Cue montage music

[rubyrubyruby]

Some time has passed with recoveries, repairs and recon. The table bearing the canvas filled out into a collaborative work of art with squiggles, notes and smudges (some fiend may have added sea monstahs). The sword, notable wrecks, geo-vents and even the Corsair resists all attempts at ignorance and exorcism, and has a place reserved on the chart for future comeuppance.
The recuperation period has done wonders for the population of the fleet and Sidonie's pills have warded off complications for some people that took a dip. The idea to jerk around the islands' guts to jack them in the upwards position was deployed successfully after daybreak the following days. Sprung traps levered stubbornly in the ~sprung~ position make excellent safer looking places to anchor and use as a screen from mainland eyes. And that's the next stop: Landfall with a savvy group of souls to acquire a foothold and a sitrep on whether the fleet's Arks can just be driven in hard like a trio of immense juggernauts of food, industry and fauna.
Ruby thinks the Beast can get in close with her sneaky Smuggler's hull, and the group and get ashore via a longboat, carpet, flipper or another dip. "Aye...Pack for landlubberland. All we gots tah doo is meet, greet an not get used for meat." She eyes the two blokes. "You gots your potions, aye? Best tuck them next tah your dufflebog. "

Ruby has stripped down to something out of a Frank Franzetta painting. The type of garb shrieks amazonian at the top of its lungs, and provides some modesty but very impractical for any actual protection. An axe with a bit of a structural schism running its length is on her back, and a sundry of knives are worn bandoleer style between her breasts. A golden coil of netting is slung the other way to complete the cross-crossing X. There's a lot of skin and tatts on display. Her hair is drawn back severely from her face

It takes Maggie a bit of time before she is ready to go. When she does make her way up to the deck, she seems much improved from the rest and recuperatoin, not to mention quiet time with her husband. Probably more that than anything else, really. Dressed similarly to Ruby with a preponderance of leather strips strategically placed to grant modesty without an over abundance of coverage. Her belt of many pockets appears to be more than half full, though the pockets are closed. It is certain that she has a small light source, at least one knife, some waterproof matches in a small container, twine, some Dilwen concoctions, and a few snack bars. In case someone is hungry? Maybe. The other pockets contain odds and ends of this and that. Stuff that has proven helpful in other adventures. She has a mismatched pair of cutlasses, one on each hip. This time, she does not have her flame enhanced sword and she might feel that lack. Her hair is pulled back to expose her high forehead, setting her emerald eyes to glittering in her almond and honey complexion. A long braid swishes against her back, the swirls tamed such that red and crimson blend and weave into orange and back through autumn's ruddy tones. Her expression is grim as she looks out across the water toward the island. Moving up next to Ruby, she speaks in a low voice pitched to be heard by only those nearby, "Ready?"

Clive arrives aboard the Beast dressed and ready to go for normal sorts of underwater swimming. Climbing up from a longboat, he tosses a backpack with some gear up onto the deck, then pulls himself up next. The Selkie's hair is tied back in a stubby pony tail, he's opted to leave his shirt behind with his boots, and he's traded in his pants for a pair of fitted fish-scale swim trunks. A belt around his waist as a few pouches and a knife sheath at his back, while another knife is strapped to his calf. Looking about at everyone, he nods in turn to each of them in a wordless greeting while taking up his bag to head on over toward them. "Ready as I'll ever be. Potion is here."

Merrisol has one of those prestochangeo potions too, by the look he gives Ruby for this and past comments about his being a prime candidate for feminization. That one remark about him needing *more* eyeshadow haunts him until the Patterns fade. While he has assembled a case for scientific studies, and a duffel of mechanical doohickeys for barter in what seems a tech-friendly shadow, he is uncertain about the need for aggressive accoutrements. In the end, he selects two harpoons for his harness, weapons which could just as easily claim a practical, outdoorsy sort of utility. He's at the rail taking some pH readings for the hedge replanting pots, when Ruby arrives on deck gleaming in her Body Beautiful Warrior Princess stylings, and after her Maggie also appears in much the same eye-popping fashion. Merri absently sets the botany equipment aside and turns to the trend-setters for some open-mouthed staring. "I... missed a memo, I think," he mutters. He is dressed quite regularly, one assumes, with his dark green tiger cloak covering most everything except the boots. "Are we quite certain an advance party of femmes wouldn't be most advised for gathering initial clues about the current societal attitudes?" Shut up, Kerf... this is for Science!

