by Kell Inkston
Jim sniffles like a kid. "I can't..." His expression slowly dulls, empties out, as if Jim were slowly leaving... and then Jim's eyes ignite and the swirling tattoo on his side takes glowing, darkly-colored light.
"Now how the hell did I get out this time?" The Other Jim Masthaven says, having punched through Jim's psyche and taken over.
Cooking Minion stares on in only mild surprise. "I knew there was something up with that tattoo. So are you like, a possessor or something?"
Jim smiles wickedly. "You haven't the slightest idea, Chaos Whelp."
Cooking Minion scoffs, shrugs, and just before sending him on his way, his antennae twitch with an idea. "Say, what are your thoughts on The Captain and his crew?"
Jim laughs. "I'd prefer them in body bags."
"Well, would you like to help me ruin their day by making better food than their head chef?"
"Jim" snaps his gaze over to Boris, roaring out directions to Martaine as he obliterates piles of meat with his giant cleaver. "Seeing as how they'll be dying tonight anyway, I'd have no qualm with upending them one last time."
Cooking Minion smirks awkwardly and shoots a quick, legitimately concerned glance over to Grancis and Boris as they rush through mixing, cutting, whipping one ingredient after another. "Then let's get to work," Cooking Minion says.
Other Jim salutes with a facetious smile. "Let's do this!" He says this just before swerving to face the ingredients and cookware with surprising enthusiasm.
Cooking Minion smirks, leaps to his "non-speech" cooking island, and the two engage in the creation of art.
The Pomp and the Early Arrivals
It's just after noon, and an incredibly-pleased Mayor Irefall exits a bedroom gripping the capable arm of The Captain, doing up his last button. "Lewis... That was wonderful... but... but what about the box?"
The Captain smiles under his bandages. "Consider it your reward for defeating me. I trust to you the contents are indeed on my away crew, and if you're to kill us all - Well, them, then you can wait just an evening, can't you."
Irefall pouts as if she were about to fight back. She looks to him. "Lewis, I'm not jesting with you, you know. You get me all bothered up and don't give me what I want-"
The Captain cracks his knuckles, silencing her instantly. She presses into him, leaning half of her weight on his strong side. "L-Lewis! That's cheating! You know I hate it when you do that!"
Holding up with the schedule, The Captain leads her along back to one of her many personal rooms so that she might get presentable before the guests arrive. "You absolutely do not hate it, my biscuit, and until dinner, I'm your captain."
She turns away from a group of passing maids. "B-but Lewis!"
"I do believe that you were calling me something quite different just a few minutes ago."
Again, she relents and brushes into him. "You certainly know your way around the ladies... Captain."
"I would not dare say such a thing." they turn a corner. "Rather, I just know you well enough to pull all your strings... like any of my crew, really."
She coos lewdly. "Have you ever interrogated anyone like that before?"
"Most people don't enjoy being 'interrogated' in the slightest, my dear."
"But have you?"
They reach her room and step in. A decadent, frilly room with rows of dressers and a vast closet of garments. "Well, there have been times in which I did so unwittingly. Humans are rather embarrassing creatures, you know. They act so tough until you have them strapped down, you persuade out their deepest emotions, and sometimes it just happens to be pent up... frustrations of sorts. Most are scared, some are inspired, some angry, and some, like you, are happy."
She takes up a pair of dresses and begins looking them over. "Oh, I wanted so badly to be your first."
The Captain stands politely at the side of the door. "Well, you were my first that I did it to intentionally... In all my years I never thought you would be the one to motivate me to do it."
"Oh, a person'll do anything with enough pressure." She compares the dresses, and turns to The Captain. "So, this one, or this one?"
"You'd look smashing in either."
"You're not helping..." she holds one of them up. "I think this one makes me look fat."
Rather than asking "then why did you pick it?" The Captain uses a little more tact. "You haven't forgotten you can change your figure at whim, yes?"
Pertalaine laughs. "Well, yes, but that's cheating."
"Do you honestly expect me to believe you haven't spent years customizing your appearance to be perfect?"
She grins sheepishly, looking aside to other dresses. "At least try to play along, Captain."
"I'll do my best."
