Fantasy Cosmical Glitch ( ellarose & starboob. )

[ellarose]

“Heeeey, gramps.” Lettie sang with a lazy drawl, gliding into the laboratory like she owned the place. Her wings fluttered with a flourish before she folded them neatly behind her and planted her elbows down on her boss’s desk. It rattled, disturbing his quaint little cup of tea. Crane lowered his paperwork, revealing the frown she often earned with her audacity. It wasn't even remotely threatening. If audacity alone could get her fired, they'd have gotten rid of her a long time ago. She dropped her chin in the palms of her hands and grinned. “You called?”

“Olette. You’re late. And I see you’ve already squandered your last payment on… shoes.” Xanthe hassled her from behind and judgement pronounced itself in the deepening wrinkles on Crane’s decrepit old face. Lettie resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, instead daintily lifting her leg to show them off in all their glory. Her grin bordered on impish as her coworker scoffed. Oh, poor Xanthe. Deriving her daily dose of joy in her attempts to siphon Lettie’s. As per usual. Too bad that never worked out for her. “Real practical.”

Real practical. Lettie mocked Xanthe’s voice in her head, perhaps a few tones snobbier than it had actually been. Her colleagues here at the creation corp were real brainiacs— but they wouldn’t know style if they found it under their fancy microscopes. And it wasn't her fault that she stood out like a star among rocks in this place. Graced with avian-sharp features, iridescent wings that rivaled a butterfly's in complexity and a constellation of freckles that glittered like diamonds in the right lighting? It was truly perplexing that she never took an interest in modeling. But beside her looks, she also possessed a brain... and, um, a criminal record. When this high-tech organization practically begged on their hands and knees for her expertise, she knew immediately that her first order of business was to find herself a killer work wardrobe. Because if it was mandatory to wear dweebish safety goggles in the lab, stars knew they needed to be decked out with the most elegant carvings. Sure enough the ones she wore on her head now were a beautiful work of art, engraved with delicate clouds, wings and flowers. And if everyone in the building wanted to stare because she was too gorgeous for their so-called superior minds to comprehend... then let them stare. She thrived on the attention, thank you very much.

And truthfully? Lettie stole the shoes. When the heist was as simple as a few clicks, how could she resist? All she had to do was hack the necessary glyphs, which she then magicked into the soles of an old pair of boots and shazam! Sparkling new kicks. She adored these platforms specifically for the fact that they lent her an extra inch of height, bringing her intimidation factor up to a whole new level. Yeah, yeah. The lab had taken her under their wing to… how did they phrase it again? Put her ‘deviant talents’ to good use? The geezers at the top nodded sagely and they insisted she would live a happier life if she sank her efforts into a productive cause or something like that. Don’t get her wrong, the opportunity was great. The pay was great. She needed the pay. But it was nobody’s damn business where her cash went. Especially not Xanthe.

Lettie never lost her smile. She was content to let them go on believing she was an airhead. Mostly because she was self-aware enough to know how annoying it was-- and their annoyance? It fed the mischievous faerie in her like a full-course meal, baby.

“Well, I’m about to earn it all back. Rumor has it my next gig is huge. Mind-blowing. Life changing.” Lettie shot finger-guns at Xanthe and winked, daring her to be as jealous as she ought to be. “Hear that, Xanthe? I’m about to settle all of my debts.”

Xanthe sniffed and ducked behind her clipboard. Coward.

“…At least you’re eager.” Crane sighed. Lettie beamed. It was kind of a wonder that he hadn’t fired her yet. Maybe they hadn’t found anyone nearly as brave as her to indulge in their tests yet. Or, you know, stupid. “Xanthe, see to it that Olette makes it to the examination chamber.”

And off to the examination chamber they went. Lettie got the usual spiel, which she mostly tuned out because she'd already heard it a thousand times before. The doors hissed open and anticipation bubbled in the pit of her stomach as she stepped inside... and the mind-blowing relic she was meant to hack into with her oh-so special magic? A cube. An uninteresting, measly little cube on a pedestal! And this was supposed to be life changing... how? She pursed her lips, the anticipation bubbles popping one by one. Ugh, Ravan! That skeevy vampire wannabe totally lied to her.

Pffft. Lettie would've invested a little more energy in her anger if it wasn't also sorta funny. Like for all the corp's big talk about being so grand and beneficial, their passion projects were really underwhelming. Welp. At least she was getting paid. Time to get this over with.

“Hey there. You gonna tell me why a cute little thing like you is worth all the fuss?” Lettie poked it out of mild curiosity. All it did was turn over. Boring! But just as she began to consider which spell to try first, the sides clicked outward. Okay? Then a humming sound emitted and each face lit up one by one with odd glyphs she had never seen before. It glowed brighter and brighter yet until the chamber itself warped in a kaleidoscope of color. Oops. Did they tell her she wasn't supposed to touch it? She forgot, you know, because she wasn't listening. “Wasn't me." A bold statement, considering she was the only one present. But who knows? No one could prove it if she insisted the ghost who broke her sink every three months or so came to work with her! The light became so bright that her eyes burned behind her goggles and she had to squeeze them shut. Blindly, she closed her hands around the cube in attempt to stifle the light."Wait, I didn’t do anything, I—“

Except there was no point in wasting her breath anymore, seeing as no one was around to hear her excuses but the cube she still clutched in her hand. Lettie felt strangely weightless and a fierce wind roared in her ears. When she opened her eyes again, she realized she was free falling through the clouds of a stormy, dismal sky. What. What!? What was this, some... some kind of practical joke!? No. It couldn't be. She had a feeling she'd have gotten along with those old stiffs at work a lot better if they actually possessed a sense of humor. The strands of hair blowing around her face were bluer than this sky, so much that she got the distinct feeling that she didn't belong here. Well, of course not? That went without saying. Well, awesome. If she died she could fancy herself going out like brilliant falling star. But truth be told, this falling star didn't want to crash and burn so soon if she could help it! With a cry of desperation, she pumped her wings against the wind to no avail, unable to fight whatever gravitational force was dragging her down, down, down...

She crushed the stupid cube in her fist. "This is all your fault!" Did she expect an inanimate object to feel guilty? ...No, not really. But it was worth a try, you know? The occasional stroke of dumb luck could be unexpectedly reliable in her experience and--

Smack! Lettie collided with something and heard the chilling crack of bone. A violent pain blazed through her, burning her up into nothingness as her world fizzled into absolute darkness. And she died. She totally died.

No, she didn't. But she did pass the fuck out.

 

[starboob]

As per usual, the sky wears its sickly colors. (According to rumor, and the sparse amount of trashed advertisements from a time before the Calamity, it had been blue. A soft baby blue as powdery as the dust those skyward idiots snort to forget that they, too, are stuck on this shithole planet.) Though the pirate captain has to applaud the goddess for at least attempting to switch up the specific shade of mucus. Today, it looks less like the poisoned radioactive gobs scavengers are known for hacking up and more… froggish? She can’t be too sure, on account of having never seen a frog before, but the comparison is apt enough that the captain doesn’t think more on it.

Perhaps she’d continue on her (short) list of gratitudes had she not caught one of her stupid piece of shit useless undead crew members scraping away one of her wards. You know, the fucking wards that are supposed to protect them from radioactive dead shit that haunts this shithole of a planet!

“You fucking idiot!” she barks, kicking the skeleton so that it collapses into a sorry pile of bones, “You fucking piece of shit, numbskull––when I said fucking spotless that didn’t mean the fucking wards! How many of these did you mop up?”

The sorry pile of bones manages to get three of its phalanges to wiggle up through the pile.

“Argh!” the captain groans, kicking the pile so that it scatters across the floor, “If you weren’t already fucking dead…” she trails off, pinching the bridge of her nose before storming through Lady Vengeance to fix the mess her soulless crew made. (Had she known that attaching souls to the skeletons would have made them smarter, she would have learned more about spirit magic. Fuck her child self for being so short sighted! Now, she’s stuck with mostly idiots and only three constructs with souls––a task that nearly killed her when she raised them, hence there only being three.)

“'Become a necromancer,' they said,” she mocks, shoving more listless skeletons out of her way, “‘It’s a great fucking marketable skill.’ …Useless fucking advice.”

Alright, so maybe no one actually gave her career advice. Maybe becoming a necromancer had been more about survival, since it’s always just been herself and her bones. (She’s actually pretty sure she had people to depend on once. Maybe a family of sorts, but wherever they are they left her behind. Or maybe she left them behind. The details probably don’t matter. Besides, with any luck, they’re dead and their bones are tilling the land and their spirits are being siphoned for energy to power the few cities that somehow persisted through the Calamity. She’d join them, as opposed to grinding for a life that goes nowhere, but well...)

(“No, Juno, you’re not gonna quit. You’re gonna become the baddest, scariest motherfucker out there––make the wolves 'n shit bow to you,” her mother, or someone motherly, had once said to a smaller Juno. A Juno she isn’t even sure is real since the memories of her childhood exist only in fragments. Sometimes, the captain believes she had been born fifteen, a mature necromancer, and ready to take on the world. Yet those fragments always poke holes in that theory. Whatever.)

When she reaches the deck, she searches for the ward that should have been and was there earlier, but of course it’s been scrubbed away. (And only half-assed, too. Fucking lazy motherfuckers!) With a storm in her gray eyes, she shoves her annoyance to the side and grabs a molar from her pocket. She closes her fist around it, reshaping the material into a sizable dagger, and slides the sharp edge over her palm. Blood oozes from the wound and, with some concentration, she starts to manipulate its flow until a sizable orb is floating above her hand. She moves the orb over the deck, ready to create the protective glyph, but just as she tightens her jaw to focus something catches her eye.

Something falling from the sky.

A few thoughts cross the captain’s mind: (1) she could create a construct to catch the falling object––either (1a) a bone net or (1b) a colossal skeleton––(2) she could have the pilot veer to the left to avoid the object (3) she could catch the falling object herself and sustain minimal damage or (4) she could just take three steps in any direction to avoid the object altogether.

In a world of possibilities, she takes three steps backwards just in time for impact. It shakes the airship, ruins the ward she had been making, but doesn’t do more damage than denting the steel––annoying, but cosmetic.

Rather bored, as if this is an everyday occurrence, Juno arches a brow and peers over the object only to realize it's a woman. ‘Weird,’ is her only thought on the matter. She nudges the body with her boot, tilting her head to the side. The woman seems... alive and that could be a good thing or a bad thing. Juno hasn’t decided. Based on her looks, the woman does seem skyward––obnoxiously beautiful (not a compliment) and incredibly out of touch with reality (derogatory). Especially with those––what are those? Gemstones stuck to her fucking face? The captain rolls her eyes. And the blue hair? Tackier than the name of her ship. With those prosthetic wings she looks like she’s stepped out of a fucking rave, too. Only a skyward bitch could find it in themselves to rave in this fucking economy. 'Is it worth it to explode her skull? Would serve the bitch right...’

She runs her (bleeding) hand through her boyish inky waves and accidentally stains the splotch of hypopigmentation at the center of her hairline. After a moment of deliberation, she snaps her fingers and two skeletons stumble forward. They gather the woman by her arms and start hauling her towards the railing. Is she about to be tossed overboard? Well, does this shithole planet suck ass? Because the answer to both questions is the same. YES!

Then Juno thinks better of it. It’s not a momentary lapse kindness, she’s not stupid, but as the woman is being dragged off her eyes catch the wings on her back. The ones she thought were prosthetic. Narrowing her gaze, she has the skeletons stop and walks over to them, inspecting the woman more closely this time. ‘Shit...’ she thinks, grabbing one of the bent insectoid looking things and giving it a (not so gentle) tug. It doesn’t come off. ‘What the fuck.’

Already, she can see several dollar signs floating above the woman and she wonders if a detour to the Duchess will throw her off schedule. Nah, she should still be able to intercept the cruiser she has been tracking if she keeps the trip short. Besides, the Duchess has some rather nice bed sheets as she recalls… 'Oh, fuck yeah.'

She waves the skeletons away and they unceremoniously drop the woman face first onto the deck, where Juno then easily scoops her up and tosses her over a shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes.

…
​

The prison is only a hair less depressing than the atmosphere outside, Juno has to say. If only because the air is a little fresher and the light a little brighter—more like what she imagines a sun might look like peering through a healthy sky. Whatever, though, it’s a prison cell and she doubts her captive, who she has bound to a chair for good measure, will appreciate its “beauty.” Not her problem if the nuance is lost. She shrugs, settles herself on top of a box outside the cell, and stares at the woman through the electrified gate. Yeah, yeah being a captain maybe she should have better things to do than stare at a prisoner, but you know what they don’t tell you about the ‘yo-ho’ life? It’s boring as shit. So sue her for waiting for the prisoner to rouse. (Besides, bug-people are pretty rare—well, she had thought non-existent—and she’s maybe curious enough to see what else her next meal ticket can do. It’s good to know your product, y’know? Business 101.)

When the woman does starts to rouse, Juno straightens with her arms crossed over her chest and stormy eyes boring into her. Her stare is probably not the friendliest and the twin scars that arc from the right side of her head, trailing over her eye, and sliding past her lips probably don't help either. Well, good. She’s not here to make friends.

“Welcome aboard, princess,” she smirks, “Quite a fucking fall for someone with wings. How did eating shit taste?”

 

[ellarose]

"Nnn..." Lettie mumbles incoherently, unable to lift her head. It's pounding. Well, everything is. Did she land on her fucking face? Or, no... she distinctly remembers landing on her back. Her wings. Oh stars, her wings! The pain is so poignant and all-encompassing that recognizing the entirely too unsettling fact that she can't move comes secondary. Struggling against something that doesn't give, she winces. Fear for her circumstances is a sharp stab in her belly, but it has nothing on the pain she's in right now. Nope, nope, nope. Can't do it, hurts too much to move. It's agony just to open her eyes. Does she have a bruise? Or stars forbid a black eye...? "Something, something, princess." Is somebody talking to her? Peering through stands long hair that'd fallen into her face, she observes the low-tech prison around her... and slowly pans her gaze down to the sight of herself, wrapped in a tight embrace of rope on a shoddy old chair. Well, yikes. That explains it. Fuck. Fuck! What has she gotten herself into this time? And more importantly, how is she going to get out of it?

