RP:There Is No Word For Hello In Catalian

Part of the What You Leave Behind Arc

Summary: Meri introduces Callum to Brand and Lionel. Callum, who has spent the better part of the past two years fearing both his fellow Catalians and dreading the day this might happen, has a lot to say. So does Brand, especially once Callum reveals he was a crewmember aboard the Sunderia -- where Dominic and Brand were imprisoned before Lionel intervened. For Meri, there's a certain measure of amusement to it all. Lionel, on the other hand, says his piece and then goes silent. But despite it all, Callum has a job offer on-hand for Brand.

Aboard the Tranquility

This meeting had been planned for some time, except… there never seemed to be a perfect time to invite both of the elder Catalians to Larket--if they’d even show up there, anyway. Well, now was the perfect time, or at least Callum thought so. Lately, that poor pacifist had been in a bit of a sour mood and when Meri was attacked in Larket inside their home--his three thousand gold couch was destroyed!!!--and then at Cenril, and that was the last frakking straw. To make things worse, it was Lionel’s fault. It’s -always- his fault. That’s all Cal could think of as the raven-haired male and Meri rode from Larket to Cenril. It was his fault. All his fault. Meri almost died and who knows what Cal would’ve done? Similarly to what he felt last time he met with Chisel, he wanted to drown the world. Sorry, Kahran. You don’t get to kill everyone because that’s going to be Cal’s job if something happens to that artist. They’d stable their horses nearby and make their way to the Tranquility, managing to catch her before she made her way to Chartsend. He’d been told about that weird Onyx kid, and didn’t approach the ship much farther than the dock, not feeling frisky enough to go up the gangplank just yet. “Where the frakking hell are they? I don’t see this kid anywhere so maybe…” He finally took that initial step up towards the ship, and then another, and another after that.

Meri first lifts a brow and then red-lips twitch up into a smirk. Kid? Which kid? Who was Cal thinking was a kid? Onyx? A kid? Hm. Anyway, outside of that wonderment, Meri's mind was in a very different space than Callum's. Kahran, while not a being she was exactly pleased with, was not the top ranking thought in her mind. Business was. Gold was. It wasn't a selfish venture, she didn't just want the gold for herself. Cal had expensive tastes too. Bougie guy. Cal is given those three steps up the gangplank to collect himself, to try and mentally prepare himself, to maybe not trip on his face and introduce himself as Cloud again. Three steps before Meri goes all she-devil and places one hand on each of Cal's shoulders so that she can urge him further up the walkway until they are both standing squarely on the deck. Hopefully. Maybe. Mal depending. #neverlivingthatdaydown

Lionel has been up all night, as the dark spots beneath his eyes will no doubt suggest. He couldn’t decide whether or not to shave the beard, so, glued to indecision for the foreseeable future, he’s kept it. And it’s a beard now, to be sure; the stubble has sprouted well into the land of bonafide facial hair. He runs a hand across his cheek cautiously. The only other time he’s ever felt the soft resistance of follicles there, he’d been a prisoner in Khasad’s Underdark dungeons for months. Not a pleasant memory, but now, standing in the midst of his long-predicted return to those dark times, the thought itself seems bewilderingly comforting. This must be the sensation knights experience when putting on their old armor from a war long past in favor of a new one. It’s familiar. “Maybe I’ll keep it,” Lionel tells the mirror, which reflects his words right back to him as mirrors so keenly do. It’s such a little thing, such a tiny choice, and that’s what makes it so alluring. They’ll be en route soon to another battle, another place where men and women can die and very likely will die. A few spare moments for beards seems only fair in the interim. Soon enough, Lionel’s headed to the deck, where he’ll catch sight of Meri and a black-haired man with a distinctly Catalian nasal ridge. He waves, awkwardly, to Meri.

The Sunderia was a grand ship for a grand crew, some would have said. Well, it had been grand in size, at the very least; it would have made the Tranquility look like a dinghy. So it wasn’t from there that Brand recognized the man walking up the plank. It was in fact Meri’s presence that gave some much-needed context to the dark hair and the olive skin and the angled features. “Ha! Mal. Meri and Mal. Mal and Meri.” He set aside his checklist of preparations, muttering this to himself -- it rolled off the tongue pleasantly -- as he made his way from the ship’s wheel to the gangplank. Onyx was elsewhere, for now, but Brand did position himself close to Lionel so the both of them could serve as a greeting party. “Lionel call you for this shindig, too? Well, hurry up, we leave in an hour.” He’d been saying that for the last three hours at least, though, and always there was another delay. This could prove to be another one.