"Very well," she holds up the dresses again. "Then which one?"
"The left one," The Captain says.
She smiles. "You like it? How come?"
"It offers slightly less cleavage."
She pouts. "Really? That's your standard for dresses?"
"You already know my taste in attire. If it were really up to me you'd be dressed for the ocean."
"Oh, but that's just no fun. This is a party, not some smelly ship!"
"Well either way I still like the left one better. It all accentuates your hair better."
Her eyes spark at the compliment. "You... you think so?"
"Yes."
He crosses his arms. "I don't even comprehend why you'd think the dress on the right would be a good idea."
Irefall draws back. "W...wh-"
"Those tassels are ridiculously tacky. The hemming curls as if it were a tea dress or some other flippant garbage, and again the large window contracts negatively against that as well. It's truly a dress that has no idea what it's doing. No significant life goals- like Jim."
The two share a chuckle. "So you're saying I'd be wearing Jim if I chose this one?"
The Captain pulls up his sleeve to check his watch. "We have twenty minutes. Take the left one."
Irefall jolts. "R-right!" She steps in front of one of the room's many mirrors, undoes the lacing, and The Captain steps behind to help her into it. Only a minute passes for Irefall, who is vastly experienced in both removing and putting on articles of clothing with alarming speed. She spins in place to show herself. "Well?"
"You look wonderful. I will admit I never expected my downfall would be by the hand of someone so fetching."
She scoffs sweetly, like an old maid. "Well, Captain, I'd like you to look just as dashing." She motions over to the mirror. "Come along," she says as she moves up on the dresser and forward to the mirror.
"Come along wh-" The Captain stops himself upon seeing her step in and through the mirror. "Ahh... of course."
Irefall looks back with a mixed expression upon hearing his tone, as if he had just figured out something important. Her smile takes reign over her face just a second later. "Surely, you recall one of the very first magics I gained mastery over was illusory and the creation of secret spaces."
The Captain nods. "It's all coming back." He enters the mirror into a copy of the other room, but looking more like an impressionist's interpretation of it. Colors are skewed, smeared and generalized to create the volume of light and shape, but not necessarily the definition — like walking into a painting.
"Like it? It was actually one of my very first."
The Captain hums in what Irefall hopes to be admiration, but could just as easily be dissatisfaction. "Admittedly I'm not a wizard or any sort of that matter-"
She smiles crassly. "Ahh, but you are quite the necromancer, aren't you?"
The Captain will act like he didn't hear that. "I do think it's quite convincing. I couldn't tell it apart from the rooms reflection at all."
"Most people can't, simply because so few people are ever in this room and even fewer take that time to stare into the mirror to notice the strokes."
"So... I assume you have a few of these, don't you?"
Considering it would only be even
, she acts as though she doesn't hear this. "Now come, this way."
The Captain sighs and steps along. "What do you have for me?"
She leads him into the mirror-realm closet. "It took a great deal of searching, but finally, I found it at an O.E.L. dimension museum."
Suddenly, The Captain picks up his pace - it couldn't be.
Yet, it is. Before The Captain, and hung pristinely in a glass case, is one of his old uniforms still in perfect condition.
Irefall smiles, seeing a rare, true stirring from within The Captain. "Apparently this is one that you ordered as a replacement from the state tailor, but..."
The Captain places a hand upon the glass case, looking over the perfect uniform, like a replica of his own but without the decades and decades of wear. "...Of course. I did tell you that story, didn't I?"
The uniform still retains its mild sheen from the unworn fabric, and the emblem of the Lascardian Space Navy shines brightly upon the breast right next to the rank - High Admiral, second only to the rank of Lord Director, the queen of the fates of all the hundreds of thousands of Ardians under her. The boots are polished with as much care as if The Captain had done the detailing himself. The perfectly shaped admiral's cap proudly displays his rank at the sides, along with his unit's insignia in the center - a golden pair of Ardian wings elevated over a silver sword. At the base of the display was a description line: “Recovered Uniform of “The Commander”, a mysterious High Admiral of Lascardian forces during The Battle of Azuan point who, with great cowardice, fled the line in an escape vessel, and was later destroyed via Vessels of Noble Sigmant’s Pursuer Corps.”
