It's been a long time since he rode as a passenger on a ship, and he'll admit the five-story sky cruiser is luxury. Decks full of ballrooms and bars and singers and finely adorned rooms, and a leisurely pace that will put them at port in a few days' time. He doesn't like feeling trapped, even if he has back up should something go south, but it was the best way to gather intel on his target without raising suspicion and, well, it's not the worst thing to dress nicely and enjoy himself.
It just never quite settles properly. He's restless, prone to looking over his shoulder -- metaphorically; he'd never give up his identity like that -- and feels like an imposter in a way he hasn't in a long time. Maybe because, had he never run away, this life would have been his.
He does manage to slip through some no entry and sound confident enough to make it up to a private service area of the top deck, above the lights and sounds. The fresh air and bright stars make him feel like his lungs finally inflate.
There's someone else there, and he doesn't really mind if they're worker or noble or something more nefarious. He leans on the rail, trailing his fingers across the wind currents.
"All that beauty, and the sky still wins. Humans are gluttons for punishment, hmm?"
It's just another trip across the skies for Amelia, taking her from one city to the next to deliver one set of appropriated goods before picking up the next. This ship is certainly nicer than some of the others she's been on as of late, but it's still just a means to an end.
She's done her time on the lower decks, woven her way among the various peoples of varying levels of wealth. She's heard their secrets, perhaps taken trinkets they don't need, and still finds herself on edge at the end of the night. Not because she's worried of being robbed or found out, but because she never truly sleeps well surrounded by so many people she doesn't know. It doesn't help that her quarters aren't private this trip and that her roommate has a tendency to paw about with her hands rather than using a light when needing to move about in the dark. People really need to keep their hands to themselves if they want to keep them.
Her head and shoulders rise from where she's leaned over the rail when the sound of footsteps reach her ears. She turns to him, following his approach with hazel eyes. Her head tilts slightly to one side when he speaks, her hairpin tinkling lightly from high in her braided and pinned up hair. Tonight she's dressed simply, dark green linens with a complementary brown leather underbust corset and matching boots over them, all of her covered from neck to toes.
"Maybe they're reaching for the beauty of the stars with what they create," she returns curiously. Her body settles against the rail again, still turned slightly in his direction. "Or perhaps some of us simply prefer the sky to the gaudy on the decks below. Electric lights can't capture anything as magnificent as this." She lifts a hand and gestures out to the sky above them.
"Unless there's some other reason for your asking, stranger." A prompt for more information without being too obvious. She wonders how he'll take it.
"The worthwhile ones certainly are," he agrees. He has every respect for artists and thinkers. Whoever designed the craft had a good eye, conviction. A decent amount of the art and furniture is good. But inevitably these things become mindless, diluted experiences catering to ticket sales. That, and he resents being kept on a course of someone else's choosing.
"But I tend to agree that nothing comes close to the actual views. Though I appreciate a little spectacle now and then."
He comes to lean on the rail nearby, not close enough to reach -- or spook -- her, but close enough that they're having an actual conversation.
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Just bored and testing the currents for this conversation. I could have just offended you, or perhaps you were up here trying to be alone and I'm spoiling it."
Interesting. Not everyone knows how to subtly test others without making them completely uncomfortable or being unable to disarm them if they recoil. Perhaps she's reading too much into it, but his answer seems genuine. A curiosity among the very unassuming - and frankly boring - crowd on the decks below them.
Amelia's lips pull into a small smirk as she turns to him more fully, a single arm resting against the rail as she looks him over. Tall, handsome in a way that's different from the high society types she's been spending most of her time with this trip. Sharp eyes, too. Color her intrigued in a way she'll even let show as she answers him.
"Nothing to be spoiled when all you want is to get away from a roommate you weren't expecting and crowds who are rather exhausting once the partying starts." She chuckles softly and gestures to him with her free hand, palm up. "Seeking your solace, too? Perhaps you'd enjoy the stars with me for a time as we hide from the masses."