Callum was at a loss now for what to do. Here he was, with both Lionel and Brand right in front of him, greeting him and Meri and being the seemingly nice folk that they were, and he suddenly got cold feet. It took him several moments of him staring pretty damned hard at both of them before he finally found his voice, those aforementioned angled features of his shifting between trying so much to be angry and yet… still faltering somewhat towards confusion. “Shindig? I have no frakking clue what you’re talking about, but we need to have a little chat.” Pause. Cue more contemplation before speaking again. “And the name’s not Mal. It’s Rochester--Callum Rochester. We’ve met before, you know--way before Rynvale. And you?” His ocean blue line of sight fixed on Lionel specifically now, “It’s your fault Meri almost died. Several times, in fact, and I’m getting tired of it.” It was up to the other Catalians whether or not they’d take this inside the ship or just continue lingering outside. Cal didn’t really care.

Meri waves right back to Lionel, she's not so awkward with her return greeting though. That is going to change quickly. Meri had played this scenario out a few times in her head, trying to figure out how Callum would handle it and doing the same with Brand's part in it all. What she did not expect was Lionel's presence in this talk, he was not factored into the equation. The point with that is, Meri had a few ideas what she might say or do if Cal happened to freeze up. Introducing Cal was one of those things, he was definitely not a Mal. Callum has done that though, he also brought up that they have met before....Meri would not have gone that far. The wildcard in all this is how Cal is reacting to Lionel, Meri has been shocked enough by the words thrown at Lionel that she is a little on the dumbfounded side right now. How the heck do you follow that up? Awkward. "Imeanalmostdiedmightbealittlebitofanoverstatement." A beat. "Also what is that thing growing on your face, Lionel? I'd shave it."

Lionel fixes this ‘Callum’ with a sidelong glance. There’s no avoiding the brief jolt of frustration one finds when one is abruptly accused of bad things by a complete stranger, but likewise, there’s no denying just how common this is for Lionel. It’s a bit like his moment at the mirror with his hand to his beard, really. But there’s no slight and tepid comfort found here. This isn’t a memory of facial hair in a torture chamber. This is talk of people dying, or almost dying, either by his command or his presence alone. And no matter how many times Lionel hears these words from no matter how many strangers, he will never feel anything but the old familiar wound called ‘self-loathing’. Lionel opens his mouth to speak, pausing at Meri’s interjection. He might have smirked at that second bit if he weren’t so preoccupied with Callum’s cold introduction. “My apologies, then.” Simple and straightforward. He’ll refrain from commenting on Callum’s clearly Catalian heritage, though, because the unspoken probability here is that the man detests him for other, more native, reasons too. That’s a gamble Lionel isn’t going to take, not here, not now. He almost leaves it at that. Four words. A humble vanilla response. But something nags at him. “Although if you think Meri is the type to refrain from adventuring in dangerous locales on anyone’s accord but Meri’s,” he tilts his head to the woman in question, candidly, “then maybe I know her better than I would have imagined.”

Brand , after all this conversation, only had a shrug to offer. “Callum Rochester? Am I s’posed to know that name?” Even if Cal had managed to make an impression back on the Sunderia, Brand had had a thousand other names and faces impressed upon him since then. That… probably meant none of this was going to go as Cal anticipated. “All right, rule number one on my ship: you’re here to attack Kahran, not my crew and not the other guests. Onyx’ll string you up by your balls and fly you under our flag if you cause trouble.” A discerning glance flitted from Cal to Meri and back. “Don’t think your ladyfriend would like that much. Meri, help the boy keep his balls attached to his person, wouldja?” As far as Brand was concerned, that should resolve the matter. He turned his attentions back to his checklist, meaning not to delay the Tranquility any further.

