The Urk Expedition: Cold in the Crow's Nest

Morgan's teeth chattered as she drifted closer to consciousness, some of Silvertongue's words reaching her. The belowdecks was darker, but also warmer, the massive boiler radiating heat through the ship. "S-Silv," she managed to get out, still not opening her eyes more than a crack. "W-w-where's Vim?"
 
"She's right behind us." Silvertongue reassured her. "Come on, we've got to get you into bed."

For being a new arrival on the ship, Silvertongue navigated the lower decks with ease. He guided Morgan to the infirmary, knocking on the door repeatedly.

"Excuse me? I've got a crewbeast out here in need of immediate medical attention!"
 
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The ship's doctor, an elderly pine marten with spectacles thick as harbor ice, blinked at the party assembling. "Ah," he wheezed, "the young mutineer. I heard there was some trouble on deck. Minister Ryalor must have been in a very forgiving mood today. Come," he instructed, pointing to a surgical table. "Lay her down there, and I'll get those frozen garments off her." He caught the expression on Silvertongue's face and noted, "It's just fur and flesh, young todd, that's all we are. If it's too much for you, go to that tub there and run a hot bath." He gestured to where pipes from the boiler network ran along the wall. "Red knob is for hot, blue is for cold. Best to do nearly full with the hot, then top it off with the cold."
 
Silvertongue at first went to oblige the elderly doctor, but then he recalled Talinn’s instructions.

“I, um- Pardon me for speaking out, sir, but the Captain gave me different instructions. We should only just give them new clothes and some blankets for now.”
 
The doctor raised one fuzzy brow at Silvertongue's objection. "Young lad, in this surgery, I am the Emperor. Well, not really," he amended. "If the Empress showed up I would still have to obey her, of course. The point being, what some stuffy captain knows is secondary to my knowledge, and mine says to warm this girl up as quickly as possible. Now, if you don't mind, kindly either draw the bath or step aside so I can treat my patient."
 
Vihma was feeling warmer just being out of the wind. There was more to it - the Hide just seemed warmer than her previous ship, perhaps on account of the infernal device MinoInn had built inside its hull. She was welcome to it now, stumbling through to the infirmary with her arms over her chest, still desperate to retain the core heat she felt slowly returning.

She entered with Silvie and the ship's doctor already in discussion about what to do with Morgan - who, thankfully, looked to still be breathing, still conscious, if only barely. There seemed to be some argument over the best course of action to bring her back to warmth.

The weasel looked to both of them in turn, trying to get a measure of who might be right. Though she'd survived such cold as even the icy waters around Urk before, it'd been more by staying warm and dry to begin with. Those who hadn't had that good fortune didn't fare well, and there hadn't been much in the ways of hot water nor time to save them all. Perhaps a hot bath would have helped.

Besides, certainly the bespectacled pine marten knew what he was talking about, being physician on the flagship of the Imperial navy. At the very least, he had to have better things in mind for their health than the Minister who'd seen them to be punished in this way.

Vihma mulled it over, though ultimately deciding not to weigh in on the matter. She'd already made a fool of herself abovedecks. Why dig the hole deeper here below, talking about things she didn't know anything about?

"G-gotta get 'er warm s-somehow. But s-some new clothes 'n a blanket would be n-nice, eh?"

Though no longer freezing, nor soaked, she still felt cold - Silvie's shirt the only warm, dry clothing she had on, with even that starting to become cool and damp from the residual moisture she'd still had in her fur.
 
Silvertongue hesitated when the doctor told him off, but he was much more afraid of disobeying Talinn.

"Right, so... we can run a bath, and when their health inevitably fails, I can tell the Captain it was you who refused to follow his orders, or we can do it the way he has suggested." He said, raising an eyebrow in return. "Sir Talinn put me in charge of overseeing the wellbeing of these two ladies, so if you don't mind, I will be doing it the way the Captain wants me to."

He crossed his arms, staring the eldery pine marten down.
 
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The marten rolled his eyes behind his glasses, throwing up his hands. "Fine!" he snapped in exasperation. "Go ahead, take over my surgery, you be the surgeon for today. Let's see you handle the patients without any medical training at all." He went to the desk shoved in the corner and pulled out the chair that was mounted on a small track, clicking as it moved until he locked it in place with a small foot petal. Then he sat, watching Silvertongue grumpily.

Morgan caught Silvertongue's paw, her eyes briefly lucid. "Th-th-thank you," she managed.
 
