Completed Mettle: Indiscipline

[Cryle]

Oh. Griblo's lantern, that was helpful. Cryle found herself flustering a little, wiping her paws on her coat and fidgeting awkwardly. And there was the box of metal bits... at a simple glance, it would have made her widdle herself with excitement a few days ago. Now she knew the importance of keeping track of things meant for the only thing between nine hundred souls and the bottom of the ocean, it almost felt like stealing.

Which, in itself, was a thrill that rustled up her spine and almost broke a smile across her pointy rat-shaped face.

It was almost a shame they were going to do it all by the books.

She nestled herself inside, rummaging about in the crate Griblo had brought down, and measured.

"Ten small springs... rods no thicker than six millimetres but larger than one, length... as of yet undecided... Two-point-five is the desired thickness, for weight's sake. Strong enough to make an impression without bending. The finger is the pressure-point, pressing downward. The springs return the pressure plates into position. The rods are levers, but with good wood, the levers could be wood as well. The springs are most important... But this!"

She selected one particularly thick rod.

"Inserted into the main wooden cylinder, this would help it rotate much better. And these, and these..." She picked out a selection of nuts and washes. She nibbled her bottom lip with her frustrating large incisors. Her paws raised up in front of her, poking and prodding the air, fingers twisting. Her eyes had shut tight.

The machine rotated around in her mind, complete and incomplete, somewhere between a ghost of a memory and a thought not yet thought. It was simple, but complex. She grappled with the finished idea, replacing parts, re-calculating sizes and weights, trying desperately to hold onto the image of a sketch in her mind that kept dissolving into ratmaids. Her tail thrashed, smacking Korya across the knees, and she snapped awake, frowning.

"There are variables," she said slowly. "For the moment, I think we should put these back. It is enough to know they are here, and who I must speak to when I wish to access them."

Hopefully, whatever use they had on the ship would both not come up during the voyage, and especially not before she came to collect.

"I, um... thank you both, Mr. Jankweed, Mr. Lasichin. I require more time to make sure the design is finished before I requisition anything. The design at the moment is only the work of a few minutes, and I'd like to speak to Korya properly about the design and usage of the machine, and get her input, as well as make sure that the dimensions are within the capabilities of what we have available here, with these pieces, and the wood, and the tin..."

She began putting the pieces away.

Korya, meanwhile, had a little bit of drool oozing out the side of her mouth.

"I knew it," she whispered back to Griblo. "I had a... a feeling about Cryle! I bet I can convince her to be my girlfriend before we return to Bully, after all! A hundred gilders, even. And four pints."

And that was all the little cat had to say about that, at the moment. But her purring filled the awkward silence, nearly drowning out the muffled noises of the night-shift crew that scrambled about above-decks.

 

[Herman Lasichin]

Herman followed Cryle's words closely. He only now realized he barely heard her speak before but since she was careful to pronounce each word slowly and carefully he could follow her word spree about what she needs. Herman wasn't good at the whole mechanics thing. He could solve a basic and not so basic physics problem, but really only because he knew how to translate it into mathematics which he actually knew. As a boy he could put back simple toys and tools he would disassemble. But something more complex was hard without somebody else guiding his paw, that somebody nearly always being his brother Mariner. He was the kit that helped assemble all the stuff, who went around fixing people's carts and putting things on their roofs, while Herman had to be pulled by the ears and tail from his books to help him out. It was at least somewhat fun with Mari, he remembered how they spent a whole afternoon building Mister Fizzidorf's new shack for about two weeks' worth of lunch money each, which might as well have been a million Varangpfennigs to the 9-year-old Herman. What was Mari doing now? Did he try to write him a letter, or was he too busy hammering nails to write one?

He had to blink away the thoughts of Mari however, since the rodent continued on listing dimensions. He could recognise the different sizes and shapes she was interested in and helped her pull out more, and held a preliminary inventory of the number taken. He didn't need to, he was going to notice the missing bits later and write it down in his reports as if he didn't know about this project and put it all on the maintenance crew, but it never hurt to keep count.

Oh, the ratmaids again. Herman had a terrible feeling that he was never going to hear the end of it, which annoyed him since he wasn't at all interested in ratmaids, especially not in the positions Cryle liked to draw them in. But that cat, Korya, and his new friend Griblo, they couldn't stop wiggling their tongues on the subjects. He hoped that they weren't going to spread the news of the sketch around on the ship. The last thing he needs right now is all the crewbeasts yapping his ears off on that subject.