Behind her, Lettie's wings oversaturate in an shifting kaleidoscope of color. The patterns are bright and strangely unnerving to look at. (And they really ought to be, considering they do this naturally to warn off potential threats!) Obviously it won't be enough to send this tough as nails jerk running for the hills, but it might be just enough to get under their skin... maybe make them think twice about getting too close for comfort.

“…This setup is totally overkill. Don't you think?” Lettie rasps out, her girlish soprano dripping with contempt. She rolls her eyes at the lame, old school ropes (which are also super itchy, by the way!) and breaks into another grimace. While this prison is hilariously rundown and unimpressive... this fucking hurts. Like, her right wing is obviously broken? Whoever decided it was a bright idea to pin it against the back of this stupid old chair is sadistic, plain and simple. Every breath she takes incites friction, which then trickles down her spine like red-hot pins and needles. It's so agonizing it threatens to steal her consciousness all over again. This just won't do.

When she lifts her gaze to finally meet her captor's, it becomes crystal clear that they could’ve killed her by now. Easily. Which probably means they have other plans for her, plans she knows she’s won't like judging by the cocky expression on their gnarly scarred face… but for now, these plans allow for her to live and, by extension, offer a tiny bit of wiggle room for mischief. (And escape. Not now, not in this sorry state. But eventually.) With that in mind, she summons up the bravado to mock her captor, whose smirk is perhaps one of the most irritating sights she’s ever laid eyes on. It’d be so satisfying to take them down a peg or two. Her voice lowers until it's velvety, ranging on seductive. “Oho. Don’t tell me someone as big and bad as you is afraid of what a little princess like me is capable of?”

Now to take care of these ropes. While Lettie's wrists are bound, her fingers are still perfectly capable of movement. She traces a glyph with a few flicks of her manicured finger. The ropes glow an electric blue before falling to a useless heap on the floor. Ha! Suck on that. A magicked chain would’ve held her longer than those measly ropes, but she’s not dumb enough to taunt her admittedly scary opponent here with useful information like that. Nah. The less her captor knows about her weaknesses, the better.

Lettie manages a smirk of her own, although her triumph is tragically short lived when she crumples to a heap on the floor. It’s plain shameful the way she has to lie there, weak and trembling amidst shorn strands of rope. At least now she has the space to spread her poor wings out. Stars, speaking of tragic. Her beautiful wings! They're positively mangled. And she fully intends to mourn them the second this asshole deigns to give her a modicum of privacy. Every breath rattles out her and it's a struggle not to vomit all over the floor. 'Cause something tells her she’ll be stuck with the stench for a while if she does. That electric gate would've been a cinch to hack her way out of any other day. But right now? The exertion would take her over the fucking edge and kill her!

“So what’s the deal? You holding me here just to… I don’t know? Stare? Are you some kinda creep?” Lettie twists her lips with disgust. ‘Cause listen here, she’s no stranger to creeps! She eats those fuckers for breakfast! Like… when she’s herself and not a broken mess on the floor. Okay, yeah. No way is she going to brute her force her way out of this one. Seems she’ll have to try her luck from another angle. “Nah. On second thought, you seem smarter than that.” She plucks her goggles off her head and tosses them carelessly to the floor, shaking her hair out around her shoulders. Then she squints, her green eyes bright. “You nabbed me for intel, didn’t you?”

 

[starboob]

Curiously, Juno tilts her head to the side. That’s about the only inch of give inside her mind that she'll allow her prisoner. (Though the memories of her childhood may be blurs of smoke and explosions, she does know that growing up on the ground taught her how to hold her cards close to her chest.) Her eyes remain hollow, disinterested, but she is watching her every move. Taking note of the wince––not that it would have been a huge leap to guess crash landing into a hunk of steel at who-knows-how-many-mph would fucking hurt––and the way those buggy wings change color. The showiness would again remind her of a rave were it not for the dizzying effect. She has to blink and tear her eyes away before she falls over in her seat.

"Eh, you don't like the digs?" she quips back, letting out an airy though empty laugh, "My apologies," she bows, in a dramatic and hard to miss mocking way, "Insectoid freaks don't really crashland 'round these parts. Just trying to cover m'bases."

Confident this little moth-wannabe isn't going to fly away any time soon, she presses her hands to her knees, ready to leave until... Well, until those ropes turn into a laser light show (what the fuck is up with the rave effects?) and fall from the prisoner's body. That admittedly is unexpected and to Juno's credit, she does nothing more than arch her slit brow. ('What the fuck,' is about to become her fucking mantra, she can already feel it.) Obviously, magic is no new phenomena to the necromancer. Since the Calamity, the world's been wrought with death and with that spookiness people much smarter than Juno have figured out how to manipulate its energy for a variety of different purposes. That aside, growing up in a radioactive wasteland also accustoms one to, how you say, weird fucking shit. However? How-fucking-ever? Whatever this prisoner just did is beyond what Juno has ever seen or heard of anyone doing with necromancy before.

Alright, so she's gonna be a bigger handful than Juno initially thought. No biggie. If need be, she can just rip off those wings and sell the woman in pieces. Not ideal, but hey, whatever puts the gruel on the table. There's still that cruiser she's tracking and loads of other ships in the sky to terrorize.

Thankfully, Juno's mind works fast and she's already reaching into her pockets for some phalanges, molars, disc, etc. She tosses the bone pieces into the cage, allowing them to spread with a satisfying clatter, before she wills them to morph into fully formed skeletal-hands. Hands that reach for the bitch's wings and wrists, tugging her backwards towards the cell wall to pin her in place. "You try to flirt your way out of everything?" she asks, rising to her full statuesque height and stepping closer to the bars with mild intrigue (though she is very intrigued). "'Cause you're not really my type," she continues flatly. Whether or not that's even true is hardly the point, but the pirate figures this is another one of the skyward bitches who's used to having women drop to their knees for them and she'd fucking love to see the look on one of their stupid little faces the minute they realize they can't just beauty their way out of anything.

The creep accusation, however, Juno has to admit is hard to deny––not that she's a creep, because she's not, but she sees how it would fucking appear so. 'Eh, I've got nothing to prove to a bug,' she thinks brushing the comment to the side. At least her perceived creepiness prevented her from letting her profit fucking escape with that weird as shit raver magic. 'Just what the fuck are those skywards hiding from the rest of us?' "Someone's gotta watch the prisoner 'case she pulls any little tricks," she nods her head towards the rope, satisfied with her cover. "I just pulled the short end of the stick, bugsy."

Again, the captain would leave the prisoner to her own devices, but she has to snort at the notion there's any sort of information she'd want from someone stupid enough to fall from one of their sky parties. "Oh, please––you hit your head upon landing on my ship? 'Cause I didn't have to nab something that fell right into my lap." Though she still doesn't turn to leave. No, her feet stay firmly planted into place and her traitorous body even leans against the wall. If there's intel worth knowing in that airheaded brain of hers, that might mean Juno should switch sellers. Hold her for ransom, perhaps? If she's important enough to the skywards, they might just allow Juno to retire before she becomes fucking bones herself. It's just a matter of finding out who she is now. "If you're dumb enough to fall from the sky, I doubt you've got anything worth my while," she scoffs, "But I'm sure the Duchess will have fun with her new marionette. We should be arriving to your new home in a day or so, so don't worry your pretty little mind––you won't be in this cage for long. But if you cause me any fucking trouble," her eyes harden and the skeletal grip tightens around the prisoner's wings, "I'm fine selling you in parts."

"Now," she continues, nudging herself off the wall and shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. She fingers through the various bones before she smooths over that cube the woman had been clutching when she fell aboard. Her brows knit together, an idle curiosity forming and she pulls the cube from her pocket to show the prisoner. "There a reason you shouldn't end up in the Duchess's hands?"

 

[ellarose]

"Gross! Stupid. Douchebag. Bone-contraption... thing... hey! Hands off!" Lettie's too weak to scramble out of reach and cries out involuntarily when the disgusting thing her captor unleashed snatches her up. Oh, come on! She wasn't going to leave the cell. (Cough, cough. Not yet, anyway...) The clutch of hard, skeletal fingers agitate her wings and toss a handful of black sand into eyes. All of her coherent thoughts are drowned in a sea of 'ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch' until she finally draws a few deep, reorienting breaths and accustoms herself to the ache. She hangs there limply, refusing to give her captor the satisfaction of seeing her struggle in vain. Besides, the effort would do nothing but knock her out. No question. There's no getting out of this right now. Not like this. There's beauty in grace, grace in accepting losses... or in pretending to accept them, anyway. And what is beauty if not a glorious game of pretend? She'll be patient... because damn right it'll be graceful when she regains her strength and breaks the fuck out of here. “Your loss.” Lettie hisses, mostly because— again— this fucking hurts. Not like she’s offended or anything. Why'd she wanna hang with scum who treats people like things, anyway? Her green eyes reduce to slits, equal parts glare and pained exhaustion. “You always this handsy with people you just meet? ‘Cause it’s super effing rude to touch a lady’s wings without her permission. Major turn-off.”

Lettie grits her teeth and hangs her head. Honestly? It takes a hell of a lot to kill her smile. Right now, though, everything's buzzing and she can only muster this quiet fury. Again. This is overkill! She's aching all over and being touched without her express permission is super uncool.

“Yeah. No duh I landed on your ship! But I know I didn’t land in this prison cell, captain creepazoid. Like, you tied me up and everything. That’s exactly what it means to nab someone!” The question is why, though? For what purpose? She wants to ask and dreads to ask it all at once. (Shivering as her consciousness threatens to slip again, she can't help throwing herself a brief little pity party. Why her? Like, sure, she steals shit because she's a simple faerie who likes sparkly things... and her messy lot in life has never afforded her those sparkly things. Is that really such a crime!? Well... okay, technically it is a crime. But it's not like she hurt anyone! What'd she do to deserve this?) Evidently she doesn’t need to ask to receive her answer. Her stomach twists. "...Her new marionette." She repeats blankly. A fucking marionette. As if that isn't exactly what she is back home! But she gets the visceral sense that this Duchess isn't going to allow her to roam free to work odd jobs for extra cash. She's being sold. She'll be treated like... like a thing.

Lettie's mind sloshes around like water in a bucket when the grip of that bone contraption squeezes her tighter. This asshole doesn't have wings. They have absolutely no idea just how much this hurts!

"...Sell me in parts?" Lettie breathes out a harsh, hysteric laugh. Though she doesn't lift her head, her smile's razored and twitchy. The mischief in her eyes is dimming, she's definitely slipping. Not that she doesn't care if she dies or anything morbid like that... but at this point, she's just not totally with it. Probably dissociating to protect herself from the very real fact that she could easily be turned into a fucking object, too. "Faeries die without their wings, genius. And I get it's not part of your stone-cold shtick to give a shit... but everyone knows that faeries turn to dust when they die." Wings and all. Another laugh rattles out of her. "Heh. You won't have any parts to sell. Kill me and all you'll be left with is my spirit. And... and I hope you also know that faeries? We can hold a grudge like forever. And I am full of spite." Her voice falls to something of a whisper the more she talks, though she clings onto the fraying remainders of her confidence for dear life. "...So I welcome you to try if all you want outta this is a lifetime commitment of annoyance. I will prank you for the rest of your days."

A reason why she shouldn't end up in the Duchess's hands? Why... Lettie has several, in fact!

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe 'cause nobody deserves that?" Lettie sighs, annoyingly authentic in her daze. She's not going to heal by the time they make it to this Duchess, plain and simple. Part of her starts to mourn the loss of her freedom... while the other part clings to the foolish hope that she can still swindle her way out of this. "I know pity's not in your vocabulary, but like... just look at me for a sec? I can't escape like this. Wouldn't stand a chance against the likes of you in a fistfight if I tried." Her lower lip juts out. "...I'll tell you what my cube does if you call your freaks off of me. Might be worth your while."

 

[starboob]

Juno can't help it and entirely against her will, she's laughing––it's rich, surprisingly pleasant and maybe would have been something of a shock had she not been laughing at the woman's reaction to her nifty new shackles. It's even funny enough that she debates growing some flesh over the skeletal hands just to make it nastier. So what if her amusement is at another's expense? That's fucking life and if you don't like it? May your bones be used for a greater purpose and your soul burn in the gracious mother's holy inferno! 'Ah, maybe I should keep her around for some cheap amusement?' It would raise the morale of the crew (i.e., Juno––since bones don't have morale to boost. They're bones). But, nah, it'd ultimately be waste. It's better to keep the living crew to one for economic purposes and, well, bones can't stab you in your sleep. Or while you're awake. Or do a lot of other shitty things living beings do to each other––like sell you for profit. (Which is different when Juno does it, obviously. Dog eat dog world or some shit like that.) "Aw, shit, sorry––didn't realize I was violating the ancient skyward customs of chivalry," she puts her hand over her heart, as if shocked, but disingenuous as ever. Then, laying it on extra thick, just for her captive, she bats her eyes, "May I pretty, pretty please touch your stupid fucking wings?"

Naturally, the skeletal hands give another squeeze, because Juno is, actually, going for the asshole of the year award.

