Open Hearts of Oak

[Tanya Keltoi]

Very rarely was Tanya lost for words. She stared, something between utter confusion and discomfort flickering in her expression before she mastered both this and the urge to join in the laughter. In her younger years she might have bullied the doe relentlessly; as she had aged she had begun more to appreciate the intrigue and potential often brought by the eccentric. Perhaps she just needed some focus.

“Alright you lot, we’re a crew not a circus: let’s focus. Oilfur!” The dark-furred marten who had been hanging about checking over some cabling threw his commanding officer a desultory salute as he padded over, clearly anticipating a task he was unlikely to relish. “If you could take everybeast down to the top gundeck and start showin’ the cannon I’ll join you shortly an’ take back over.”

“Ma’am.” Another salute and Oilfur gestured for the assembly to follow as he made for the stairs belowdeck. “Foller me, then. I’ll show yeh the guns an’ such an’ where you’ll be bunkin’. Don’t expect me to know the ins an’ outs of the cannons but you can ask the officers later.” Scratching his chest distractedly, he led the way to the gundeck. “Don’t expect it’ll ever smell so good again, either. All shiny an’ new now, but if you’ve a sensitive hooter best see what dried herbs you can get for your ‘ammock.”

Hanging back as other beasts began to pass, the fox crooked a claw at the rat doe who had made such an impression already. “Ms Cryle, with me,” she said, following up with a gesture towards the binnacle at the helm. “I’d like a quick word about those stars you mentioned.”

 

[Cryle]

Cryle stared straight ahead, expression as blank as could be, as those around her fell apart. What was the fuss? Sure, maybe her syllable count was a little off... Her melody was nothing to praise, certainly, although mathematically the rise and fall fit within the two-chord structure with a pleasing accidental dip to flavor the line before the resolution, and her pronunciation hadn't faltered and she'd only warbled a little on one of the higher notes...

Oh. They were making fun of her, weren't they.

Oh, well. She had several older brothers. It would take more than laughter to get her to react.

It was disappointing, though, that nobeast actually answered her question...

She followed the group glumly, stifling a yawn, and almost missed the Authority Figure until she spoke her name.

"Sorry," she began as she followed up towards the helm, "it's just, you said to sing, and I didn't know - I was told to pay attention to following orders to the letter, oh... Stars...? What about them?"

Despite her sudden wakeful interest, she couldn't hold back - she yawned again, quickly clasping her paws over her snout to snap it shut again, a vaguely panicked look cast towards the Admiral. And just as quickly looked away, lest she catch the attention of The Eyes. And, ooh, what was this...

Cryle audible "aww'd" at the binnacle with a girlish squeak, reaching out to gently brush her fingertips over the tools on display. "Gimbals," she whispered reverently.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Her good ear seemed to drop horizontal like a signal flag before flicking back to position; just what emotion that was designed to convey, even Tanya did not know. Amusement? Confusion? Agreement? It simply felt correct for the situation. The yawns were noted but appeared of little consequence to Tanya. After the lairy nights she’d had in her youth drinking, carousing and fighting she had often scuttled the decks of the Navy’s ships the morning after with dire regrets and the need to battle yawns of her own. Such regrets would inevitably vanish come the evening as her memory for discomfort remained remarkably short and lessons rarely learned.

Green eyes tracked the curious doe’s movements before resting on the contents of the binnacle. “Gimbals indeed,” she echoed, crossing her arms. “There’s a lot more gear in the cabins for trackin’ and markin’ space and time at sea if you’ve a mind for it. Large part of navigation at sea requires understanding where we are in relation to the skies. Was wonderin’ if that sort of job sounds like somethin’ you’d be interested in learning.”

 

[Cryle]

"Space and time," she repeated under her breath. Just like her rank seven moon ranger, Ryleca Starmist, who could manipulate time and space to do lunar wizard magic! Except, logging isn't exactly manipulation, this isn't accounting, after all. Close enough to be a good exercise.

Cryle practically had her face pressed to the glass of the compass and other instruments encased safely within the binnacle. Her glasses fogged up as she breathed heavily. Her thoughts raced as she considered what the pine-marten-colored fox was asking.