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo watched quietly as Cryle’s enthusiasm slowly gave way to something more careful, more deliberate. When she finally announced that the pieces should go back for now, he gave a slow, approving nod.

“Roight call.”

He crouched beside the crate and helped guide the scattered pieces back inside with practiced paws, metal ticking and clinking softly as rods and springs settled back into their shallow wooden nest.

“Better t’ build it once an’ build it proper than rush it an’ end up wit’ a contraption that bites.”

The lid slid shut with a dull wooden thud. Griblo gave it a firm pat, then glanced over toward Herman.

“See? All tidy. Nothin’ walked off.”

His grin flashed briefly.

“Stores stay happy. Ship stays afloat. Everybody wins.”

Korya tugged his sleeve again, whispering her bold little wager into his ear.

Griblo’s eyebrows climbed.

A hundred gilders and four pints!?

Slowly, a feral grin crept back across his muzzle.

He leaned down just enough to murmur back.

“Bold bet, kitten. Make it two hundred an’ yer on!”

Then he straightened, folding his arms as Cryle finished putting the last of the pieces away and the little maintenance room settled back into its usual quiet chorus of creaks and distant crew activity.

For a moment, Griblo simply watched her.

The way her paws moved when she thought.

The way numbers and pieces seemed to spin around inside her head like gears waiting to mesh.

A machine that let blind beasts read. Now that was a clever bit of cargo.

His whiskers twitched faintly.

Griblo Jankweed said nothing about it yet, of course.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, a tidy little ledger had already opened… and a very small percentage had begun quietly writing itself in.

What’s five percent of total royalties between friends, after all, for helping make the dream happen?

 

[Cryle]

Cryle rocked back and forth on her heels, paws tucked behind her back. She gazed blankly somewhere to the right of Korya's ears, not quite looking at the assemblage, but still taking them in.

A comforting feeling had descended upon them, not unlike a golden fog. It was the sort of feeling of research well-done. Not quite completed; that was a more joyous (or sombre, for there is no more research to do) affair. But the end of a chapter, the perfect place for a well-made silk bookmark that had no annoying tassels and fit the page's height perfectly.

Korya picked up on it.

"Welllll," the little cat said, yawning and stretching. "It's been a bit of an adventure, but maybe I'm ready to get back into my hammock now! I have nine hundred beasts to feed in the morning..."

"Mm..." said Cryle. There was something in the tone... Korya picked up on that, too.

"Or...?"

"There is something I wish to show Mr. Lasichin and Mr. Jankweed... you may come along as well, but I think you may not enjoy it as much."

Korya's head tilted to the side.

"Now I gotta see," she said.

"You won't," said Cryle, shrugging. She nodded to the two males and beckoned them to follow.

"Well, of course not," said Korya. "But - you know..."

"Oh. Right. I know."

They pattered up through the ship, climbing the steep stairways to the quarter deck, then further along the stairs by the railing, to the poop deck.

The lanterns of the night crew bobbed all around, but the activity was subdued, cautious. There was little to do with the seas so calm but keep the ship on course, which the helmsbeasts had in control - as Cryle would investigate in the morning, copying down every little thing they'd jotted down for her own log of the voyage. Up here, the lights from further along the ship had a hard time reaching them.

The night sky blazed brightly billions of stars, seen and unseen. The moon was thankfully not in the way.

She fished her telescope out of a pocket and glanced up at the sky. One shuffled half-turn, and she raised it to her glasses, squinting. The ship bobbed, and she compensated as if her body were a well-oiled gimbal.

"Here," she said, gingerly holding her telescope out to Herman, first. "Please be careful, do not drop it, or I will be forced to bite you. I shall direct it while you hold it."

She surrendered the telescope to the weasel, and guided the larger end while he peered through it.

"Try to keep it steady... Do you see that purple-blue circle, with a sort of white crescent in front of it? That is a planet. A whole other world, with oceans of its own, maybe."

"Cor," said Korya, staring down at the deck.

"Cor, indeed."

Cryle smiled.

 

[Herman Lasichin]

herman had just thought that this detour had ended, when in fact the journey was taking a brand new turn. The crowd of Vermin assended up from the depths of the maintenance room, until they were so high it felt like their pointy ears could touch the night sky if they jumped only a little.

