voice & action, 35th metal

[godsays]

[ voice ]

There are... a lot of people.

[ Zane sounds tense; this is his request for help. How does one navigate crowds like this, which he's never seen before, except in situations of violence? How does he take this? ]

[ action ]

[ He tends to lurk and watch, too hesitant to participate. At least someone's made him dress the part; he carries himself enough like a nobleman, still, that waistcoat and trousers look natural on him. He is a young, well-off man, in appearance; just, quiet, and more likely to watch than participate. ]

Comments

[godsays]

[ The realization is written large and plain on Bush's features, and it can't help but make Zane smile. Almost laugh, but not quite; he wonders if it might be taken the wrong way.

He follows Bush into the cabin. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[There is a chart of the lakes there-- Bush points it out, enthusing about the size of them (altogether, perhaps half the size of the Baltic, he thinks), and then remembers himself to offer refreshment, beer or bread and cheese.]

You see, we sailors are dreadful hosts. We've no manners at all. [He looks a little sheepish, even though he's joking.]

[godsays]

[ He's about to refuse, and then he pauses. ] ...is it important for a guest to accept, where you come from?

[ Cultural sensitivity??? ]

[shakenandlimp]

[He's a little surprised at the question, though at least he understands exactly why, after a moment's thought. Zane knows some but not all, and he's trying, bless him.] Not if you ain't hungry. If this was my real cabin and I had something better to offer you, I'd be a bit stung I think. But we are just friends, here. It is not formal, you don't have to worry about that.

[godsays]

Then you don't have to worry about not offering soon enough.

You already offered - this. Sailing.

[shakenandlimp]

It ain't quite the same-! [At least to his mind. He feels his responsibilities more keenly than he feels his entitlements. You can always be sure of the first more than the second, in the navy.]

I am pleased to have you aboard. It's good to be out on the water, but better with company, particularly a friend. And I know how it can be in crowds. Ships are crowded, but bless me you get to know everyone faster than you think until you're bored of the same old stories. In cities, there's so many strangers.

[godsays]

In the Final Empire, skaa didn't... jostle like this. They were withdrawn. They never looked up at a noble's face. This is better, but it's also dizzying.

So what I mean to say is thank you. This is a reward to me, as it is.

[shakenandlimp]

I am glad to do it.

It is a treat for me, too. Like going home. These streets aren't mind, but wind is wind and canvas is canvas, no matter what they've done with steam. [He says that with disapproval.] I have seen a steam navy, when we all had daemons. It wasn't a patch on a real navy.

[godsays]

[ He touches the boat, the lines of wood. ] Why is this better?

[ A real, if somewhat ignorant and offensive, question. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[Even a Mistborn is a landlubber and Bush forgives him for it open heartedly.]

Why, because of seamanship. What'll the discipline of the ship come to if the hands don't have to man the sails? What'll set good captains apart from bad-- even a French captain could manage a sea crossing if he could simply bull ahead under steam instead of making the best of the wind.

And they are so ugly, so dreadful ugly. No clean lines, all sooty and squat like a milkpail with iron cladding.

[godsays]

So it's better because it takes more work.

[ Somewhat bemused. That's really the opposite of what progress is supposed to be. ]

[shakenandlimp]

More skill. Better discipline. [More work. Bush is suspicious of simply charging across the sea, of the apparent idleness it'd induce in the crew. It is the sort of thing Hornblower would like, though, he suspects. ]

Bunch of complicated and new-fangled nonsense, if you ask me. [He doesn't quite sniff his disapproval, but he scowls a bit.]