Open The Slups The Bright-eyed Engineer's Arrival

[Adelina Laska]

Her wide grin playing open testament to Adelina's gleeful exhilaration, the she takes in the sights and sounds of the harbor. She would be enthralled by the bustle of activity even if she hadn't been severely under-stimulated by the last couple weeks of travel. As is, the idea of not just getting to see but to explore the 'heart of the empire' has her practically vibrating with excitement.

Belatedly she realizes that she has almost missed her opportunity to say her goodbyes and, as the ship slows and the boatswain barks out orders to the line crews, Adelina finally tears her eyes away from the scenery, scampers down from her out-of-the-way perch halfway up some of the rigging, and ducks below deck to find and embrace the few beasts not on duty for docking procedures. Then it's more clasped paws and hugs as she makes her way through the crew who are finishing tying off and beginning to unload the ship's cargo. Finally she hands over the second half of her payment, gives the skipper a final, almost correct, salute and joins her luggage on the dock.

A whole city, so much to see! But I really should find this 'Ministry of Innovation' first and hopefully make a good impression.

Searching suspiciously through her odd collection of hand tools, surveying instruments, glass baubles, and mechanical toys, the customs officials seem likely to give her trouble but they stamp and hand over the relevant papers quickly enough once she shows them her instructions to report to the Ministry of Innovation.

Odd, it's only a personal recommendation from the professor. And he's not even from the Imperium himself... is he?

After a quick chat with the harbor master or customs master (or perhaps that was just a deputy?) she is oriented and, mulling over the directions he gave, persuaded that she ought to hire a room for at least one night so that she can clean up and make herself presentable instead of showing up sea salt-encrusted and sweaty from dragging her things halfway across town.

She is pleasantly surprised by a couple of the transport's crew waiting for her outside the customs house. They are more than happy to carry her luggage and escort her as far as their favorite (at least among the semi-respectable establishments) dockside inn. Well, it's just up this street. And they probably rent rooms. In any case it comes highly recommended!

The sailors drop off her trunk and suitcase and then are quickly lured away by the calls of old acquaintances demanding that they gamble away at lest some of their voyage's pay before spending it all on booze. Adelina is left alone to, hopefully, make herself just as at-home.

Meanwhile more then one of the local denizens have turned to take stock of the newcomer. Despite her modest stature the young vixen does tend to draw the eye. Her blue sweater, visible beneath her oilskin jacket where it hangs open, brings out the blue of her inquisitive eyes and her strawberry blond coat remains striking, salt-encrusted or no. She stands with confidence despite clearly being in unfamiliar territory. With one paw thoughtfully pressed to her lips, she gazes around taking in the sights of the Bilge in the Bucket...

 

[Mina Rose Brewer]

The Bilge in the Bucket, at the present moment, happened to be comprised of a large common room with an overhanging balcony level for private parties; a kitchen and storeroom in the back accessible via a small passage that also led to a back set of stairs and a door to the outhouse; and, on the second level, accessible by the back stairs or a set at the front leading to another balcony landing, a limited set of rooms available for rent for a modest price, though a more recently constructed bridge over the back alley led to a former tenement that had been annexed in a fit of opportunism by the current proprietor in hopes of expanding the 'inn' side of the 'inn and tavern' on the sign above the door.

Of course, this configuration, like all layouts of the Bilge, was inevitably impermanent. A tavern with such rough and boisterous clientele inevitably invited barfights, accidents, murders, acts of industrial sabotage, and out-and-out arson from time to time. As it had traded paws between proprietors, the Bilge had undergone dozens of renovations, to the point that the present architecture was designed to be entirely modular. Many a regular had entered to find that their favorite seat had moved to a different corner, a different level, or even a different room altogether, with the most ambitious restructure being the occasion in which, apparently as a Soggus Fools' Day prank gone wrong, they had managed to turn the entire Bilge literally upside down. The reverse balcony layout had proven so popular that, in fact, the present configuration was only a mild alteration of that structure, which would explain why the railings and banisters of the balcony and stairs hung like icicles from the edge.

The pub was reasonably busy for a Friday, and one of the waitresses on staff, a young vixen wearing a newish-looking green dress under a leather corset, was harriedly trying to fulfill a dozen drink orders at once off a precariously balanced tray. "Be righ' wiv' ya!" she called to the newcomer, reaching to retrieve a flagon without toppling the haphazard pyramid for which it formed the peak.

Amazingly, the entire tray was soon empty and tucked under the vixen's arm as she dodged between the tables, only slightly breaking her stride to slap away a paw that reached for her tail, and finally arriving, a bit breathless, before the newcomer. "Well 'llo there," she greeted the newly arrived vixen with a smile. "Mah name is Mina Rose, an' Welcome t' th' Bilge in the Bucket, th' oldes' an' proudes' establishmen' tin alla Bully Habbah." Her accent was thick Tookumberry Keys, some of her consonants sliding between syllables and words, or simply vanishing altogether. The vixen's eyes landed on the far from miniscule amount of luggage packed up, and her eyes widened slightly, her face dropping in clear apprehension of possibly having to carry it all the way to the rooms. "Er, ya lookin' fer a room righ' away, or can I si' tcha dahn atta table fer a drink anna hot meal?" Implicit in the inquiry was 'while I find someone else to carry all of that'.

