RP:Keeping Up With The Khatalians

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc

Summary: On KhittiBrand's day off, Lionel and Esche happen upon the Tranquility as the return to the mainland. They all eat cake, Onyx is an angsty jerk, and stories from the past month and a half are shared.

The Tranquility, Cenril's Wharf

There’s music coming from the galley. Why is there music coming from the galley? It’s because Khitti’s in there making a mess. Also, she might’ve shadow-stepped into Rachelle’s house in Kelay when she wasn’t home and pilfered one of the enchanted violins. Sorry, woman. She’ll give it back eventually. She swears (she swears a lot, actually but that’s besides the point). Anyway. For once the violin music situated around Khitti actually sounds happy. Why? Because she took the day off and decided to cook and/or bake things for the entire crew instead of just herself and Brand. Isn’t she nice? Okay, well, there’s that -and- she was actually looking forward to all of the food at the feast. SIGH. But. It’s okay now. Because she’s made all the things. There had been two rather large roasts and various root veggies that’d been used to feed those that dwelled on the ship and now she was busying herself with baking 5 different types of cakelog. Oh, also a strawberry cheesecake for a certain captain dude. Yeah sorry Brand. You’re probably gonna have to go work that off later on. Maybe you and Khitti can go play with mermaids again?

Brand is at the table in the galley, reading a book. (He’s definitely not here because Khitti sometimes feeds him morsels of what she’s cooking, nope.) He’s taken the day off too, seeing as how they’re docked at Cenril and a decent chunk of the crew is on leave anyway. All that remains is a skeleton crew left to oversee comings and goings from the top deck. And by skeleton, I mean undead. And by undead, I mean Onyx. A few crew are heavily engrossed in a game of cards, present but hardly what could be considered ‘on duty’ -- and only Onyx is left to guard the ramp to shore. This particular sentry appears to be but a child, a human child of indeterminate gender and possessing of a very determined stare out into the last rays of daylight. Their bow is nocked and at the ready. It’s a dangerous business, you know, guarding a ship while everyone else is slacking. Very serious. Grr.

Lionel stands at the stern, or more accurately, what remains of it. The topsails are tattered and charred, the wood is chipped and pulled-apart as if by tidal wave, and the Wayward Son herself looks ill-fit for carrying on another nautical mile. She's taken water to the deck and through the quarters and mess, and several wounded sailors lay sprawled near Lionel. Of the Catalian himself, his upper lip is swollen and his neck has a fine cut, and his leather jerkin is carved almost in two. But the man himself seems unfazed; there's no bitterness or anguish in his thousand-yard stare. Rather, he seems cunning, as though he is calculating something more urgent than the state of the ship and the status of the crew. For a moment Lionel stands alone, but as the Wayward Son slows to a crawl beside the Tranquility and lays anchor, and as the sun's final flickers bring shadow, Esche appears out of nowhere, as if spontaneously generating next to him. "You are certain?" The elf's words are a whisper. Trepidation is self-evident upon him. "Never a hundred percent." Lionel shrugs, hoisting Hellfire's scabbard over his back. "Eighty percent. Maybe seventy. Hell, sixty-five ain't out of the question. But it's the only lead we've got." He taps Esche on the shoulder and immediately leaps over what's left of the rail, landing on the boardwalk and taking off into a sprint toward the Tranquility. At once, spectral images beside two of the wounded sailors pop into view above them, and they themselves turn to ashes. Their companions wail in horror, and the spectral creatures arrive behind Lionel in one sharp heartbeat, screeching and raising their clawed arms at his exposed skin. "Not today," Lionel growls, and in a flourish Hellfire is drawn. His swing is a single measured step, a twirl of the body to face his would-be killers. Their screeching intensifies as the summoned flames burn them into oblivion. The business on the wharf has fallen to a standstill; fishermen's jaws have dropped, dockhands are blinking in confusion. An elderly dwarf is laughing. Slowly but surely, the evening passersby revert to their tasks, as if the world has thrown one too many freakshow action sequences before their eyes to disquiet them for long. Esche nods from on-high. "I see. You lured them out. Forced them to reveal themselves when you did something unpredictable. Took off running -- devious tactic. Very clever." Lionel, however, sheaths Hellfire with a callous shrug. "Actually, I was just happy to see the Tranquility." Esche's eyes widen almost comically. Lionel doesn't see it -- he's already climbing aboard.

