinnamon's paw-hands, then tries to get the man to lie down on deck, as he simultaneously nods at Cinnamon's explanation -- Marcus must still be recovering from his startlement and terror of falling. When Thorn gets Marcus to open his palms, the healer/medic can they're rather badly abraded. It might partially be the slip, but there are a good number of blisters -- and several of them have burst. Thorn studies Marcus's hands, hissing softly. He knows (or at least has some idea) why Marcus didn't mention the blisters -- the healer saw it often enough from fellow soldiers in boot! This time was probably made all the sharper for Marcus by his father's admonishments. Nevertheless, Thorn doesn't want to add to Marcus' discomfort by berating him for working with blisters on his hands. Instead, Thorn simply reaches for the sharpest blade in his medkit. Cinnamon takes a careful step back, not wishing to accidentally tromp someone, and glances around again -- though this time it's to try and find a sheltered corner. She's just realized: there's no Josie to hold up a sheet for her! Maybe... maybe Shane would be willing?

Once Valkyrie stops bobbing and rocking quite so much, people move swiftly toward Cinnamon, Thorn, and Marcus. The young elf's heart is still racing and he winces, teeth clenched -- while his voice has that sharp tone that comes with terror and pain, "Fell. Hands slipped." He desperately hopes the tears trying to well up in his eyes will mix disguisingly with sweat!

Cinnamon calls out to Fraser, when she spots him, "Sorry about the, er, bouncing, Fraser -- I wanted to catch the falling guy!" She gestures down to her companions as she adds, "Marcus was falling. Thorn's with him now! Um... have you seen Shane anywhere?"

Once Thorn carefully cuts away the dead skin, he murmurs, "This is going to hurt a lot, Marcus -- I'm sorry -- but we need to get your wounds cleaned and bandaged." With Marcus warned, he applies the antiseptic (which he knows will sting like a bear!), then starts lightly bandaging Marcus's hands.

As he does so, Jaeger, Fraser, and Arvid all arrive at once, and Fraser and Jaeger crouch by Marcus and Thorn. Marcus is wincing and flexing his fingers, muttering to himself in German, as Jaeger snorts, "I told you not to overdo it."

Marcus is starting to shake with reaction -- he could have been quite badly hurt! Twenty feet is no small distance. Thorn murmurs quietly to Marcus, "Almost done," to hopefully reassure the elf that it's almost over. He drops his words down to a soothing timbre, hoping to keep Marcus from slipping into shock. Marcus keeps his eyes on Thorn, starting to relax.

Shane also arrives, but he's checking on Cinnamon, who he knows might be freaking out. However, the young dragon has settled into her usual sphinx pose next to Thorn and Marcus, though her long neck arches gracefully as she turns to smile down at Shane, "Hi, Shane! Um, can I ask a favor, please? Could you... hold up a sail or a sheet or tarp or something for me in a bit?" Her voice lowers as she adds to the beansidhe, "Poor Marcus nearly fell from the rigging! But I caught him." She has no idea how her words might sound to the possibly pain- and adrenaline-frazzled elf as she quietly adds, "I think he was trying to ignore his blisters and soldier on through the pain or something, you know? Poor little guy..." She doesn't speak German, so she's curious but uncomprehending at Marcus' mutterings... and it simply doesn't occur to her that he might consider tears or his pain to be shameful.

Shane nods to Cinnamon, "I'll grab some sailcloth," then shakes his head, murmuring, "He was being over-proud, I think." Cinnamon nods to Shane, her small smile wry... and then, when Shane trots off, the young dragon turns her head to continue regarding Marcus with interest, her tufted ears pricked up as she studies him.

Fraser growls a little as he's crouched by Thorn, and looks Marcus in the face. When Marcus tries to glance away, Fraser takes the elf's chin in his big hand and makes Marcus look him in the eyes as he rumbles, "Don't do that again, lad. I appreciate that you're trying to be proud -- pride is good. Hubris is not. If you'd fallen, you could have taken someone else with you. If you'd hit the deck, you could have died. You're good in the rigging -- I've seen it. Take care of yourself. Let other people take care of you. Don't hurt yourself because you're too godsdamned proud to let people see you hurting, boy!"

Cinnamon nods gravely in agreement, watching Marcus over Fraser's shoulder. She means to be reassuring as she rumbles quietly, "We don't want to lose you, Marcus... not to a stupid accident!"

Marcus glowers at Fraser, his lips thinning to an almost white line -- Thorn can feel the elf's hand starting to tense -- and Fraser's fingers tighten a little on the boy's chin, "No! Listen to me, lad. On this ship, you will pay attention! We work as a team. This crew is, literally, a pack -- and while you're on this ship, you're part of our pack. So you work within it." He lets go of Marcus' chin, adding, "You're not to go into the rigging again until your hands are healed." Then he gets to his feet and stalks off.

Marcus watches him leave, then almost growls at Thorn, "Is he always so schei� rude?"

Cinnamon smiles quietly as she watches Fraser stalking off... she's glad he's her friend -- then blinks in surprise, "He's not rude at all, Marcus. He's taking care of you because you didn't." She curls her tail neatly about herself as she adds, "He's upset because he cares about all his pack... and that includes you right now."

Thorn nods in agreement with Cinnamon, "The last thing he wants is someone to die aboard his ship -- anyone -- and not because it'd be 'inconvenient.' He's a good first mate. He cares about everyone who's aboard."

Shane snorts and nods, "He's plainspoken, but for Fraser that was fairly polite. Give it..." he glances at Cinnamon, "when's the full moon?"