"Y'might wanna get used to it, though, because not everyone's gonna be as nice as me out the real world, princess." Because if this woman is skyward like Juno is convinced, then she's in for a rude fucking awakening once she's in the Duchess's hands. Maybe the pirate captain would feel guilty or bad or awful or something close to a normal human reaction in response to the great sin she's about to commit, but that would suggest Juno hasn't already squashed her empathy. Empathy gets suckers killed and Juno isn't a fucking sucker. "I was just gonna toss you overboard," she admits with all the nonchalance of reporting on what you ate for breakfast. "So, dunno, maybe you be thankful you're not indistinguishable splatter across the valley. I also set you up in the nice cell," she gestures to the cell across the hall, that actually looks fucking identical to the one her prisoner is in––save for the fact that the empty cell has a higher amount of cobwebs per capita. "You can say thank you, whenever you like."

Then the classic, 'What the fuck,' crosses Juno's mind when the captive talks about being a fucking faerie. She doesn't just make this claim once, but three times! Three times, she asserts she's a faerie and the captain would've laughed had it not been so fucking sad. Just how high is this woman? Like, Juno can't pretend she's never had some pretty devastating benders in her life, but never has she been so far gone that she thought she was a fucking faerie. (...Then again, there are those inexplicable wings attached to the prisoner's back. The wings that don't come off and glow. There's the odd magic, too. Hmm.) "Well, sheeeit, so I gotta keep you alive?" she asks, sounding genuinely disappointed. (Privately, however, she's not convinced of the consequences of just killing the woman.) "Woulda been cool to have some alleged faerie bones to work with and those wings woulda looked nice above someone's mantel, too. Such a shame," she tuts.

Honestly, Juno probably could crush this "faerie" in a physical brawl, but what makes her wary is that raver magic. She hasn't seen it before, doesn't know its limits, and she's not too keen on risks. Yeah, Juno does think she's a hot shit necromancer––with good reason, too! Do you know how difficult it is to keep a whole ship running on your own energy, while still managing to do more than just wipe your own ass? Let's say there's a reason most pirates have living crews. But that doesn't mean her necromancy will be enough for whatever this bitch has up her sleeve. She'd be a dead fucking fool if she walked through life with those assumptions.

Still, she is curious about the cube. The thing gives her the creeps. Yeah, it's a tiny little thing but its vibes are off––she's never felt so much death concentrated on one object and she basically lives on a graveyard planet and captains a crew of bones.

Her eyes narrow as she considers her options.

After a beat, the skeletal hands release the "faerie," but Juno still keeps them active within the cell, like they're mini-watchdogs. Overkill? Maybe, but Juno's not planning on dying or losing her fucking profit, thank you very much! "So this cube got your drugs in it? 'Cause there aren't no such things as faeries––just demons, ghosts, and constructs."

 

[ellarose]

Lettie hits the ground before she realizes that her captor made the call let her go. (Not the same as setting her free, but progress is progress and she'll take it.) Her battered wings droop sadly over her back, which heaves with every breath she gulps into her lungs. It takes time before her body relaxes and her mind eventually follows suit. When she opens her eyes again she feels herself enough to breathe the resigned sigh of a tragic heroine and scrapes up the willpower to prop herself up on her forearms. No sudden movements. She reminds herself. While she certainly does not belong on the floor she would rather stay put than get jumped again, thanks! At this rate, she'll need to play it nice and sweet. Yep. Even though she loathes having to look up at her adversary... who would probably (definitely) still tower over her even if she was standing up to her full height, damn them! Nonetheless, she recognizes this for the small act of mercy it is. Damn right she intends to hold it close, considering it's likely the only scrap of it she's going to get.

"No such thing as faeries?" Lettie tilts her head and scrunches her nose. What? Ooookay. One of them might be on drugs here-- but it's definitely not her and... wait a sec. She'd been too preoccupied with her injuries and the severity of her situation (understandably, okay?) that it hadn't even occurred to her to think about where that troublesome cube had dropped her. The depressingly dismal sky, the fact that she never heard of any Duchess before today, topped off with her captor's genuine disbelief in faeries? Unless this person is a hermit who totally lost their marbles (which is a valid theory that she doesn't strike out just yet) then that means... no way. Did they actually pull it off this time? The corp proved the existence of other worlds a long time ago, sure, but no one had ever Traveled before. Their recent focus is all about mixing their innovative new glyphs with ancient heirlooms and artifacts to open gateways between them. Wow. So she could totally be in another world right now! (This also means that she's the first. Oh stars, she's gonna be famous for that! No doubt she'll make a killing when she reports her findings.) Still. Did it have to drop her in the middle of the fucking sky, though? Like, they totally endangered her life for this little experiment of theirs! But she guesses that's what happens when they scout criminals from the streets. While her contributions are valuable, she's also depressingly expendable. But she'll make a shitton of cash, make enough to hightail it out of that city. Live a carefree life in the forest like their ancestors did. That's the thought she grips onto while she lets all the others crumble away into obscurity behind her.

"...Then how do you explain this?" Lettie does a hair flip, revealing her sharp ears and gives her wings a little flutter for extra effect. She does it to emphasize what a gorgeous faerie she is of course (and definitely not someone deserving of the name bugsy) but... ouch! Bad idea, bad idea! Her wings fall again and she shudders like a cat doused in cold water. Okay, message received. Not moving again anytime soon. Shaking it off, she fixes the stranger with a knowing stare. "You've never met anyone like me before, have you? That's obviously why you want to sell me off to your Duchess like... like some kind of exotic pet." Which, yuck! You're the worst for that, by the way... she's have added if not for her precarious position. Not that she has to. The way her lips twist with disgust says it all.

"There's a reason for that. I come from a whole other world." Lettie sits up slowly, nonchalantly crossing her legs and pressing her palms flat on the floor to assure her captor that she isn't up to any funny business. "That cube you're holding is my means of transportation. It's still in the works, so... this visit was a fluke. Obviously." She rolls her eyes at the low-tech prison again. If she's being sold, that means her captor here is desperate for some cash of their own. And for good reason, too. How else does she appeal to them but offer something grander? (Even though she is indeed quite grand herself. It's not arrogance if it's the truth!) "I'm looking for treasure. A powerful artifact that's worth more than, yes, even a dazzling faerie such as myself." She shrugs, completely unashamed. And yeah, she may be embellishing the truth on the treasure bit-- but come on. There has to be all kinds of valuable, undiscovered shit sitting around on other worlds! If they can pull a heist that satisfies captain creep here-- or she heals in the time it takes them to search for one-- she could escape this dreadful place! "...Plus, the world I come from's got tech that could set you up for life." She makes a face, judging her surroundings yet again. "No offense, but your setup here is embarrassing. I'd have escaped in like two seconds if I wasn't totally wrecked right now."

 

[starboob]

There's not a kindness left in Juno's soul that feels sorry for the buggy-weirdo. Yeah, she looks like utter shit but for Juno to care, she'd have to regard her as something other than a tool to be used. Unfortunately, that's all people are to the pirate. That's the only purpose they serve, so her captive can curl her lip and judge all she wants, it's not going to change her mind on the matter. (Besides, why would she even care about the bitch's opinion of her? Her judgment is a drop of water in a hurricane, as far as the pirate is concerned.) Disaffected, the captain shrugs then raises her hands in faux surrender. "Ah, you caught me. Yeah, I am going to sell you off as an exotic pet––your weird fucking features ought to keep me fed for a few fucking months,” ‘and distinctly not beautiful,’ she’d add if she were feeling like a real dick today and being that she must be in a good mood, she doesn’t point that out. “If the Duchess is in a good mood, maybe even a year." It's incredibly fucked up, on some level Juno recognizes as much, but only on a theoretical level that exists at the far edges of her conscience. In practice, this is just how the world works, baby. Especially her world. No one's gonna bat an eye or raise a fuss, because it's just business. It's just putting gruel on the table and when gruel that isn't fucking poison costs about an arm and leg? You find an arm and a leg to sell that ain't your own. "Really, it's not personal, so get your panties out of a twist. They not do shit like this in namby-pamby faerie land where cupcakes and unicorns probably exist?" (Yeah, Juno is only aware of cupcakes as a concept. She once saw a picture of one in an old magazine and thought it was a fancy pile of poo at first. She had some major questions for her granny's granny’s granny that day.)

Still, Juno isn't convinced that some namby-pamby world with faeries and cupcakes actually exists. Yeah, it's real hard to deny those pointy ass ears or the wings, but it's easier to believe that skywards really are the biggest bitches of this shithole planet for having the money and resources to waste on cosmetic augmentation. That's what would be easier to believe, but even she knows that doesn't make a lick of sense. They're better off, but they still exist on this shit ass planet, too. Ugh, she'll bite. The namby-pamby world is real. And if that's true... how can she fucking capitalize? Fuck, imagine being the bitch who has the ticket off this shithole. (Holy eternal flame, the ‘cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching‘ is so goddamn loud, it’s deafening.)

Or, if the prisoner is to be trusted, and Juno's not handing out her trust like it's chump change, even just getting herself off this shithole planet... Shit, yeah, screw everyone fucking else. They can fucking rot for all the pirate cares. "Treasure, huh?" she crosses her arms over her chest, not going to make this easy, because she's gonna need more proof than a stupid cube and probable lies. Though it's hard to deny her intrigue, if only because she keeps her gaze fixed on the... faerie. "Stereotyping pirates really wounds me, bugs. But say I am like every other bastard out there, you said yourself your trip here was a fluke and I'll be damned if there actually is treasure on this shithole, so how do I even know you can deliver?"

“And, hey!” she snarls, becoming incredibly defensive when her captive starts criticizing her ship. Yeah, she may hate the name she’s stuck with, but Lady Vengeance is… not her baby, because that’s fucking weird, but is hers and is home. And when one hasn’t had many things to call theirs or home, the little one has becomes a lot. So the ship is a touchy subject. Off-limits even. Yeah, it’s got dings and scrapes, but it’s also got a roof, mostly reliable indoor (inflight?) plumbing, insulation, and it’s saved her ass on more than one occassion. So little Miss-Faeries-Are-Real can shove her criticism so far up her ass it’ll ooze out her nose! The lightning in her cloudy eyes probably says all this, but Juno still feels the need to defend Lady. “I’ll have you know this is the fastest, best fucking ship out there—she’s gotten me out of some hairy fucking situations. She’s perfect and I won’t tolerate your lip, missy!” (Missy? Is that really the best she can do?)

Then that last comment? That last comment has those skeletal hands jumping at the captive’s wrists, but they ignore her wings and they don't pin her against the wall. Juno thinks she’s being quite considerate in this regard. The faerie can think of them as cool emo-goth-edgelord wrist cuffs, even. Cool emo-goth-edgelord wrist cuffs that will totally stop her from doing any funny business, like escaping. (Well, provided her magic holds against raver faerie magic…) The faerie has made herself way too valuable and Juno will not be losing her fucking ticket off the galaxy's worst planet. "Can't have you ditching me. It'd break my cold, black heart."

"C'mon," she continues, hitting a button on her watch that causes the gate between them to drop, "I'm not trying to waste my time being any poorer. Show me how this fucking cube is supposed to get me to treasure and I'll make sure you don't end up as someone's exotic pet. Anything funny and I’ll break your other wing.”

 

[ellarose]

This time, Lettie snorts even when the skeleton hands snap at her wrists again. 'Cause it's fucking amusing, plain and simple. She's still reeling over the fact that she got under her captor's skin in such a visceral way! Won't tolerate her lip? Missy? Well, now these fine lips are twisting into an impish grin. "Oh no!" She mocks, hanging unimpressed in her cuffs. Like, geez! She's draped across the floor like she intends to kick back for a while. Can't that big bad pirate take a hint? For someone who claims she comes from a world that's filled with harmless sparkles and unicorn shit, they're awfully jumpy. "Did I touch a nerve there, captain cupcake? Like, wow. How dare I offend your ship when you've been so hospitable? Ferrying me to my doom and everything." She bats her long lashes and then immediately flips the switch to unamused. "Don't take it so damn personally. No need to get your panties in a twist... etcetera, etcetera." She tries and fails to mimic the pirate's voice. Then she rolls her eyes and levels a serious gaze at the place. "Look, I'm offering constructive criticism here. Your ship's got potential to be legendary. She just needs some... work." Lots of work, actually. But considering brutal honesty earns her pain more often than not, she decides to downplay it just a touch.

And straight up? She is being honest about that. On some level. (Well, okay. Legendary might be a stretch... but she's planting little seeds here! Seeds promising the beautiful flowers that will flourish if her captor here decides to pursue the route of treasures and tech beyond their wildest imaginings.) Either way, Lettie knows a thing or two about polishing up busted old things. But to shell out those gems of expertise, she actually needs to care. To care or, you know, get paid hella cash for it. Her skills don't come cheap! Like... you want to know why she's content letting people think she's an airhead? 'Cause that way, no one sets their expectations too high. (That way, she always meets them! Never feels like a failure. It's some next level shit.) Besides... everyone'd annoy the hell out of her asking for favors if they knew what a fucking genius she really is.

"Mhm." Lettie plays along with a sympathetic nod, content to talk herself up when she's feeling so low. "Now that you've met me, you'll never get me off your mind. It really must be a struggle for you and your cold black heart."

Lettie watches with vague interest as the gate between them falls and she's able to get a better look at the person she's been talking to. A woman, it appears... a tall, buff woman. Her chest squeezes, flutters faintly with a feeling she'd prefer not to define, and she promptly shoves it back down wherever into whatever nonsensical rabbit hole it came from. Does she think buff women are badass? In theory, yes. Does she think this specific buff woman is deserving of such praise? Hell freaking no! Strength has to go hand in hand with a code of respect, all right? They need to wield a power that protects instead of hurts.