Herman saw telescopes before, but he never looked through one. It wasn't that the stars and planets far above him didn't interest him, but he could never devote himself to learning about them when he had so many other things he wanted to find out first. But he wasn't going to miss this chance. His paws gripped the telescope, only relenting a little to let Cryle turn it around. The weasel was amazed, the little balls of light now had clear shape and features. He couldn't imagine it was possible to see something like it from so far away. He caught glimpses of various constellations, planets, and other strange objects he couldn't quite place, before his view settled on what he could imagine was a world much like his own. There was the planet, and there was its moon. Herman thought he could see changes on the planet's surface, the blue and purple regions would shift a little, one would stretch out a little more, before the other would expand as well, all on a tiny scale the telescope let him see.

"That's interesting, I have never seen anything like it before."

The weasel held the telescope out to Cryle, making sure to only release it once it was safe in her paws.

"I think I can see the tides, or the waves. It seems minor so far away, but if we were there, it would be like massive waves crashing into each other."

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

The telescope passed from Herman’s careful paws back into Cryle’s grasp.

Griblo waited his turn, leaning against the rail with his arms folded while the ratmaid steadied the brass tube again. The night wind tugged faintly at his whiskers as the stars burned cold and endless above them.

Finally, Cryle turned and offered the instrument his way.

Griblo took it with unexpected gentleness.

“Roight then…” he muttered, lifting it toward his eye. “Let’s see wot all the fuss is about.”

For a moment the stars slid uselessly across the lens as the ship rolled beneath his paws.

Then the glass caught, and Griblo went still.

The purple-blue disk hung in the darkness like a coin dropped into an endless black ocean. A pale crescent burned along its edge, and beneath that faint shimmer there were colors… shifting slowly like water seen from an impossible height.

The ferret did not move. For once in his life, Griblo Jankweed had absolutely nothing to say.

A whole world.

Not just a distant star that was just a light, but a whole world.

Cryle had said oceans. Which meant ships. Which meant - Vulpuz help him - there might be beasts somewhere on that distant shore looking back across the same night sky.

Slowly, very slowly, Griblo lowered the telescope.

His whiskers twitched.

“…Hell’s teeth,” was all he managed to whisper at first.

“Tha’s… a whole bloody world.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, still staring upward.

“All this time I t'ought that daft Orwyn Wellspring script Ruffano showed me was pure nonsense.”

A quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped him.

“Other worlds…”

He glanced down at the telescope in his paws as though it had personally betrayed him by revealing such a thing.

“D’ye reckon they’ve got ships sailin’ about up there somewhere?”

Carefully now, far more carefully than one might expect from Griblo Jankweed, he turned and returned the brass tube back into Cryle’s waiting paws.

“Don’t fancy gettin’ bitten tonight,” he added under his breath, the ghost of a grin tugging briefly at his muzzle.

Then the ferret’s gaze shifted sideways. Korya stood nearby, ears flicking curiously as she listened to the reactions around her. She had not looked through the telescope.

She could not.

Something in Griblo’s expression softened, and he nudged her lightly with an elbow.

“Whole world up there, kitten.”

His voice dropped, quieter now.

“Oceans an’ all.”

Then his eyes drifted briefly toward Cryle, and, just for a moment, the ferret’s grin faded into something more thoughtful.

A machine that let blind beasts read. A way to open the world to beasts that had never been able to see it. Now that was a clever bit of cargo.

The grin returned, crooked as ever.

“Good showin’, Sketchpaws. ”

And for a rare, peaceful moment, Griblo simply leaned against the rail beside his companions, gazing upward while the vast sky stretched far beyond anything he had ever imagined before.

 

[Cryle]

Cryle gently manoeuvred the telescope out of sight within her coat.

For a good while, they just let the moment breathe in silence as they gazed up with their own eyes. Ocean waves, the ruffle of sails, the creak of rigging, the muted calls of distant crewbeasts, even the soft thumping of those pattering nearby; it felt as alien to the moment as the other world was to their imaginations.

None of them were thinking about the sketches now, that was for sure.

"Oceans," said Korya, after a while. "Made of strawberry cordial, maybe."

"Maybe," said Cryle. "With ships made of orange peels. Giant ones."

"And they go fast by blowing into the ocean with straws! Bubble speed!"

Cryle shook her head in dismay and pulled her hat down to hide her face after glancing at the feline. She knew that wasn't sea spray on Korya's muzzle.