If it was possible for Cal to roll his eyes back into his head any further, the poor guy would probably look a little like he was possessed by something. A brief side-eye was given to Meri, and then a heavy sigh, “This is not at all how this was supposed to go. We were going to invite you to our house for dinner and explain things in a nice calm setting, but ever since that redhead died, things seem to have just snowballed downhill into all of the seven hells.” The boiling rage subsided somewhat for now as Cal’s lips twisted into a slight frown, “I was even supposed to give you a piece of Catal--and I still may at some point--but when some weird frakking creature portals its way into my house, attacks my girlfriend, and destroys my living room, it’s a sure thing that I’m gonna get a little upset. Doesn’t help that I’ve been stewing on it since then, and the attack here only made it worse--because I wasn’t here to help -somehow-. Meri could’ve died.” His eyebrows twitched a bit, like his face couldn’t decide if he should be angry again, or sad, or just overwhelmed in general. “What, exactly, are you going to do about this Kahran guy?” Cal’s tone was a little more mellow now, but it’s possible that anger of his could flare up again anytime. That’s just how things were lately, unfortunately.

Meri was feeling particularly awkward due to the response that Lionel fires back with. It's weird having people bicker over her and it was definitely causing her to feel just a little uncomfortable. Brand chimes in with a speech that causes Meri's lips to curl up into a full-blown smirk, while Cal there was rolling his eyes. Poor guy. The tattoo artist is relieved at the conversation seems to find a somewhat more mellow tone, for the time being...because she would have had to spout out with some non-sense following Brand's line of thought. Here is a small taste though, "Can we please not call him a boy though? Like hi, Meri is not robbing the cradle here." At least one person is amused with herself, and that person is clearly Meri. She's still smirking, but that expression does vanish. "But really, we actually came out here because we wanted to talk business...but in order to talk that business we figured we first needed to hash out the issue that...Callum is not Cloud or Mal, and that you two," Brand and Callum, "have met before." Meri glances between all the Catalian's. "But all of that can wait, really, because it seems our timing is bad. That's what happens when you don't warn people you are dropping by. And it seems like Kahran is the major focus of all your minds...Cal included, so...What are you guys going to do about him?" she repeats.

Lionel is more than a bit surprised by Brand’s reaction, although ultimately the fault’s his own for expecting anything less. He nibbles at his own lip uncomfortably. Here’s another Catalian, come to blame him, come to do all the things he’d expected of Brand that never quite happened. Even -if- the blame’s from actions taken against Meri, not the fate of Catal itself. A pit lodges itself in his stomach, churning up acid, as he realizes that Meri or Catal, it’s rather the same -- she was attacked by the same bastards who scoured those emerald fields in retribution. Everything, every damned thing, is connected. So thoroughly disgusted, Lionel almost misses that beat about Callum one day bringing them a ‘piece of Catal’. With the deaths of Tratt, Delenn, Sheridan and Ivanova all still fresh on his mind, and the image of the 200 Catalian emeralds of Síocháin scattered across the ground in smoldering ruins still as clear as the day he found the bodies, he has to stop himself from bitterly remarking that it might be best if Callum refrained. Every piece of Catal Lionel’s seen brought to Lithrydel seems obliged to suffer the same fate as their homeland. “I don’t want anyone dying save for Kahran and those that follow him. The return of those dark forces is precisely the crisis I feared would one day manifest, and I don’t intend to die until it’s dealt with once and for all. I don’t have to tell any of you what it means when the job’s not finished,” his eyes dart between Brand and Callum with emphasis, “but I swear to you I fought with every fiber of my being back then, and I swear to you I’ll do the same now. The Tranquility is headed to Chartsend. Intel tipped me on a solid chance Kahran’s hitting them next. But I have to emphasize, ‘intel’ is a strong word for it. Right now, we’re running on theories and suppositions. But we’re going to do this. We’re going to be there, waiting, and praying it isn’t a frakking trap. And if it is, we’ll fight our way out of it and keep on keeping on. And if it isn’t, we’ll deal a blow for all those that fell in Cenril.” Lionel notices his left hand’s been balled into a fist, although he’s not sure when it happened. “And Catal.”

