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[galley]

Silas stared into the eyes of Sylvian, attempting to appear strong. He wasn't afraid of her. He simply found her... unsettling. Simply by looking at her he could sense... something odd. He was quite sure he didn't like her.

"Madame, I am sure I can fetch my own tea in the Afterlife. However, I do hope the reception is warm. One can never stand a cold person. In my humble opinion, some people's decorum is simply unbareable. Don't you agree?"

He glared at her icily, examining her face for a reaction, before turning and following Penelope down the hallway. Squeezing past Wuneye, he picked up Lucian in his cage and ran to catch up to her.

"Thank you dearly, miss. May I ask the past of that... woman... in there?"

[Corridor]

"She or he's one of those nutty folk? How interesting!" He caught up with her and began to stroll beside her, examining poor Lucian as he did so. "I thought we had... homes... for them, or something of that ilk. And you let her or him wander around the ship? Isn't that a tad... well... dangerous?" There were a lot of stairs, and so it seemed very dark down here.

"I say! How big is this craft??"

[Galley to Cabins]

Seeing as the population of the galley was slightly decreasing, Dominik decided that it was about time for him to head out as well and go back to his cabin without another word. He passed by Silas and Penelope in the corridor, but he decided against saying anything to them. Once he opened his cabin door, he noticed that his briefcase exploded where he left it.

“Well, that’s just magnificent!”

( a steam mmo? which one? TELL ME ! ^_^)

[deck]
balancing the four bowls carefully he brought them over to the two repair workers and his two mechanics. "no fair that you have to work while we all eat, so i brought you some of Miss Penelope's fine cooking" after delivering his cargo, Daniel heads to the bridge.

[bridge]
entering the semicircle shaped room, the captain moves round the center island of the pilots chair to a shelf containing the ships logs. "I wonder if these should be in my cabin instead of here..." he wonders. pulling out an ink well and quill nib pen, he updates the latest entries with the last few stops they made.

Flipping back thorough the charts, Daniel locates the date when he had crashed. The Khaos had indeed been in port that day, but had left the following day not returning to that particular port for exactly one year. the same amount of time he had been stuck working for the alchemist guy.

"Down right creepy," h says aloud. the thought of the khaos knowing its crew was not altogether unplausable. especially if a spark had built this ship in the first place(or some time after had retrofitted it). but could this ship be able to twist destinies? that was too wild a concept for him. Daniel moves over to the streamlined protrusion in the middle of the room that contained the helm. He still wasn't sure why the cockpit of a much smaller craft had been installed in a medium frigate. sitting down, his wings sliding into the special slots, he asks aloud, "Milady Khaos, I am your captain, are you able to communicate with me?" instead of an answer he gets a strong urge to look outside. upon doing so he spots a skinny man in a lab coat and great big bug eye goggles approaching the ship on the hanger floor with two rather odd looking companions. constructs of some sort. one had four arms and multiple eyes, the other was a short, balding man lugging a cart.

disengaging from the pilots chair Daniel heads down to the deck from a open window at the side of the bridge. thumping onto the deck he is about to look over the railing and call to the two when a net of some sort launches up over the rail and snares him. "WHAT THE DEVIL!?" is all he can make out before the net expands and covers him like a spder web.

----

below on the deck the professor smiled as his spider construct snared his target. "AH Wuneye is ours once again, do pull him in and let us be going gentleman. the big spider mutant reels in his captive and tosses him in the cart. the three leave the hanger and are down the road before even the mechanics had noticed.


needless to say there would be hell to pay once the captain got free, the men were after wuneye? how the heck did they mistake him for the giant!?

~ Galley ~

"He went to bring stew to the mechanics." She stands up and points at Naught. "Sniff out the Captain!" It reassembles itself from a chair into the horrendous semblance of a giant bulldog and squeezes itself up the stairwell to the deck. Sylvian follows, and Tris trails behind.



~ deck ~

The Naught-beast seems to be sniffing out the traces though the sense of scent has nothing to do with it. Its Golem Eye can follow the Captain's trail without any physical evidence at all.

Naught follows the trail to the door of the bridge. Then turns and follows to the side of the deck. And then it LEAPS from the deck, landing with a heavy KLANGG that resounds through the repair hangar and the Khaos. It waits for its mistress to descend on a drop-line. "Lead me to him."

The trio begin walking, without much haste, in the direction the Captain was taken. It incidentally is slowly enough for anyone who cared to follow to catch up with them before they leave the repair hangar.

[[So apparently it wasn't within the hour. It was four days. Dx
Internet had developed a tendency to kick me off when I attempted to post-- but nonetheless, everything seems to be in working order now.
Things should be flowing consistently from here on in~
However, the keeping the Great Wall of Text in check was unfortunately not salvaged ;3;]]


[[Galley~]]

Wooden reverberation in the belly of an almost Altantic ocean; commence the race!
Responsitory blinking, visible acid apple globe shuttering flash- mental photograph accomplished, The Kannibal struck upon the relevation from behind the protective bunker of sherbet curls stuck upon the scalp of her current meat-toy, tongues being chorded in general direction of her vacinity.
Jack The Rip-Rip-Riposte~!

Shaky shaking of vocal devices within the throat of an unidentified source, producing as such a shaky shake of a trebble in the trachea precided by oral cavity of what, judged by means of pitch and envisioned hormones, to exude an adolescent woman. While the trembling greeting in its full was not attended to, much less given appropriate heed of the call-back to reply-- Grinned.
A daunting gesture to be sure.


