The Crossroads of the Aether
Since the year 1607 when the Atlantic coast of North America became colonized by English settlers, the British Empire was always closely watching and keeping a tight grip.
Then in 1775, the now 13 colonies in New England became so fed up with all the crazy rules and tax hikes they felt it was finally time to pull away from the empire so as to govern themselves, be free from the monarchy and to create states in their own country called America. As a first attempt, a unit of militiamen attacked British soldiers in a conflict that angered King George III. He threatened that if a war was to follow, he would make sure it would never end. Sure enough, a war did follow and keeping true on his word, King George did not let the war stop. At one point, the King sent a force to invade New England from the north (by way of Canada) and cut off potential rebel support. This plan succeeded and the war continued on for nearly a year until the American rebels could no longer support themselves in firearms and food supplies and men were being lost everyday seemingly to waves of Royal British soldiers.
The rebels progressively lost their hope resulting in a win for Great Britain.
A treaty was passed. Any English territory in North America shall officially be called British America and all citizens there shall be British.
1837. Queen Victoria takes the British throne at age 18 after her father and 3 uncles die (all of whom were King George III sons) and she being the only rightful heir. Marrying her cousin, Prince Albert, they had a good marriage with nine children. Then in 1861, Victoria's mother dies shortly followed by Albert's death from cancer later that year - striking Victoria with grief and her deepest depression. She avoids public appearances and parliament fears her popularity rate would drop of which it does by some.
Republicans take this to their advantage in hopes to yet again overthrow the monarchy. Outlaws are being hired to form a new army. Trips back and forth to British America to recruit scientist on Penal Transportation to come up with a secret weapon, are underway.
Some say "Long Live The Queen." But what do you say?
"Oh that is such a shame. You should really be more careful when handeling substances like that." Alexander walked off whistling a tune feeling very satisfied with himself. He knew it unnecessary and ufair but on this ship he was not the gentleman of justice that he usually was. While he did not like Thoughtcraft it was primarily because he was a fae. Ever since the incident with Eisenhart he had a deep disdain for all fae.
Cyrus chuckled loudly at the fae dropping or, more like having the china forced out of his hand.
*Emily screamed "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT STUFF DOING TO MY SHIP AND WHY IS NO ONE DEALING WITH IT!" she yelled running to the liquid and ripping her shirt off to mop it up. she looked up at the two gentle man adjusting her vest, "You two had best sort out your petty differences because if my ship suffers from your feud NO ONE is going to here the end of it.! dong ma?" she said to the fae, then turning to Jolokai "understand?"
Cyrus watched as Emily exploded and walked up to her, and looking her dead in the eye, he said "Word of advice, if you know nothing of what these 'petty' differences are, then you should not meddle in them. The ship can be repaired, but a persons past cannot." looking at Jolokai.
James, who had been trying to identify the substance, in order to neutralize it safely, reacted almost immediately after Emily did, his lounge-jacket sweeping off his shoulders and over hers before he'd even noticed the vest beneath her shirt.
His voice is calm, and friendly, but with an underlying hint of steel, and absolutely no trace of accent.
"That's true enough, Cyrus. So far as you take it. But, can't you see that your same argument could be used against you, as well? I know enough about both of you, to know that you've damn fine reasons for disliking or distrusting certain Fae, but you've not given this one a chance, neither of you! Would he still get such hostility from you were he of a different human culture, and your pasts be changed to fit that?" His cane rests in a his right hand, gripped mid-shaft, clearly a defensive ready-stance, should things become hostile, though his left hand remains held up in a peaceful gesture... "As you yourself say, a person's past cannot be changed... Has it occurred to you that he might well have equally valid grudges in his past to twit the both of you like you seem to feel he has? And compared to the dangers of what your little p****** contest could do to the ship, if you three get out of hand, I think Emily's use of the term 'petty' seems an understatement. Need I remind you that we're over the Atlantic bloody Ocean, with no aid in sight, should anything go awry up here? Not to mention, where will the money for those repairs come from? They aren't exactly covered by passenger fares. If they're lucky, the fares pay for regular maintenance, and after expenses, MAYBE some stray coins for the crew's pockets."