"Logging positions on a map, that's fun. Coordinates, farrange¹ and extrange², why, it's basically top-down stellar geometry. I could probably guide a ship through the ocean just with a sextant and the moon, I've already written down the angles the moon will be rising and setting for this year, just need to tweak the numbers to account for the farrange and extrange of Vulpinsula from Magh. Oh, at sea it will be even more fun, the ship will be moving! Of course, that's what ships do. And cartography? They probably have all their own maps, but wouldn't it be fun to make my own? Really make sure the elevation is right, get all the angles of the inlets and things we pass by. And if I can get my water-telescope idea working, I could even map out the reefs and slope of the shorelines, I bet there aren't maps that have all of those accurately depicted. I'll need more paper to draw on, I should ask if there will be enough... and lots of pencils, oh dear, what if I run out of my favorite width at sea? Must remember to put in a request to make sure there are extra 6.5-millimeter pencils. Ugh, I hope the pencils made in Bully Harbor have the same grip-feel as the ones I get from Mr. Woodfoot..."

She raised her face from the binnacle and turned towards the Admiral, dipping her head politely.

Yes, is what she said in her mind.

Her ears flicked. "Um." Which part of that had been her mouth and not her thoughts...?

"Yes?" she said, meekly. "Yes, I am interested."

And, just to make sure her mouth was working properly, and because she wasn't one to let a question go unanswered:

"Also, what kind of wood is the BlackShip made of? And, um, what is a binnacle, are they like barnacles? Do they glow?"

¹ Latitude.
² Longitude. Cryle was self-taught. That involved making up words for concepts other beasts had long since named.

 

[Vilde Isdatter]

Eager to learn, and curious about all these wild personalities, Vilde looked to the three foxes who had also been asked to follow Oilfur belowdecks. She gave them a bright grin.

"I for one look forward to seeing how these cannons work. Sailing I know, but not the ways of powder. Perhaps I will learn from you men, hmm?"

She strode after the dark-furred marten.

@Orion Bloodtooth IV @Corda LaConte / Cordan LeConte @Michel Fabron

 

[Michel Fabron]

Mick ducked belowdecks behind the marten along with the other new crewbeasts. He matched the layout with the blueprints he had pored over for weeks, committing the ship to memory. The BlackShip was larger than any ship he had sailed on, and he itched to lay his paws on her guns--ostensibly some of the newest cannon technology the Imperium had to offer. At one hundred twenty cannons, the ship's crew likely neared one thousand beasts, a veritable sailing fortress bristling with power and potential. Though Mick's orders for the time being were simply to gather information, he could only imagine the plan the Supremacists might have for such a ship.

There on the gun deck, he ran his paw over the nearest iron cannon, walking its length and marveling at the construction of the gun. He peered down the bore, noting that while it had been fired, likely for practice and testing, it was well-maintained.

"No honeycombing yet," he commented with an approving nod. "Ye got some good spongers an' worms, I s'pose? Though they look new, maybe just not enough time to take on too much damage from the powder."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

It was a curious thing, to feel so much kinship to a beast whose mind operated on almost an entirely opposite perspective. Cryle, going by such enthusiastic chattering, was a beast of studious intent: academic, focused, painfully conscientious of the minutiae. Tanya wasn’t even going to ask what in ‘Gates farrange and extrange meant. For all she knew those were shiny new terms coined by the latest scholars, and she was loathe to reveal her ignorance…On the first morning, at least. It was a scientific and mathematical world, navigation, and already the doe seemed apt for it. If responsibility had taught her anything in her tenure it was the value of a reliable paw.

Tox, by her own admission, was none of these things. Navigation had been taught and picked up through the years of service aboard ships of the Imperial Navy but never had she taken to the necessary work of logging and notations with any glee. Navigation had become for her something instinctual, sacred almost. Science had often come to feel…restrictive in the face of this sanctity, as though trying to tame tide and wind and the wild celestial to the paw of beasts. Goodness only knew Kiptooth had tried over the years to soften such an opinion on science, but age was beginning, like the tides gnawing at cliffs, to finally have it effect. Cryle’s enthusiasm was impactful. Understanding and mastery need not mean dominance and control. That enthusiasm – that intrigue and drive – that was shared passion, regardless of the perspective it came from. She would be fool not to appreciate such love for craft.