Swiveled visage to gaze upon aforementioned adolescent woman, where resistance had henceforth been stricken dead, pillaged of clothing, and deemed futile.
Vertically inclined serval upon pretty-prey before knowledge of the event could properly be distributed.
The rations have run out, reginal!

"Ah, kirei! Golden thread in place of locks; respectively, Ms. kitchen kitten has thus merited my respect!"
Arms subject to be strung round the young woman's clavicle like sleepy-eyed garland.
Kitchen Kitten's form being significantly inferior in regards to height, nuzzling cheeks dictatored inheriant skill bordering on a plausible background in contortionism without ungluing Kitchen Kitten from the floorboards--
Perhaps one, in predjudice against The Kannibal's figure, being that of modelesque fragility combined with teething-teetering measurements suceeding the six foot range, would presumpt to the conclusion that the woman knowing little in the fashion statements of strength.
Entering dangerzone~
Evacuate, Pompeii citizens~


"Are you quite all right?"
Nanosecond transfiguration of lips to the stenciling of surprise.
Returned her face from Kitchen Kitten's cheek to eye-digest yet another truffle.
A silly strung-wire of impatience and expedience, monocle-less eye perhaps still carrying the slight squint of its proper-pauper posture, though again light had a curious way to interfere with one's passing interpretation of flesh; established eye-contact from the safety her new and interesting human shield, her new toy's shield wrapped within himself in the manner of bandages to matchmake opposite ends of wounds into kissing, absinthe to drool internal pain to drown, the opiate to scratch for the pretty precursor to being cured~
His mustache was slightly askew!

"Oh dear, sweetling~" Starved saprano flourished within a trachea accumulating dust the heavo-ho's of her lungs could never seem to rid, irregardless of how pure its intentions or how it pushed. "But where so stalks your wife, Mr. Monocle? Your son? One plus one equals a couple, while one more the concept of gene-combination having deeper meaning than said gene-combination, or an affair~"


"She's more all right now than most have ever been. She's free. There's a certain joy that's only achievable by suddenly and simply existing as if you've just begun."

The Kannibal, grin swathed in conversation as well as a now current drifting contemplation of reproduction and its emotional attachments following, initially failed to catch the spine of the particular sentiment uttered, monotonic drenched in sauce sarcastic, ever brimming with dry, wry--
Released Kitchen Kitten from indentured teddy-bear (or cougar, depending on how one would like to go about the matter) service as well as the possibility of suffocation should her fingers slip ever so minutely, questing for such an inflection based on physical capacity to procreate it. Soporific lids halving planetary eyes, befuddled smile having shrunk considerably to something immistakably smirk-esque (However, intentions of doing so are up for debate, among other things including the woman's age and origin).

Swiveled visage to observe the remaining puzzle pieces-- only two left? Really?
The coattails, strangely in undemand of being chased, of a suit stretched across colorform signifying lean body, the cane to the left, drawn brow in heaven and legs in hell.
Astride him, having only recently silkened gore through beige lips to Bibically-conflicted dandy... a woman.
The Kannibal's grin, having commited a sad suicide, lay limp and throat yawning upon mind's Boston Massacre.
Muscles cleverly hidden beneath skin, though their experimental, genius flexing, as one would expect in the ways of man and its nervous systems; shuddering.
Oh. She was rising.
The Kannibal was quite taciturn in respect to the calves tightening, tendons laid cats-cradle amongst cirque-du-soleouses and tribal tribalis anteriors. Observed the transition of light between the slivers of moving anatomy, animated butterfly to wound itself before herself and the motions unrehearsed. Raw, raw, ra-
The bowler hat was bowing!
Fascination having prepared muskets over the body of dead grin; ready, steady--
"Welcome to the Khaos. And, thank you for showing me something I thought I'd never see in my life,"
The bowler hat ventriloquated-eloquated into the woman; the dark irises -what a funny time to bloom- and tigershark marking brows.
Cocking of internal musketeerary; though there were five...
The sudden winking, abruptly losing visual awareness of one nessacary component of the eye as well as its preciding flower with a bonus:
In the second the closing of eye ensued, the second of mutuality; indeed, it had been quite mutual. The nanoseconds combined, shape of two mammary gland-boasting human entities posessing little to no use of a set sight-seeing device.
Fire~!
"An equal."


...The bowler hat had exited the room.
...A damp towel drenching her digits five.
...Mr. Monocle cursing.
...Kitchen Kitten and Bibically-Conflicted dandy having disappeared in tandem.
...Melalin having gone.


Tangible haziness unto the frontal lobe, though it very well could have been attributed to towel clasping bondage-esque her forehead, fluff of bangs resting obedientally above.
Soporific, einstinium apple planetarium eye halved; VIP only, please.
"The Khaos. With a K!"


Click. Click. Click. Click.
"But how is spelled?"
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
Spelling Error. Error. Error.
"It's with a 'K'."
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

[galley]

Alexandria watched Sylvian and her mechanical companions leave the room, and hoped they could find the captain. What if something terrible had happened to him? She could only imagine the scenarios which could be playing out overhead...

With a sigh she watched the strange bleeding girl still standing before her. Why had no one gone to get her help yet?.

Alexandria sat still a moment longer, then rose and took a few quick steps until she was standing before the girl. Apprehension rose unexpectedly in her throat and she swallowed, her pale grey eye widening as she looked at the girl's ginger curls (is that right?), and reached up to feel her own. That was odd indeed.

Tentatively she reached into her dress pocket, withdrew a small handkerchief and gently dabbed at the blood on the girl's cheek.