Aubrin stood at the counter, fingers tapping idly on the smooth black counter surface as she waited for Gibari to emerge from within the bowels of his beloved kitchen. The man had an obsessive passion for food, whether it be eating or cooking, and everyone knew. Aubrin had helped in the kitchen on one occasion, just to see if it truly was the hell people made it out to be. She had almost died from the impact of a soup ladle thrown at her head with frightening accuracy, having added too much spice to the chili. Aubrin's sense of taste and the Angry Chef's had obviously differed on that point.<br/><br/>However, Aubrin found that she was always treated kindly by Gibari, though she was banned from the kitchen for her so-called 'act of sabotage' and still endured his fits of rage that happened daily. She was careful not to joke about his anger management issues, afraid that the next projectile thrown at her would be much more menacing than a glorified spoon.<br/>She watched as Gibari emerged in all his thick-girthed glory,greeting her and asking what she required. She glanced around furtively, lowering her voice to a reedy whisper.<br/>"Hey, think you cou-" she began, before being cut off by another person emerging from the bowels of the kitchen.<br/><br/>It was immediately obvious who it was, the facial contraption giving Althea Thune a silhouette easily recognized from miles away. Almost like a light-bulb finding its on switch, Althea's face filled with happiness as she gazed into Aubrin's eyes. Inside herself, a motherly instinct fluttered, wanted to take her assistant and hug her tightly, but it was suppressed by her sense of duty to keep their relationship professional, if pirates could fit under any definition of the word. Aubrin watched in amusement as Althea's eyes lit up, her pace increasing in the race towards her master. It was an unhealthy obsessed that the blind girl had with her, for sure, but the feeling of being needed always trumped other concious thought. Aubrin remembered the day they first met vividly, in an alley similar in state to Aubrin's former home. She was a confirmed Shard user, that much about the girl she knew. Aubrin knew about the Shards, though her knowledge was limited at best. She herself was quite aware of her ability to communicate with avian creatures, something you couldn't quite ignore as random when a seagull began swearing loudly in your ear for food.<br/><br/>Althea launched herself over the counter that Aubrin herself was leaning against in eagerness to greet her with the grace of a bird, landing smack dab in front of the Ship Master. Althea bobbed her head respectfully, mouth tilted into a sort of besotted grin. Aubrin gave her the standard pat on the head before Althea sidled behind her, a three dimensional shadow. Before resuming her conversation with the Cook, Aubrin felt her pocket, as if just remembering the maps they contained. She turned to Althea, practically bursting with excitement at her recent discovery. "Kardia Themus is changing course." Aubrin enjoyed this little game, where she provided the knowledge-hungry Althea with a scrap of information before returning to her daily activities, making the poor apprentice wait as long as possible before filling in the details.<br/><br/>Kardia Themus was a giant storm that had been encircling the Earth ever since it had flooded. It cycled in a strange, five point star shape, never deviating from the set path. Unlike many storms that were unpredictable, Themus could easily be tracked according to the season. The fact that it was deviating in it's path was very strange news indeed. Aubrin turned back to the cook, her voice low but not hidden from Althea. She wasn't worried if the girl heard; her apprentice would tell no one, unless it was requested of her to. Aubrin tried not to extend her almost goddess-like powers over the blind girl too harshly, and did not want to test the limits of how far Althea would go before putting her foot down at her master's commands.<br/><br/>"Listen, d'you have-" Aubrin's voice lowered to a reedy whisper as she leaned across the counter, "any whiskey?" She drew herself up, head tilted high to gaze up at Gibari's face, "I'm dying for a sip, and I'm down to my last bottle. Don't know if you using it for cookin' or whatever, but I can definitely make it worth your while." Her eyes held a hopeful glow, murky green peering into dark brown. She found herself losing focus, distracted by his ludicrous head-dress. The thing was almost always on his head, adorned with a mass of ribbons and two large horns. She stifled a chuckle, hiding it behind a cough as she lifted a fist over her mouth.<br/><br/>--<br/><br/>Klouví continued to mop the floor, his spirits hampered by the thought that he might be getting used to life aboard the Horizon. The song that had escaped his lips was evidence of that, a little piece of him, the one thing that truly made him happy, slipping through the cracks of his despair. But to sing, he had to have the will, feel at ease. Was he at ease here, on a ship of thieves? He scowled, throwing the mop into the soapy water with a little more force than necessary.