Khitti stopped whatever she was currently working on and just stared in the direction of the ship that Lionel and Esche were in. She didn’t have x-ray vision, unfortunately, but her vampire senses were tingling and that’s all that mattered. “I sense zhe faint smell of danger.” Khitti narrowed her eyes at the wall in contemplation, then moved to hide behind Brand. “Tell zhem it’s our day off. I’m not a vampire, or a necromancer, or a warrior, or Batman--” whoever the hell that is anyway ”--I’m just a girl zhat vants to bake and feed her man cake and whiskey. So. Tell zhem to go away.” She raises up just enough to kiss Brand on the cheek in advanced thanks before ducking down behind him again. This was a job for -The Captain-.

Onyx sees the fiery commotion with keen, dark eyes. Their bow raises, for a moment -- but it turns out not to be necessary and so it is soon lowered again. Hellfire. Hellfire means Lionel, who sure enough comes moseying on up like he -doesn’t- bring destruction and chaos perpetually in his wake. Onyx squints just a bit more menacingly than before and raises themselves to their full height -- which puts their gaze approximately level with the Catalian’s sternum as the child blocks his path. “Visits with the crew are by appointment only.” This isn’t remotely true, but Onyx does their utmost to look convincing anyhow. || Within the gut of the Tranquility, Brand sighs and pushes away from the table. “I’m sure Onyx has it handled,” he says as he makes for the door, “but maybe I’d better make sure it’s not those kids with their gorram penny whistles again. Would rather -not- have to explain to their parents why they came home with a frakkin’ arrow through the throat.”

Lionel seems not to have noticed the interlopers until a full three seconds after they've spoken. Then, with an awkward scratch of his neck and a compulsive flinch as he's reminded of his wound, Lionel winces and takes a step back. "Oh. I guess Khitti and Brand have a good thing going now. Keeping a schedule, hiring secretaries. That sort of thing. It's a sign of success. You should be happy, I reckon. Clinical work is hard to come by at your age. Stay in school, get good grades, and one day you can be anything you believe in. Maybe you could even learn to guard this ship. Alas, this whole time I've been talking to you, my straight-faced elven friend has cast a crude teleportation spell not only on himself but on me as well. In fact, I'm really just rambling now, because I derive a perverse sense of satisfaction in knowing that the spell will go off while I'm mid-sentence and you'll be left hearing an incomplete train of thought. I'm such a jack --" Lionel vanishes from Onyx's line of sight, reappearing beside Khitti with Esche beside him. "On your left. Is that cake?"

Khitti screamed. She screamed a lot. Like she was in a bad 70’s superhero tv show. Somewhat because it’s Esche, that creepy pointy-eared bastard, but mostly because it’s Lionel. And then she pounced on him like we’re still writing in 2004 or something before he had a chance to touch that cake she made. Except, it wasn’t one of those creepy pounces that girls back then did because ew, she’s no angsty attention-seeking female (okay she’s kind of angsty but shh). She’s just genuinely happy to see Lionel. Also, she’s still a vampire, unfortunately, but hey! at least she’s still alive and kicking. Mostly? But, yes. There’s a pounce and Lionel’s probably flattened like a pancake except not really because Khitti’s only 120 pounds. It’s like getting hit by an oversized cat, really. “LIONEL!” Yes. That’s his name. Don’t wear it out. Khitti would then help him up, shove cake at his face, and point to the nearest chair and or bench to sit in near the table. Eche doesn’t get cake because he gives Brand the willies. Or, at least, he can get his own cake. Khitti had indeed sensed the faint smell of danger. It was the smell of Lionel Danger O’Connor.

Abovedeck, Onyx bristles with the impotent rage of someone who does their utmost to exercise what very little power they’ve been given and yet found it to be insufficient. Khitti should have gotten a smaller violin to play for them so we could all pretend to feel bad.

