Lucky Arrival (C, H, L 3.1)

Location: The Roost
Time: afternoon


It's a drizzly afternoon when a Sippian on a jet ski arrives to inform you Lucky Strike is on his way. Scarcely half an hour later, he shows up - not in the Merrimack, but on a speed boat sprinkled with weapons and menacing art in style like Day of the Dead (crystal and sugar skulls). Lucky has five guards with him, but he enters The Roost with only one - Regal (once the Ivy called "Tuscan").

Litch, where do you set up the meeting with Helix?

Helix, how do you dress for the occasion? Do you ask any of the Talons to stand by your side?

Canary, you're the closest thing to a neutral party here - Merlin strongly suggested you stand witness to the exchange. Tell us - what's your history with Regal, one of the Sippians who seems less bloodthirsty and a bit more cautious?

It's raining again. Wonderful. Something new. At least we've a roof o'er our heads. I think, sardonically. We stand just inside the massive doors leading to the jetty on the Roost's eastern wing. I've dressed up for the occasion, donning my hat and my dry pair of robes. Lucky should feel honored. My mood is strangely buoyant, at least enough to make jokes in my head. Outwardly, I wear the same grim expression.

My eyes in the sky inform me of Lucky's arrival and his gaudy showcase. I'd admire his boldness to enter my domain with only a single lackey at his side. "Lucky Strike," I greet him, my baritone rasp echoing in the entrance hangar. "Welcome to the Roost."

The rain doesn't bother me. It's actually welcome... wet, but clean, washes the salt away. I always feel a little more free after a good rain.

I agree with Merlin, and stand back a ways to observe and be present, but not take a lead in this thing. I'll play my part but it's not about me.

This is bound to be a tense meeting, whatever the outcome, but I'm glad to see Regal walk in. I nod a greeting to him... years ago an explosion damaged the Refuge and left my mother dead on board... in my desperation I panicked and piloted the boat into Sippian territory... it might have been a fatal mistake, but instead, a young Sippian scout saw me first and maybe through kindness for my loss, or some other reason, turned me around and sent me back to safer waters...

It was Regal... I've since repaired the Refuge and become a more confident captain. But my chance to do so may have ended there, if it weren't for the kindness of a young man with no real reason to show it.

We've encountered each other here and there over the years, of course... never spoken of it, but we both definitely remember.

What do you wear to a meeting with a gang leader whose patience you have worn as thin as the veil between this world and the next? Even with so many of my posessions taken back from my apartment, I struggle to find the right thing. Zephyr helps me finally land on a skirt, fishnets, and a cut out t-shirt - a step between casual and formal, revealing but not risque. I don't ask her - or anyone else for that matter - to stand with me at the meeting. I am already asking so much getting them to agree to this voyage - assuming we get the ship - that it feels unfair to ask more.

I know Talons will be nearby, ready to jump in should things turn sour, as I requested, but the actual conversation I'd rather have as near to alone as I can get. I try to channel some of Canary's strong, quiet presence into my own body as the meeting begins, but when I see Tuscan with Lucky Strike, I feel my knees start to quiver. It's part relief, seeing him here even after he ferried me and Nuport off to Wells without permission. And it's part...something unnamable. I meet his eyes, then look away, unable to hold his gaze, or Lucky's for that matter.

I merely nod, content to keep the transaction at the professional level. No need to muddy the waters. "Thank you, Lucky. Our Voice of the Tempest" I say, turning to Helix. "Will provide our part of the arrangement." My mind flashes back to our discussion only a few hours prior, when we had agreed to begin our interaction by giving Lucky the name. Helix had said it was of a personal nature and wanted a modicum of privacy in which to give it to the Sippian chief. "Aye" I had agreed. "But I'll close by, just in case. And then, Helix, we will make our request for his partnership in our venture. As the Voice, you have the authority to begin the negations. I believe in you, lass."