To avoid looking into those stormy eyes, Lettie stubbornly levels her gaze to her shoes. Unable to stay still when she's so irritable and restless, she sways her feet from left to right. She considers the pros and cons of offering up a faerie pact. A magical promise, of sorts, as the fae took their deals very seriously. Too seriously, in fact. The one she's stuck in now is so binding and soul crushing that she physically cannot find it in her to offer one to this pirate. Even if it'd probably be enough to earn a modicum of trust, maybe get herself out of these shackles. But the metaphorical shackles that'd take their place? Oh no, no, no. (That's another consequence to worry about if she never makes it home. She'll never settle her debts... and then she'll be...) She blinks, snapping herself from the reverie. Time to talk business.

"Ooookay. It's a deal. I'd be a proper lady and shake on it if my hands weren't... well, you know." Lettie sighs. She resigns herself to the fact that whatever happens next, there's a very high probability that it's going to go to shit if that stupid fucking cube is involved. There's no telling if she'll blip away alone, if she'll take the pirate with her, or if the whole ship itself will get pulled into the void it opens up. The experimentation chamber back home is built to endure that sort of thing. The ship, however? Who knows? This could be all kinds of chaotic. Except at this point, she'll take anything over being turned into somebody's exotic pet. "But you gotta promise me you can handle some high stakes shit. I'm not planning anything funny, I swear it on my left wing, but that cube possesses some of the most unruly magic I've ever seen. There's a certain risk that comes with being a treasure hunter. Like... look where I ended up." She shoots her captor a knowing look and then shrugs. "So? Time to prove you're not afraid of a little risk, pirate. Of a little faerie like me. Call your skeletons off and give it here."

 

[starboob]

Captain cupcake. Captain. Cupcake. It doesn't bother Juno. Not one bit, nope. Just a stupid little nickname from a stupid little faerie. Obviously, it doesn't bother her. It can't. She won't let it. And yet... The steam is practically coming out of her ears with how much the insignificant nickname doesn't bother her. 'I shoulda thrown her ass overboard,' she grumbles in the privacy of her mind, crossing her well muscled arms over her chest as she stares down at her captive, clearly unamused with her sass.

"Shut up," is her oh so clever response. (Ah, so the captain can dish it but she can't take it? That honestly checks out.) "My ship already is fucking legendary," and that's not a lie by any means. She's worked fucking hard for her reputation as the biggest bastard in the skies and she wears the title like a badge of honor. It prides her knowing most sailors are wise enough to toss up their white flags the second they see Lady's black ones––'cause otherwise, their bones are looking at a lifetime of service as part of her notorious crew of the undead. "What does a bug brain like you even know about what it takes to make a ship like mine sing? You can't even fly properly yourself," she smirks. "They call you the flightless wonder back home?"

The pirate rolls her eyes. As if she'd actually get attached to a prisoner. Gross. (Yeah, yeah, she knows she started it and still.) "By the fucking goddess, you sure are full of yourself." She makes a private note to take her down several pegs whenever she can. Why? Because a little shit faerie shouldn't get off feeling so fucking good about herself! And if that's not a good enough reason? Because it annoys Juno and she fucking said so! Case closed. Meeting adjourned. "Y'know, it's probably for the best your wing's broke," she gestures vaguely around her head, "being top heavy 'n all. I imagine you weren't all that great at it anyway."

Juno scoffs at the idea of releasing the cuffs. 'Absolutely fucking not,' is what she wants to say. Like, hasn't the pirate done enough by lowering the electric barricade? She does not really see why she should be more accommodating than that, for all that is holy in death! Plus, she should be fucking thankful that she's not planning on keeping her holed up in her cell and that she only has to deal with some bone fucking cuffs. That should be the least of her concerns, given her circumstances. 'Give a cockroach a drop of gruel and suddenly they're inviting the whole fucking family.'

Half-heartedly, she debates reminding the prisoner of her place and then thinks better of it when bugsy more or less calls out her goddamn courage. Basically calls her a coward as far as Juno is concerned––the reviled and feared captain Juno, at that! Yeah, a healthy dose of paranoia is goddamn needed on a planet where the day brings about hungry tribes of thieves and scavengers and the night belongs to all things that go bump. But a fucking excess just makes you look like a wimp and, not that Juno cares about princess's opinion of her, she's not going to be deemed weak. By a little fucking faerie no less. Nope! 'Damnit!'

Glaring, but only because that might be Juno's resting face, she approaches the captive and takes comfort in the fact that she's so fucking short. 'I could fucking take you.' Though her eyes are unkind, they say, 'Don't fucking freak. I need to touch those stupid cuffs,' by way of warning. It only takes a total of two seconds for her to turn the cuffs to ash after she's touched them and little miss insufferable is released. Just as quickly, the pirate lets go as well, like she's allergic faeries or something. (The captain also makes a private note to up the number of wards so that certain faeries are kept inside. Again, she's not about to lose her ticket to piles of cash.) "I swear on the inferno that if you fuck this up for me, I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life watching your back." How? Juno doesn't know, but that hardly matters. The power of vengeance will help her come up with something brilliant. "But I'm not scared of this little cube." A lie. Again, its energy plain screams extinction, but at least her wariness doesn't show. She holds the cube just out of her captive's reach, giving her a stern look. "You've got two weeks to get me some fucking treasure before I change my mind about taking you to see the Duchess."

Then she flicks her wrist upward, tossing the cube into the air. Midair it starts to... glow? "What the f––"

Blip.

 

[ellarose]

Excuse her? The disrespect! Though Lettie's jaw drops slightly, she picks it back up lickety-split and holds her chin high. Bug brain, flightless wonder, and now top heavy? Is the pirate trying to break a record...? Like, a record for fucking rudeness? But no, no, she digresses. She knows better than to show it so damn transparently when she's this offended. That's ammunition her adversary can use against her! That's weakness. And stars know that she needs to keep her wits about her if she's going to make it out of this one on top.

"What? I'm pretty and I know it. It's not a crime to admit that. You wouldn't have dreamed of selling me if I wasn't." Lettie affirms matter-of-factly. Finding her repertoire of gestures are tragically numbered in cuffs, she shifts her weight, tilting her head and hip slightly to the side specifically for the satisfying way her hair and skirt sway with the motion."Believe what you want. Your imagination must be shit, though, 'cause I can assure you I am a beautiful flyer. I'm as graceful as a swan!" Yeah! When her wing's not broken, that is. And at this rate she will not be proving herself right anytime soon. Not that she'll ever enjoy the satisfaction of being right, either. Because when she can fly again you better believe she'll be flying off to freedom and consequently as far away from her captor's greedy clutches as she can get.

Lettie pipes down when the other woman stalks up to her with that glare on her face, looming taller than ever from up close. Damn. Those muscles, though. Gulping as subtly as possible, she puts all of her focus towards watching her adversary while she lowers her hands to touch the cuffs and... disintegrates them? Oh. Wow. That schoolyard level challenge actually worked!? Staring at her newly freed wrists, the faerie exhales quietly, trying not to shine a spotlight on her feelings by outright deflating with relief. She glances up somewhat perplexedly as the pirate sets her terms.

Ah. Not scared of the cube, is she? You should be. Lettie thinks, though she keeps the comment to herself. After all, won't the cube speak eloquently enough on her behalf once they get around to using it?

"Two weeks..." Lettie repeats, her gaze alternating between the cube and her captor's stormy eyes as she tries to decide whether or not those terms are fair. So, question! Would her wing heal in two weeks time? Because fuck if she knows, she's not a doctor! And she hardly has the chance to consider the logistics before she notices the flicking motion of the pirate's wrist and snaps lightning fast to attention. "Wait a sec, don't throw--!"

Too late. The cube is thrown, it spins in the air and the room is promptly swallowed up in that bright, burning light from before.

Crunch! Metal groans all around them and Lettie almost cringes in sympathy. Sounds like they hit solid ground somewhere. Feels like it, too. There's some major jostling as a result and she feels its full impact as it throws her right into her captor, smashing them to the floor like dominos. When she opens her eyes again, she finds they're still in the shoddy prison cell. Still inside the ship. But now she's lying right on top of the other woman... and the cube is resting idly on the floor, just inches within her reach. Interesting. "C'mere, you." Swiftly, she snatches it up. Functioning on pure adrenaline, she rises to her feet with the speed only a lady desperate to survive can muster. Okay. You got this. She hypes herself up with a racing heart, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other. She has to take this narrow opportunity while she's got it, all right? It might be dangerous, but like? So's waiting around like a good, obedient little faerie to see what this mean pirate will do to her if she doesn't find treasure or heal within a measly two weeks!

"Sorry, I'd love to stick around and all, but--" Lettie laughs, knowing full well she may be flinging herself headfirst into trouble. "Actually, I wouldn't!"

Resisting the temptation to stick her tongue out like a naughty little kid, Lettie pitches herself out of the cell and into the heart of the unfamiliar ship. She's at a disadvantage as far as navigation's concerned, but regardless she sprints as fast as her legs can carry her. She commits her surroundings to memory every step of the way ('cause it might prove to be valuable later in case she gets fucking caught!) and veers around corners hoping to find... what? A staircase? A porthole, maybe? Oh, she doesn't know! Any means of escape will do! Second she gets off this ship, she can activate the cube and ditch this pirate on whatever fucking world they just landed on! Problem solved.

Oh, stars! There! Eventually Lettie finds a ladder and latches onto it, ascending up, up, up towards whatever may await above.

 

[starboob]

"––uck!?"

Bright white light eats the entire scene before Juno, piercing straight into her corneas and she’s pretty fucking sure this asshole prisoner tricked her into setting off a grenade. That is until the ship bumps and jostles against earth. Somehow the noise and confirmation that she hasn’t been exploded is worse.

The sound of metal scraping against rock rattles the ship and, while perhaps it should not be Juno's foremost thought, she is already calculating how much that is going to cost––and adding it to the faerie's tab, since this is entirely her fucking fault. 'She's already fucking screwed me over. Go fucking figure.' She stumbles over as the ship makes a disastrous landing, trying to put out her feet into a wide stance to keep from falling, but naturally the flightless wonder has all the grace of a baby deer on ice and collides directly into the pirate, sending her backwards onto her ass. Dull pain thumps through her backside and a pissed off, "Ooof," escapes past her gritted teeth. With the lightning speed at which everything changes and in combination with her vision recovering from the bright-ass light, her brain has to work twice as hard to stay alert and ahead of the game. A sound strategy, sure, and one that Juno would employ any day of the week. Any day of the week that there's not a fucking woman on top of her. Even though there are still spots in vision, her eyes widen on principle while her mouth hangs partially agape. Juno almost forgets she's not a bug-fucker, only feeling a woman's body pressed against her own and, 'Damn...' Head empty. Only thots.

In her distracted state, she doesn't realize that the faerie has already gained the upper-hand and is now several steps ahead of her (metaphorically and literally). Instead, the captain just lies flat on the floor, trying to catch her breath for too many reasons. She tilts her head back, lazily flops onto her belly just to watch the prisoner run instead of getting up to chase after her. ‘Where’s she goin?’

Away, dumbass.

Right! All sense of urgency smacks Juno in the stomach as she comes to the conclusion that the bitch fucking hexed her! There is absolutely no other explanation for her reaction. She scrambles to get her legs working, still uneasy from the fall, stumbles from side to side and sticks out her arms to recover her balance. Though she isn’t stupid enough (or smart enough) to wait for her balance to fully comeback, she starts chasing after the prisoner because each second wasted is another second of distance put between them. Juno is not going to lose her fucking ticket out of this shithole, damnit!

As she crashes through the corridor, she feels around her hip for her weapon––a whip, for want of a better word, that seems to be a gross combination of bone shards and ligaments. The ligaments make up the whip’s length and the shards stick outward to ensure lacerations to anyone it touches. In Juno’s hand, it almost appears alive with how the tail flexes and moves without her even having waved her arm.

“Get back here you fucking bastard!” she shouts, not expecting that to work but she has to let out her frustrations somehow. Unfortunately for her and fortunately for the escaping prisoner, Juno isn't that fast. Fortunately for her and unfortunately for the escaping prisoner, she knows this ship like the back of her goddamn hand. Though she hasn't an idea of where bugsy is going, she knows the exits and makes for the nearest one––just in time to catch her climbing up the ladder towards the hatch. She smirks, waving her whip over her head but before she can snap it outwards, her entire body freezes. Chills wash over her and though not particularly tanned to begin with, she becomes ashen. 'The wards. Fuck.' (See, the thing about the wards? They're great against a few angry spirits, undead fucks, and so on, but––)

The entire ship shakes once more, like it's being rocked from side to side. Juno checks her watch. '3AM. Fuck. Fuck!' This is not the time to be grounded. 'Shit!!' A distinctly not human, not quite animal screech rips through the ship, coming all from sides. Taptaptaptaptap. To the unattuned ear, it sounds like insect legs or rain beating against the steel hull, but Juno knows better.

"Fuck," she whispers. Her eyes steel over, jaw clenching, as she braces for the inevitable. Her entire body floods with adrenaline and even if she were going to warn the faerie to get down from the ladder (and that's a big if), it's already too late. Too fucking late. The hatch bugsy had been climbing towards flies off its hinges and hell pours in. Juno doesn't see whether the beasts pay any mind to her captive (?), because one is already flying towards her. (The beasts don't take a discernible form. That's the first thing she learned about them growing up on the ground. Everyone sees them differently. They feed on your deepest fears. Worm their way inside your brain and can make a person see wild shit. The trouble with that? You let them convince you that what you're seeing is real, and it might as well become fucking real. Juno's watched tough as shit women crumble and never recover. Maybe she'd warn the faerie, offer a free undead crash course, but the one slithering down the hatch is already too close and she has to pay it mind first.)

The whip in her hand starts to thrash and fold into itself as it reforms into the shape of a sword, just in time for Juno to shove it into beast's wide maw, slicing it in two. Somewhere, she must have decided it's better to have the faerie not turned into zombie food, because she yells, "Close your eyes! Don't let them in your head!" More and more start flooding in, now even coming through the corridor. It's going to be a long fucking night. "Whatever you see, it's not real!"