In the galley, Brand’s whirled around in the doorway so fast he’s nearly injured himself. He quickly registers Lionel, then Esche. Oh. -That- sort of danger. He’ll just put those fireballs away, then. Poof. “Figures you’d make some sorta grand entrance after all this time.” There’s a brief assessment of Lionel’s appearance, then: “Man, you look like hell. Onyx takin’ First Mate too seriously again? I really need to have a talk with them about that.”

Lionel is like the stalwart puppy, slammed into submission at Khitti's beck and call. His recovery from the great lingering onward motion phase -- hereafter referred to as 'G.L.O.M.P.' -- is swift and decisive. Lionel is on his feet again and shoveling cake down his windpipe, no, wait, his throat, although also maybe slightly windpipe, and it's really good so the shoveling will continue until tummy morale has improved. Esche carefully, cautiously, slices off the faintest sliver of cake. A suggestion of baked good, really, nothing more than a hush. He devours it delicately even as Brand storms into the room, surveying his surroundings with wistful interest. And maybe a hint of seasickness. "It's good to see you both. I didn't mean to make an entrance. Eh. No. I really kinda did."

Khitti moved to Brand’s side and helped him over to the table again. “Settle down, grandpa or else you’ll break a hip.” This is of course said with the most innocent of grins and the batting of eyelashes in hopes that he doesn’t reignite those flames and turn her to ash. “And I don’t know vhy you keep them. Zhey’re a bigger jerk zhan you are. I didn’t even -do- anything to zhem. Zhey hate me just because I exist.” That’s not really new though, Khitti. The redhead sighed and finally sat down with her own slice of cake. “I don’t know vhere zhe hell you’ve been, but you’ve missed everything, Lionel.” And by everything, she does mean everything. You know, the Big Bang. Colonization on the moon. Cats becoming our one true gods. Everything. “I vouldn’t even know vhere to start really.”

Brand is too busy being defensive to touch on the subject of Onyx any further. “It was -one- new grey hair. One!” And it was very thick and prominently positioned where it could say hello to the entire world, up until Brand had plucked it out. Getting older is a load of cow dung, mmkay? “And I’ll make very sure to tease you about yours once you’re human again.” Brand sighs, eyeballing Esche, but ultimately decides to sidle up close enough to the elf to fetch his own (large) slice of cake. He’ll go for a run later, okay? Sheesh. “You could start with the part where you tore Amarrah’s heart out of her chest,” he says through a mouthful of the sugary goodness. “Kinda seems important to mention her not bein’ around anymore.”

Khitti’s eyes got all wide for a moment before promptly narrowing at Brand. Yeah, you’re not getting any sex tonight, buddy. Probably no cheesecake for awhile either. After a good thirty to forty second glare at one Catalian, she directs her attention to the other with a heavy sigh, “She’s definitely gone. I set her on fire too.” She -almost- sounded proud about it. Almost. Khitti still didn’t mention that said heart was just chilling (literally) in a block of dark ice in her wardrobe here on the ship. “Oh!” She changed the subject immediately, “I got a cure from Amarrah’s dad. Already have three of zhe ingredients. Also, we found out he might be evil. A lot evil. I’m probably going to have to go back and deal vith zhat later.” Probably going to have to kill him too. Yep. “Annnd, ve met some mermaids. Took some of zheir scales. Stole a tooth from a leviathan zhat actually turned out to be a giant aquatic dinosaur.” Just keep talking, Khitti. Just keep talking. Maybe Brand will forget about Amarrah and the heart and the murdering.

Brand gives Khitti his best innocent pokerface. Whaaaaat? Lionel needed to know Amarrah was dead. That was kind of the big thing going on last time they saw him, y’know? He totally doesn’t want Lionel to know, specifically, that she --tore Amarrah’s heart out of her goddang chest.-- and then smiled about it. It was kinda creepy, and this is coming from the guy who thinks giant hairy spiders are cute and in need of scarf-bowties. And also: “Yeah, those mermaids got torn to -shreds,- man. Khitti turned one into an icecube, hauled its ass onto the shore, maybe threatened her a bit. Eventually threw her back, though, if five sisters short.” Brand, wide eyed and guiltless, takes another enormous bite of his cake slice. He’s definitely aware he’s going to be paying penance for this for a while, even if she -doesn’t- know he’s tattling intentfully. (Making a habit of playing dumb has its advantages.)