"Blue and purple," she said softly, "Blue like the ocean and the sky. It tastes like berries, a little sour, but mostly sweet. Raspberries, cold and crunchy, every little tiny orb an explosion of flavor. All swirling together in a sphere, roaming across the night sky, flickering like a candle. A warm beacon. Darkness like the softness of bed, the coolness of fresh sheets and pulling your blanket up over your ears and just barely feeling the heat of your body and breath trapped against your skin. Darkness from horizon to horizon, the ocean black as salty licorice. And every little star sparkling cinnamon. Ginger fizz. Little tingles, like whisker-pricks."

She leaned close to Korya, letting her whiskers brush the leopard cat's cheeks. Korya hiccuped and giggled.

"The crescent, it twirls and shifts around the planet... white, like the foam of ale, bubbling in a ring. As if it weren't already the most beautiful thing in the sky, it is vainglorious and evokes further jealousy from the other worlds with its jewellery. It is a tease and a scoundrel, and when I get back to Bully Harbour I am going to find the library and learn her name. I wonder if we tease back. The beasts there have more than ocean ships. They have ships that fly through their skies, and cross the ocean of space between us. They visit, but they don't stay long. I know somebeast who was given a ride on their ship, once... She is the third smartest person I know."

Cryle gazed up again, rocking back and forth, as the others processed.

"I'm going to sleep now. Bye," she said, nodding, and pattered back down the stairs to the deck below, and further on.

Korya said, "Wait..." But the ratmaid did not wait, and was gone. Korya dried her tears off on the backs of her arms.

"I think... I think what she was trying to do, is say 'thank you', Griblo... Mr. Herman..." She leaned against the ferret, wrapping her arms around his waist in a soft hug. "I guess I'm going to have to learn to read."

 

[Herman Lasichin]

Herman couldn't help but roll his eyes. Some kits really lacked imagination, especially adult kits. Why would a world so far away, so foreign to them, have anything like oranges or their peels, be made out of strawberries or ale, or possess truly anything of this world? Who knew what beasts lived there. Perhaps they were spherical and rolled around on the surface. Maybe they were more rectangular like beasts of this world, but had a bounded paraboloid instead of the head. Maybe they could swim with such ease, that they haven't come up with ships yet. Herman discovered an aspect that made him less interested in this line of thought however, until someone invented an even better telescope and they could see if anyone was living on that world, they couldn't tell if their guesses were correct or not. And they couldn't communicate with those beasts until either of them could travel as fast as the light that let them see each other. Or...did they need to? He imagined two beasts staring at each other across the wide expanse of space through a telescope, gesturing with their paws at each other. Wasn't that nearly as good as the two beasts being physically in the same room?

He only now realized that Cryle left them without any kind of goodbye. That rat was a strange one, but that's what he liked about her.

"Well, this was a wonderful detour she took us on. Griblo, I'm happy to be colleagues. Korya, tell Cryle I also enjoyed talking with you two as well."

He stretched out one paw to the ferret and used the other to pet the cat on the head.

"I was actually in the middle of taking count beforehand, and I think it's high time to return. Good night."

Herman descended back down into the underworld of the ship. The rest of the night was much more uneventful, but he had enough to think about as he continued his work. One thing was for certain, telling Brasseye was going to have to wait. If only a little bit. The numbers might not have changed, but with what happened tonight, he would be certainly looking at them in a slightly different light.

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo said nothing as Cryle spoke.

He leaned against the rail, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the mast lines and rigging, listening as the ratmaid spun her world from taste and touch and warmth. Berries and spice. Foam and darkness. Something vast made small enough to share, even for a beast without sight.

His whiskers twitched faintly.

A blink came slower than usual.

Then another.

The night air must’ve been sharper up here.

He sniffed once and dragged the back of his sleeve lightly beneath his nose, never once looking away from the sky.

When Cryle turned and made her quiet departure, Griblo’s gaze followed her for a moment, brow knitting just slightly.

“G’noight…” he murmured, a touch late, as if unsure whether she’d hear it at all.

Then Korya’s arms wrapped around his waist.

Griblo stiffened for half a heartbeat before easing, one paw coming up to rest lightly against her back.

He grunted softly, glancing down at her as she spoke as he did another quick wipe of his sleeve across his eyes.

“Direct as ever, dat one.”

There was no bite in it, only something quieter.

Herman’s voice followed soon after, and Griblo straightened a touch, reaching out to clasp the offered paw in a firm, familiar shake.

“Likewise, mate. Sleep easy.”

He gave Korya a small pat between the ears as the weasel took his leave, watching him disappear back into the belly of the ship.

And then it was just the two of them left alone with the creak of wood, the hush of water, and the endless sprawl of sky.