Cinnamon looks down at Shane, then thinks for a moment before rumbling, "Fifteen days," then adds reassuringly, "Don't worry -- barring some issue, we'll have been in France for, um... almost a week by then?"

Shane's holding a piece of sailcloth that's about the size of a king-sized bedsheet, folded over his arm, as he nods, "Give him about twelve days. At that point, you really won't want to be on his bad side." He smiles wryly, "From what I understand, he actually isn't captain because he understands that him being captain would be a bad idea... because of the curse. That's what I call real and actual responsibility."

Marcus grits his teeth and flexes his fingers, his face still a bit paler than usual under the sun-flush, "Fine -- no climbing in the rigging. Father said something about learning navigation at some point, I suppose..."

Cinnamon beams toothily, "Oh, I learned that! It's a lot of fun -- you'll enjoy it, Marcus!"

Marcus gets to his feet, wincing -- catching himself by one arm up in the rigging clearly strained some muscles! He growls, "For now... I think I am going to my berth for a bit."

Cinnamon watches a little puzzledly, "Okay..."

Shane watches him go with a shake of his head, murmuring -- once Marcus is out of earshot, "He's gone to lick his wounds. Figuratively."

Cinnamon glances thoughtfully down at Shane, then turns and says quietly to Thorn, "In that case, thank you, Thorny, for helping Marcus -- even though he didn't say thank you to you... and thank you from me, for coming right away when I yelled!" She rises to all four feet, shaking herself once to settle her wings and scales into place... then grins down at her friends, "We won! Nobody seriously injured. Yay, us!" She gives her trilling draconic laugh, then cheerfully adds, "Thank you too, Shane, for helping me with the change! Let's go over there, okay?" She points with a claw, then pads that way, carefully keeping her tail curled up out of people's way.

Thorn isn't offended that Marcus didn't thank him; the elf had a lot on his mind -- though, admittedly, it was all focused on himself. Still, the healer is glad Marcus is relatively fine -- the worst that happened was a bad scare and some extremely painful hand injuries. The young elf will be all right in a few days. Thorn hopes, though, that Marcus has learned something from this -- an extremely painful lesson is far better than an extremely terminal one!

Shane, being a gentleman, holds the sailcloth up higher than his own head as Cinnamon tries her change... though she must be a bit frazzled still from her hasty rescue of the pretty (if also not very gracious!) elf... because the young dragon flickers in and out of sight three times, accompanied by her exasperated mutterings, before she finally sighs in relief, "There we go... finally!" She beams up at Shane, pushing her glasses up as she adds, "Thank you again, Shaney!"

Shane grins and hugs Cinnamon before folding away the sailcloth, "You're always welcome. I know you usually ask Josie." She blinks, then happily returns the hug! She hastily releases when she realizes Shane is, though, and glances down to re-settle her glasses... and to give the flush a moment to subside. He shakes his head, "I'm glad Marcus' pride didn't get him more hurt than it did."

Cinnamon nods gravely, murmuring, "Me too! Also that no one else got hurt, as well."

Shane nods, "Yeah. If someone else had gotten hurt, Fraser wouldn't have been quite so calm, I don't think."

Cinnamon nods again, her expression worried... but then she looks up and smiles, "Still. We got him in time!"

The next morning -- at least it's morning by dint of it being between midnight and noon -- Marcus and Cinnamon are both rousted out of bed before sunup for some lessons on stellar navigation. It's important to know about all the stars, after all, not just the ones in the middle of the night or early in the evening. What Arvid doesn't say is that Jaeger has specifically talked to the captain about pushing carefully at the edges of his son's limits. It's 4:00 a.m., not 2:00 a.m., but it's still hours before Marcus would normally be awake. It's cold, it's damp, and it's not the leisurely sort of waking up the young elf would expect... especially since this sort of navigation isn't done from inside a cabin.

Elsewhere, Cinnamon bounces excitedly out of bed, still yawning as she thanks Fraser (through the door) for knocking and waking her on time! She's looking forward to new lessons from Arvid, especially in stellar navigation -- maybe they'll learn the astrolabe today? She throws on the clothing she laid out last night, then hastily patters out of her cabin with a hopeful expression. She doesn't expect breakfast at this hour, of course, but... maybe coffee has been brewed? She beams and waves a bit drowsily at Marcus when she spots him trudging out of his room, "Morning, Marcus! Isn't it exciting? Stellar navigation is really cool -- bet you'll like it!" She patters hastily off for the mess, since she doesn't want to be late to the bridge, where Captain Arvid awaits them both. Marcus looks bleary and irritable this morning. He's wrapped in a thick aran sweater and his hands are still bandaged and sore... though his pride is almost more hurt than his palms -- and he's definitely sunburned. He doesn't answer Cinnamon, but then she's gone so quickly that he doesn't really have to. He mutters to himself about people that are too verdammt perky when the sun isn't even over the horizon.

Cinnamon discovers, in the mess, that coffee has indeed been brewed. Breakfast won't be ready for an hour or so more, because most of the crew aren't yet awake, but coffee is definitely ready. Also, there's some fruit, as there always is. Cinnamon sighs happily, giving Alfred a quick, shy hug of thanks for the orange and apple he's got in a little bag for her, as per her earlier request. She stuffs it into a pocket, grabs up her mug of lovely, steaming-hot coffee, and scampers excitedly for the bridge! When she arrives she discovers that Arvid has some charts out -- and does indeed have the astrolabe as well! Her eyes widen with excitement at sight of the astrolabe, but she remembers to politely greet Captain Arvid, and thank him for taking time to teach her and Marcus. After that, she leans to study the charts with him, silently sipping her coffee while they wait for Marcus to arrive... and then for Arvid to start teaching.