 

[ellarose]

"Eek!" Lettie flails, losing her footing when the ship trembles. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Damn. Freedom was just within her reach, too! Feet dangling, she clings on for dear life as her body rocks from side to side with every violent lurch that follows. What's going on!? Whatever it is, her first inclination is to blame it on the pirate. She would've said so, too... but she's way too busy trying not to die to pack her accusation into a cleverly worded quip. Sweat beads at her brow when she realizes she's slipping. Truth be told, she's never been in this position before; holding on so tight her fingers hurt, praying that she doesn't fall? See, she's never had a good reason to develop a fear of falling. Why would she? She's been able to fly for as long as she can remember! A total natural, the faerie could fly before she could walk. Her wings twitch instinctively as if to try their luck and she flinches from the pain that ricochets down her spine. Ouch! Then again, a fall is exactly what got her into this mess. Living with a broken wing is sure to be a learning experience... if she lives long enough for it to sink in, anyway. She genuinely starts to doubt it when the hatch blows open and she's knocked down, down, down from the impact.

And she's falling. Again.

Smack! Stars dance before Lettie's eyes, she can hardly blink to clear them before something follows her like a shadow and pins her to the ground. Her vision's too blurry to make out what it is, exactly... all she knows is that the shape is highly unsettling. And sorta familiar. She squints. Crane!? Well, it is him and it isn't. He's like a mutated version of the old man, all wrinkles and spindly limbs and fangs. Everything about him is too long, too sharp. Not right. The sight twists her stomach in knots. He flings ropes of saliva into her face when he barks out a laugh (which-- gross!) and caresses a claw across her face (and yuck-- grosser!) "Did you think you could escape?"

"Hands off!" Lettie jams her knee into the thing's stomach, giving her just enough leeway to scramble backward. Her back hits the wall behind her, agitating her wings again. Furiously, she scrubs a shaky hand over her face and tries to stash her fear under a pointed glare. This vantage point gives her a better look at her surroundings...and she's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Suddenly the ship's filled to the brim with these 'familiar' people. Each one fanged and warped beyond repair into creatures both hideous and hateful. Did she accidentally unlock the door to some freak of nature alternate universe or something!? (And yet they all know too much. They close in, picking at her mangled wings, commenting like they're examining her under a microscope in the lab. Treating her as if she's a broken thing. Dissecting every failure, deliberating the pros and cons of throwing her out.) Her heart slams like a sledgehammer in her chest when she considers defending herself. 'How dare they!?' She thinks in her naturally scandalized way. But a much softer afterthought says '...They're right and you know it.'

A particularly tall and imposing figure towards the back of the stalks closer... blurring, shifting, weaving between the sea of figures in an unnatural way. It's the least detailed monster among them all and yet the most harrowing because of it. Ominous chains scrape against the ground as it moves.

'Don't come any closer.' Lettie finds the words but she can't bring herself to say them. She's completely locked up with the exception of the hand in her pocket that clutches the cube for comfort. A distant voice scrapes at the edges of her mind, trying to get in. Failing to reach her. Close her eyes? What? No way is she going close her eyes! She can't risk it. Because the moment she takes her eyes away, if she even dares to blink...

Oh no. Even with her eyes wide open, the figure closes the distance between them inconceivably fast. A golden string blazes between them, the one that has always kept them tethered. He yanks her by it, forcing her to meet him halfway. Ah, yes. The bane of her existence. There are no scissors in existence that can cut a thread like that. And yet some part of her knows this is all wrong. There's something absurd about this version of him, abstract and dreamlike in nature. It's not accurate... not real, somehow. And yet at the same time it is. She feels everything too much for it not to be real.

He snatches her up by the throat, lifting her a foot off the ground. Sharpened eyes glow from the abysmal depths of the hood... ones that say without words that he has every right to do this to her. He reveals a smile of wide, razor-sharp teeth. Opening so wide the hood itself seems to form into a monstrous mouth, he lifts her higher with the clear intent of swallowing her whole...

 

[starboob]

Of course. Of course the bug doesn’t listen. Is Juno surprised? Not at all. (On some level, she gets it—she wouldn’t be surprised if her own first experience with the undead went about the same—but, as usual, the empathy is, uh, lacking.) It’s unfortunate that the pirate kind of needs her alive if she’s going to become rich off that stupid cube—though Juno is starting to get the idea that piece of shit faerie lied to her. Still, she can’t risk it and bugsy is still worth more to alive than dead. Especially if all she amounts to dead is pixie dust (that could also be a lie but Juno doesn’t need to test out that once in a lifetime hypothesis).

“You stupid piece of shit! I told you, eyes closed!” she grumbles, slashing into another beast before it can morph into certified nightmare fuel. The waves of them just keep coming, however. Even if she’s learned how to fight with her eyes wide open, it’s still fucking overwhelming having more than one inside your goddamn head. Eventually, one does get lucky and suddenly she’s not fighting off an amorphous mass but a child who has his skull bludgeoned in. He's It's all razor sharp teeth and demon claws.

“She never should have chosen you over me!” it says, rushing towards the pirate with impossible speed and strength, ramming into her before she can send her sword into its stupid skull. She’s sent backwards but not onto her back, her jaw clamping down tightly while a storm tries to escape her chest. (Guilt, rage, humiliation, denial. ‘Stifflestifflestiffle!’) “Tough shit, we sent you to the inferno so why don’t you add some fucking char marks to your sorry fucking get up!”

“Just admit you che—“

Three bone daggers land in the creatures skull, silencing whatever bullshit it was going to spew. ‘It’s all fake. Don’t believe them. Remember the fucking facts,’ she reminds herself, her body trying to take her back down a broken memory lane. Trying to make her thirteen again, just like the bastard image of someone she wishes could have been forgotten. But none of it is real, she has to remind herself, so neither are the fucking feelings that come up (eh).

Unfortunately, with one already having broken in, it’s easier for the rest of the creatures to worm their way in as well. ‘Damn.’ She won’t be able to fight them all off on her own, she knows this, and with the faerie proving to be rather fucking useless, she’s on her own. (Well, not quite.) As more faces start to morph around her, she digs into her pockets, claws a fistful of bones then scatters them towards one side of the corridor. Massive stakes, about as thick as Juno’s arms, shoot up from the ground and impale several of the creatures. More than that, they create a barricade between herself and the faerie, and the waves coming in from that side. It also just about takes Juno out. Blood drips from her nose and she can feel her body wanting to stagger, but she’s far too stubborn to let it. It’s not the end of the world, and she knows she has a few more large moves like that before her stupid body will actually quit on her. She wipes the drip away before it can reach her mouth, then flicks her wrist to the side.

Not at all comfortable playing the role of hero, but seeing no other way to get out of this mess with them both intact otherwise, she dashes towards the faerie who is stupidly walking towards the undead creature. (Just what is it making her see?) She absolutely has a smart thing to say about that, but unfortunately now is not the time to get on bugsy’s case about her bug brain as she’s lifted into the air. “For the love of—-“ she mumbles, then shouts, “Keep your eyes on the prize you fugly piece of shit!” and whether she’s talking to the beast or the faerie is highly debatable, but it’s probably not bugsy. (Who, in very specific lighting, like when she’s on top of Juno, maybe possibly looks somewhat attractive. This doesn’t mean anything other than that the pirate has working eyes.)

In any case, it gets the fucker’s attention and it's decided it has minimal interest in pipsqueaks. Its yellow eyes lock with Juno's stormy ones and it morphs––the purpley flesh and smoke bubbling and shifting colors until she's standing in front of a four-legged animal that looks like a gnarly combination of a bat and fox. It's about the size of fox, but it has a smooth disgustingly muscled bodied and razor sharp talons on all of its paws; spikes jut out from its spine and apparently one set of wings aren't enough for this fuck, because this one's got two. It's sickeningly close to what it's meant to mimic and whenever this particular nightmare manifests? It's the one Juno has the most trouble remembering what was actually real and grounding herself in the missing detail. (The beasts can only be so accurate, after all.) The thing charges at the pirate, sending her tumbling backwards despite its size and knocking her sword out of her hand. It shrieks in her face, jaw snapping open and close while Juno pushes it back, twisting underneath the creature. (The scar on her face starts to sting, splitting open on its own accord as the creature wriggles deeper into her mind and pulls up the real encounter.) It sinks its teeth into her forearm. And with the flood of chemicals in her veins, it doesn't feel like much but she knows it'll be a bitch later. Still focused, she jams her fist into the side of the animal before she's able to gain enough leverage to flip their positions. Even with her arm still in the creature's mouth, she's got the upperhand, and finally remembers the off detail. "You don't have stripes, you little bitch," she grits, and just saying that allows her to see through the fog and weakens the clasp on her arm. Enough that she is able to free her arm and in the next breath tear the little shit in two.

As if no big deal, because it really isn't, Juno staggers towards the stupid faerie––bleeding from her stupid should-be scar and arm. It doesn't seem to bother her, however. Instead, she just rolls her eyes. “I thought you were fucking magical? Can you only turn rope into laser light shows? And haunt shit once you’re dust? C’mon, bugsy, get it the fuck together if you want to live! This ain't faerie land.” Yes, this is the pirate's version of a pep-talk. In her defense, if she felt the need to defend herself, it is on par with all the encouragement she's ever received. In fact, she reckons she’s even being softer about it. “What else you got? Flames? These fuckers aren’t fireproof. These ones are too mature to run from water, but the younger shits can’t handle that either. If nothing else, take this,” she hands her a collapsible knife, “and stab the fucking shit out of them. They’re fucking fragile.”

"Now," she says, picking up her discarded sword then pushing the faerie towards some stairs, "We gotta get to the fucking engines and get into fucking the sky. You better fucking hope that you and your cube's little trick didn't fuck us over."

 

[ellarose]

Lettie's mesmerized, only able to stare as she's cast aside and the illusions deteriorate into absolute carnage at the pirate's hands. Illusions? Wait... She blinks once, then twice. And finally she sees their surroundings for what they are. Oh. Well, shit. Then that mean pirate... totally just used her dreamy muscles to save her life, didn't she? Wow. Is it getting hot in here or is it just-- No, no, no wait a fucking sec! Stop the presses. She will not ogle her captor with goo goo eyes. Because anyone willing to sell someone as cute as her off to an evil Duchess is not deserving of goo goo eyes, damn it! Why else keep her safe if not to keep her pretty little product in mint condition, hm? Pfft, dreamy? As if! Captain cupcake fucking wishes. Like, that was a total lapse of judgement on her part. A figment of her imagination on par with those undead douchebag illusions.

Speaking of illusions... Lettie lifts her wrist to find that the thread has also disappeared. Her bracelet is still there, effectively covering the scar underneath it. No. It's still there. Even if you can't see it. She wraps herself in a tight embrace, attempting to squeeze the life out of the nerves in her chest before they can take over again. Needs to stay present if she wants to stay alive. But he's not here. Can't be.

...Yeesh. What a mindfuck.

For once Lettie has no remark when the pirate approaches her, snarky and bloodied. (Injured but... otherwise fine? Well, good for her. If the faerie's relieved, it's only because she's alive to keep keeping her safe. Like what if those ugly, terrifying creatures come crawling out of the woodworks again? As far as she's concerned, if the pirate's goal is to sell her off then she might as well make her work for what she's worth! Besides, someone capable of doing something so despicable clearly deserves to suffer in the act of performing their misdeeds. It's karma, bitch!) Anyway, what is she supposed to say right now? Her captor may have saved her, but she sure as hell isn't deserving of her thanks. So now she finds herself in a weird limbo, still processing everything while her heart's in a tug of war between what's real or not. Get it the fuck together, the pirate says. That is valid advice, she'll give her that. Before she can open her mouth there's a knife thrust in her hand and she's being pushed towards the stairs.

Lettie's new heels click against the floorboards while she walks. Very nice. The sound is deliciously empowering and classy. Every step forward makes her feel a little more like herself again, effectively unraveling the fear and tension that tangled up inside of her.

"...Fucking creeps! That was horrible." Lettie exclaims belatedly, finally purging the disgust from her system. She rolls her shoulders back and flicks her wrists out. Charged up with spite, she finds she's also quite vindicated by the knife she brandishes in her hand. Weapons may not be her go-to means of defense (too messy!) but everything about her disposition now says she's ready to cut a bitch at a moment's notice. If any of those things dare to approach her now? They'll have another thing coming! Seriously. What gave those fuckers the right to play with her head like that? Considering fate has proven time and time again that it doesn't hear or care about her complaints, she turns her attention on the only person who can as she responds to the pirate's earlier comments."What do you mean my trick? You're the one who threw the cube, genius! I told you this is unruly magic." She huffs, "And excuse me for forgetting to bring my A game! Falling out of the fucking sky took a lot out of me, okay!?" Then she lowers her voice bitterly. "Can't say I was expecting all that, either. I've never seen anything like it."

"...So. This it?" Lettie languidly drapes herself in the doorway of what she already knows is the engine room just by looking at it. She surveys the area with a critical eye but says nothing. Is she going to make herself useful? Well, she could. But no. Why should she bother? This is the pirate's job! And she might as well put in the hard work to earn whatever she intends to gain by imprisoning her here. If she's gonna act like an irascible know-it-all over shit that'd cause anyone to freak the freak out, then the faerie's perfectly content to do nothing but lounge and watch. Lettie curiously tilts the knife in her hand, examining her reflection in the blade. Ugh. Just her luck. Her cheek is all bruised! "What were those things, anyway?" She crinkles her nose. "And you're supposed to be a pirate, right? Where's the rest of your crew, captain cupcake?"