Sidonie does not own strappy leather things. It would not have even occurred to her to dress such, except that a peek outside her quarters revealed femme crewmates in some really fantastic stuff! There was a gulp or two, a frantic look through her frankly unremarkable ensembles for something that wouldn't make her feel like a prude in comparison. Baby steps. The breeches are more snug than usual, possibly, the sash around her waist a shiny and garish red. The fine blue silk shirt is not buttoned all the way up, egads!, and is open at the collar, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal brown, freckled arms criss-crossed with light scars. The nasty black dagger and her gorgeous jeweled cutlass are sheathed and prominently displayed. Her dark hair, the only feature truly let free with any abandon, is in a riot of curls and waves down her back, with a few small braids keeping the worst of it away from her face. She carries her biggest pack with plenty of medical supplies and barber implements, should such services be required. She emerges from belowdecks and she goes a bit wide-eyed at Ruby and Maggie! Zowie! Clive and Merri get a curious look, too. She can't WAIT to see what happens when they take those potions!

The Beast is ordered to haul anchor and arse. It peels away from the fleet at anchor and heads due west. The fractured moon has since lowered beyond the horizon and the sun has risen. The ship's indentity, flag-wise, has been lowered. All sails are set for speed and the vessel tacks hard with the wind. While underway, Ruby tries to address some of the concerns. And oogle quite a bit. "Can't wait tah take a swig, can ya?" She leers like a creep. "Listen, it ain't your fault, always wonderin why fate would roll a pair 'o dice your way. Shame it only a brief taste 'o perfection an completion, but Justin an Giselle can only work temporary miracles." Hands on shoulders, adopts a pose. "You make a very good point, as we should make tha best first impression possi-ble. Once we closer though, cause I think these femmebrews gots a time limit. Wouldn't want you tah pop out a taboo in tha middle 'o a 'owd-doo-yoo-doo."

The wind does pick up with the dawn, first in curls and swishes, then in a brisk, sail-moving, hair-wafting fashion. Turning as the others come up and the Beast begins her run at the islands, Maggie shares a faintly embarassed glance with Merrisol, then saunters across the deck to join him. Listening to Ruby, she crosses her arms before her, hip cocked slightly to shift her balance the other way. Licking her lips a bit, she presses them together to bodily avoid some commentary or other. Her eyes finally lift in a faint roll toward Merrisol, then center back on Ruby again. This is a talk for the gentlemen and Sidonie, really.

As Clive looks the others over and sees the course the Beast is taking, he asks, "We walking right through the front door or we diving down? Should I, er..." He looks to Ruby and snorts, "Get yer mind outta the gutter there, Cap'n. Not very becomin' fer a Princess." This talk of temporary potion work has his thoughts captured as he looks over in Sidonie's direction and then promptly spills them all over the deck. There is a double-take happening before he recollects himself and asks, "Hey, Doc. Right, so... Any rough idea how long we got? Imma probably wait until the last minute, I guess? And maybe put on a shirt..." His eyes drop down to his bag as he pulls it up, undoes a buckle, and starts to unroll the waterproof top.

Merrisol gives Clive a nod, taking the simple surfer dude attire in stride at first. He blinks a couple of times at Sidonie's big rockstah hair, but smiles at her interpretation of Docs Gone Wild. Still not absolutely sure he wants to be along on this sexiful masquerade, and it hardly helps when Ruby rolls out her collection of JustaBloke taunts. Glancing back at Clive for some kind of support... support... he presently does realize that yeahhh, a shirt is definitely in order there! His smile teeters off-kilter into the surreal, though, when Maggie gets into the performance too. Sauntering! Hip-juts! Hair-flips! Merri swallows, hard, adam's apple bobbing all bloke-ishly. He tosses a hand up in an exasperated gesture at Ruby's last crude jab, rubs his mouth, then nods in resignation. "Fine. Yes. Let's at least get the story straight before the skiff hits shore?" He goes to load his items on the longboat.