Arvid greets both young people and doesn't smirk at Marcus' glower or the face the young elf makes at the strong coffee -- which has more caffeine in it than tea. There is tea available on Valkyrie, but none of the Havvarger drink it in the mornings, so Alfred doesn't think to brew it. If Marcus had asked nicely... but of course, he didn't think to ask nicely. Instead, he's sullenly thinking that no one should be up at so uncivilized an hour, drinking something they could stand a spoon up in, while having the wet, salty air whip in their face. He glowers at the overly-perky Cinnamon as he shivers even inside the sweater. He's used to the cold -- his people are northern-bred -- but the damp is something altogether, unpleasantly different...

Cinnamon listens attentively to Arvid's teaching on the astrolabe -- its history, its uses, how to repair it, and how to learn from it. As she does so, she neatly eats up the slices of the already-peeled orange, then licks her fingers unself-consciously clean -- she doesn't want to get orange juice on anything, after all! She's bright-eyed with cheerful excitement as she listens, and her answers to any questions Arvid poses her are either correct (due to her eidetic memory), or good logical extrapolations of what she's been taught already. It's instantly clear that this is something she very much wishes to learn, and that she's proud to be one of Arvid's students!

Marcus is by no means stupid, but he is sleepy and resentful, so he's making mistakes. Further, when Arvid turns to Cinnamon each time Marcus gets something wrong, and Cinnamon is able to get the answer right? It just makes Marcus' hackles rise further. He knows why he's here -- it's another of Jaeger's ideas of broadening his horizons. Deep down he understands why, but he's sleepy, he's in pain, and he's being outdone by that self-important, overly-perky, dumpy little dragon! He's seeing everyone and everything in the worst possible light this morning. Cinnamon, on the other hand, is almost glowing with happiness at Arvid's approval! She's happy to wait and watch the sunrise too, when Arvid invites them to do so -- it's utterly glorious out here, she knows! Marcus stays as well, but he's barely paying attention, mostly thinking about getting back to the cabin and getting back under the blankets for an hour or so.

This morning's sunrise is no exception to Cinnamon's expectations. The little dragon is silent with awe at its ethereal beauty... and once the sun is truly up over the watery horizon she takes a slow, shaky breath, then smiles up at Arvid, "Thanks, Captain... for everything!" She patters happily off when gently shoo'd off to breakfast, still savoring the extraordinary splendor of the dawn. For Marcus, however, when the sun finally comes up and puts an end to the lesson -- and he's told breakfast is ready -- well, the young elf decides he's going to skip the fucking meal and go get some more sleep... if only to escape all this annoying chirping!

Shortly after the departure of both young people, Jaeger finds Arvid and speaks quietly with the captain for a moment. He chuckles wryly upon hearing that Marcus behaved about the way he expected. His son is intelligent and has a grasp of appropriateness... but has also not quite learned adaptability! Consequently Jaeger heads off to catch up to Marcus, diverting the younger of the two Elmstrod members before he can make it back to bed. The elder explains to his son that the pair of them are going to be helping out aboard ship directly after breakfast, and so will need a good meal first. Marcus grits his teeth but says nothing -- because if there is one person in the world he will not lose his temper and snap at, it's his father -- and so the two men go to eat.

Thorn wakes up somewhat after dawn -- he's gotten into the habit of getting what sleep he can, since he never knows when his abilities and skills might be needed. Admittedly, it's hard to sleep with the delicious way breakfast smells! Cinnamon cheerfully greets Thorn when he arrives for food, as well as all the other folks she knows who are there at this hour. She has a plate piled high with bacon, sausage, eggs, biscuits, and other tasty goodies, and she's eating at a good clip since she knows they'll be working hard today. Arvid has asked her to once again be available to help shift heavy things around as needed, both belowdecks and above. She's rather pleased that she'll be able to be useful today! When Thorn, Marcus, and Jaeger all come to sit with her, Cinnamon chatters excitedly to them about stellar navigation, the beauty of the constellations, and the delicate artistry of the astrolabe.

Thorn greets the others in turn; while he's not what could be called a morning person, he isn't quite a bear, and he got quite enough sleep. He's content at the moment to listen with a smile to Cinnamon's excitement. The little dragon beams excitedly at her friends -- then blinks, pushing up her glasses as she notices Marcus staring grimly down at his plate, doggedly forking food into his mouth. However, before she can say anything to him about it, Jaeger distracts her, his smooth, calm voice inquiring with interest, "So how is the astrolabe a model of the universe, then?"

Cinnamon lights up with excitement, "Oh! Captain Arvid explained that -- it's so cool! See..." She dives happily into her explanation, forgetting for the moment that Marcus looked grumpier than usual... and completely missing that the canny elder elf has surreptitiously prevented his son from becoming the center of attention. Indeed, Marcus says not one word during breakfast, instead staring fixedly at his plate as he eats. Further, once he finds out there actually is tea, the fact is more irritating than soothing for him. Jaeger's apparent interest in the conversation also frustrates him. What is it that his father finds so compelling about this... unprepossessing woman-child? Marcus glances across at Cinnamon from time to time, mentally cataloguing with disgust: short, round... though her hair seems to have changed color -- or maybe she's dyed it? He doesn't remember it being quite so red originally. In fact, she reminds him somewhat of the stubby, stolid, boring dwarves. Her constant babbling is just grating on his sleep-deprived ears, as well, so the moment he can, Marcus stands and marches out of the galley, heading up on deck.