Lionel is too busy keeping up with the Khattashians to register the back-and-forth unspoken diatribe between them. Then again, he wills himself oblivious of such matters no matter the occasion. "Amarrah, dead..." He repeats it, giving it greater weight to his mind. With a short sigh, he crosses his arms and leans back into a wooden chair. He doesn't appear particularly comfortable. "The cure, though." His blue eyes brighten at this, and he nods eagerly. "This is good. We're on the right track. I knew you could do it. I knew it. But this business with her father -- Amarrah's, I mean -- disquieting. If he's half the menace she was, I'll be ready." The sit is short-lived; Lionel climbs up out of the chair and immediately appears more relaxed. Perhaps easy postures have an inverse impact on the man. "Fought a pack of mermaids off once. Had a siren of all people as my ally. We were in a canoe. It's as bad as it sounds. Came to a point, the siren had to sing 'em all to death. But of course, they were singing, too. It was a sing-off. Craziest thing. Say, none of those mermaids of yours mentioned the word Veltharn, right?"

Khitti just blinks at Lionel’s own tale of mermaids. “A sing-off vould’ve been much preferred, I’m sure. Maybe next time. I’ll be sure to send Brand in first, heavily intoxicated. He could challenge zhem to a karaoke match.” Her thoughts shift then to Lionel’s question, brows furrowing as she thought back to that day in Rynvale. “No, not zhat I recall. It vas more a feeding frenzy zhan a sharing of info or something like zhat.” Khitti’s totally not at fault for said feeding frenzy. (Okay, she is.) “Vhat zhe hell is a Veltharn?” There was bit of thought given to whether she’d -ever- heard that name at all, but when she came up with nothing, she just shrugged. “Oh, two other zhings. One: Dominic’s gone--” That thought seemed to calm whatever anger she’d had a bit ago, but she soon continued on to the next thing, “--and two: Emrith tried to assassinate Larewen. Vhile I know you and her don’t care for each other, he… um…” Khitti hesitates, a frown appearing, “He almost killed me too. Pilar gave him a magic-draining dagger, told him to kill Larewen. I vas zhere, tried to help her, and he stabbed both of us. A lot.” ‘A lot’ was putting it lightly, really. Emrith’s skill in melee combat was not exactly something you wanted to be on the receiving end of, it seemed. “Zhe Corruption, Lionel. It’s going to get out. Larewen’s barely keeping it at bay. Her body’s pretty much in a sort of stasis and she’s vandering about as a ghost for the time being.”

Dominic … Oh. Right. He was a thing. Funny how quickly the kid had faded from his worries like he’d never been there at all. Brand zones out of a section of the conversation, tuning back in just barely in time to hear about Ghost-Larewen. “That’s gotta be uncomfortable.” Yeah. Thanks for your meaningful contribution to this discussion, Brand. The Captain side-eyes Esche over another heaping forkful of cake.

Esche purses his lips in concentration. "We do not yet know what a 'Veltharn' is, per se," the elf supplies. "It is something we heard twice whilst elsewhere. Once at a tavern in the Demon Archipelago, then again when pirates assaulted our craft. They were no ordinary pirates; they cited a 'Way' and 'Veltharn' and spoke diligently that all they did was in service of the 'Coming'. A religious zealotry seemed to compel them, and they left behind a pair of would-be assassins in the form of the spectrals Lionel slew moments ago. It may be nothing to concern Lithrydel, but it is wise we keep counsel on the matter." It's certainly the most Esche has spoken thus far. Lionel can only nod. He might have been inclined to say more, were it not for the secondary volley of information Khitti has leveled upon him. Dominic's disappearance isn't given the consideration it needs, in light of the remainder of the tale. Dominic is who Lionel first met, yet Brand and Khitti are who he has truly befriended. For that matter, Emrith has been an enigmatic and oftentimes difficult ally, but had he assaulted Larewen -- even Larewen -- Lionel would be on-edge. Instead, the news has come forth that he did considerable harm to Khitti as well, and now Lionel's eyes are like burning blue flames. Whatever increased ease he'd gained from standing evaporates in this wake, and his arms tighten and one wrist goes quickly to the hilt of Hellfire. "Emrith. -Pilar.-" He doesn't even seem to have acknowledged the bit about not caring for Larewen; it's well and true, but lost in this current of anger. "Where are they? No, nevermind Pilar. Whatever her purpose here, she's the less dangerous of the pair by far. Where is Emrith? Where the hell is he?"