Sidonie snickers at Ruby, though her eyes stray back to Clive and Merri with something like concern behind her spectacles. This is trippy stuff. Should they do something about undergarments? Is that even a consideration? Should she lend them something? Should they transform in private to get used to the undercrackers rearrangements? "Hi Smiles," she greets Clive a low voice. There's no indication she noticed the double-take. It's unlikely she did, knowing her. Then she replies, "I don't know," with an apologetic, tight smile, and casts her fretful gaze out to the approaching island. "You know where the doctor's quarters are, right?" She tilts her head at the door that leads below, this last bit meant for Merri as well. "You can head on down and get yourself situated if you need to." Merrisol's mention of a story gets a nod from her. "More feminine-sounding names, maybe? Or is that even necessary, really?"

Land is not long in appearing on the horizon while preparations are getting dealt with. On the mainland, vegetation is next to nill by the ocean, and what is there doesn't look what might be considered aesthetically lovely or inviting. Weeds, scrub and vines can be robust but these are not going to win prizes for appeal. There is thicker looking jungle deeper inland. There is an awful lot of jagged coastline. Not so much carved by the elements as it looks to have been literally clawed at by the swipe of an angry Elemental. Where the sea meets the rock looks perilous for big girls like the Beast. A series of dilapidated oil rigs help ruin the vista with their skeletal steel forms. Like dinosaurs that died standing up and were picked clean. Those structures are not in the way of the mainland proper, and the Beast is headed towards an ugly grey habitation built into the side of a cliff face. Tiny windows too small for anything but a birb to enter or leave from. Sheer walls that look impossible to climb. Ruined towers at the corners of those tall walls.
The femme in the crow's nest calls out a husky ~Land Ho~ which is echoed and confirmed by other look outs. Ruby gets a bit anxious and frazzled. She moves to the rail where the longboat is being loaded, and leans against it and peer ahead. "I wonder who they gave me room to when I 'ad tah leave." She offers a mental shrug at her momentary ponderings to come back to the here and now. "Roight. Stories. Names? Ooooo, if thinks so. We may look a real buffet anyways, but we can use this. This place seen a lot 'o visitors an strangeness. Not ~acceptin~ 'o all strangeness, but they be 'ardened against some things tha would make eye pop out. If we pose as mercen-aries or separated from some warband, tha not raise any eyebrows. An they go cuckoo for some trade we bringin. Trade will smooth tha way. So long as we don't appear too strong...or remind them 'o past oppressors...or smell 'o Bog...or do gratuitous magic tricks...or mention Bog...or appear too weak...or give off tha wrong signals...or 'ave an unclaimed male...It be just fine. Easy!"

Maggie smiles at Sidonie, then sobers when the Doc details some of the difficulties the men are about to experience. She slips a long look up to Merrisol, then down to his chest and back to Ruby, "So... Did either Giselle or Justin mention anything about conservation of mass? Or is there some norm the potion angles for?" Leaning closer to Merrisol, she adds, "I have some undercrackers," word adopted, yo, "in the cabin. Would you like some help with the fastenings? Though, if your relative size remains the same, mine might be too small." Her voice trails off as land is called out. She turns to watch Ruby at the railing, then lifts her gaze to the cliff dwellings. A long, slow inhallation begins and her hand moves to touch Merrisol's gently, fingers twining in his for a brief squeeze. Her free hand rests on the gold metal of the cutlass' pommel and her expression sobers. Inviting place, ain't it?

Problem Number Two is now discovered in Clive's obviously poor planning for this. He really only has white shirts. After pulling it out, he is staring at it and looks back up with pursed lips. "Thanks, Doc. I'll take ya up on that. I mean, I might also... Uh. I." Like a teenager who can't ask the girl to the Under the Sea Ball, Clive is now having difficulty with asking if he can borrow some manner of garment he now finds himself in need of. Finally, he gives up on this and waves a hand back and forth through the air to wipe the unapproachable notion away. How did all this come to happen?! "Right. Nevermind, I got an idea. Back in a flash. Just think up a name for me, huh? Something I won't hate?" With his bag in hand, he's rushing on off to the offered private space to go quaff that potion and change up.

Merrisol returns to the debrief area just in time to catch Sidonie getting quite literal about it! She didn't come right out and say Undercrackers, but he seems to get the gist of her concerns, even dropping his head forward to frown down at himself. Then with the help of extraneous commentary, it all sinks in... or out...? Or... Nooooooooo. He startles a bit over Maggie's offer. "Lir's Gears... I'm going to be wearing your knickers, Hotstuff?" Wait... the stripy cotton ones or the lacy silk ones..? Wait. Noooooooo. Then he finds himself eyeballing Ruby's warrior bikini bottom. "I... uh. Clive? Where'd he... right."