Unfortunately, that means Marcus is immediately found by Fraser, verdammt. He was just wanting a few minutes by himself, for the stars' sweet sake! The chirpy little dragon (and who would have known she'd turn out to be such a power upon first seeing her!) was really grating on him... and Athala's toy-boy healer also apparently turned out to be something unexpected... however, even though he sighs at being hailed, Marcus knows better than to cross Fraser, who -- with Arvid -- within the confines of their wooden demesne, are essentially nobility. Further, werewolves are powerful warriors, even if they are uncouth and uncivilized -- and even if Fraser in particular is extremely unsettling. There's just something about the Scots werewolf that makes Marcus feel like... prey -- and that just puts him more on edge.

Fraser's smile is actually rather friendly this morning. Admittedly, there's some mischief in it as well -- but Fraser could no more not be a little mischievous than he could not be Scottish! "Ah, there you are, lad. Today you're going to learn to tar the deck. You'll want gloves..." Jaeger arrives not long afterward, surprising Marcus a bit. He hadn't realized his father would be doing such... menial work as well.

Marcus is muttering under his breath in both German and the older language the elves sometimes use themselves -- that is similar to the one the Havvarger use as well -- when Jaeger speaks sharply to his son, "This is no more than anyone else on this ship is doing. You have gloves to keep your hands clean and dry -- and you wouldn't be down on the deck at all if you had let someone know your hands were blistering! Pride is good. Arrogance is not." The elder elf's voice softens a little, "I do not want you to die of being so proud that you feel you must do everything on your own." With that, Jaeger stands and goes to get another bucket of tar for himself, leaving his son to fume and contemplate.

Earlier, downstairs in the galley, Cinnamon waves cheerfully at Shane when she spots him coming in for breakfast -- though by that point she's on her way out to start her work. She wishes Thorn, Jaeger, and Shane a lovely day, and patters off. Rafe is going to show her what needs shifting around, and she's looking forward to it! She wonders absently if Marcus is feeling okay... then reassures herself that Jaeger and Thorn will surely keep an eye on him.

Cinnamon works hard all morning under Rafe's helpful and friendly direction: these barrels need to be moved over there, so Rafe can lash them down to better balance the Valkyrie. Those charts need to be run up to Captain Arvid, on the bridge. These coils of rope have to be stacked in that section of the ship's hold, to make room for something else... Cinnamon throws herself cheerfully into the work, proud to be of assistance. She even climbs up to the crow's nest to sweep it out as well, in her usual careful, methodical, staid manner. Her climbing is admittedly not as swoopy and elegant as Jaeger's, or as bouncy and surefooted as the werewolves... but it gets her there safely! She doesn't mind them being prettier than her, either... because they're her friends, and she gets to help without mockery. That's huge, to the little dragon.

Shane spends the day doing a lot of work as well, laughing and calling back and forth cheerfully with the werewolves. He doesn't spend as much time in the rigging as some; unlike the Elmtrod elves, the half-beansidhe isn't actually almost semi-arboreal. He's graceful and good at climbing, but he's actually better on the ground. In fact, his sea legs are almost better than some of the Havvarger. It's really hard to disrupt Shane's balance. Thorn too does his part as instructed -- just because he's a pill-pusher doesn't mean he gets out of work! So he assists as needed, which might include tarring the deck or wrapping or tending line, or other not terribly glamorous but necessary work. Today it looks like it's mostly inspecting and re-folding sails for tears and other necessary repairs.

Cinnamon hums to herself as she quickly and thoroughly cleans up the crow's nest, careful not to brush debris down on those on the deck below. Once that's done she glances down, grinning, at the deck far below -- she kind of loves being up here! When she spots her friends on deck as well, she laughs and waves, calling cheerfully, "All clean! Coming down now!" Her descent is as slow, careful, and deliberate as her ascent, of course... and once she's on deck again she beams as she stashes her tools, then pushes up her glasses and nearly skips off to find Rafe -- what's next on the to-do list? Or... is it almost lunchtime yet?

Marcus works, and watches everyone else doing what looks like less-strenuous work -- or maybe it's just that he's feeling hot and miserable. Partially that's because he's getting more and more sunburned, since (of course) he forgot the sunblock again. His thoughts are grumpy and mutinous: why do they get to play around? And warum zur H�lle is Cinnamon in the rigging?! She scrambles around in it so clumsily! She may be graceful as a dragon, but as a human she should definitely stay on the ground! With all his resentment and lack of attention, Marcus is doing a piss-poor job of tarring the deck -- and consequently he's called sharply back to task by Fraser growling at him. There's some actual growl in the werewolf's voice, too -- and that spikes Marcus' itchily uncomfortable feeling of being prey.

Fraser snatches the tarring funnel out of Marcus' hands before he can hurt himself and get more tar on the actual planks of the deck, "Dammit, boy! You're going to do yourself another injury and cause more work for everyone!" The werewolf growls and shakes his head, "It's time for lunch, anyway. Go eat -- get some food and water in you -- and then you're going to come back, clean up the mess you made of the deck, and re-tar these seams properly." Marcus grits his teeth. He knows better than to snap back -- it would be quite improper. Besides... the young elf is actually afraid of the strange man. When Marcus glances over and sees his father looking both irritated and disappointed at what Marcus has done, it's just salt in the metaphoric wounds. The younger elf stalks off to eat in a foul mood.

Cinnamon is having a lovely day, and she happily eats a big lunch with her friends. When Rafe sits with them, she coaxes him into teaching her one of the sea shanties the sailors use to haul rhythmically together on the lines... and she sings along with him, with pleasure, once she's got the words. When she's talking with Thorn and Shane, her voice is bubbly with her clear enjoyment, "How're you guys doing? Aren't we all doing a fabulous job of helping out? Makes me feel good to know we're being so useful!"

