The Siam-Hannii smiled, nodding by duplicate. "Oh, the captain is quite the indulging woman. Whatever you wish, she'll supply - if you can find it in the cargo hold." She laughed, but was almost immediately cut out of breath by the sudden drop of the service grav-lift. Then, looking up to the ranger with an expression of embarrassment, she added: "I- I don't like not feeling in control of my vessels. This is not a fear of motion." After the gear had been turned in, the two embarked the flagship with the rest of her crew. The solar sails of the battleship began to extend themselves slowly, like the lazy wings of an exodite bird. "Welcome aboard the Intemperate Phantom, Kythramil. The proud command ship of the Vent Iladre" said the Siam-Hanii as they reached the main lobby. "I'm not too certain if I am the right person to greet you, but around here, not everyone gets a welcome or a good farewell. People embark, people go." The vessel was a lustrous palace of gothic-like Eldar design. It seemed more like a pleasure sanctuary more than a battleship, but its teeth still showed beneath the opulent of the surface.
The Ranger followed the Bonesinger and was given a cabin. Though it might seem small compared to the suite anyone might have for themselves aboard even the most crowded Craftworld, it was luxurious to the Wanderer, who'd lately stayed in some dives as sordid as Humanity could contrive - which was saying something. The Path of the Outcast does not lend itself to luxury. He took in everything: the tiled marble floor, the deep rug covering most of the mosaic design, the fluted wraithbone and psychoplastic of the walls, decorated above the bed with a mural of abstract flower patterns that might be dancing spirits, or twining plants, or both; the low table of inlaid wood, scattered soft cushions, an alcove to a washing-chamber, and lastly the bed itself, a riot of silk pillows and down quilts and even the exotic skin of some great furred beast. It was all he could do not to test it out right away, jumping on the mattress like an overexcited child. But he was conscious of Minnaloushe being there, so he just looked impressed at all the elegant, slightly barbarous exhuberance of the decor. Anyway, it wouldn't have been possible to hide that with eyes like saucers. Once he'd stowed his small amount of gear, she welcomed him formally to the Vent Iladre - as formally as anyone would be likely to get, it seemed. Kythramil answered with a bow nonetheless. "Thank you, sister. I understand that the customs of a crew - of a fleet - come from its Captain, and I shall abide by them. But it's good to be welcomed - that's what I would do, if I were in your place. Have you been with Captain Caedessin long?" "I think we should go and report to her," he said, as they walked along, "unless you have other orders?" The Ranger was still feeling his way amid the structure of the ship-board rules - if indeed there were any - but reporting in to the enigmatic Captain seemed like the best place to start.
"No, I have no orders. I was told I was to seal that crater in our hull and that a Kythramil man would aid me. That was all" she lied, then regarding his other question, Minnaloushe thought a moment, leading the ranger slowly through the opulent higher domes of the battleship, leaving the barracks. "I've been part of this ship's crew for almost all my life, though I've been transported to Siam-Hann when the fleet went to war every time - I am regarded as non-fighting personnel on request of the Vent Iladre's previous leader. You see, captain Caedessin has not been the captain for awfully long. This ship used to belong to her lover, Y'thel the Black Lance - legend of the tyranid wars. Perhaps you've heard of him? He was of Siam-Hannii blood, as are the best of us" she winked, holding her chin up high. Past the barracks and all the recreational areas, the ship began resembling more and more a battleship - the candelabras replaced by organic lights emanating from the walls, the Eldritch Goth motif changed to minimalism and practicality. "I served under Y'thel's when I was very young, if only as a courier. This battleship... Didn't look the way it does now, Y'thel was a ranger, not a fancy Commorraghan princess" she laughed again. Minnaloushe seemed to feel at home in the Intemperate Phantom, and she was well-known.
So, she was a child of the spaceways and the Captain, recently bereaved of her love. Kythramil stored the information away and promised himself that he would try to hold it in mind should the enigmatic Captain seem erratic - well, no, in truth her wild ways had already showed like the moon from behind a curtain. And there was something entrancing about that light. Doubtless just one of the reasons the young like himself were warned away from Pirates. "Well," he said as they walked along, watching the almost baroque and certainly elegant decor turn to that of a more functional and practical style, "of course I know of Y'thel the Black Lance. Everyone on the Wandering Path has heard of him." He watched as one of the crew exchanged a friendly nod with his young guide. "His exploits are famous enough for even a new hand like myself to know his name. But I'd like to know more of him, if you had the privilege of knowing him. If that subject doesn't feel too close to discuss, of course." Ever the Craftworlder, ever mindful of the values of compassion and decorum. To talk about oneself is rude; to listen to another's tales, perfectly acceptable, quite polite. Kythramil saw no paradox in this, adept as he was with using the swift and adapatable Eldar mind. But ... "Those of Saim-Hann are also known for their modesty," he said, keeping his best deadpan expression just until he got to see her react. One of the gifts of the Wandering Path, after all, was a little more freedom.
"Ah, well, that was a short friendship, the eternal tragedy of my life," the Wanderer continued breezily, "though who knows or can dream what was lost, all because I chose to use humour rather than stoic caution, let the Bards of twilight lament ..." "Still, I think the Captain would be disappointed if you got my blood all over her deck, karanye, and then I would just have to live with having disappointed a beautiful Saim-Hann girl." [OOC: karanye, a term of mild affection]
After a brief further silence, the Siam-Hannii burst into laughter. "Oh, you craftworld Eldar are so weird!" The girl's laughter kept on for quite longer than it would be acceptable in a craftworld, and it was far too uncontained. Finally, she began to come down. "And so charming, too" She said more seriously. "Now, before we get to the captain, I would like to ask you... What made you choose your Path? The one that wanders. Why are you here?" Her inquiry seemed full of curiosity, more than anything else. Her eyes were alight with it. "I know you asked me a question first, but about Y'thel you'll have time to read about in historian records." The pilot then laid against the concave transparent material that separated her from the void - made it look like she was laying on stars.
(OOC: I know what cara means, Jorimel. Italian is one of my four languages. Karanye is brilliant, by the way.)