Cyrus looked at Mr. Sinclair with murderous eyes "I have known fae for a long time and ALL the fae I have ever known have been murderous cowards." he backed James against the wall, "Imagine, if you can, sir, that you are 11 years old, eating breakfast with your father and brother, when suddenly, the door bursts forward and fae storm into the room and and you are caught unawares as a fist comes crashing into your skull and you are rendered unconcious. When you come to, you realize that you are tied to a chair next to your brother, no hope of escape as two hold you as they are beating your father to a pulp while he pleads with them, BEGGING them, "PLEASE TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST DON'T HARM MY CHILDREN, I'LL DO ANYTHING!!! JUST DON'T HARM THEM!!" as they laugh and ridicule him mocking "please dont harm them, ill do ANYTHING" they gloat when your father is pleading, and if you try to look away, the one holding you back snaps your head back where you are watching them brutally assaulting him and one of them steps behind him and takes out a sword." Cyrus pulls his knife out. "Next thing you hear is your father SCREAMING in agony as the fae plunges the sword into his back as it protrudes from his chest." Cyrus slams his knife into the wall next to James's head. "and twists it around to tear his flesh up" Cyrus twisted the knife into the wood to emphasize his words. "then the being pulls your fathers knife from his belt as he continues pleading for you and, as you are watching in horror, the being places the knife at your fathers thoat and" Cyrus then placed his thumb to his neck and made a guttural sound as he drug it across his neck."SLITS your fathers throat right in front of you, and all you can hear is your father drowning in his own blood as the fae gloat even more, and THEN you lose control of everything and black out. Maybe you have a clear vision of what I went through, and Mr. Sinclair, as far as I care," Cyrus took his knife out of the wall, still looking into James' eyes, "ALL fae are evil fiends who deserve death." Cyrus turns around and starts to walk away, about six feet distance, he turns around, once again looking at James, he says "Murder is never petty. You for one should know that."
James watched him, face impassive, an echo of his earlier sympathy still visible in his eyes, however, as he continues to meet Cyrus' stare calmly, his expression and tone of voice seeming oddly calm and detached from the rage and violence the other man had vented just inches from him. "You just gouged her ship again. I think you owe the lass an apology."
Cyrus looked at James with outrage. "This is why I hate the public, people always take the tiny things into consideration, not the things that truly matter." He said and before James could retort, walked away to his room, where he got his throwing knives out and started tossing them into a standing target, he did not want to hurt anyone.
James sighed disappointedly, glancing pointedly at the other man's heirloom saber as the fuming weapons master departed. "To those who've lost everything else, the 'tiny' things they have left are the things that truly DO matter... I would have thought you to understand that better than most..." He subtly slid the phurba that he'd drawn with his left hand -seemingly out of nowhere- back into apparent non-existance, hoping nobody had seen the glint of cold iron in his palm. He was greatly relieved it hadn't come down to violence, but at the same time, saddened that he'd handled the situation as poorly as he had. Perhaps he would try to make up for it, later.
Cyrus heard him before he entered his room, "I do love the small things I own, I talk about the small problems that people have...." After failing to calm down on the knives, Cyrus closed the door and sat crosslegged on his bed. A few seconds later, he began to meditate, thinking of why he had become angry.
Lord Thoughtcraft overheard the entire affair from his seat, and allowed his thoughts to go to that forbidden time within his memory..... that one night.... Evander's eyes as he was torn away. Watching them pour silver powder into his hair, onto his skin. Whispering words of harsh moonlight...... The horrible sounds of burning flesh and shattering bones.... The screams.... Hearing The Court mock them both for daring to be different races. "The Moon and the Earth should remain separate, Gilded One. How dare you shame The House this way?" Their jeering covering the last noises that Evander made on this earth...
A single tear fell from Lord Thoughtcraft's eyes, dark as the midnight sky. The tear was the color of old, old blood, and fell onto the rose petal, sitting for a moment before hardening into a ruby, and then melting into dust.
"Not all of us are killers." he whispered, before standing and walking away from everyone, tossing the rose onto the holes in the deck, where it splashed more tea out, but instead of eating into the wood, it splattered iridescent blue across the boards. He knew from experience that the stain would never come out. That they might get to know a bit better what 'a long time' means.He stood alone, watching the clouds whip past, thinking about how very, very old he was, and how very, very much the world had changed....
The magician turned to Emily, prodding the sodden and corroding fabric away from her hands with the tip of his cane. "Let me toss that overboard for you, before you get hurt..."
After a long moment, he sighed, "I just came out to enjoy the sun, and have some more Souchong tea with breakfast... I hope this sort of rivalry won't be a regular occurrence."