Thorn smiles, "It's tiring, but engaging. It's good for learning more about life aboard a ship."

Cinnamon nods cheerfully, consuming another biscuit, then grins at Thorn, "Plus, I bet it's nice for you that no one's needing medical assistance, right?"

Thorn grins wryly, "Oh, there've been a few instances... but nothing like last trip!"

Cinnamon laughs and nods in agreement! "Much better this time around!"

Much later that afternoon, Marcus is sleep-deprived, sore, and surly, and his last nerve is sizzling by the time he's re-done all the tarring. He'd had to clean the tar he'd spilled off the planking, and Willem (who speaks German, so was detailed as taskmaster) had been detailed to show him how to do it. The werewolf had snapped at Marcus a couple of times when the young elf had appeared to be drifting mentally, or otherwise not paying attention. To Marcus, Fraser is first mate and was specifically pointed out as someone to be obeyed -- but Willem was not, despite being second mate. Consequently Marcus is starting to boil up internally, to the point of telling this uncouth, unshaven, irritating half-beast exactly where he can shove this tar funnel... when Jaeger turns up -- and Marcus tamps all his fury fiercely back down. He will not allow himself to let himself be dragged down to the level of this uncouth barbarian -- especially not in his father's presence! Instead, Marcus grimly returns to the assigned task... and with Jaeger there, the tarring finally gets done to Willem's satisfaction.

The heavy-duty work Rafe had for Cinnamon is pretty much done by now. At this point Cinnamon's just lending a hand to help friends, or chatting with them about whatever. It's afternoon, and there's no rush on anything right now. Consequently, to Marcus' perspective, she seems to be slacking off... while he has to keep working! Once the tarring is done, Marcus is finally released from duty for the day; he goes to shower. He spends as long under the hot water as possible, scrubbing away dirt and tar and sweat. Even when he was being raised in the trod, he doesn't ever remember being this dirty... he feels like his skin is crawling with it! He's further irritated by the necessity to wear nitrile gloves in the shower to keep his bandages dry... so his mood is very much not better when he arrives back on deck later that afternoon, with his hair brushed back from his face, and wearing clean clothes. Admittedly, his bandages are still dirty... and by now his face is badly wind-and-sunburned. Cinnamon blinks as she sees Marcus emerge, leaning her head to murmur to Thorn, "Is it just me or... is Marcus kind of badly sunburned, Thorny? Whoa, and, um... his bandages? Do they look icky to you too?"

Thorn blinks and stands, "I should check those bandages... and yes, he looks badly sunburned."

Fraser also notices this; he growls at Marcus, "Go with Thorn. Now." Fraser is, unfortunately, someone whose concern can sometimes manifest as irritation... which means Marcus nods curtly to hide his own irritation, instead stomping over toward Thorn and Cinnamon.

Thorn winces mentally as Fraser growls at the grumpy elf, then approaches Marcus himself as well, dropping his voice, "Marcus... your bandages should be changed. Come down to the infirmary and let me do that for you."

Marcus nods and follows Thorn, shoulders stiff. He relaxes a bit as they get belowdecks -- Fraser really does put him on edge. Marcus is not used to, and does not like, feeling like prey. He says quietly to Thorn, "There is something quite unsettling and upsetting about that man."

Thorn nods, smiling quietly, "He's a werewolf, but his story isn't mine to tell. He is... very intense, which adds to it."

Marcus nods, turning his palms up to let Thorn get to the bandages. While elves don't heal as quickly as werewolves, they do heal better than humans... but still, the blisters need to be re-dressed, "Intense. Yes. That's one way to put it. The others are not quite the same. Even the one that is more like a bear than a wolf."

Thorn chuckles quietly as he changes the bandages, "Yeah, Fraser has that effect on people. He's... really not one to mess with, but he isn't callous."

Marcus nods a bit grimly, "So I have noticed -- that he is not one to mess with." He doesn't outright say 'He scares me,' though -- that, the young elf will not admit! Once the bandages are changed, Marcus waves at his face, "What do I do about this?"

Thorn purses his lips, studying the sunburned elf, "Hmm. We don't have a lot of sunscreen in the infirmary because normally the crew don't have a lot of need for it. But some of the others might have some extra, I think." After a moment of consideration he brightens and nods briskly, "We do have some salves, though? That should help with the burning... but be aware it won't protect against further burning, okay?"

Marcus nods and sighs, "I suppose they've all already burnt as far as they can." He accepts the salve and mutters his thanks to Thorn. He's not as gracious as he usually would be, but then, he's in more pain that he'd like to admit from the sunburn -- which is, after all, an actual burn. He'll ask his father about sunscreen later, he grumpily decides.

Earlier, up on deck, Cinnamon thinks for a moment... then brightens. She knows what might help poor Marcus! She patters down belowdecks to her cabin, searching through her luggage until she finds the big, comfy, floppy hat that Aisling gave her. Just the thing to shade both face and back of the neck -- and the drawstring will ensure it stays on in the ocean winds! Cinnamon holds up the hat and grins happily. Maybe once he's less sun-burned, Marcus will feel better! Since Cinnamon has never (consciously) been at the upper end of a hierarchy, it simply doesn't occur to her that Marcus might be seriously uncomfortable with feeling like he's at the lower end. She simply tucks the hat under her arm and patters back up to the deck level, then looks around for Marcus. Good, he's still in the infirmary with Thorn -- Thorny will take good care of him! -- and once Marcus comes out, she'll make sure he stays in good condition by loaning him her hat. Excellent! Cinnamon settles onto a barrel lashed to the deck, near the infirmary, and waits, swinging her feet and humming happily to herself.