 

[starboob]

"Those aren't even the worst," the pirate replies, sounding surprisingly neutral rather than judgmental. Though she's probably just tired. As they walk through the airship, moving lower and towards the back of the ship, she takes the end of her shirt and rips off a strip to wrap around her bleeding forearm, using her teeth to help tie a knot. She musses her hair, pushing it out of her face, but it has a mind of its own and falls back into place not even three seconds later. She rips another strip of her shirt and applies some pressure over her slit brow before the drip gets into her eye. (Terrible fucking experience if you ask Juno.) "Reckon they were just teenagers," she's not referring to the actual age the malevolent spirit died, but its maturation cycle after death. "Babies aren't so bad, but it's really the adults and fuckin' geezers you gotta watch out for. Don't even get me started on the fuckin' nukes. Shit would have been a lot worse." That being said, they've created a scent and the older spirits are sure to show up soon and Juno would rather not have to deal with those. Call her crazy. "There's no way in hell you're blamin' me for getting us grounded. It's your fucking cube. Maybe you should have said something about it being so fucking sensitive." After a pause, "If you drop that bitch I will never fucking forgive you. I'll fucking glue your molars shut, I swear to fuck––control that fucking thing."

When they make it to the engine room, Juno doesn't even bother asking bugsy for help, having already passed judgment on her usefulness about five minutes ago. The damage doesn't actually appear to be too much. The landing wasn't great for the ship's exterior, but the engines seem to be mostly fine. 'Must've just got overheated,' and that's honestly good news. Anything else might have meant serious fucking trouble. Briefly, she looks up to check on bugsy and has to roll her eyes when she catches her using the knife as a fucking mirror. She's about to say something about it, but immediately shuts up when asked about the undead.

It... It honestly surprises the pirate that the faerie has never seen anything like the undead. Yeah, Juno sort of assumed that with her get-up and just the fact that she's a fucking faerie (she's still processing the existence of such creatures) that her life has been different from her own. The namby-pamby judgments ring true, for sure, but she also assumed that... that the undead exist everywhere? They've just been such an integral part of her life it's hard to imagine there are places where they just straight up don't exist. She just assumed they existed to a lesser degree wherever the faerie is from. "You really must be from namby-pamby land. Shit," she quirks a brow, but she keeps her eyes trained on the engine and turns to face the coolant tanks. She runs her tongue over the split in her lip, her fists clenching at her sides. She won't admit it, but it bothers her that someone's never had to deal with them before. (Maybe because it reminds her of skywards and how they left everyone to pretty much fucking die. It's not fucking fair.) "They're the undead. Super fucking pissed off spirits. Leftovers from the planet's fucking nuclear meltdown some thousand or so years ago," she shrugs, barely restraining her annoyance. "Take it faerie land doesn't have this issue?"

"My crew," Juno huffs, closing one eye and crinkling her nose as she thinks of those useless pieces of shit. (She can feel the threads of their energy that all tie back to herself, milling about the airship, putting themselves back together, scrambling to repair whatever has been damaged in the crash.) "Are numbskulls who don't even know who they are." Speaking of, a jawless skeleton waltzes in––well, after very politely tapping on the faerie's shoulder to move––and starts making gestures with its hands. It's not any known form of sign language, and Juno seems to understand. "What the fuck do you mean? And where the fuck is your jaw?"

The skeleton's hands rise to its face, seemingly shocked by the lack of jaw. Juno gives it a hard look. It gets rather bashful, with its hands behind its back, head down, and twisting one foot like a fucking child. "What the fuck did I tell you about gambling?! Get your fucking jaw back and get number three down here to take care of the rest of this." The skeleton's shoulders droop while it nods, then turns on its heel to leave.

"Fuckin’ numbskulls, I told you, bugsy,” she rolls her eyes, then makes a gesture that they're finished here. "Once we get up in the air, you better explain that fuckin' cube to me and how it's gonna make me fuckin' rich."

 

[ellarose]

"No?" Lettie answers the pirate's question with a shrug. Everything she knows about other worlds comes from stories and looking glass magic. Peering into news worlds is like staring into a snow-globe filled with life, glimpsing evidence of different lifeforms from afar. And yet for as long as she could remember the glass formed a solid boundary between them. Except for this time, it seems, when she fell through it instead. Shattered it and nearly died from the most tragically ungraceful crash-landing ever on her captor's ship. Fact remains is that while there are similarities that connect the worlds like thin webs of silk, they're all unique. Each one has it's own way, it's own signature and no two are ever going to be exactly the same. So even though those undead creeps were undoubtedly a doozy to deal with in the flesh... in the rotting flesh? Whatever! Did the existence of those things particularly surprise her? No. Like, Lettie grew up on that kind of nightmare fuel if only from the bedtime stories the multiple worlds research spawned. Mother dearest was particularly fond of the ones about the giants. Creatures that could crush her and not even realize they'd done it. Like a bug.

Ah. Even now, Lettie finds herself admiring her mother's skill for foreshadowing. Really should've ran through the starry groves and never looked back while she still had the chance. Sure, Ravan stopped her before she could with all his 'Oooh Letts, don't! That place is full of faerie dust! It's haunted!' That vampire wannabe's cowardice was infectious back then. But little Lettie could've taken it. She was full of life, ready to conquer the world, had her stupidly cheap glitter backpack stocked up to the max and everything! And she's a faerie. Bonding with nature is her whole shtick. She totally would've killed it out there and made that spooky, ancient forest her bitch. Queen of the ghosts, baby! ...If only.

Anyway. A conceited elder from her world would take great offense to the other woman's disdain for 'namby-pamby land'-- but Lettie, for all extents and purposes, is carrying enough spite to let it slide. Is the pirate is underestimating her home world hardcore? Yes! But like? That's not her problem. She couldn't care less about that. She's not inclined to take offense or correct her on behalf of those decrepit old bastards who wouldn't deign to lift a finger on her fucking behalf...

Except it seems necessary to interject when the pirate calls it 'faerie land' again. Ha. Yeah, right. Don't make her laugh. Faerie land. As if the faeries reign supreme. Stars, she wishes!

"For your information, the faerie population on Avangeline is like twenty percent. Not nearly enough of us walking 'round to call it faerie land." Lettie rolls her eyes, giving her sorry reflection one final sigh before lowering the knife. "And judging by your reaction, it sounds like we're practically non-existent on your world. So naturally those creepy crawlies startled me as much as my existence must've startled you."

Lettie might've added something about her greatness being downright perplexing but jumps at the tap on her shoulder before she can. With a little yip she raises her knife defensively... only to gradually lower it and relax when she realizes the skeleton means her no harm. Skeleton!? Well, at least this fellow is slightly less off-putting than those grabby, disembodied hands that shackled her earlier. A lot more polite, too. She watches the exchange between the jawless skeleton and the pirate with vague interest. Huh. Bashful guy, isn't he? And how does the other woman know what he's saying? Either way, she finds herself feeling sorta amused by this turn of events more than anything.

"I dunno. He seems infinitely more pleasant than you." Lettie grins effortlessly and shrugs. She decides she likes them. Or at least that crew mate in particular. (And this is actually a relief compared to the alternative. The alternative wherein she envisioned a crew full of nasty brutes ganging up on her.) So long as they're not, you know, getting handsy with her... there's a sort of charm to a skeleton crew that she can get behind. She sticks out her lower lip and shakes her head with genuine sympathy. "Gambling's such a bad habit, though. Gotta get him off that shit."

...Yeah. Lettie hopes he's not betting more than his jaw. She hopes he doesn't have any babies depending on him, either.

Oookay, not the time. It's never the time. Lettie shakes the thought, following the captain above deck. Gears turn in her mind as she considers how the heck she's going to sell this 'treasure' narrative. If anything, she's gotta stall on the cube. She still has no idea how the thing works or what she did the first time. Luckily she's got a little something in mind! When they settle down, an unflinching confidence glitters in her eyes.

"Do you have a..." Lettie clicks her tongue doubtfully as she looks the pirate with her makeshift bandages up and down. Nope. Not even gonna finish that thought. Gotta discard that as the stupid question it is. "Never mind." With a few quick flicks of her finger, she traces the appropriate glyph to summon her pocket dimensional purse as if it's as natural for her as breathing. Then she draws a circle and reaches inside of it to grab her hand mirror. "Alright, sunshine. Watch closely." She smirks, setting the mirror down between them. With a deep breath, she traces a complicated series of symbols into the surface. Pressing her palms to it and lifting them slowly, the mirror takes on an almost liquid texture. It bubbles and crystalizes into a glass ball. Positioning her fingertips over it, the glamoured green of her eyes peels back to reveal the phantom, near-white of her natural color as she exchanges the energy needed to call forth the prettiest scenes she's ever seen inside of it. Sparkling paradises and treasure troves appear inside the glass. "Check it! Treasure! This one's guarded by a dragon, I think. But still. Some proof to tide you over." When she gives a soft yawn, the image flickers and dims. The mirror collapses into it's normal shape. Damn. Even that looking glass magic took a lot out of her. (And she loved that shade of green on her, too. Ugh. Her natural eyes are so fucking creepy.) "Like I said, this is gonna be some high stakes shit. You gotta let me sleep first. Preferably someplace cozier than that prison cell."

Another plus? It'll, uh, buy Lettie some time to experiment with the cube. Heh. Sure is a wild card, that cube. And she's pretty sure the pirate will flay her alive if she screws up again tonight. At the very least, she'll need some good old fashioned beauty sleep to be battle ready!

 

[starboob]

"I dearly fuckin' wish that the faerie population were non-existent on this planet," Juno says, looking up to give the resident faerie in question a seriously pointed look. It effectively communicates, 'Drop dead.' Though in the next moment the pirate has to snort and roll her eyes at little miss naïve referring to the undead as creepy crawlies, as if that's even an accurate description of what they are. It's just far too tame for them––some of them have given her nightmares fucking nightmares, for crying out loud. "Only a dumbass would compare those shits to creepy crawlies," and that's not a far off assessment of what the pirate thinks of the faerie. So far, she has proven to be entirely fucking useless in almost every fucking department imaginable. (Flying? Sucks ass. Holding her own? Fucking failure. Magic? Couldn't harm a fly, probably. So, extra useless. Oh, and knowing how to babysit a fucking cube? Absolutely zero fucking skill whatsoever. Her only skill, as far as the pirate can tell, is that she probably knows how to turn any surface into a mirror. What a fucking waste of time.) Absently, Juno traces the reopened wound on her face and grimaces.

Once they're up in the command deck, Juno relieves the skeleton who had been at the wheel, uselessly banging its fist against the controls as if that really would get the ship back up into the sky. 'If I could re-murder every single one of these pieces of shit, I would. I so fucking would and I'd send their useless fucking bones straight to the holy mother's flames.' (The faerie might find them endearing, but she's never actually had to work with them!) Exhausted, she settles into the captain's chair with a muted groan as the aches from having to deal with all those fuckers alone catch up to her all at once. 'Knew I shoulda saved that last bit of dust for something important. Ugh. RIP.' Lazily, she rolls her head to the side and looks over at the monitors and various flashing lights. It takes a moment to muster her will, but eventually she reaches over to flip a few switches and then slumps back into the chair, waiting for the engines to finish cooling before she can get them into the air. Preferably before something tries to turn them into their late night snack.

When the faerie starts her question, the captain's head lulls back over in her direction. Then realizing that she's being scrutinized, she straightens up and crosses her arms over her chest, judging the bug right back! (That seems to put her at alert. Just, fuck people and their wicked little judgments!) 'What a little bitch...' She'd voice that, too, had bugsy not started pulling shit out of her ass. Shit being a mirror and ass being air. 'What the fuck.' She's so perplexed, she doesn't catch the 'sunshine' nickname. She stretches her neck out as much as she can without having to move to get a look at what bugsy is doing. Her arms fall from her chest, one hand rests on the hilt of her sword, the other sliding into her pocket to roll a molar between her forefinger and thumb, ready for the faerie to turn her magic on her now that she's nearly fucking spent.

The faerie isn't that smart, however (duh), and she just... Juno doesn't even have the vocabulary to describe what she's just done, but it does get her to lean forward, shifting from side to side to get a look at this weird orb thing. 'It's a bomb. It's a fucking bomb––oh.' The images appear and the tension unknots from between her shoulders as her eyes widen, unable to keep her surprise to herself. "Fuck, so dragons are real now, too? Mother of... What next, you gonna tell me I have to watch out for chimeras?" the pirate asks, her voice sounding distant as she reaches out to touch the orb but then it falls apart. She instantly retracts her hand both surprised and embarrassed by her fucking brainlessness (that could have killed her for all she knows). When she looks up at the faerie and sees those snowy white eyes, she freezes, like she's staring at a fucking ghost. (The resemblance to...)

She snaps out of it and crosses her arms over her chest, but something seems far more protective about the gesture. She averts her gaze, staring at the corner of the room instead. "As if I'm the one who's gonna be fuckin' cowering from danger," recalling how fucking wimpy the other was not even an hour ago. “What’s a fucking dragon to living out your worst nightmares, huh?”

At the faerie's bold request for room and fucking board, like she's on a fucking cruise or something, the pirate smirks, "Oh? Yeah, lemme take you to your fucking quarters, your majesty."

The "room" in question is a room by technicality––meaning, it has four walls and a door. There are no windows and it's entirely fucking empty. It's highly possible the room is supposed to be a supply closet, judging by its dimensions. Juno tosses a ratty blanket she picked up along the way into the "room." It hits the wall and the collapses on the floor, lifting a cloud of dust. "Best room in house," she bows dramatically, and sweeps her arms towards the entrance. "Hope you like roast wasp, because that's what the chef," aka Juno, since those asshole skeletons don't know cooking for shit (though she's not any better), "has on the menu for the foreseeable future. Don't worry, I'm sure it's not cannibalism, bugsy."