<span style="font-style: italic">No,</span>he thought,<span style="font-style: italic">no matter how long I'm here, how hard these people try to buddy up to me, I refuse to break.</span><br/><br/>He had now worked his way from the corner of the room to between the main tables, perspiration building up at his forehead. The urge to sing burned within him, but he resisted firmly. He couldn't prevent his restless fingers from twitching, plucking at invisible harp strings. His fingers were rarely still, always at work whether they had to be or not. Sometimes he would will them to cease moving, and they would, but then his foot would begin to tap, or his arms would cross and uncross repeatedly.<br/>Klouví's thoughts were abruptly interrupted, however, by the entrance of a certain man. It was as if by instinct that he always knew where the Rat was, his heart burning inside him whenever he was in the same room as the Captain.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The man is evil,</span>Klouví thought, somehow making his way near the source of his hate. Normally a deep dislike for someone caused you to avoid them, but the opposite was true for Klouví. His obsessive hate for Fletcher caused him to somehow inexplicably end up wherever the captain was. The cripple never took action on the dangerous thoughts that went through his head when he was around Fletcher, though the thought of strangling the man always brought him pleasure. He glowered like a gargoyle, ten feet away from the main table, ocean coloured eyes boring holes into Payne's back. He continued to mop, though he was less focused, his gaze casting downwards only when he went to rinse the mop.<br/><br/>The water in the bucket was now a murky brown, and likely in need for a change, though Klouví disregarded its state, too focused on mentally ridding the world of Fletcher G. Payne repeatedly. The galley was always in constant need of cleaning, booted feet trailing mud and all sorts of disgusting things across the floor three times a day. One particularly gruesome day the floor had been the colour of a man's insides from one end to the other. Klouví would never forget the smell of a dead man, which he had been lucky enough never to experience, until he was brought aboard the Horizon. His eyes had stung, the cloth covering his mouth not keeping away the wish to puke. Aubrin had admired him for not losing his lunch during the cleaning, being the 'rich pretty-boy' that he was. The Ship Master had then suggested that it was perhaps the life Klouví was fit for, a statement to which the cabin boy had resolutely turned away and struggled on his crutches to leave the hall.<br/><br/>His eyes changed focus for a moment, dragged away from Fletcher at the thought of the short Ship Master. She was speaking with the cook, Gibari. The back of Klouví's neck stood on end at the thought of the massive, mountain of a man. Having made the mistake of unceremoniously discarding one of the chef's meals on to the floor, he knew that any encounter longer than twenty seconds with the man would get him killed.<br/><br/>Klouví watched as the door behind Gibari swung open, revealing Althea Thune. He watched as she made a brief exchange with Gibari before launching herself over the counter top. His keen eyes widened as she slipped slightly on the floor before the girl, in a split second, corrected herself, and landed perfectly in front of Aubrin.<span style="font-style: italic">She has the grace of a dancer,</span>Klouví mused, swirling the mop around on the floor idly. He was used to be surrounded by people with fine arts skills such as dancing or playing an instrument, and he marked her grace to be that of a dancer from the minute they met. He often wondered about her past, how someone like her would end up on the Ocean Horizon, and how that awkward contraption became a part of her face. He longed to break the obsessive affection that Althea showed towards Aubrin, though progress on that front had been slow, if non-existent. He blinked as she seemed to look towards him for a moment, a smile gracing the only part of her face visible, the rest hidden beneath glass and bronze. He longed to see her eyes, even if they were just white, blank orbs. It was a fascination that Klouví had, much like many of the crew, though he voiced it less harshly than some, if he ever did. He offered her a weak smile before deciding that he had spent too much time daydreaming, and returned to focusing on his work.<br/><br/>His stomach began to protest at so much work before breakfast, but Klouví ignored the pain, as he did on a daily basis. He wasn't poorly fed, so to speak, but the tasks given to him were often put before any thought of appeasing himself with food. Some days he simply wouldn't eat at all, feverishly overwhelmed with the desire to complete one particular job without stopping. Physical work was one way that the prisoner ignored the horrifying reality of being captured, forgetting himself in often repetitive tasks. He was like a cantankerous spirit that haunted the Ocean Horizon, longing to be freed from its chains. He had heard that they would be docking for the Festival of Light, and he held on to the weak embers of hope that gleamed inside him that maybe, this time, he could escape.