An invitation. A gentle one that leaves him the chance to change the course of things, if he likes. For now, she's curious to see where this goes.
"I'm Amelia, if you're inclined to know." Her head tilts ever so slightly to one side. "Shall I call you 'stranger', or do you have something else you'd prefer to be known by?"
A wonderful truth of pirating was that it was often much easier to be honest than other walks of life. No need to like or cover up that which wasn't interfering. It was a freedom he deeply cherished. Got to meet a lot of interesting people that way.
He winces, chuckling at her plight. "Nothing like a poor match of a roommate to make one go mad. If I were the designer of a punishing afterlife, it would be the top of my list."
He takes the conversation and open gesture as a welcome to stay. He's glad. He's missing his partner, who would have been too recognizable for this mission, and it's nice to pass the time in conversation.
He does give a moment's pause to her question. A name is always something to weigh, but, his isn't utterly uncommon, and he's not directly wanted in this particular government. "Balthier. A pleasure, Amelia."
He looks out over the view, eyes sparkling and still a little breathless. Fifteen years of these sites and they haven't lost their charm. "You know, as a boy I always dreamed of being old enough to attend proper festivities and parties, and now I often can't leave soon enough." The formal ones, anyway. He enjoyed a good local gathering. Though, certainly easier to steal at a large event.
"It would certainly work to drive people mad. I imagine most people destined for the worst of places would struggle with that kind of punishment." Dreams know she is struggling and they only have another few nights of this voyage. Her roommate is lucky Amelia didn't think to bring the right herbs to mix a sleeping draft. The rogue won't be making that particular mistake again.
"The pleasure is mine, Balthier." A name she's only heard a few times before. It'll be easy to remember it when attached to someone who's already proven to be comfortably companionable without being cloying.
She smiles warmly as she watches him turn and look up again. There's a particular reach for what's above them that's familiar, a need for something outside what one finds directly within reach. A something she's intimately familiar with as she moves from place to place, takes job after job, and can't find a place to settle. Once, she was tied to family and a home. Now she's loosely associated with a group that keeps her employed and steeped in gold and favors. It's not nearly the same, and she feels the pang at times when she feels particularly alone. Distractions are welcome, and she settles into the current one with ease.
"Nothing is ever so fun as an adult as one expects it to be as a child. The lure of the forbidden colors everything we see." She shifts a half step closer as she follows his example to turn herself to the view again. "Maybe that's why we constantly look to the stars," she muses. "We crave what we can't have, and try to recreate it everywhere we go. When we can't, we come back again, wanting that magic again."
Or maybe she's waxing on poetically about an easy to grasp topic to avoid thinking about those other things on her mind. Whatever the truth, she does wonder about people and their need to be in the sky, to get closer to the heavens. Just not usually this loudly.
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for Ameila
It just never quite settles properly. He's restless, prone to looking over his shoulder -- metaphorically; he'd never give up his identity like that -- and feels like an imposter in a way he hasn't in a long time. Maybe because, had he never run away, this life would have been his.
He does manage to slip through some no entry and sound confident enough to make it up to a private service area of the top deck, above the lights and sounds. The fresh air and bright stars make him feel like his lungs finally inflate.
There's someone else there, and he doesn't really mind if they're worker or noble or something more nefarious. He leans on the rail, trailing his fingers across the wind currents.
"All that beauty, and the sky still wins. Humans are gluttons for punishment, hmm?"
no subject
She's done her time on the lower decks, woven her way among the various peoples of varying levels of wealth. She's heard their secrets, perhaps taken trinkets they don't need, and still finds herself on edge at the end of the night. Not because she's worried of being robbed or found out, but because she never truly sleeps well surrounded by so many people she doesn't know. It doesn't help that her quarters aren't private this trip and that her roommate has a tendency to paw about with her hands rather than using a light when needing to move about in the dark. People really need to keep their hands to themselves if they want to keep them.