Naturally, the captain isn't going to just leave the bug to her own devices unguarded. There's too much fucking risk in that, but what she does to address this is probably over the top. From her pocket, she pulls out a rib and from that rib grows a nine foot tall colossal, absolute behemoth of a skeleton. Wordlessly, she orders it to sit down in front of the door and guard the "room." Blood starts leaking out from her hairline, but the pirate doesn't seem to notice. She just offers a satisfied, albeit cruel grin and waves goodnight the re-captured faerie. Then? Then Juno makes it almost to her own door before exhaustion and overexertion catch up to her and fucking collapses. This is normal.

 

[ellarose]

Lettie waits for the captain to turn around before sticking her tongue out. "Bleh!" Jerk! And with that mature display out of her system, she stands at a loss in the center of her new 'room'. No one around to talk to but the dust particles on the floor. She tries to build her outrage bigger than her fears. Oh, come on! On a ship this size, there's got to be a room that's at least slightly better than this. It's not like she expected a five star suite or anything like that! Hasn't she proven herself to be a perfectly valuable guest with her worldly knowledge and looking glass magic? 'Guest? Don't kid yourself, girlfriend. You're a prisoner.' Wrapping her arms around herself, she forces a smile. Gotta scrape together a facade of bravado to face the night. Even if there's no one around to perform for but herself. 'No. Chin up. You're prettier when you smile.'

Right now, Lettie's more than her vanity. That fact is always easier to confront behind closed doors. Especially when there's nothing around to distract herself with but the shitty situation she's landed herself in. It's dark, it's cramped, and her head's still full of nightmares. But she's got to keep her heart light, if only to keep him out of it. She kicks the dust around and then plops down unceremoniously on the blanket. Unable to call anything else to mind, she tries to replace a bad thing with a slightly less bad thing by thinking of the pirate. The pirate, who captured her, insulted her, doubted her existence, saved her from those creeps... and then stuffed her in here like an old mop. "Mean, stupid jerk." She brings her legs to her chest and props her chin on her knees. "She's not even that buff!"

Okay, fine. Fine! The pirate is buff. Tall and buff and one hell of a fighter. Lettie will give her that and only that. And without the dreadful context that reality provided, she might've been content to envision being whisked off her feet by such a buff lady to keep the nightmares at bay. But this pirate in question is an infuriating and undeserving star of her daydreams. So yeah, no fucking thanks!

Abandoning that line of thought before it can annoy her any further, Lettie fishes the cube out of her pocket.

"Wanna know who's a bigger jerk? Yeah, it's you!" She accuses it hotly, setting it on the floor in front of her. Glaring, the faerie boldly gives it an experimental poke. Nothing. "Why'd you bring me here, huh? How are you gonna get me home?" She pokes it again. And again. Still nothing... which is probably for the best, if she's being totally honest. She's dealt with enough bullshit for one night. There're still a few spells she'd try, if only to see if she could get it to react or decipher the glyphs she saw earlier. But she's spent. Falling from the sky, enduring capture, that mean pirate's insults and then that nightmarish scene...

Sigh. The pirate could've at least given her another blanket. Lettie will have to sleep on her stomach with her poor, poor wings all bent out of shape. She groans, kicking her legs out in front of her. No matter how exhausted she is, there is no way she's gonna get any shut-eye like this.

"Excuse me?" Lettie pokes out in the doorway, addressing the gigantic neanderthal of a skeleton. (Which-- really!? Freaking pirate with her freaking overkill security!) When it turns to face her, she immediately lifts her hands to show she comes in peace. Tamping down on any fear that might be rising up in her, she graces it with one of her most enchanting smiles. "I don't like the dark. Mind if I keep the door a smidge open?" Then she twirls a lock of hair around her finger and tilts her head. Once upon a time, Lettie swore she'd never resort to gambling for anything in life. Ever. For reasons. But desperate times call for desperate measures. "So I hear you and your buddies like to gamble? Think I could play you for a nicer room onboard?"

 

[starboob]

When Juno finally comes around, she expects to find herself in her bed, sprawled across her plush feather mattress (one of the few luxuries she has been able to afford) and in a tangle of blankets and sheets. For as normal as it is for her to end up passed out from overexertion, it is equally normal for the skeleton crew to carry her into her bedroom. That apparently did not happen. (Fine, whatever.) Instead, she finds herself distinctly not in her bed. She doesn't need to open her fucking eyes to know that. The surface she's on is much too fucking hard and whatever blanket she managed to nestled herself into is way too fucking small and it's uncomfortable as shit! The captain doesn't even want to open her eyes to discover the magnificent way her idiot boneheaded crew has fucked up. 'Goddess, it's like they use the half brain cell they all collectively fucking share to figure out new ways to fucking piss me off!' Were Juno a regular person, she might have chosen to keep her eyes closed and pretend that this is all a dream. Juno is not a regular person.

She opens her eyes and it only takes her a second to realize that somehow she's the one stuffed into the fucking closet where she is almost fucking positive that she stuffed that stupid fucking––

'Shit!' The stupid fucking faerie!

The pirate scrambles to get up, fighting with the scratchy ass blanket for freedom while the subsequent headrush causes her to knock around the cramped closet. After a minute of struggle, she latches onto the door lever, yanks it open and stumbles out of the fucking closet to find... Her fucking ship trashed. Supplies are strewn about the halls, barrels are tilted over and rolling through the ship carelessly, and a few of the light fixtures are hanging by their wiring. The skeletons are all in various states of dishevelment, "passed out," and clutching empty bottles of alcohol––that were empty to begin with. Fucking bones can't get drunk. (But they do like pretending as she has fucking learned.) Her entire body tenses, fists clenched as tightly as her eyes as she tries to keep her temper under control. That fails. "GET THE FUCK UP, YOU STUPID PIECES OF SHIT!" she barks, immediately waking the entire crew up at once. "And you," she grabs the nearest fucking skeleton by its shoulder and stares it down, "where the fuck is the faerie?! Did you let her fucking escape?"

If a skeleton could roll its eyes, this one would be doing exactly that. It crosses its arms over its rib cage and rolls its head dramatically to one side, giving the effect it's saying, 'Seriously?' Then it grabs Juno's shirt and pulls the captain through the ship, taking her to... her own fucking room.

"What the fuck?!" the metaphoric flames coming out of Juno's mouth practically incinerate the skeleton in front of her. The captain is tempted to turn her entire crew to ash for their fucking insult. It must be obvious, because the skeleton scrambles to get away from its captain, as do the other waking skeletons in the vicinity—-all of them clambering to get out of Juno's line of sight. Thankfully, the temptation to get rid of her entire crew in one fell swoop passes. (That seriously could have been bad news. The last time Juno did that, it took her for fuck ever to gather enough bone shards to build up another fucking crew. A whole fucking week was lost!)

With no warning (though her shouting outside might have served as a warning), Juno barges into her own fucking room. There’s a mound of blankets on the bed where she assumes bugsy is resting as well as that colossal skeleton “passed out” on the floor. ‘For fucks sake.’ She pinches the bridge of her nose then addresses the mound on her bed first, "Out! Out of my fucking bed! Get the fuck up, you little shit!" (Privately, she wonders just how the faerie managed to get through to the colossal skeleton she had planted right in front of her "room." Or how she got herself into Juno’s room. She's half convinced bugsy magicked her skeletons to commit mutiny against her, though seeing that she is still alive... It must have been something else.) "And you," she points an accusatory finger towards the colossal skeleton who is rousing from its sleeping position on the floor, apparently having decided to turn this into a fucking sleepover, "You're so fucking lucky you cost so much to make. Get the fuck out of my sight. Just looking at you is pissing me off––you had one fucking job!"

The nine foot tall skeleton nods rapidly and trips over itself trying to get up, shaking the entire room as it rushes to get out and into safety. Juno turns her attention back to the faerie, ripping the blankets away from the bed. “Hope you had your little fun, you flightless little fuck! I’m fucking throwing you overboard so I hope your gaudy fucking wing fixed itself.”

 

[ellarose]

"Mm." Lettie makes an elegant show of lifting her arms over her head in a long, satisfied stretch as she peels herself up on the bed so she's sitting on her knees. Stars. The pirate's definitely not a morning person, is she? Tsk, tsk. Such a commotion. She sighs dramatically and runs a hand over her hair, which is now a pale shade of violet and loosely braided. Hehe. Forcing herself to flatten her shit-eating grin into something neutral, she glances over her bare shoulder at her raging captor. "No you're not. I'm too valuable to go overboard and you know it." Is this a bold assertion? Yes, maybe so. And while there's a chance her captor might surrender all of the common sense she possessed to her temper and dump the equivalent of a treasure chest overboard... Lettie's feeling lucky enough to wager a guess that Juno here will rethink it before it comes down to the nitty gritty. The odds are in her favor and she certainly got lucky enough to score herself the captain's room on her first fucking night! "I won this room fair and square, okay? If you have an issue, take it up with your crew! Heh. They're a riot, by the way." True. For a bunch of bones, those skeletons sure liked to party like the living.

Lettie never imagined her life leading her to a game of poker with a nine-foot skeleton... but that's where it took her. And truth be told? It wasn't half bad! A totally memorable experience if you ask her. She couldn't have imagined the crowd it would draw, either. Wait till the old stiffs at work hear where their stupid cube took her! Though if she's being real, chances are they'll think she's making it all up. 'Blah, blah, be serious, Olette.' They'd say with stern frowns gnarled on their old faces. The skeletons are a lot more fun compared to those guys, that's for sure. And clearly they were super psyched to have someone as delightful and charming as her around, too! One glance at their fuming captain tells her precisely why.

Juno, she'd gathered from the skeletons. The captain of a crew of bones and only bones. Feared and wanted by many. Lettie might've been curious about her story and how all this came to be if the pirate wasn't an asshole who'd sell her off in a heartbeat.

"Pfft. Gaudy... you wouldn't have said my wings would look sweet above someone's mantel if you really thought that. I would've been... what was it? An undistinguishable stain on the valley if I looked too cheap for the likes of your Duchess?" Lettie smoothly professes her disdain, averting her eyes. Aside from the promise of treasure, there's also the fact that Juno had gone to the effort of saving her from those nightmares the day before. In the long term, there's something in it for the pirate when it comes to keeping her safe-- at least for now. Lettie knows her place. And she's willing to wring out the benefits of that for all they're worth. It's her right as the captive in this situation to take whatever little agency she can get her hands on! "Throw a tantrum if you want. But you and I both know this whole situation could've been avoided if you thought twice before stuffing me in a closet!" She twists her lips. "I knew I wouldn't get any sleep in there, so I took matters into my own hands."

So rude! But it's a brand new day, right? Lettie tries to offset Juno's anger by bolstering some more cheer.

"Seems like you slept in there just fine. So isn't this a win-win situation?" Lettie grins mischievously, finally turning herself around. "Now we're both well-rested and ready to face whatever the day has in store." Woo, a new day. She expects more shit, honestly. Piles upon piles of it. Like, she's not naive. But it's always been her policy to try and bypass it with her chin held high rather than mope and roll around in it.

It's apparent without the bedding that Lettie's wearing nothing but her undergarments. This doesn't seem to phase her in the slightest in front of Juno however as she swings her legs over the side of the bed. In fact, she even goes as far as to wink at her.

"Give me some privacy to change and I'll be right out, Juju."

 

[starboob]

The thin threads of Juno's patience are so dangerously close to snapping that her vision is starting to spot with red blots, like a flying bull in a rage. It takes everything in the captain's power to resist the sweetest temptation to send bugsy flying out the window and watch her splatter across the valley just to show her who's boss. Yet, the stupid fucking faerie points out exactly why Juno cannot do that and she just about wants to tear out her hair in frustration! Just, who the fuck gave her the right to act so self-assured in her situation and how can the fucking captain take her down several pegs before this gets out of fucking hand!? She would really like to know the answer to that question. (The idea of deforming her skull is tempting, but the necromancer's track record of being able to, uh, undeform skulls is not that great and she does need the bitch in mint condition. Near mint, maybe. But near mint probably still means having a normally shaped fucking head! Argh!!! Why??) "You're really pressing your luck for someone who's got no control over her situation," she spits, trying to maintain an aura of authority, but it's annoyingly obvious that the tables are turning.

As the faerie continues to talk, peaceful images of her in various states of death flood the captain's mind. It's the only thing she can do to cope with how fucking infuriating the bug is being. When she winks at the captain, using an insulting fucking nickname? She snaps. (Juno doesn't even have the awareness to realize that she's somehow gotten her name and already made a nickname of it.) "Alright, you little fucking shit. Listen the fuck up, you are less than dirt. You're less than shit. For as much as you might be worth, for as much as you promise––they're just fucking promises. Air. And at any moment I can fucking decide that it––you are not worth it. So don't get too comfortable on your false fucking throne, 'cause you're no fuckin' princess, you useless little bitch."

Under ordinary circumstances, the realization that Juno has a mostly naked woman in her bed would be quite fucking delightful! But given who the woman is and how insufferable she is being? She barely lets herself ogle. Barely. (The little bit of her that does savor this sweet image, makes a note to revisit this memory later. In private. In the dark.) To keep herself from getting carried away by the sight, Juno collects bugsy's clothes in a sweeping motion, grabs her by the nape of her neck, and pulls her towards the door, "I said get the fu––"

"Captain—-!" A frantic skeleton with a slight glowing aura and bright firefly-like dots in its eye sockets comes rushing in. Upon seeing the guest and the captain, the lights in its eyes brighten and seem to take on a mischievous twinkle, going back and forth between the mostly naked faerie and the pirate. "Oh? Are you busy? Is this a bad time? I can let you two, ah, finish," it giggles, then turns its attention to the bug, "Olette, I hope you slept well! We really had a rave time, 100/10 from the crew. Will you be staying with us long? Please say ye––"

"Shut up, oh my goddess, shut up!" Juno shouts, letting go of 'Olette' as her ire changes targets. "What is it that you want, three?"