So much for the checklist. Brand at some point huffed with impatience and tucked it under one arm. “Right, Lionel with the meaningful speeches, rah rah Catal, but yeah, that’s the gist of things. Another world-razin’ threat we’re gonna put down, n’ all the more reason you don’t come on my boat lookin’ for a fight, whether we’ve met before or not.” His attention turned to Meri. “This is all a bit above my paygrade.” A joke. The Captain paid himself. He just really didn’t have enough brain cells to keep his preparations in mind -and- fully follow the conversation… and so he’d only paid attention to about half of it. He might have pieced two and two together, otherwise. “You wanna elaborate on what you were sayin’?” He’d make no apologies for calling Cal a boy. As far was Brand was concerned, he was acting like one. Who just goes tromping onto other people’s ships demanding restitution for things that had nothing to do with anyone here?

Cal has to resist the urge to, yet again, roll his eyes at Brand. Apparently he thought the guy was smarter than this; Brand can be smart, but maybe today isn’t one of those days. Lionel’s uncomfortableness hadn’t gone unnoticed, and between the both of their reactions, the raven-haired Catalian is left to sigh heavily and rub at his eyes in frustration, “I don’t care about what happened to Catal.” Okay, he does a little. That -was- his home, despite the fact that he couldn’t stand the people in it. But! He does have a new home, so things could probably be worse. “Yes, you, the great and magnificent Hero of Hellfire helped put an end to the Immortals and stopped Catal from burning, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I care about you doing that -now- because this woman--” he gestures at his lovely girlfriend “--thinks you guys are the best to hang around with. Honestly, I’m fine with this because you’re not like Hudson and Sargaso, but…” That will probably raise some red flags because how the hell does he know what these two were like? Regardless, he was getting off topic and it’s clear he realizes this, “If she’s going to join you on these little excursions to save the world, I need you to do everything you can in your power to keep her safe. I don’t care about the masses--okay fine, I do but, I frakking care about -her- more than them. I -don’t- fight. I -can’t- fight. I can’t always be there because I’ve unfortunately got things to deal with in Larket.” Another sigh, his words directed at Brand now, “The Sunderia. I came here on the Sunderia. With you. And Eileen.” Cue a frowny face from Callum because he still misses his friend, even if he may not entirely blame Brand and Lionel for her utter annihilation anymore.

All of this was a lot to process, she had heard bits and pieces of what had happened with Catal but it's not like she'd ever gotten an in depth story. Her blue eyes are bouncing from face to face as each person talks, trying to keep up with all the various conversation topics that are being lobbied about. It was enough to make Meri go cross-eyed, which she does without shame. To Brand, in a bit of a distracted fashion, because there was so much going on she gives a vague elaboration of the business she was looking to get into. "Imports and exports." The blonde might have said more but, there are a lot of voices in the room and one of them is doing a bit more elaborating than Meri. Cal says the word 'Sunderia' and blue eyes jerk his direction as her feet take her a step closer to the raven-haired Catalian. Lionel is effectively cut out of Meri's focus at this moment because after her gaze goes to Cal, and lingers for a moment, it shifts to Brand. It is entirely likely, based on how this conversation has gone so far that Brand won't even care -- which would be a relief to both Meri and Callum.

Lionel has to fight to contain himself. The last thing he wants, and the hardest thing to stomach, is to be labeled hero. Especially in mockery. To him, there is nothing great nor magnificent in him or anyone else who challenged the Immortals’ reign or any other madman’s. They did what had to be done, and there’s more blood on his hands than some of the madmen. He will not beam with pride or vanity when Callum describes him such, nor will he even keep his chin held high or face the man head-on. He quiets down, adds pressure to his balled fist, and stares at the Tranquility’s mainsail curled up beneath its mast. “Stopped?” Lionel practically spits out the word. “I didn’t stop anything. There were no heroes then. There are no heroes now. This world isn’t built on heroes, Callum. It’s built on the piles of dead that two sides mount against one-another, and most days the difference between right and wrong is paper-thin. But this isn’t most days. The frakkers we’re dealing with aren’t most people. Yeah, hurrah,” he mimics, “we fight for freedom and liberty and wheel-breaking good cheer. But deep down inside, we fight because we frakking have to. Or else Meri, and Khitti, and you and me and that parrot over there relieving itself on the stairwell, we’re all dead. So yeah. We’ll do everything we can to keep her safe.” He leaves the topic of the Sunderia to the former Sunderians. His role in helping to burn the ship is just another damned reminder of the power he wields and the choices he makes and the pile of the dead he leaves in his wake.