Khitti cringed a bit at Lionel’s ever-growing anger, but could only shake her head, “I don’t know. He ran off because neither Larewen nor I vas strong enough to stop him. Don’t vorry about Pilar. I’ve disowned her and she’s been excommunicated from House Dragana and Vailkrin. Zhat’s probably vorse zhan death for her, to be honest.“ She didn’t bother bringing up how she almost bled out on the floor of Brand’s lovely ship; that would probably only worsen Lionel’s mood. “It vas a good zhing Larewen didn’t kill either of zhem, and I reminded her as vell, as I’d much rather avoid being directly in zhe middle of a var. Again.” Khitti made no more mention of Dominic, and took to absently fidgeting with that bracelet he’d given her instead. Finally, once she’d rethought about the information that Esche had given them, she offer him a faint smile, “I’m out and about on land enough zhat I may hear something, and Brand likewise on zhe ocean. If ve find out anything new, ve’ll be sure to let you know. Probably just some stupid cult zhat’ll fade in time. Hopefully.”

One would think that, maybe, Emrith would have been taken care of by Brand by now. And one might be right, if there was any word of Emrith’s whereabouts of late. There hadn’t been, and so Brand’s focus remained on helping Khitti and captaining the Tranquility. No point in brooding over unsolvable problems. Now that Lionel’s here, though, perhaps justice can be done. “I imagine you’ve got the resources to track him down, if you can make use of Frostmaw’s assets. I’ve heard little news of tensions between them and Larket of late.” That doesn’t mean there -isn’t- any, but still. “The Warrior’s Guild, too. It’s still related to those gorram bugs. I mean, maybe. Khitti said something about him bein’ made insane by some spider bitch?” Spiders. It always has to be spiders. This is Khitti’s fault, somehow.

Lionel grimaces, his wrath deflating as he collapses back into his discomforting chair. A moment passes as he parses what he's heard. Khitti's advisory and Brand's follow-up seem to have done a number on the Hero of Hellfire; it is in fact Esche who stands and paces. "The creature which claimed a portion of his essence," the elf muses. "He told us of it. He asked us to trust him but to be wary. He was quite civil about..." Esche lofts a brow as Lionel shoots him baleful daggers, but the elf takes a hint and does not finish that train of thought. "Well, in any case. We must find him. That much is clear. We cannot allow such a powerful man to run roughshod if the being has made greater headway into his mind. She is in fact the being we fought beneath Vailkrin, left limping to survive within that elven vampire. Fascinating." Lionel seems too tired for further glares. He crosses his arms and takes a swig of nearby rum. "I'll prioritize it."

Khitti nodded in agreeance with Brand as he told Lionel and Esche of Emrith’s eight-legged friend. Lionel cutting off Esche hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Khitti frowned at it, but allowed the elf to finished. “You von’t just prioritize it. You’ll frakking do something about it and you’ll do something about it soon, Esche--or -I’ll- frakking deal vith it. Zhis is completely different from Amarrah. I vas under house arrest for -months- and he’s off galavanting around doing only zhe gods’ know vhat. It’s even vorse if he -isn’t- being controlled by zhat spider. If he’s doing zhis of his own free vill, zhen he needs to be taken care of.” Over the course of her little speech, Khitti’s tone of voice changed real quick, shifting to that agitated state that Brand’s gotten rather used to of late.

