02 - Piracy is sentimental with salty bits

[freearcadia]

[Learning in the Vaults]

[Harlock is attending a lesson on how Ether-driven ships work, taking very copious notes, though it's clear some of the more technical terminology being used is beyond his current language skills, phonetically writing down the words with question marks as he also roughly sketches out the parts, murmuring under his breath.

Once the classes clear, he waves people down]

Pardon, would you mind helping me go over my notes?

[Flotsam Taverns cw: alcohol, implied alcoholism]

[It's well past sundown, and the moon is high - the hour is so late that the mood in the bar - The Dancing Skipjack - is undergoing a seachange from rowdy carousing to melancholy and sentimentality. A dwarf with a concertina had just finished a shanty about how the dangers of sea monster hunting is worth it for the village boy waiting for the sailor on shore. A few patrons left, but others not done yet are calling out for someone else to sing.

Meanwhile, Harlock was sitting at a small table, apparently drinking since he sat down, and yet seemingly as sober as a temperance judge, humming softly before he glances up upon sensing someone approaching, before letting out a sound of assent, inviting the person to join him at the table, even as the call for more songs continue.]

I hope you don't mind shanties, it seems like everyone's looking for a little song tonight.

[Locked to Donatello, not long after the mission end]

[Harlock's thoughts turned over the raid, they did well, much better than he anticipated but there could've been more done, difference choices, but right now - he was more concerned how Donatello was holding up - the pirate has seen his share of first battle shocks. It's a reminder to him that while he's used to this, many aren't.

When he finds the turtlekin, he waits for a moment, before calling out]

How are you holding up?

Wildcard

[hit me up at RShini if you want to plot, or just throw something and see if it sticks]

Comments

[purplexing]

[Donnie blinks before nodding a little. That much, he supposes he can understand. It's hard enough talking about people whom you were close to, people who you haven't seen for so long. The thought brings an all too familiar and unpleasant feeling in his chest. He tries to distract himself by finishing off his water.]

Mn.

[freearcadia]

[He pursed his lips, fingers reaching for something that isn't around his neck anymore, before they curled into the palm of his hand, looking about before falling upon the armor proper.]

You know... where I am from, armor like that didn't exist outside of...

[There's no word for Manga here, is there? Not like the interrogators would be discussing their reading preferences with him]

Picture books.

[Oh good thing Yattaran isn't here, he might be upset to hear manga reduced to such a term]

[purplexing]

Picture books..? Oh, you mean like...stories?

[It doesn't quite help with distancing himself from memories of his family. He can remember how when he and his brothers were tiny turtle tots, all curled up in their father's lap as he told them stories from a book filled with pictures. There had been no words, but that had been just fine, because between their father's words, the pictures and their imaginations, they thought of far-off, fanciful places.]

I'd only heard about them a little. Dad would talk about them like they were just things out of stories... But I never thought I'd be able to actually see one, let alone learn how they work. When I joined the Corsairs, they let me watch others when they were working on them, and show me how things went together and the parts that were the most important...

Maybe one day I'll actually get to pilot one.

[freearcadia]

Yes, something like that.

[Being a kid hiding under the covers with a flashlight because he didn't want to go to sleep, sometimes alone, sometimes while staying at Tochiro's place while his father was who knows where.]

Machines like that, they were common in such stories, but they were never taken seriously, impractical, silly, that kind of thing. Never thought I'd see the real thing. Though I don't see why you shouldn't get to pilot one of these.

[...Now he wondered if they'll fit in the Arcadia's hangar.]

[purplexing]

...

[He looks a little conflicted as he studies the armor before them.]

I don't know if I'd be ready for that. I...thought I was ready for a real battle but I kept freezing up at the worst times. If I'm in one of those, I can't be doing that...

[freearcadia]

Nobody is ever truly ready for their first battle, and your concerns are valid.

[He follows the the curvature of the armor, wondering how it'd actually move. At Donnie's words, he tilts his head as so he can see him.]

As to whether that will happen again, well - I can say that tends to happen less the more experience you have. As for the future, only your heart can tell you where you're meant to go - either piloting one of these, or making sure that whoever does will return safe and in one piece.

[purplexing]

[The problem then is whether he can handle more of such experiences. Donnie folds his arms as he lets his gaze drop towards the ground in thought, considering Harlock's words. One way or the other, he knows he's not one to just sit back and do nothing. And he's certainly not going to shirk his responsibilities when it comes to the upkeep of such equipment.

He sighs.]

I guess you're right.