1867-03-03: The Tide Comes In
The Tide Comes In
Summary: Atreis returns from a long sea campaign.
Date: 1867-03-03
Related: None
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Atreis  

Compared to the treacherous trenches and jagged peaks of the open sea, floating into the harbor of Four Corners is like boating in a baby's bathtub. Marie is glad to be here; while she holds no fear of the ocean, so long as good men and women crew her lines and steer her rudder, the same cannot be said of her feelings towards the Njorvolk. She hunts them, and they hunt her, and while it testifies to the quality of her Captain that she's made it back to friendly waters in one piece, it is somewhat closer to three-quarters of a piece, really. Signs of combat score her masts, her hull, her sails; a black scorch here, a torn sheet there. Her weaponry creaks with the tired refrain of a well-used soldier — it performs admirable service when called upon, but knows better than to volunteer.

She strains to return to that eternal battle, but at the same time, it's good to be able to anchor at last.

Her Captain is also conflicted, but for different reasons. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she feels the shadows of Four Corner's tallest buildings fall across her an inch at a time.

First the tip of one foot, even now placed at an angle of both perfect balance and perfect potential for violence, by the instinct of a seawoman born and a warrior raised.

Then darkness slides up her long and excellent leg, the light armor girding it crunchy with salt despite the most patient ministrations every night. It finds her hip, her chest, her strong shoulders.

Last of all, her face crosses into shadow, and for a single perfect moment, she's split in twain, with one eye catching the light with exactly the same green as the water surrounding her, and the other darkened, brooding. Both are brooding, really, but the twinkle brought by sunlight could have muted the expression to apparent neutrality. Without it, the brood rules the day.

She always broods when coming back to places like this. When she left, things were pretty damnably bad, but if she hadn't gone to place the Stonewall in the path of heightened Njorvolk aggression, things would have fast become far worse.

There has been no news. She suspects this is not a good thing. Indeed, as she and Marie float together towards the dock, there's a sinking feeling in her gut, an awareness that while she was off fighting her campaign, events transpiring behind the wall that she provided may well have gotten very grim, indeed.

The fact that a messenger from the Al'Ramar mansion is there to greet her confirms this feeling. Her gut twists. First Father fell ill, then her brother disappeared — or was exiled — or went into hiding. And now…

Striding grimly off the gangplank, she lets the page murmur into her ear. Her eyebrows shoot for the sky with all the speed and subtlety of a cannonball. Even expecting the worst, this is beyond the pale.

"What."

It is not a question, as the word falls from her lips like a chip of ice, like a souvenir from northern waters. With a few more clipped syllables, she's arranged for Marie's docking and repair. One tiny, cherished piece of luck: her preferred shipwright is in town. A single line of tension between her shoulders relaxes at the news, but it is somewhat like a killer archer taking out a single member of a charging vanguard — there are many more such lines. Danger draws closer and more taut by the moment.

She walks up the street with her feelings held close to her chest. She can feel the blinding rain, the lashing winds, a tempest in a Princess-sized teapot, but she won't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing it. Her heart is the sea, but all they'll see is the stone.

And with every step she grows more sure that she's been too long away. No matter. The forces arrayed to destroy her family may be as close and surrounding as the very air, now, but even air can be stopped, trapped, warded against. They won't take another one — not without going through her first.

Near or far, she will be their Stonewall.

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