Brand leans back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. It’s definitely an issue, but his tone remains cool even after Khitti’s heated remarks. “Actually, if the spider’s controlling him but he’s still in there somewhere, that sounds more alike than different. Still, point remains you’d have to catch him or at least have eyes on him for a while to know. And he oughta be treated as at least as much of a liability as Khitti was, if not more.” It was a wonder it hadn’t been that way from the start. The spectre of Amarrah still should have been fresh in everyone’s minds. How could they all have let Emrith simply… slip by? “At any rate, he’s nowhere near here or I’d have heard something.” Like another sort of ‘spider,’ Brand has invested in some degree of an information network. Another reason it’s helpful to make sure the crew gets ample shore leave. “Do you bring any news from Frostmaw or thereabouts?”

Esche seems mildly perturbed by Khitti's reaction, but says nothing. He drifts into the proverbial shadows as Lionel speaks up. "Prioritizing this means catching Emrith swiftly, Khitti." He chews his lip. "Emrith slipped by because people tend to forget things quickly when it conveniences them to do so." At this, Esche sparks a brief renewed interest, before going back to sifting through poultices in his pack. "It's our job to clean up the mess sometimes when forgetful people threaten the safety of those around them. Emrith will be dealt with." Lionel sighs. It's all he can do to hope for a peaceful resolution, and more pivotally, to hope he can stick to that belief when the time comes. Right now, temptation is high to cleave the man for this transgression. But it isn't right. He closes his eyes, forcing a tense truce upon the tempest of his innermost thoughts. "Mopping up the substance abuse outbreak has been an ongoing endeavor. We charted a new gem route from the unexplored waters beyond Gualon and Craughmoyle, though, and that's helping settle things. Oh, and uh, I'm the Steward of Frostmaw now."

Khitti didn’t really care how perturbed Esche was really. She did, however, manage to stifle the rest of her thoughts on the matter. Thank you, Brand for changing the subject. She’s lost her appetite for the rest of her cake though and passes the rest of the slice to Brand in case he wants to finish it. Still possibly thinking about murdering Emrith, Khitti nods along as Lionel tells of what he’s been doing of late. Punching bad guys and gettting rid of drugs. Check. A new gem route for Frostmaw? Kaching! Hildegarde’ll be rolling in gem-encrusted cakelog in no time. Also Lionel was Steward of Frostmaw. Wait. What? “S-steward of Frostmaw?” Khitti blinked a few times. “As if you didn’t have enough responsibilities from everything else. My condolences.” Khitti hates responsibilities. It’s a fact. “Also, congrats, I zhink.”

More cake? Yes, always more cake. Wait. No. Actually, he’s rather full right now, but that doesn’t stop Brand from picking at the remains of Khitti’s slice. “Steward, eh? So what’s got Hildegarde so busy, then?” It’s about that time that a small form appears in the doorway of the galley. A small and very angry form. An Onyx, to be precise. There’s an icy stare given to Lionel and Esche before they stalk past the company to a bowl of hard candies situated on the far end of the galley table. Onyx fetches one, unwraps it (noisily), pops it into their mouth, and quickly follows it with a second. Another glare. If it’s at all possible to eat candy menacingly, Onyx is accomplishing it. There’s several more candies stuffed into the pockets of their drab green garb before they begin heading for the exit again, all without a word.

Lionel settles against a wall plank, one leg propped. A small smile crests. The Onyx is ignored for now. "Too many responsibilities, aye. But also, not enough. I hate this stuff. Politics, people revering me, raspberries and white chocolate. The whole royal lot. Come to find, Lithrydel's changed such that it's necessary in order to inspire change and ensure protection. Hildegarde dislikes it, too. That's a big part of why I trust her. A big part of why I'm able to follow suit for once. And we need someone on the inside, someone who deals with the fake pleasantries and the constant scheming and the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake. I'm afraid it's the only way to defend the realm."

Khitti could only grin as she watched Onyx out of the corner of her eyes while Brand and Lionel spoke. They were so very upset at Lionel and Esche and Khitti took great pleasure in their irritation. She would’ve offered them cake as a sort of peace offering on the newly appointed Steward’s behalf, but alas, Onyx disappeared into an angry huff, all the while snacking on those candies. Instead, Khitti jerked a thumb at Brand and grinned even more than she had been at Onyx, “You could just give Brand a makeover and send him to deal vith all zhe royals. He’d absolutely love it.” No, he wouldn’t, but that was the best part. “Maybe he’ll overthrow zhem all and make himself King of zhe Vorld.” Everything would look like Hell at that point. Probably literally. Fire for days in Brand Land. If that meant Khitti didn’t have to socialize with people though, she’d be alright with it. Then again, if Brand were King, he’d probably have her set on fire first.