Brand blinked, incredulous. “Sunderia. Now that’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time.” He still wasn’t quite sure he’d heard it, actually. He looked to the parrot for confirmation, as if somehow the one colorful bird would either force everything to click into place or else shatter reality entirely. But the parrot paid him no mind and reality remained more or less intact, if just as nonsensical as before. “Who the frak even let a parrot on board?” Brand wondered aloud. “DOZLA! This thing yours?” The woman so named popped her head from around a bulkhead, expression inadequately concealing her guilt. “Of course it is, shouldn’t’ve even asked. Clean this up and get it a cage, or get it off my gorram ship.” Dozla called with a whistle and both woman and parrot soon disappeared to the decks below, no doubt to terrify some of the crew with some cleverly crafted talking parrot prank. Brand sighed and rubbed at his temples before turning his attention back to Cal. “All right, so you’re another Catalian off the old ship, then. That makes some sense. Bound to run into more of you sooner or later. You want Meri protected, you won’t find a better place than here, though I daresay she’s perfectly capable of protectin’ herself.” A beat. “I’m -very- curious to know how long Meri knew and didn’t say anything. Doesn’t seem like the sorta thing one oughta hide, hmm?”

Callum :: “She didn’t tell you because I told her not to. That woman of yours knows too, but only about me being Catalian. Guess we all sorta smell the same to a vampire or something. I don’t know,” he admitted, hoping to put some of the blame on that redhead so Meri’s not taking the brunt of whatever might come from Brand. Cal eyed that parrot as Dozla wandered off with it--people were weird on this ship, man. “Meri didn’t tell you because… I wasn’t one of the slaves. I wasn’t necessarily one of the slavers either, but… I was still a part of the crew.” He drew in a deep breath and sighed, suddenly feeling awkward now that this was happening--and also a little worried again. “As far as I know, I’m the only one that made it and only because I can manage to breathe underwater. And, well, I didn’t get entirely torched by your flames. She also kept it a secret because I was keeping tabs on all of you. But!--” he added rather quickly “--it was only so I could avoid you--especially in Frostmaw. Of course, when I -wasn’t-, you all just -happened- to be there. Mainly, in Rynvale. And that’s why you managed to run into me there--or, I guess, I ran into you--and why your woman grabbed me for that little trip to the Shadow Plane. Because I’m a storm mage. She’s very frakking persuasive apparently. I’m impressed, really.”

Callum :: Circling back to that thing Meri had said before, and not wanting to think that she’d just been passed over entirely, he’d bring up the subject of ‘imports and exports’ again, “And, if you’re not immediately inclined to set me on fire right now as I’ve been terrified that you would for the past two years, we’ve a job offer for you. It’s the other reason why we’re here. Besides this whole frakked up mess with Kahran.”

Meri gives Lionel, Brand and Callum regard as they speak, careful not to speak over them. There were some points she was just content to listen to, some that she agreed with, and some that she felt needed correcting. "I didn't tell you because it's not my business to tell. It's Cal's story, and here he is, telling you. But if you want to know how long? Ever since he told you that his name was Cloud, learned a bit later that day." It took Meri a little bit to warm up to the other Catalian's, obviously she took a liking to Callum first. If Brand wants to be upset, Meri can deal with it without trying to shift blame. "And no, Khitti does not actually think you all smell the same, not -quite- what she said." For the most part, Meri has said all that she wants to say in front of present company about any future business deals that they might endeavor in. Plus, she has said it before, it seems like Brand has a lot on his mind. Lionel too, except Meri is not looking to rope him into any of those shady dealings. He was part of the reason she was clamming up, as much as he may not care about these things. Bigger fish to fry, etc etc.

Lionel sighs gently and wanders a few stray meters wayward of the small group, leaning on the railing to catch better scent of the fresh sea air. He presses his back up against the rail, somewhat painfully and rather on purpose, keeping his eyes on the others so as not to seem completely distanced. But this is the best he can afford. They’re on about the Sunderia at some length now and Callum survived what might have been a swing that Lionel himself had taken against him. It’s a somewhat distressing thought, although candidly, the first thing that crosses his mind is that he hopes none of the actual slavers -- or -other- slavers, if Callum is being dishonest -- outlived his assault. Slavery is something Lionel will never abide. He’s gotten into far worse trouble for it than this. Now he’s on about some job-or-other. It’s all Lionel can do to keep remotely focused on this chatter. A million things weigh more heavily on his mind than this. They could agree to rob a bank for all he cares so long as there are banks left to rob in Kahran’s wake.