“An interesting interpretation of history,” The Captain thinks as he rises up back to full height from reading.
Irefall smirks. "I hope you appreciate the significant expense of this gift."
For a moment, The Captain almost decides he won’t tear her soul from her body. "This is... it's been a very, very long time since I've received a gift, let alone one of this caliber... Thank you, Pertalaine. It will be an honor to be ousted in this uniform."
She promptly opens the case. "Well, try it on!"
He reaches up to undo his coat and trousers. As if handling a priceless text, The Captain takes up the clothing, pure black in contrast to the poor matted dark gray of his old ones, and puts on the new trousers, shoes, and jacket. He ruffles through the old pockets and swaps out a full assortment of strange things that Irefall is shocked to have not found during their "extended interrogation". Finally, the cap; he takes the old, slightly-crooked one from his head, and takes up the other, just as old, but far, far better preserved. With a sigh, he reaches to the cap to remove the unit insignia.
"Oh, you don't want to wear the unit?"
The Captain stares blankly at the cap. "It's not like the unit exists anymore. That time has passed."
She nudges him. "Captain, you're the unit now."
“Almost….” He mutters to himself, for what reason Pertalaine is clueless to.
He stares deep into the emblem, remembers many faces, the planets, and is certain, after a thought, that they would want him to wear it. He replaces the insignia perfectly, and Irefall coos. "Looks like you really do have a sentimental side! Color me surprised!"
"...Perhaps.... Thank you again, by the way." He places the cap neatly upon his head, and turns for the mirror in the fake realm, this one moved in to be used as an actual mirror and not a doorway.
"You look absolutely smashing! Do you feel ready?"
"Of course, people will be arriving for my funeral soon, after all."
The two laugh morbidly, almost as though neither of them cared what happened after this- it was nice to have a frank moment with the other. Irefall would even almost say this was better than being tied down - almost.
The two step out from the mirroring realm and back into reality. The Captain helps Irefall down from the dresser, and they go through the common quarter hall, down the elevator, and all the way to the front door.
Promptly opened by a pair of butlers, there's already a line of steam-mobiles lined up just behind the dense magic field protecting the manor.
"Quite the funeral procession," The Captain says, winning another scoff from Irefall. "You best let down that field so people can get in," he adds.
She smiles. "Oh? Why now? Do you intend to make a dash for freedom? Do you have someone who'll try to sneak in? Your charming mister La'Coss fellow, perhaps?"
The Captain smiles- he feels like a million bucks. "I don't think it's gotten quite that grim for my crew and I, but even if it were, I know your radio contraption is still up — and I'm certain you have some manner of detecting secretive entries around the perimeter as well."
Irefall nudges The Captain. "You really know me too well. A matter a fact I do have physical, magical, and electronic signal barriers erected, as well as a detection system just in case one is somehow forced through. Believe me, Captain, most creatures, including most eldritch couldn't even put a dent my field. It may not look it with all the pretty windows and open architecture, but this manor is quite the fortress. Now let's let our guests in, shall we?" Miss Irefall begins to raise her hand with a subtle wave, gradually weakening the blue-light barrier until half of the faded symbols wrapping around the air of the manor dissipate.
"This command allow things to enter the field, but not exit. Isn't that exciting?"
The Captain coughs. "Absolutely riveting."
The automobiles proceed forward at the signal of a traffic-directing octopus seasort, filing them into the roundabout.
The first car delivers a ghostly boot onto the ground. Up from the passenger's seat is none other than Captain Livingstone, floating out with hand outstretched. He's dressed in the same tattered coat and boots- he never was one to prepare for social gatherings. “Ahh! ‘Er Gran’ Inventiveness!” He takes up her hand and delivers to it a fleshless kiss.
“Hello again, Captain Livingstone. Could it have been you that got the message over to The Captain here?”
The Captain looks to Irefall. "I do believe I told y-"
"Why yessam! It cert'ly was!" He says, briefly popping his hat off and taking a bow.
A seasort butler, just a giant horseshoe crab dressed in an enormous suit, really, steps up and points his tail to the open manor doors. "Theees waaay, Miiiister~," it says in a way that was obviously meant to be courteous, but just comes off as sinister.