Brand’s got a look on his face like he’s been caught with his pants down, mouth curved into a small ‘o’ and hand frozen hovering above the cake slice corpse he’s been toying with. “King of the World sounds like a lotta frakkin’ responsibility. Happy where I’m at, thanks. One shipful’s more’n enough people to manage.” He resumes batting the cake crumbs around the plate.

Meanwhile, Onyx’s steps pause and then retrace until they are standing in the doorframe once again. “I graduated,” they say to Lionel. “Five thousand years ago.” Onyx pivots on a heel and retreats once again, intent on having the last word.

Lionel stares at Onyx on their way out. He refrains from commentary. He's not sure it will help anyone in any conceivable way to mention the number of beings older than five millennia he's slain. He's not sure that would be proper etiquette at all. Instead, he admires the Tranquility. "I don't much know this ship's history. Catalian build, obviously. Not a whole lot of personal artifacts left behind, though. But... it's weird. Somehow, she's always felt familiar to me. Can't explain it..." He shrugs, kicking off from the plank. The sound of gulls can be faintly overheard beyond the walls, and of men hauling barrels of wine and chattering incessantly about their plans for the evening. "I'd best get to it. I've got a lot of paperwork waiting for me back in... oh, wait." He snickers, nodding to Khitti. "We've got a lot of paperwork to get through when you've got the chance."

Khitti would’ve probably choked on her cake were she still eating it. “F-five thousand years…?” Khitti reached over and grabbed Brand’s shirt, looking like she was either having a heart attack or a stroke, “D-did zhey just say...f-f-five thousand years?!” She didn’t know of any undead around here that was that old. Okay, well it’s not like she associated with the older house vampires (besides Bradyn now), and there were surely to be some old ones in there, but...five thousand years? Whatever affliction had befallen Brand’s woman only worsened at Lionel’s mention of paperwork. “P-paperwork?!” Good job. She’s dying. “Ugggggghhhhh.” Khitti promptly faceplanted on the table soon after, though her free hand lifted and pointed at Lionel, “Forward it to Vailkrin. I’ve been between zhe Tranquility and House Dragana for a month or more now. If it’s something zhat actually needs my attention in Frostmaw, I’ll have to make sure it coincides vith checking on zhe spirits zhere. I’m simultaneously teaching and learning vith zhe Necromancer’s Guild now and between zhat and zhe cure alone, I’ll probably be out of my mind very soon.” Funny thing was that that’s already started, heh. The losing her mind thing, that is.

Brand can’t resist calling after Onyx, even if it’s the last thing he does. “You look good for your age!” he shouts in the direction of the hallway, ears piqued afterwards for some sort of reaction. But if Onyx hears that quip, they apparently don’t deem it worthy of a response. (Or, given that it’s Onyx, revenge may come at a later date. Who knows. It’s a mystery, but damn if the ‘kid’ can’t hold a grudge.) When it becomes clear that Brand will get no reaction, he returns to the discussion at hand. “Paperwork. That’s the other reason I won’t be King of the World.” He’d get through maybe five pages before burning the rest out of frustration. And then the bureaucrats would demand his head on a spike for that, probably.

Lionel hesitates for the briefest of seconds. Khitti's response seems to have compelled a vague sadness. Whatever the cause, he's in no mood to explain it. "Right. Understandable. Well, it was good seeing you two. You know where to find me. Sounds like we've got a lot on our plates; heck, sounds like the buffet's always open for us. I'll be in touch." The only peculiar aspect of the man's typical light-making lip service is that it's delivered in a bit of a monotone. It is as if a shred of Lionel's cheer was stripped away in the previous moment. He and a silent Esche -- who bows -- depart the Tranquility posthaste. "You seem troubled," Esche observes to no reply.