When he emerges back on deck, Marcus is not actually looking where he's going very well -- he's mostly thinking about whether or not there's any privacy at all to be had aboard this floating prison. Consequently he doesn't see Cinnamon waiting for him, as she hops up off the barrel at sight of him, pattering quickly over with a friendly smile, "Marcus! I got you something that will help -- here! This will keep the sun off your face and neck, and there's a drawstring so it won't get blown off." She beams sunnily, trying to hand the hat to the grumpy elf as she adds, "You can borrow it for as long as you need, okay?"

Marcus nearly trips over Cinnamon as she abruptly (to his perspective) pretty much bolts into him! He startles back, and it takes him a moment to figure out what the shapeless... thing... is that she's insisting on handing to him. It's an eye-searing neon green that he'd normally avoid like the plague! As he untangles her words, he also realizes it's... a hat. A hat she expects him to wear. Stars and stones. Seriously? He'll look like an Einfaltspinsel or a clown! But... with an internal sigh, he realizes he'll accept the hideous thing. Vater wants him to be nice to her... she's beginning to be a force to be reckoned with too, unfortunately. Marcus'll just... conveniently lose the tatty thing later, that's it... he smiles tightly and says with complete insincerity, "Thank you. It's very... thoughtful of you." He doesn't put it on yet, hoping not to have to actually wear the ugly thing.

Cinnamon beams, patting him on the shoulder, "Put it on now -- it'll help, really! I know the first time I wore it, the shade over my sunburn was just heavenly!" She chatters on happily about how to properly wear the hat, and how Aisling got it for her, and wasn't that nice of her -- and also, if Marcus wants, she's happy to show him how to put it on and work the drawstring! The young elf is too sunburned for it to show just how flushed he is, and he finally grits his teeth and puts the verdammt thing on -- so she'll finally realize he's not such an idiot as to not know how to work a stupid hat! Once he's got it on, he turns and looks around -- then he sees his chance: the crow's nest! That's sufficiently out of everyone's eyesight, and out of the way -- and he can finally get some peace and quiet! He heads that way, starting up the rigging.

Cinnamon looks pleased when Marcus puts on the hat -- that should help! Maybe he'll start feeling less grumpy, too. However, she looks worried when she realizes what Marcus is planning to do. Won't that just open up his blisters again? -- and didn't Fraser specifically tell him not to go up in the rigging until he was all healed up? She patters over and lightly touches the young elf's arm, "Um, Marcus? Should you, um... shouldn't you wait on climbing until you're all better?"

Abruptly, it's all just too much -- Marcus jerks his arm out from under Cinnamon's touch and whirls on her, teeth gritted and eyes snapping as he growls, "Leave. Me. Alone." It's not a yell. Exactly. But it is loud, for Marcus -- and it is forceful and sharp. Every word is bitten off so precisely that they might as well have edges, "Are you always such a... a... storender kleiner Erbsenz�hlerin?!" He holds his hands up in front of his own shoulders and closes his eyes as he takes a couple of deep breaths, then hisses, "Go away. Just... go. Don't touch me. Don't speak to me. I. Am. Grown! Keep your shmutzige Krallen off me and quit bleating at me!" With that, he whirls and starts back up the rigging. Even with bandaged hands, he moves quickly. Around the deck, a few sets of eyes turn instantly toward the sharp tone -- onboard, sharp tones usually mean something is going down that needs attention. Loud can just mean you're trying to be heard over the wind and the waves, but sharp means you need to heard, and attention needs to be paid.

Cinnamon goes still, her outstretched hand falling away from Marcus's shoulder... then rising to cover her mouth. Above her hand, her eyes go wide in shock -- no one has spoken to her like this since... since she left the human world! She can feel her usual internal reaction to similar attacks when she'd been fooled into trying to be nice to someone: the humiliation and pain rising inside her, the tears pricking at her eyes, the tongue-tied hurt at being effectively betrayed yet again... the little dragon whirls, darting for the hatch that leads to belowdecks. She needs to get away from the scorn, the pointing and jeering that always follows -- she wants to hide in her berth so she can cry in peace!

When people realize it's not an emergency, there are a few sets of narrowed eyes and a few sets of rolled ones. Most folks go back to what they were doing; one person goes up the rigging after Marcus, and another goes after Cinnamon. The little dragon clatters noisily down the ladder-like stairs, one fist pressed against her mouth so she doesn't make any more embarrassing noises. She's not really watching where she's going as she rushes down the narrow hallway, then nearly bursts into her little cabin. She slams the door behind herself, locking it... then sighs gustily and sinks slowly down to the floor. The tears come then, and she pulls off her glasses and leans against the tiny bunk bed, sobbing quietly into the blanket. How stupid of her, to think the supernatural world was really that different from the human world!

It's a few minutes before there's a quiet knock at the door. Cinnamon gasps, startling at the unexpected knock and staring in alarm at the door -- until she remembers she locked it. She's safe here; she can hide here for a while... and she really doesn't want to talk to anyone just now. Maybe if she just stays quiet, they'll go away? There's a couple minutes more before Shane's quiet voice says, "Acushla? It's me. Can I come in?"