Griblo leaned back against the rail again, tilting his head upward, breathing in softly.

“Stars above…”

A pause.

“Who knew it'd all be so much more tasty den down ’ere, eh?”

His grin returned, soft around the edges.

“All berries an’ fizz an’ sweetness… while we’re stuck wit’ salt an’ fish.”

He bumped her lightly with his shoulder.

“Reckon we got the short end o’ dat bargain.”

Another quiet moment stretched between them, easy and warm.

Then he pushed off the rail with a small grunt, rolling one shoulder.

“C’mon, L'il Scrap, time fer bed.”

He gave a sideways glance, crooked grin back in place. He dipped slightly, ready to haul her up if she took him up on it — already bracing like he knew it might be more effort than he’d let on.

“Wanna lift?”

((Feel free to auto Griblo for the final post @Korya @Cryle ))

 

[Korya]

"Night," said Korya, waving towards the ocean as Herman pattered off in Cryle's wake. She leaned against Griblo as he ruffled her mane, a little trill rising in her throat.

There were a lot of thoughts to think, and not a whole lot of night left to think them in.

"I'll stay a while," she said, and hung both her arms over the railing, chin resting on the sleek, always-slightly-damp wood. "Listen for cinnamon and ginger stars. Smell ya later, Griblo..."

She brushed him with her fluffy tail, and tilted her ears back to listen to the sky as he gave her another nudge and a farewell. His footsteps receded into soft, comfortable silence.

The wind picked up, just a little, ruffling her fur and whiskers, bringing a strong whiff of the sea to her nose. The ship rocked on the waves, the subtle up-down of her body with it still slightly off-putting. She imagined there was snow falling on her ears and shoulders, and that this was the balcony of her parents' manor. She tried to picture the shape of the mountain's slopes far below, littered with shards of pottery and other items she'd thrown over the edge in fits of frustration, rage, or curiosity. The echo of her lonely huffs sad and distant, ghosts of friends she could have had if she'd just been born the right way.

Some little part of her missed the loneliness. The familiarity of it. The stability.

And here was this strange ratmaid, who by all accounts seemed to hate being seen, hated talking, hated company... Putting herself out there, sharing her telescope, meeting moles, asking for favors, why? It wasn't pity. She was used to pity, she understood pity. This was something new, something strange, something a little terrifying.

Somebeast caring for her...

Not caring for her physically, not feeding her, not wiping her chin, not washing her, but just... caring. Wanting to do something nice for her, because it's something they could do.

Friends. She had friends, now. Real ones, not paid to play with her, not whispered instructions on how to behave around her and always let her get her way. Not drunken tavern-folk teaching her bawdy songs because the thought of corrupting an innocent kitten tickled their sadistic fancy. The closest thing she'd ever had to this was her father, their all-too-short outings to the river where he taught her to swim against the ice floes...

She missed him. Those small moments where he found the joy in her being, when he wasn't locked away in a study, smoking or drinking, rustling papers, grumbling about grown up things.

Maybe there would be another job on the ship better suited for her than cook's assistant. Something she could do to find happiness in her tasks, so that evenings such as this... so she wouldn't have to give them up.

Korya pushed off the railing and tip-pawed down the stairs. She counted her steps, touched out to feel familiar knots and bumps in the ship's woodwork - the knob of the stair railing leading below decks, the heat of a lantern hanging, little things that nobeast who didn't work on them didn't need to notice. She followed her landmarks and counted paces, ears swivelling around snores, nose twitching as she followed the faintest scent of pineapple through the musk of crewbeasts.

She felt her empty hammock, still holding her scent, and felt Cryle's furless tail hanging over the edge of her own hammock. She crawled in and curled up, tail coiling up and over her head, limbs and paws tucked into a perfect feline sphere.

"Cryle... are you still awake?"

"Mrgrgr..."

"I just want to say thank you... for being my friend."

A long pause. A tiny squeak of acknowledgement.

"And I promise I'll do my best to learn to read your letter-thingy."

"...how do you really feel about it?"

Korya unfolded herself, rolled over, tucked into a ball on her other side. She thought about stars, and ledgers, numbers, boxes and boxes of things, the weight of it all. Hundreds of beasts, miles of ropes, sails bigger than houses, and tried to understand the shapes, and failed.

And if little tiny dots and lines, just nine of them at a time, or less, could help those shapes form in her mind...

Whole other worlds. Oceans and all.

"I like it!"