Brand wasn’t sure his curiosity was entirely satisfied by the answers he was being given, but… bigger fish to fry, indeed. “We’ll talk details soon, n’ I’m sure we can come to an arrangement,” was said to Meri, with a literal wink and nod. (Why the heck was he such a cheeseball sometimes? Only Brand could say.) “As for you, ‘Cloud,’ ” Brand’s tone grew more serious now, and he drew closer to the dark-haired man, placing a hand ominously upon the other’s shoulder. “I’m prob’ly not the first one to tell you this, but… you’re a mite paranoid.” He shook Callum a bit and then released him. “S’all water under the bridge by now. So that was you that fainted when we went to the Shadow Plane, eh?”

Callum had considered saying something to Lionel as he wandered away from the rest of them, but Brand started speaking again and put his hand on Cal’s shoulder. Oh god. This is it. This is how Cal dies. There’s even a look in those blue eyes of his that says as much, and a brief glance was given to Brand’s hand. Yes, scary fire mage guy, Cal -is- a bit paranoid and now he looked like he might faint yet again, “Y-yes, that was me.” Please, no teasing about it. Cal’s gotten enough of that from Meri to last him a lifetime. “And, look… I’m sorry about yelling. Larket’s been all sorts of frakked up with this witch stuff and Josleen’s apparently murdered Macon and -I’ve- got to go visit her. Between that and now this Kahran, it’s bit stressful.” He side-eyed Lionel, hoping he heard that too. “Anyway,” the much younger Catalian cleared his throat and tried to regain some amount of composure, “you have some place to be, I suppose.”

Meri is unaware that her answer was lacking, another conversation for another day perhaps if Brand's curiosity really was getting the better of him. Brand brings up another classic Cal moment, that time that he fainted on a ship, and Meri turns her gaze skyward and tries so very hard not to smirk. Evidence that Cal has indeed been teased relentlessly over that one. He is still young, if Meri gets her way she's going to affectionately tease him a few more lifetimes over. Sorrynotsorry. "Little paranoid, little jumpy. It's kind of adorable, I think." Of course she does, not that Lionel and Brand want to hear this. Or that Cal wants her saying such in front of them. "Even more cute when he starts blushing." Red lips are smirking again, but Meri stops while she is ahead. "We'll make our exit so that you two can get back to business. Lionel. Brand. Good luck to the both of you."

Lionel | Perhaps Callum is fortunate that Lionel has a perpetually narrow attention span. He’s pondering the implications of Josleen killing Macon. A smirk of his own starts to form. The last time he had and Josleen had spoken, it had been mere days since he battled Macon just outside his city. She’d wanted to know why he did it, and what he believed of the man. He’d told her. Lionel believed that some outside force had conspired to manipulate Macon. He’d suspected that the force was none other than some survivor of the Second Immortal War, because that’s where Lionel’s mind always wandered. Now, with Kahran revealed, he has suspected it only further. But times have changed and he’s bitterly felt the need to leave Larket to its own tragic state given all the other threats which have befallen the realm, from the insectoids to the recent unveiling of the very sum of all his fears. Yet he’s never forgotten his conversation with Josleen. Did she finally see reason? Even so, this isn’t how he’d have played it. Lionel’s never been much for politics, true, but murdering Macon seems… wait. He frowns. Josleen is a far more capable political player than he is. She’d cover it up better than this if it were truly her. Now his head’s spinning and he fears it was Kahran’s doing instead. ‘Not everything leads to them,’ he admonishes himself in silence. ‘The rebels. Yes. It could be the rebels. You’ve only willed yourself to forget their plight because it helps you sleep at night. You played a pivotal part in all this but you washed your hands of it for bigger fish.’ All these bigger fish. He sighs all over again. A curt nod is given to Callum as Lionel crosses his arms against a sudden gust. He’ll focus on Chartsend for now; it’s the most he can do just yet.