 

[Adelina Laska]

The young engineer finds her eye drawn to the repaired, repurposed, and improvised elements of the construction almost as much as the bizarre design choices. A mix of appreciation, confusion, and concern play across her features... and overall she looks delighted even as her eyes trace the load-bearing lines of the structure with some calculation.

It's like field works in a way. Almost more like a military bridge or palisade fort than a city building. Or yes, a ship — returning to port with half or more of its timber above the waterline lost and replaced while it was away.

Looking around in amazement at the architectural oddities of the place, Adelina is in no rush, only aware of the wait for service once it's imminent end has been announced.

"Oh, fank you!"

Then she watches with admiration as the vixen in the green dress weaves through the space delivering her cargo, blinking as if swatted herself when the errant hand is knocked away from the same switch of tail that had just caught her eye. She tilts her head, squinting into the middle distance to hide her blunder, brain momentary uncharacteristically useless.

Then she is returning a smile and concentrating with relish on the waitress's lovely accent.

"Oh no, yes, a hod meal sounds lovely! Especially if you have any fruid or greens? Anyfink fresh really."

Her own accent is certainly much closer to the local but, focused like this, she can't help wondering how far from the mark her 'Court Vulpinsulan' really lands. After all, hearing the difference is the tricky part.

 

[Mina Rose Brewer]

Mina Rose's tail twitched enthusiastically as she chuckled at the request. "Frui'? I thin' kai myda seen a frui' taroun' once, bu' ti' weren' much worf eatin'. Lemme ge' tcha some boiled greens. Ya wanna baked cod wiv' 'at, or y' one a' 'em veggietaryin' folk?" She started leading the vixen toward a table in the back, her paw moving to preemptively slap away from her tail the paw of the same handsy customer as before.

 

[Adelina Laska]

"Greens! Yes! And Cod..."

Adelina pauses, wondering what a 'veggie-tear-ien' might be and then is further distracted by a logjam of thoughts as Mina Rose's active defense draws her eye down again.

"...will be very nice, fank you."

Settling in at the table, Adeline removes her jacket revealing the fine knit of her sweater, a practical set of work trousers, and an iron belt buckle that looks less like a status piece and more like it was hammered into submission by an amateur perfectionist. Her belt carries a coin purse and a knife, it's scabbard secured like a deckhand's but the hilt revealing it to be a fine craftsbeast's blade of some kind. Sitting down with a swish of her pearl gold and cream tail, she glances back at her luggage with just slight concern, as if only worried that it might be in someone's way.

 

[Mina Rose Brewer]

As they reached the table, Mina Rose flagged down a cook coming off shift in the kitchen. "Jannis, you mahnd haul 'er stuff up ta four?"

The cook, a stoat with a thick Varangian accent, looked over at the luggage and groaned. "I vas goink to get eine zigarette," he complained.

"Ah know," Mina Rose commiserated, patting his shoulder. "Ah'll ge' tcha a shotta Ol' Ironsides ferrit."

"Du hast Glück, dass du so ein süßes Mädchen bist," Janni grumbled, but he moved to grab the luggage.

"Danke very much, Jannis!" she called after him, waving, before turning her smile and attention to the new guest. "Ah'll ge' 'at meal ordah in fer ya," she promised, pulling a flip notepad out of her apron pocket and jotting down a bit of chicken scratch. "So, can I ge' tch' a drink ta go wiv' 'em greens?" She stretched out so to sound like soooooooooo'wa.

 

[Adelina Laska]

Trying to follow the stoat's banter leaves Adelina's brows furrowed for a moment but then she nods and turns her thoughts to drink.

The empire trades tea like mad right? But sailors are all about booze everywhere, surely? Maybe I should avoid hard liquor, first time out on the town, any town, by myself and all. But then, who knows what the local custom is, and they probably have amazing things in stock in a port-city like this!

After a moment she flashes a wide grin and nods again.

"I wand to try fe local favorite!"

 

[Mina Rose Brewer]

Mina Rose worried her lip between two of her incisor teeth as she considered the request. Her paw antsily tapped her pencil against the pad, leaving small scuffs on the paper. "Well, 'ere's allus grog," she assessed, glancing at where tankards of the watered-down mixture were sloshed about. "'S jus' ta cheap, wa'er'd dahn rum really, leas' alcoholic thing we go' nex' ta wa'er i'self, an' trus' me, ya don' twanna be drinkin' th' wa'er 'roun' deer. Nex' mos' pop'lar 's jus' tan ale, a reg'lar ol' Eye-Pee-'Ay: 'at' san Imperi'l Pai' Lale," she explained, "'ough I lookit 't an' ih' don' look so pale ta me. Any'ay, we getta lotta reques' fer 'at one too. If yer lookin' fer summat more fancy, I can allus try makin' y'a cocktail, 'r mebbe e'en a 'mocktail' as 'ey callit - 'at's a drink wiv' no alco'ol. I can make a real good Cer'ainly Cathedral," she offered.

 

[Adelina Laska]

Adelina's eyes sparkle as she hangs on every word.

"Oh, Imperial Pale Ale? I musd try fad! And I'll certainly have to try one of your cocktails before I go. Well, hopefully I'll be in town for some time."

With the last sentence her eyes dart away shyly for a moment, caught between too many uncertainties that only time can sort to muster her usual enthusiasm for the unknown.