Within an hour, after being carefully reheated per Talinn's instructions, both Morgan and Vihma were in much better shape. They were now relaxing in a lukewarm bath, Morgan's arm around Vihma's shoulders as they were crowded together in the single tub in the infirmary. "'Gates," she sighed, "I don' think I'm ever takin' warmth fer granted again." She gave Silvertongue and Greeneye a smile. "Thank yeh both fer comin' up t' get me. I'dda been dead weight otterwise." She slid a little deeper into the bath before inquiring, "So, y' 'ave any ideas fer this play we're supposed t' put on? Mos' ah the stories I know ain' so fit for high company."
 
At this point Silvertongue seemed to be comfortable enough around the both of them as to not be entirely aghast with seeing them naked, though he did take extra effort to only make eye contact with them. He was also still shirtless, with both his shirt and doublet being laid aside to be dried off.

“Well, Sir Talinn said that the crew wasn’t the sophisticated types. In my opinion, they wouldn’t really appreciate any sort of actual theater. Not to worry, though, because I have the perfect solution for your dilemma.” Silvertongue reached into his pack and he pulled out a worn looking journal.

“Sea Shanties!” He exclaimed with a delighted look on his face. “I’m sure a rousing sort of song like that would be perfect! I’ve probably got dozens of them written in my journal here, so we have plenty of options to choose from.”

Meanwhile, Greeneye was silently standing in the corner scowling at the eldery pine marten, who in turn was still glaring at Silvertongue.
 
Vihma hadn't been comfortable being unclothed. Sure, it wasn't in front of the entire crew as she'd almost been before, and in any case she had her fur and her tail to obscure with, but she'd been uncomfortable nevertheless. Still, shedding the damp, cold clothes had been necessary - the doctor had said as much - and though her instinct had been against getting wet once more, the warm water of the bath was soothing.

There was something to be said, too, for bathing with company. She'd thought that would make her yet even more uncomfortable, but now, once more stuck snugly together with Morgan, the weasel felt strangely at ease. Strangely was the key word. She felt strange. Safe, especially after the cold, and almost losing her friend, but almost dazed in a way.

The ferret had her arm around her shoulder, drawing them near as they'd been before. She didn't want to shrug off that embrace, no more than she wanted to leave the warm water for the colder air. Those conditions were inextricably linked, but more than that, she wanted Morgan's arm there - to feel secure that she wasn't going anywhere without her.

Only the talk of the upcoming performance took her out of her happy daze some. Truth be told, she hadn't thought she'd be subject to that punishment. Still, it made sense for her to be - and it made sense for her to help anyway.

The weasel squirmed slightly - gently holding onto the arm wrapped around her, and keeping herself snug against Morgan, even as the ferret set herself deeper into the water.

"Dunno 'ow much singin' I can do, supposin' it's just the two o' us 'n yer lute, Silvie. Bets a lot on the crew bein' with us on that."

She assumed, though not without reason, that Silvertongue - maybe even Greeneye - had been roped into the same mess she was now. That was either unfortunate for them, or kind of them. In any case, she was glad have them with her again, though it occurred to her they could incur the officers' wrath just as easily now.

"Asides, I reckon the captain will want t'see whatever we come up with ahead o' time, neh? Thought 'e said as much in 'is... speech. Might've missed somethin' from where I was, though."

Vihma looked over to the ship's doctor then. She'd been tempted to voice her mind a bit, critique the Minister's public announcements in some way. The weasel didn't think the stiff and stern old marten would appreciate such talk, and in any case it didn't accomplish much. Morgan was safe, and there was no need to fan the flames on a fire that had already burned out.
 
The doctor, for his part, was sulking in the corner. He'd spent much of the hour's recovery muttering just loud enough to be audible how every step Silvertongue took to restore the two femmes was the wrong one. He'd been very put out when the pair had recovered in record time.

Morgan, for her part, ignored the failed physician entirely and focused on her co-performers, while keeping her arm relaxed around the weasel jill as they soaked in the deliciously warm water. There was something luxurious, she found, about sharing a warm bath, especially with someone with whom she'd gone through the 'Gates itself. "We could make a musical of it," she suggested. "Come up with somethin' on the spot. Ain' there a lotta trickster tales ou' there? Y'know, the clever thief makes off with the king's jewels by pretending to be a jester, 'n all that. Well, maybe we have the clever bard pull one o'er on th' vicious warlord wiv' 'is performances. I mean," she glanced at Greeneye, "Greenie 'ere woul' make a fantastic Cluny th' Scourge. Just have 'im growl a bit more an' th' crew will eat it up. An' Vim an' I can play... I dunno, summat, I didn' really get further in thinkin' than 'at."
 
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