Now, in the present, I offer her a small smile and a nod of encouragement, before giving a signal to my Talons to step back and give them space.

Despite Litch's previous encouragements, when faced with Lucky's simmering wrath and Litch's own strong, contained leadership, I feel fully out of my depth. I may be the Voice, I may embrace moments of power that come from that, but with two gang leaders here, I feel more minnow than monarch.

Though I asked to speak to Lucky personally, when the Talons give us a bit of breathing space, my skin shivers with fear. I've done so much alone, this should feel no different, but it does.

I bring my eyes up from the floor to Lucky's bruised and battered face, guilt thick on my tongue as I say softly to him, "I'm glad you're okay."

Despite my fear, for a moment, surprise surpasses that emotion. "I had no idea Amazon was coming." I stammer a word or two more before I get out in a hissed whisper, "I was knocked unconscious! None of that went how I wanted it to!" My heart racing, blood moving too fast, I finally process the rest of what he said. In a quieter whisper I ask, "What do you mean spirits?"

I walk over close to Regal, a wry smile on my lips, "can't complain, Reg," I look around the room, "look how far we've come, right?" I fidget nervously... thinking of the Refuge and all the history I share with that old ship.

Then quietly, "how you feelin' about this thing?"

So, the Whispers have Lucky too now. For a moment, I worry they're giving up on me and seeking a stronger host. It's only after the emotion hits me that I wonder why I would worry about being free of them when it's what I so often have sought with paltry remedies and loud music.

He says he was good to me, and I struggle not to remind him of his threats at the Belly, the way he threw me to the floor, the fact that he took me prisoner just like the Talons have now. But part of me still wants to believe that was all for show, that the real Lucky is the one I talked to when no one else was around, sitting on the roof and studying the sky.

I can still remember the slope of his shirtless shoulders, the bandaged wound I never learned more about, the tension in his neck as he carries the burden of responsibility for so many people below him and the burden of making his dead mother proud.

"You were good to me. And I...do have the name for you. And a message, from your mother." I meet his eyes, hoping the news will land well. "Hard Strike was killed when she tried to end the deal with the Vaulters for the Merrimack. She didn't want it. She worried the ship would wreck all of downtown."

I hope the hardened reaction is nothing more than Lucky's anger at me leaking out into the world, or perhaps a desire to stand strong here inside Talon territory.

"She was going to burn the ship," I tell him softly. "She would have sooner destroyed it than seen it destroy everything. And that's why Wells had her killed. He couldn't lose that contract."

I watch the separate exchanges from a short distance away. I'm more interested in the Helix and Lucky conversation than Canary and the Sippian, but I observe the body language of all four. Helix looks small and intimidated, yet also curious while Lucky has looked angry throughout the entire conversation. It's hard to get a read on Canary with her back turned to me and most of her torso covered in her long jacket. The Sippian fellow seems to be at ease. Probably wasn't told much by his boss. I presume. I shift my attention back over to Helix and Lucky Strike, waiting to see if I need to interrupt.

Lucky assuming I brought him there to kill Wells is a thousand leagues better than him realizing I only brought him there to make Wells jealous enough to want me. Even still, that does nothing to alleviate the weight of his questions. I feel him watching me and it makes me keenly aware of myself. The cut out at the front of my shirt feels suddenly too exposed, the hem of my skirt just a little too dangerous, and every carefully applied brush of makeup doesn't seem enough of a mask to hide my fear.

"Because you can't kill him," I answer, almost pleading, willing him to understand me. "At least not yet, not while the Merrimack's debt is still unpaid. The Vaulters could never allow the world to believe killing one of them is an acceptable way to alleviate debt. And I don't want to see a Sippian-Vaulter war. I don't want to see what might come of that for you, or Salem." I take a quick breath then ask, in hopes of keeping him calm, "How is she, by the way?"

Just the start of a war?

"I see you're no stranger to a fight... " stating the obvious perhaps, "I hope it's worth it."