Cinnamon is silent for a long moment. She really doesn't want to talk to anyone right now... she feels grungy and stupid and clumsy and... and blotchy and ugly. She sighs, the irrelevant thought flitting through her mind: do beautiful women like Hilde and Aisling and all... do they all cry attractively, and it's only ugly little grunts like her that get blotchy and snorfly and snotty? Seems about par for the course, for her... she sighs again, her voice quiet and a little choked, "I, uhh... I d-don't really w-want to see anyone right now, Shane... 'm sorry...?"

There's a quiet moment... and then there's a sound of someone shifting and settling, and Shane's voice again, "OK. You don't have to see me, but I'll be here... just outside the door. I heard Marcus being a dickwad and thought you might need someone to talk to... and Josie's not here to give her best-hugs-in-the-world, so I thought I might offer the not-as-great version."

Cinnamon rubs her eyes and blinks bemusedly. Shane is... sitting outside her door?! But... why would he... oh, dear! Everyone will see him there -- and they'll probably snicker too! She flushes with humiliation again... then sighs and pushes herself heavily to her feet. Her voice is flat with defeat, "All right. Hang on a moment." She quickly cleans her glasses, wipes off her face, then blows her nose, though she's careful not to look in the mirror. She already knows she looks a sight, after all... no need to depress herself further by visual verification! Once she's done she unlocks the door, then turns and walks back to curl up on her little berth. She pulls up the neatly folded blanket at the foot of the bed, wrapping it around herself. It feels... nice. Reassuring... so she pulls it up over her head too, like a blanket hood. There... that's better.

When he hears her coming to the door, Shane stands up. He's actually got his back to the door when she opens it, and he waits until he hears her back on the rack before he turns around. His behavior has the air of someone trying not to spook a nervous animal, as he sits on the floor across the room -- far enough distant that he wouldn't be able to grab her (or at least he wouldn't be able to if he were anyone but Shane), but close enough that she can get to him easily if she wants. His voice is gentle, "Hey, acushla. I'm sorry Marcus is being a jerk. Some people are really bad patients."

Cinnamon nods silently, curled up within her nice, warm, enveloping blanket. Shane smirks a little, "And some people are Marcus." Cinnamon sighs softly... then wriggles down a bit deeper into her comforting blanket. Sleep... maybe she should sleep for a bit -- oh! Also, German -- she should learn German. She doesn't know what, er, why Marcus has decided to be such a -- a doodyhead! ...but she's not going to let him insult her in a language she doesn't understand, darnit!

Out on deck, Marcus has been followed up to the crow's nest not by a crew member, but by his own father. Jaeger's voice is even and cool as he talks to his son... while Marcus has his jaw set and is trying not to drop his eyes like a scolded schoolboy. He's not succeeding mostly because he knows what he just did was childish.

Shane tips his head slightly and says, "Cinnamon... you know that Marcus is an asshole, right? And that he was completely out of line... and... I think he's currently getting dressed down rather spectacularly."

Cinnamon peers up at Shane from under her warm, draping blanket hood, considering for a moment before she murmurs a bit huskily, "I kn-now he's... he's a real doodyhead... yes." She somehow suspects Marcus isn't really getting dressed down, though. That never happens. Heck, the best case scenario, for her, is that he's forced to give her a completely insincere and grudging apology -- which is always embarrassing, and means that everyone blames her.

Shane snorts, "He's a shithead, acushla -- yes, he is. Sometimes." He sighs, "I saw Jaeger headed for the crow's nest when I was headed down here, and Jaeger does not put up with incivility." He considers for a moment, then amends, "Well... he doesn't put up with incivility when it's completely uncalled-for." The beansidhe leans forward, voice gentle, "Marcus just committed a few big no-nos. He was uncivil... he went against orders from Fraser... and he used a voice that made people think something was wrong. You don't do that aboard a ship under sail."

Cinnamon listens to the list of Marcus's wrong-doing... then just shakes her head once and cuddles down more warmly into her blanket. She's not really surprised that badly hurting her isn't part of what folks think Marcus did wrong... but it's going to be a while, she suspects, before she has any desire to see the little jerkface again. She sighs -- being on a ship isn't going to make that easy, she knows. Well... she'll just do her best to stay away from him. Shane starts to reach out, then stops himself; Cinnamon has trauma and he knows better. He sighs, "Also, he's in my bad books now."

Cinnamon nods once, her voice quiet, "Mine too." She tilts her head back enough so she can actually see Shane... then smiles a bit uncertainly, "I... um, I... d-don't think your hugs are... are that bad?" Hastily she adds, "I, um, I m-mean, you're n-not as f-f-furry, of c-course...?" Then she winces mentally -- wow, that was... totally not smooth?! She sighs, hoping Shane doesn't laugh at her... well, no, he's -- she's really pretty sure that he's not like that -- thank goodness!

Shane grins, eyes twinkling, "Well... not quite. I mean..." he reaches up and rubs his jaw, "I could try to grow a beard and see if they could get a little more snuffly."

Cinnamon blinks, and then a startled gigglesnort is surprised out of her! She tilts her head, considering... then smiles shyly, "I, um, I th-think you l-look nice shaved...?" She blinks again, puzzledly adding, "Wait... who could snuffle more?"

Shane smiles, "The hugs could be a little more snuffly." His eyes are warm, "I can't grow a beard, anyway. Seems to be the sidhe blood."

Cinnamon gigglesnorts startledly again -- then blushes at the odd noise and hastily says, "S-snuffling not required, surely?" She grins shyly again, holding out a blanket-draped arm, "W-would you, umm..." Nervousness steals her voice, and she blinks in shock at her daring, then slowly, nervously starts to pull back -- why would Shane want to hug her?!