The vixen’s lip twitched in a smirk as the rat realised she had yet to confirm her agreement. “I think I got that impression.” The query about the ship caused her to blink, puzzled for a beat. “Oh! The song – you was…? Right. Well, the BlackShip’s mainly oak, good solid wood. Elm under ‘er copper keel and the pumps. Fir for the masts, good straight timber. Probably some decorative pieces about for furniture and the like, might be all sorts inside, but that’d be the bulk of it. That answer your question? I’ll have a word with the Captain later about settin’ you up training to be our navigator proper, though by the sounds I don’t think it’ll take too long for you to get the job if you’re this knowledgeable already. I was sailin’ back before marine chronometers and we trained up beasts with far less drive, so you’ll go far if it’s what you want.”

Her tail flicked, then, in the manner of an excited cat more than a fox, and her brows lowered, again bemused. “As fer the barnacles….binnacles…right. Binnacle’s this case ‘ere with the compass an’ lanterns: helps a beast see what’s happening in all weathers when it gets dark or rough out. BlackShip just got herself cleaned so I think you’re out of luck with many barnacles. Don’t think I ever saw none glow, ‘least not on a ship…”


------------------------------------------

Oilfur, still unamused by finding himself landed with his new guiding duties, traipsed ahead of the gathering. He felt rather dwarfed by the wildcat and one particularly tall todd, consciously straightening his back from its slouch. Tanya had barely kept them in check: he wondered how long he’d manage.

He turned to watch the group cast their eyes over the gun deck, giving Mick a look somehow managing to communicate sympathy and disinterest. “I couldn’t tell yer the details, mate,” he admitted, “I ain’t a gunner. Officers’ll answer that sort’ve thing in detail but far’s I know the ship was cleaned up and refitted recently, so’s most cannon would be new.” His gaze flitted briefly to Vilde. “Sounds like this fox knows ‘is stuff, though. Reckon it won’t be long out ‘till we have a drill and you’ll learn from a beast like him.” The marten pointed to the beams above and the lockers between the guns as he addressed the gathering. “For those of you who ain’t sailed much, this is where you’ll sleep most nights: your belongings go in the lockers, your hammocks get strung up ‘ere between the guns. You’ll be split in two groups for shifts, an’ eat around here as well. Those what know how it works’ll show you I’m sure. Shifts’ll be posted once everybeast gets signed up. That all make sense to yer?”

 

[Cryle]

Cryle nodded along with little squeaks of "Mhm-hmm!" as her questions were finally answered.

So, the binnacle did glow, technically.

"Yes, sir, marm, um... marm-sir. I think that suits me very well. Being out among the stars. Maps. All that..." ...all that away from everybeast else stuff...

She gave a little cough and sidled closer, lowering her voice.

"The fox todd with the squeaky voice and amazing fashion sense, he's um... He doesn't know what a binnacle is, but he seemed quite certain it was like a barnacle. Might need to keep an eye on him, but I'll correct him when I catch back up... Right! Is that it, then? Um - should I - we? - go down and..." Her tail jittered nervously. What if they were giving bunk positions out right now and she was going to be paired up with someone awful without her ability to request otherwise? The horror...

Not as horrible as a life without a chronometer, but close.

 

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

Orion had stayed back as the rest of the new recruits were lead away. He was still leaning over the railing, looking wistfully down at the waters below. His mind wandered, going back to the times were he had gone fishing with his father. These waters were much more amicable compared to the churning greyish waves of Petroa. He looked around, seeing that the group was being lead away, and he shook himself back to his senses, jogging silently after them.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Tanya didn’t think she’d been called a sir-marm marm-sir since her young adult years, where a preference for the masculine cut of clothing and distinctive lack of curvature had led to several confused comments. She couldn’t put a paw on why it tickled her brain at this age now, but something about it did. Much like, she supposed, her sudden fondness for the new navigator-in-training. Tanya had ever been a beast of swift whims and quick judgements: in taking a liking to Cryle despite such different outlooks she would be hard-pressed to articulate exactly what it was she had a sense for, but the vixen liked to think her senses had rarely let her down. Anithias aside.

