Topic: Return to Sender

Driftmark

Date: 2009-11-09 15:08 EST
Their ship barely survived the passing through the Southern Seas; even from a distance, the weather roared like a wild mountain cat, battering the sides of the The Queenslayer and sending spray onto the deck. From the Captain's quarters, Marcus observed the chaotic silhouette of Rhy'din City, marred by shots of lightning peeling through the sky. Behind him, Captain Samuel Le Grande burst through the doors, bringing with him the sounds of turmoil and a fresh wash of sea water. "How the seven hells did we get from clear skies to this shit?" Le Grande snarled, slapping the door shut behind himself as the ship swayed under his feet.

"Ka," Marcus replied blandly, but the white-knuckled clutch of his suitcase betrayed his nerves.

Le Grande shot him a look that was nothing short of venomous as he sorted through a scattered pile of maps. "You can keep your ka. I'll get you to shore. Deal's a deal, aye?"

"Assuming you keep me in one piece," Marcus remarked, watching as a funnel of clouds began to touch down on the land, "then yes. I'm a man of my word."

"You're too valuable a treasure to lose, Marcus," he snarled hoarsely, crumpling a map in his hand as he headed for the door again, his eyes hungry on the suitcase in the Irishman's hand. "You'll touch land by midnight, or none of us will."

Marcus watched Le Grande throw himself out onto the chaos of the deck again, a crack of lightning throwing back shadows into the cabin. Exhaling slowly, the businessman looked back to the window and the city that seemed to loom impossibly ahead, untouchable.

Sinjin Fai

Date: 2009-11-09 15:47 EST
When Sabine opened the doors of Ambrosio Enterprises on Monday morning, it was to three inches of water flooding and a phone that would not stop ringing. She issued a surprised noise, fear crawling up her spine, cold; her heels were brand new and she ruined them as she ran toward the library.

The knots in her stomach only released after she saw the security measures they placed on the library proved effective: the water reached the library door, though seemed unable to pass, and the runes subtly carved into the old oak hummed with power. Sabine released a sigh, nearly slumping against the wall, her new heels forgotten. They could be replaced -- the books couldn't, and she would fear to see Bastian should his library be damaged.

Frowning, she walked much more delicately back down the hall and toward her desk, where the phone's incessant tone had yet to end. Sabine began to flip through her filofax for a cleaner's company while she answered the phone. "Good Morning, Ambrosio Enterpri--"

"Where is Sinjin?"

Sabine faltered. She knew that voice anywhere. "Mister Marcus!"

"I'm afraid I must spare the pleasantries, Miss Sabine. Please contact Sinjin for me and tell him to meet me at the docks." He paused, his tone turning wry. "And please tell him to be prompt."

"Of-- of course, Mister Marcus. Right away.."

Uttering what she assumed was a farewell, Marcus hung up and Sabine stared at the phone. "I don't get paid enough," she told her desk quietly, and began to punch in the number for Sinjin's personal phone.


--


Sin had not made it home until well into the morning and what he found had been chaotic. To an extent, he expected it; after all, his house was built on the shore and he could not have escaped some damage. Water pooled out at his ankles as he opened the front door and saw Kavi floating along a scrap of what he suspected was his living room table, looking soaking wet and traumatized.

Understandably, when all was said and done, his desire to actually wake up for anything was very minimal. He let the phone ring several times before he begrudgingly groped along his bedside table for it, hearing Sal grumble for either the noise or the movement. Sin blindly hit the talk button and tucked it against his ear, eyes still shut. "What?" He mumbled.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Mister Fai--"

Sin grunted. "What is it, Sabine?"

"You're needed at the docks."

"The docks? What the hell for?"

"Mister Marcus is there." Sabine hesitated. "He asked-- he said to be prompt, sir."

The Spaniard kept his silence for a moment, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. God damn the man. What did he do now? "All right," he mumbled sourly and flipped his phone shut as he scooted out of bed and began to prowl around the length of his bedroom for clothes that weren't wet.

Driftmark

Date: 2009-11-09 17:05 EST
The Queenslayer arrived at dock in less-than-stellar condition: the foremast was torn clean from the ship, splintered wood and torn sails littering the main deck. Five men had been lost and the crew called it a miracle that it had only been that many, not more. However, upon arrival to the docks where the crews on the shore went to meet them with safety, the Captain refused to let his men disembark until one of their passengers could speak with a man named Sinjin Fai.

Patiently, and still clutching his suitcase, Marcus looked no worse for wear than when he left Rhy'din: his clothing was crisp, his hair tied back and his beard neatly groomed. Waiting on the bottom of the gangplank, the crowd at the dock began to thicken as they wondered what this businessman could hold hostage against the crew.

Though neither Marcus now Sabine gave Sin specific directions to find Marcus, following the hubbub wasn't difficult. Prowling through the crowd and shoving sailors out of his way, the Spaniard caught sight of the Irishman and moved in his direction. "Welcome back," he drawled flatly, eyeing Marcus as he paused in front of him. "Now what the hell is this about?"

"Good morning, Mister Fai," Marcus greeted succinctly, opening his suitcase. "I have some paperwork for you to sign." He pulled out a single paper and a pen, offering it to Sinjin as if he hadn't been gone for three months.

"Paperwork?" Sin asked incredulously, his expression turning suspicious. "What for?"

"A grant of safe passage for the cargo of The Queenslayer. Guaranteed delivery." He left the paper and pen extended between them, his gaze critical on the other man.

"What?" Sin looked from Marcus to the ship, frowning. "Why? What the hell are th--"

"I'm afraid if you decline, they will choose instead to kill me," Marcus murmured calmly. "And they are men of their word."

Sin's eyes cut back to the man; he owed Marcus his life and he was acutely aware of it. For several moments, silence struck him as he measured the weight of his life-debt against the strange, volatile man in front of him. Eventually, and reluctantly, he reached for the paper and the pen. "Call Sabine," he muttered as he signed his name. "Tell her to send a full taskforce of my personal men."

"Very well, Mister Fai." Once the paperwork was signed, Marcus retrieved his phone from his suit pocket and proceeded up the gangplank again to verify with Le Grande. The crowd around The Queenslayer swelled with whispers and curious discontent as the crew and its cargo finally prepared to disembark with their dark-eyed Captain leading the way.

The clinking of heavy metal rolled across the deck as the chain gang trudged toward the gangplank: women, men, all of them marked. A cold hand slapped Sinjin's chest and clutched at his heart. Slaves. They came down the gangplank to await the arrival of Sin's guard and the Spaniard looked at each set of eyes with desperation, but he found no signs of life. These were people of the chain.

Behind them, as the last to disembark, Marcus came down the gangplank for the last time. There he found Sinjin, a look of dumb shock written on his face as he backed away. "What have I done?" Sin asked himself, running a hand through his hair.

"You've paid a debt, Sinjin Fai." The cool cut of Marcus's voice spoke behind him. "And that's all that matters."