Shane gets up and moves to sit on the berth by Cinnamon, putting an arm around her to squeeze her against his side, "Let's just do blanket-y hugs for now." He smiles, "That way you can stay cuddled and warm in there and not have to come out until you're ready."

Cinnamon sighs deeply in relief -- Shane is always so comforting and safe-feeling! Like Josie, but also so... so Shane-y... yeah. She should have realized he wouldn't laugh at her. The little dragon shifts slightly so she can lean against Shane, resting her head on his shoulder as she murmurs a soft, "Okay..." Shane smiles and just keeps his arm around Cinnamon. He's relaxed and calm; he's good at staying relaxed and calm. He can talk to Marcus later, and he'll be relaxed and calm then, too. He won't be happy, but he'll seem relaxed and calm.

Cinnamon finds herself finally relaxing. It feels a bit odd to her -- ordinarily, when she's been attacked and hurt like this, she has to deal with the painful aftermath all on her own -- and nasty garbage like that takes time to process and deal with, internally. To have someone who not only seems to like her, but actually seems to sympathize... it's a startling, amazing relief! She smiles faintly, her raw emotions feeling somewhat soothed, and lets her eyelids droop a bit. She'll just rest for a moment here... just a little bit. She's not closing her eyes, just... resting her eyelids some...

Shane can tell when Cinnamon drifts off into sleep: all the tension leaks out of her body and she curls warmly up against him as trustingly as a(n admittedly, very large) kitten. He shifts around a bit when she does so, so she can lean comfortably against him and nap. He can meditate and even doze a little himself.

Up in the crow's nest, Marcus is clenching his jaws and his fists, but has the good grace to feel ashamed of what he said and did. Cinnamon is a councilor! -and really was trying to help. Further, what his father says is true: none of what has happened to him -- the sunburn, the seasickness, the blisters -- is her fault. He's behaved atrociously! However, he also feels like he's being treated like a recalcitrant child... especially when Jaeger ends his lecture with, "You are a blind child if you do not see her for the treasure she is." The elder elf rolls his eyes and scoffs, "Dummkopf," -- then starts back down the rigging.

Once Jaeger is on deck again, he finds Fraser waiting for him. The Scots werewolf sounds laconic as he asks the Elm elder, "I sincerely hope your son didn't actually hurt Cinnamon."

Jaeger's face is somewhat stormy, "He didn't strike her, if that's what you're asking." He glances upward, "But I do believe he disobeyed an order you gave him."

Fraser smirks, "Oh, aye... and I'm about to give him one chance to remember that."

In Cinnamon's cabin, Shane is just sitting quietly and petting Cinnamon's arm as she leans against him. Jaeger has gone below to find Thorn, leaving Fraser to swarm up the rigging -- to find Marcus exactly where he isn't supposed to be. Thorn is still in the infirmary, doing an inventory of the supplies with clean hands, before heading out on deck to get his hands dirty again. He blinks in surprise when Jaeger comes in. "Uh-oh," he says, seeing Jaeger's expression. "What's wrong?" He doesn't think it'd be urgent... otherwise there'd be a lot of shouting.

Jaeger asks, "You made sure Marcus' hands were well-bandaged and such before he went back on-deck, yes? Those were his only wounds, and he's otherwise healthy?"

Thorn blinks again, "He was sunburned, but I gave him a salve for that too. But other than that and his bandaged hands, he's healthy, yes. Why? What happened?"

Jaeger growls, "He blew up at Cinnamon and then disobeyed a direct order from Fraser to stay out of the rigging. I've never seen anyone aboard get flogged or any such... but I won't stop them if they decide on such a punishment."

Thorn blinks again; his jaw opens, then closes. Then opens... closes again. "Um-m-m..." he says wittily. "I don't think that's going to be done, to be honest?" At least, he hopes not. "There hasn't been flogging in modern militaries since the Royal Navy stopped the practice in the late 1800s... and long before then on commercial ships...." He feels a wave of panic. "Is Fraser going to flog Marcus?!"

Jaeger says wryly, "Would you call the Havvarger a modern kind of crew?" He sighs then, and shakes his head, "I doubt they'd actually flog him. A werewolf flogging a sidhe would be... excessive..." He tips his head, as if he's listening to something, as he dryly adds, "Unless a tongue-lashing can take off skin."

Thorn frowns slightly. He'd... really hate to feel obligated to object to a flogging on general principles... especially to an angry Fraser! He relaxes somewhat at Jaeger's wry comment, adding slightly facetiously, "I have burn salves if necessary?"

On-deck, Fraser's voice can be heard snapping sharply. Everyone on the ship knows that tone -- they're well-acquainted with it. That's not a tone to worry about if you haven't fucked up; if your conscience is clear, you can go about your business. Further, it's not the "the ship's in danger" tone -- instead, it's the "someone is getting a serious bollocking for something" tone... and since none of the crew have done anything they deserve a bollocking for, they just go about their business.

A few minutes later, there's the sound of stomping past the infirmary door... and then the sound of a slamming door. It's hard to slam doors on Valkyrie, but someone has managed it! Even Cinnamon could have heard that one, if she'd still been awake. As it is, she mumbles drowsily against Shane's shoulder -- though unless something further awakens her, she's likely to drift back off into sleep. Shane smirks, suspecting Marcus just couldn't help himself on that last one... even if it was a childish thing to do.

In the infirmary, Thorn blinks a third time. That... sounded like someone was absolutely infuriated. He wonders if it was Marcus or Fraser. No... the werewolf wouldn't slam doors like a child -- that had to have been Marcus.

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Last modified: 2019-Jun-12 19:53:32

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