Her head and shoulders rise from where she's leaned over the rail when the sound of footsteps reach her ears. She turns to him, following his approach with hazel eyes. Her head tilts slightly to one side when he speaks, her hairpin tinkling lightly from high in her braided and pinned up hair. Tonight she's dressed simply, dark green linens with a complementary brown leather underbust corset and matching boots over them, all of her covered from neck to toes.
"Maybe they're reaching for the beauty of the stars with what they create," she returns curiously. Her body settles against the rail again, still turned slightly in his direction. "Or perhaps some of us simply prefer the sky to the gaudy on the decks below. Electric lights can't capture anything as magnificent as this." She lifts a hand and gestures out to the sky above them.
"Unless there's some other reason for your asking, stranger." A prompt for more information without being too obvious. She wonders how he'll take it.
no subject
"But I tend to agree that nothing comes close to the actual views. Though I appreciate a little spectacle now and then."
He comes to lean on the rail nearby, not close enough to reach -- or spook -- her, but close enough that they're having an actual conversation.
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Just bored and testing the currents for this conversation. I could have just offended you, or perhaps you were up here trying to be alone and I'm spoiling it."
no subject
Amelia's lips pull into a small smirk as she turns to him more fully, a single arm resting against the rail as she looks him over. Tall, handsome in a way that's different from the high society types she's been spending most of her time with this trip. Sharp eyes, too. Color her intrigued in a way she'll even let show as she answers him.
"Nothing to be spoiled when all you want is to get away from a roommate you weren't expecting and crowds who are rather exhausting once the partying starts." She chuckles softly and gestures to him with her free hand, palm up. "Seeking your solace, too? Perhaps you'd enjoy the stars with me for a time as we hide from the masses."
An invitation. A gentle one that leaves him the chance to change the course of things, if he likes. For now, she's curious to see where this goes.
"I'm Amelia, if you're inclined to know." Her head tilts ever so slightly to one side. "Shall I call you 'stranger', or do you have something else you'd prefer to be known by?"
no subject
He winces, chuckling at her plight. "Nothing like a poor match of a roommate to make one go mad. If I were the designer of a punishing afterlife, it would be the top of my list."
He takes the conversation and open gesture as a welcome to stay. He's glad. He's missing his partner, who would have been too recognizable for this mission, and it's nice to pass the time in conversation.
He does give a moment's pause to her question. A name is always something to weigh, but, his isn't utterly uncommon, and he's not directly wanted in this particular government. "Balthier. A pleasure, Amelia."
He looks out over the view, eyes sparkling and still a little breathless. Fifteen years of these sites and they haven't lost their charm. "You know, as a boy I always dreamed of being old enough to attend proper festivities and parties, and now I often can't leave soon enough." The formal ones, anyway. He enjoyed a good local gathering. Though, certainly easier to steal at a large event.
no subject
"The pleasure is mine, Balthier." A name she's only heard a few times before. It'll be easy to remember it when attached to someone who's already proven to be comfortably companionable without being cloying.
She smiles warmly as she watches him turn and look up again. There's a particular reach for what's above them that's familiar, a need for something outside what one finds directly within reach. A something she's intimately familiar with as she moves from place to place, takes job after job, and can't find a place to settle. Once, she was tied to family and a home. Now she's loosely associated with a group that keeps her employed and steeped in gold and favors. It's not nearly the same, and she feels the pang at times when she feels particularly alone. Distractions are welcome, and she settles into the current one with ease.
"Nothing is ever so fun as an adult as one expects it to be as a child. The lure of the forbidden colors everything we see." She shifts a half step closer as she follows his example to turn herself to the view again. "Maybe that's why we constantly look to the stars," she muses. "We crave what we can't have, and try to recreate it everywhere we go. When we can't, we come back again, wanting that magic again."
Or maybe she's waxing on poetically about an easy to grasp topic to avoid thinking about those other things on her mind. Whatever the truth, she does wonder about people and their need to be in the sky, to get closer to the heavens. Just not usually this loudly.