Ragged ear perked, she gave Cryle a nod. Best not to pursue this barnacle-binnacle debacle: one more word and she’d likely find a new species of some sort festooning the woodwork. Useful as it may be to have some glowing life-form on the deck for the night watches she didn’t much fancy the upkeep. Or the explaining to the Captain why the binnacle needs sluicing every few hours to keep the wildlife happy.

“Aye, I think we’d best Ms Rascallo, unless you’ve any other questions, but we can talk ‘em through on the way down if you do. Ship this size takes long enough a trot with legs short as ours, eh?” Smiling, the older vixen gestured for Cryle to follow and began heading for the hatchways belowdecks.

 

[Korya]

Korya had spent the last several hours exploring. Touching everything, asking the air questions that sometimes were answered, sometimes unheard. She hadn't truly planned on joining the Navy, but it seemed like a fun adventure to partake of. One could always just stop being in the Navy whenever they wanted, right? It was like doing lessons, probably.

And the Captain had barely cared that she was blind. That was certainly a first for her. She rather felt like she owed him proof that she was as capable as she wanted to be. But, perhaps, she was only out to prove to herself...

...Naw...

She was Korya Preykova! She was great.

And after poking around the bilge, she needed some air. Maybe get that swim in that she'd been yanked away from to join the recruitment line.

One paw trailing along to the side, the other held defensively in front of her, she tip-pawed her way topside. A few accidental climbs, a few embarrassed confirmations of directions, and she was finally making it out of the ship... Just edging around the group of beasts talking about cannons... and... aha, the weird ladder-stairs again...!

Somebeast was coming down. Korya stood off to the side, until she heard feet tapping the deck, then swung herself upwards --

"Oof!"

"Augh... I didn't see you there... forgive me..."

"Pffblt, I didn't see you there either," Korya chirped. She stood up, having fallen backwards in a heap with the other beast. She'd reached for something to grab onto, but had somehow grabbed the very beast she had run into, pulling them atop her. She felt their arm, their paw, oohh... very little fur, there. A rat?

There was commotion behind her. The group talking of the cannons were sniggering. Korya whirled about and gave them the Missertross Gull, lashing her tail. Completely unaware she was pointing the rude gesture directly in the Admiral's face.

"Don't make fun of her! It was my fault."

The rat spoke up, just barely, with a squeaked little "Erm... thanks..."

"You stick with me," Korya said, patting the rodent's shoulder and nearly knocking her down again. "I know bullies, I'll punch anyone you want me to. We're all in this crew together, so no one should be made fun of, and who cares if I'm blind, I'll drink the lot of you under the table and swim laps around the ship before you can pee out the hangover! I'm Korya Preykova, damnit, and I'm gonna cook the best food you've ever eaten!"

 

[Vilde Isdatter]

The cannons were like nothing Vilde had ever seen. Whilst her people had employed the use of primitive explosives, these were beasts of fire and thunder. One ear trained on Mick, she puzzled over what spongers were and how worms might be involved.

Their ‘sleeping quarters’ was met with fascination on her part. She had never slept in a hammock before and it looked exciting to try. How would it feel to be suspended, not feeling the deck or the sea beneath?

“Aye!” she answered Oilfur, a moment before a thump drew her attention. Turning, she noted Cryle had fallen atop a small cat, and also the reappearance of Admiral Keltoi.

Though the scene looked amusing, Vilde’s smile was certainly not mocking. She arched her brow at the defensiveness of the other cat... who seemingly had impaired eyesight by the choice of direction for her ire. And then came the confirmation. A blind cook. Vilde liked their spirit.

“Hallo!” she greeted cheerily, regardless of anyone else’s reaction.​