Livingstone floats along with the horseshoe crab. "See ya' two 'n there," he says with a grin as he disappears down one of the manor's many halls to be served hors d'oeuvres, wine, and all that usual plebeian garbage.
The next car is fantastically large, stupidly-shaped, and has a colossal convertible roof.
"You're merciless," The Captain says. "Why?"
Miss Irefall notches over to The Captain as the next car comes up. "Of course, I didn't think you'd mind if I invited a close friend of mine."
"You're not friends and you know very well tha-"
"WELL IF IT ISN'T MY FAVORITE IGNORAMOUS!" A booming voice speaks, overpowering any and all sounds nearby. From the car (more like a bus with one passenger seat) emerges the glory of everyone's favorite floating blue whale and a true noble of the Eversea community, The Duke of Whales. He's entirely nude, which could be considered scandalous were he a human, but he is at least one part whale for each part that he is annoying, and he is quite annoying. All he wears is his standard bowl-sized monocle, and his dainty top hat, resting on the side of his head with both sass, pizzazz, and just a hint of assholeitude.
"Good day. I hope your blood is still flowing through your veins, Sir Duke, it would be a shame if someone were to have killed you first," The Captain says.
Irefall nudges The Captain sharply. "I am Lady Irefall. Mayor of Wreckwind Port. Good day, Sir Duke!" Irefall presents her hand in greeting.
"BAD DAY, MORE LIKE IT! I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO GO TO THIS LAUGHABLE AFFAIR. I SIMPLY HAD A REWARDS CEREMONY CANCELLED SO I THOUGHT IT WOUL
D BE THE RIGHT THING TO DO TO GRACE YOU ALL WITH MY PRESENCE!"
Irefall smiles sharply. "W-well Sir Duke, you do understand th-"
"AND WHAT IS THE PROBLEM WITH THIS MANOR? IT ISN'T WHALE-FRIENDLY AT ALL. I'LL HAVE TO GET A CODE PROFESSIONAL SENT HERE TO CHECK FOR MORE FAILINGS... SO WHERE IS THE FOOD?"
The giant butler returns just in time to lead the duke. "Thees waay, miiiiiiister."
"AHH, THANK YOU MY GOOD CHAP. I WAS ABOUT TO DROWN IN THE MEDIOCRITY OF THOSE LANDIES! ABSOLUTELY REPULSIVE! SAY, YOU LOOK LIKE A HIGH CLASS SORT-" Finally, fortunately, that is as much as the two will have to tolerate of the duke for the time being.
"Wow," Irefall says.
The Captain crosses his arms. "And you didn't believe me."
"I mean... I just never met him. I had no idea he'd actually be-"
"Indeed, incredibly so," The Captain cuts in as the next car opens up.
This one is a very lavish, sleek, small car, and the emblem for the Whihelmishian Royal Parliament is emblazoned so blatantly it's almost tacky. The door opens, and from the opening steps Overlord Greed himself.
He's a short, lizard-looking fellow, but with the skeletal form and posturing of a man. He has neat rows of polished scales shimmering in the bleak, misty sunlight of the port, and as always his demeanor is intensely low-profile, a strong contrast to the gaudiness of the vehicle. His tuxedo is shockingly tasteful, and today he's carrying himself in such a way that, were he a human, Irefall might think him terribly handsome. Overlord Greed is not a seasort, she knows, but rather he's a half-dragon half-human bastardization called a "dragon-kin". While the sort has experienced considerable difficulty surviving in civilized society, Greed is known as one of the few that has himself sorted out well enough to be considered pleasant at social gatherings that don't involve hunting and killing one's enemies.
He steps to the side and opens the door for his escort for tonight, a tall, blank figure dressed in white, and wearing a white mask. Her (its?) hair is long and black. Her overall appearance is incredibly plain in comparison to Greed's well-thought-out ensemble. Of course, she only looks this way because she's not trying to look like anything for anyone, yet, with the exception of feminine. This is Overlord Lust, Greed's partner for a good many millennia, and a grandmaster of illusion magic.