"I prefer the name Marjorie, thank you very much, 'esteemed' captain. Ugh," it rolls its eyes, "So, remember yesterday? Maybe you don't because I imagine that you hit your head when you passed out. I did tell you to start wearing a helmet—-" Juno's gaze sears into the skeleton and 'Marjorie,' seems to get the point. It clears its throat with a nervous giggle, "Ah, well we're... We're in the southeastern skies now and, um, Clay. He's waiting for you upstairs."

“You let that pile of mud onto my ship?"

Juno would have more to say, in fact she seems to be frothing at the mouth with things to say, but then the pile of mud waltzes in with the largest shit eating grin on his ugly mug. (Goddess, the medals all over his steward's uniform makes him like a fucking disco ball from ye olden days. Reflexively, she has to roll her eyes.) About five fucking zombies in their rotting uniforms trail behind him and circle the pirate and faerie. He gives a lazy salute to the pirate and offers a head nod to the faerie. Juno, probably not wanting him to see 'Olette's' wings, steps in front of the faerie. It has nothing to do with chivalry. She thinks.

"Juno," he smiles, in this infuriatingly lopsided way, "You know, it's a real fucking shame you burned out of the academy. We coulda been buds, you and I. Coulda had some fun memories together. After that stunt you pulled though, they've added an additional screening protocol for dumbasses."

"Good thing they did that after we joined, then, seeing as you never would have qualified. Now," Juno crosses her arms over her chest, eyes flickering between the zombies, Clay, and the faerie, "You come here to waste my fucking time or are you going to make your ass kicking quick? I won't be nice this time, Clay. Now that your sister and I are through, I've got no problem snapping you in two."

"Well, you see," he clasps his hands behind his back and tilts his body to get a look at the faerie, brow raised. Once again, Juno gets in the way of his view. He returns his gaze to the pirate, "I've already got you this time. Since we last spoke, I've been promoted and my fleet has you surrounded. I might consider going easy on you, however, if you tell me how a grubby ship like Lady Vengeance," he snorts, "made it here in such record time since your last known location had you halfway 'round this shitstain. ...Mind introducing me to your friend?"

"No and no, dickbrains," she refuses, shaking off her coat and shoving it backwards towards the faerie, smelling trouble before it sparks. "Odella," she says to 'Olette,' "run!"

 

[ellarose]

Lettie purses her lips, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes at the pirate's explosive temper. (And let it be known that the faerie's not holding back because she's scared or anything silly like that. Like, no. Ha! Why would she be afraid of a big, muscled pirate who could undoubtedly snap her clean in half? ...Okay, so maybe she's a little afraid.) But she's been tossed shit like this a million times before, all right? Less than dirt, useless, bitch. They're just meaningless, mean words. And she really ought to remind the pirate that she's the one who started on with the whole 'princess' nickname to begin with! However, considering she can practically feel the heat of the steam radiating off of her captor at this point, she utters nothing but a surprised little squeak as she's hoisted out of bed and pushed through the door.

Ah, Marjorie! A sight for sore eyes after such a rude awakening. Lettie beams when she's addressed, opening her mouth to respond... when Juno shuts them down before they can start. Again, rude! Taking advantage of the fact that the pirate's attention is fixed on the skeleton now, she gives the exasperated eye-roll she suppressed earlier.

And then things get interesting.

What's this? Lettie tries sneaking a glance at the newcomer from her place behind Juno, but the obnoxiously tall pirate keeps moving around in a way that prevents her from getting a good look at this 'Clay' fellow. Geez! Is she doing that on purpose or something? (Hm. She does catch a glimpse of the uniform, as well as the gleam of silver on his chest. Obviously some kind of prestigious go-getter, then.) Is he douchey? It's hard to tell without getting a good look at his face, but his voice sounds pretty douchey. (Of course, this is Lettie's first impression of most men until they prove they're not pieces of shit.) And oooh, the drama! Scholarly expulsion? Break ups!? But before they go into any of the juicy details, the subject makes a turn towards a fleet. Seeing this for the opportunity it is, Lettie has a crucial choice to make.

Would this 'Clay' be of any actual help to her, she wonders. Or is it possible she'll face an even worse fate at his hands? The faerie doesn't have nearly enough info to gauge it at this point. Judging by the fact that they're surrounded by an entire fucking fleet, though, she figures she'll have a tougher time staging a great escape from him than from the pirate and her rad skeleton crew. (The skeleton crew who she prefers infinitely over those gross-ass looking zombies, by the way. Not only did they have killer personalities, but they just... always looked like they were smiling, you know? It's super sweet!) Lettie blinks with surprise when Juno's coat hits her square in the face. Oh, right. She's still in her underwear. Nonchalantly, she shrugs the coat on, though the size makes it fit more like a flowing cloak on her tiny frame. (A fun fashion statement, though! Badass coat with lingerie? It's a look that she could get behind.) And... Odella? That's not her name! She opens her mouth to say so at the same moment Juno tells her to run.

Okay. So obviously Lettie needs to get in on this conversation if she's going to learn anything remotely useful. It's totally unfair how out of the loop she is! Will this 'Clay' guy help her or not? It's a gamble she's not dumb enough to take until she gets a better read.

"Run? Why should I run, Juju?" Lettie asks, batting her eyes innocently. There are certain implications that can be so, so easily assumed in this situation. What with the way she and Juno are getting caught leaving her room together, just as Marjorie had so helpfully brought to their attention before. And the faerie's in her underwear, for goodness sake! If this man is the brother of whoever Juno used to have 'a thing' with, then... She tilts as much as she can without falling over in order to look at Clay from behind Juno, her tone severe. Because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned or something like that. "Hold your fleet, sir! This is important."

Showtime!

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Lettie tugs on Juno's arm, gazing up at her with big, pleading eyes. Heh. The heartbroken lover is such a fun role to play! Even if the idea of dating such a mean pirate makes her seriously want to vom. (Those muscles under her fingertips, though. Stars. It takes some serious self control not to lose sight of her goals altogether.) "Or... no. Don't tell me you're ashamed of me!? I don't think my heart could take it!"

From the corner of her eye Lettie notices Marjorie's jaw drop, her hands flying up to the sides of her face. Oh, that Marjorie. Such a queen, supplying the dramatic reactions the faerie needs to thrive in this world!

"Well? I'm waiting!" Lettie puffs her cheeks and crosses her arms in their oversized sleeves over her chest. Stubborn, refusing to budge an inch, because she's not picking sides without the appropriate info in her arsenal. "Why won't you introduce me to this strange gentleman, Juno? What aren't you telling me?"

 

[starboob]

And then, in a flash, Juno gives over to her blinding rage and snaps everyone's bones. Satisfied with her handy work and the delicious symphony of snap, crackle, and pop! she decides to break the entire shitty planet in two with her bare hands and sweet muscles. It's a kindness, really, because it guarantees that no one else will ever have to deal with the level fuckery she has had to deal with in the past 24 hours.

Ah, if only the goddess were so kind.

No, obviously Juno doesn't break everyone's fucking bones but she certainly wishes that she could! (In fact, she does privately do the calculations on her chances of making a fair escape were she to take Clay and his entire fleet in a one vs. goddess-knows-how-many match. Call it arrogance, but she thinks she chances aren't that bad. Just not enough to actually give it a try.) She just really didn't think that it was that fucking hard to follow simple fucking instructions like run or close your eyes. Apparently, if she wants this insufferable Orla chick to do anything, she should start using reverse psychology on her idiot brain. Then maybe they could actually make some fucking progress! But, no, instead she's being forced into some disgusting little ruse. (She hates to admit it, but it is kind of fucking clever. Though she can't figure out what the bug is trying to get out of this other than to be on her fucking nerves.) Unfortunately, Juno isn't quick enough coming up with a response and that pile of mud is speaking again.

"Yes, Juju, why won't you introduce us?" Clay asks, hand going up to his bedazzled chest as if hurt. Juno thinks the gesture just makes him look like a huge douche, but there's probably little he could do to make himself a small douche in her eyes. He turns to address Orpheus, bowing like the dick he is, "You have to excuse Juno's rude manners––she's always been a bit of a twat," ("As if your big dick energy isn't limited to you being a huge dick.") "and a life of crime really has not made her any better." He offers the bug his most charming grin, "A pretty little thing like yourself really doesn't want to get mixed up with a bonehead like her. Poor company aside, I just don't think shackles would look all that cute on you. Lady like yourself deserves diamonds."

(Yeah, fucking right! As if that asshole would ever spend coin on a woman. Juno doesn't even hold back her exaggerated eye roll.)

"Pfft, if you want date a prolapsed asshole, then by all means, baby, that corroded pile of crap is all yours," she says, somewhat forgetting that lovers don't necessarily talk to each other like that. But whatever. It's out there now and, to be honest, the pirate has never been known for her acting skills. (Number three (Marjorie) looks absolutely shocked and appalled, it even starts to make its way to comfort Oswald, but Juno flashes it a quick hand signal. Three nods and skitters over towards the nightstand, largely ignored by the zombies and Clay.) "Just know that I tried to warn you about his fucking douchebaggery," she holds her hands up in defense. "Least I coulda brought some fuckin' adventure into your life."

(Three (Marjorie) flashes Juno another quick signal.)

"We––"

Okay, now this is when Juno starts breaking some bones, starting with this fucking skidmark. With a satisfying crunch, her fist lands square in the middle of Clay's face, turning his nose into faucet. The man is knocked backwards into the wall and, using his bewilderment to her advantaged, Juno pushes over the zombies and starts to run––number three (Marjorie), with the cube, trailing after her. Well, not before tugging on Orlando's sleeve to follow. (Fucking traitor!)

The zombies, a poor fucking choice of soldiers if you ask the resident bone magician, start chasing after them (eventually Clay joins in as well). They draw their shiny little swords, but the pirate doesn't seem all that concerned. As they pass by her skeleton crew, she taps each one of them, turning their arms into lances, and orders them to get rid of those rotting flesh sacks (Clay included). That ought to hold them off. Though as for the rest of Juno's escape plan? She, uh, is sort of hoping Clay's fleet will just start lining up so that she can beat their asses individually, but she somehow doesn't think that is a very likely possibility. 'Crap.'

"Three, give me the cube."

"You will need to ask Olette. I gave it to her. I don't believe in archaic traditions such as finders keepers."

 

[ellarose]

'I don't want to hear what I fucking deserve.' Lettie graces the man with her sweetest smile, the one mother always said would disarm any sucker with a working pair of eyes. Like a fair maiden from a story, she twirls the end of her braid around her finger to make him think he has her wrapped around his finger. 'Diamonds are nice but I want answers, damn it!' Unfortunately, she isn't given the chance to truly work her charms to mold this Clay guy like... well, clay, around her finger. Miss grumpy-pants Juno interrupts and she can't help dropping her pleasant mask to arch a judgmental brow at her.

Adventure, huh? Lettie's tempted to inform her right then and there that being held prisoner against her will is not her idea of an adventurous fantasy and out her nefarious plans right there in front of this man who... is still teetering at a questionable ranking on her douche-scale. If faeries are non-existent on this world, who knew what he'd do with that information? She certainly wouldn't. (For instance, does his swanky career afford him diamonds? And would a man that rich have any desire to sell her off to the Duchess? ...Or does he work for said Duchess? That's always a risk, too! And if that is the case? Well, she'd vastly prefer her chances with Juju here.) As stunning and clever as her last-ditch effort to gather intel was, it's also turning out to be effectively useless! Juno and Clay have done nothing thus far but throw insults at each other like toddlers! Useless!

"You are so full of--" Lettie's face scrunches up only to slacken a moment later with shock when Juno throws a punch in that Clay guy's face. Well. Okay. That's a development. The faerie's heart may have skipped a beat... but pfft, duh, it's only because of the drama! Has nothing to do with that pirate's big buff arms or anything like that, no sirree. "Oh."

Before Lettie can blink, she's tugged along like a petal in a storm and swept into a whirlwind chase scene through the ship. When they jolt to a stop, she throws a look over her shoulder to see the skeletons clashing with the zombies. Huh. Should she be taking notes on this undead biz for work?

...Except she should probably figure out how she's going to get back home before she worries about that. Speaking of which, sure seems like everyone's looking at her for the cube now. 'Fuck!' She thinks in a singsong tone. The soundtrack of her life recently. 'Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!'

"Heh, the cube! Of course!" Lettie tilts her head and giggles like an airhead. She feels like an airhead. Probably because she doesn't know what the fuck she's doing. She traces the haphazard glyph in the air as well as the circle for her purse. The faerie sticks her tongue out and pretends to rummage her hand around inside of it. "Whoopsie! It's not in here!" Okay, she's lying. It's totally in there. But the cube has been useless since she got here, all right? It'd be a colossal waste of their precious time trying to get it to behave right now. "It might be in my skirt pocket? Or I maybe I dropped it back in your room when you so rudely kicked me out!" Her eyes glint and she purses her lips. "Like, you could've at least let me change! If you ask me, this is karma."

Marjorie, stars bless the skeleton, has her back on this particular front, tilting their skull scoldingly and resting their hands where their hips would've been.

"Plus, I wouldn't be surprised if you broke it when you threw it like a dumbass." Lettie rolls her eyes and examines her nails. "Point is, we-- or rather you-- can't rely on the cube to get out of whatever this is! Like... what the fuck is going on here!?" And now it's her turn to place her hands on her hips, raising her chin to meet the pirate's gaze. Stars. She's even shorter now than she was yesterday without her heels. But like hell is she going to flinch away now! "What's in it for me, Juju? Give me one good reason why I should side with you over that douchebag Clay and his fleet."

This, of course, is the same moment one of the zombies manages to claw past the barrier of skeletons.