Sidonie would laugh, if it wasn't so excruciating. The look she gives Clive is one of absolute devotion, tenderness, and intent observation. Because he's adorable, and she also needs to be able to recall this event for the rest of her life. "I'll think of something," she chokes out, somehow managing to not smile. Her head turns to watch Clive rush away, and she says before he's out of earshot, "Trunk at the foot of the bed."

Maggie nods to Merrisol though her, "If you want to, Beloved." She does not reiterate that the concern about the underpinnings. Nuff said on that subject. Her hand lingers in his, hopefully warm and reassuring. She looks again toward the railing, the wind in the sails ruffling her hair a bit even bound as it is in that braid. A quick inhallation and she nods once, sharply, "Let's get this done. We should be close enough to the island that the potion won't wear off before we leave."

Merri gives Maggie's hand another preoccupied squeeze while he gazes at the stairway hatch to the crew level in deep consideration. Then he takes a deep breath, letting go of all that masculine fuss, and smirks over it all. "Believe I should just take it here, now," he decides. "Let's see what comes of it, and decide what else I need then." Sharing a look with his spouse to be sure /she/ is ready for this as well, he takes the vial from his pocket and examines it carefully to make certain it is the correct one, with Giselle's maker's mark on the glass, before pulling the stopper. A wisp of vapor rises out, but Merri lifts the small bottle up without further hesitation and tosses the liquid straight down his throat!

Longboat away! Hey, who wants to row? There's oars aplenty. Ruby intends to get a pair of oars and is wrapping cloth around her palms as she peers down at their skiff lowering past curious alcoves that Merrisol was mucking out earlier. Poor vines. Ruby almost misses their carnivorous attempts to eat anything within swiping and paddling distance. But perhaps with Fancy Man's TLC, a new breed can harass and help control the bilge rat population one day soon. She puts a foot up on the rail and adopts a hero pose, potentially blinding anyone oogling too much. She calls over her shoulder, "Aye lay-deeeeeees?"

Maggie looks up from her preoccupation. Catching Merrisol's gaze she offers silent support along with relief and trepidation. Slowly, she gives him a nod and a quiet smile. The whiff of vapor that rises from the opened bottle is noted but does not change her expression. While it is not 'go for it', it is 'I am with you, Beloved'.

In Clive's case, his overall mass remains largely the same, with some of it going into hips and such to the point that he has... a figure. His height is the same, some features have softened, he's as lean as he was before, and thankfully the stubble is gone! He'd managed to acquire the necessities for this new shape and has rejoined the group after downing it and tacking on his shirt over top. Of course, the shirt didn't exactly fit, so it's not really buttoned up and is instead tied off in front. It's meant to be worn that way, right?! But, paddle duty comes up and he is now pulling a pair of leather gloves out, but finds them to be... sized incorrectly. Grumbling ensues as he decides to use them anyway. A closet full of clothing and he has nothing to wear! Curse this form!

There is of course, a complete work stoppage for this. Rigging, deck and the rest...They're waiting and watching for the group to assemble for their journey to shore. The rumours of a gender presto-change-o potion have made the rounds. Ruby has stressed having more femmes visible on deck when they get closer to the mainland, in case their destination's peoples are employing spyglasses. Something about cultural bias and first impressions. Ruby is dressed akin to a Frank Frazetta fantasy pin up and showing off skin and ink aplenty.

Sidonie stares at Clive. Girl-Clive! First with astonishment, then with a squint to figure out if he does indeed look better in her clothes than she does? He does, doesn't he? She watches him go about putting on the now too-big gloves, still unable to move. Then she clears her throat. "Ah, Susan. I went with Susan, how's that?" Sid says as she manages finally move, and heads over to where they're loading up into the longboat. She's got her own gloves on, though judging from her relative scrawniness, she usually doesn't get chosen for rowing duty.

"So long as it really does work without the months of product testing one might think should go into an effect of this magnitude, it is a rather clever bit of alchemy." Merrisol talks out his nervousness, eyes the opened bottle, and attempts to restopper the opening, but it's like it's been tamperproofed. "Hmn. Probably proof against tampering tricks," she says. Wait... she! She sways, then staggers a bit, staying upright with Maggie's help as she acclimatizes to a new center of gravity. As with any shapechange, there is no actual metamorphic process or halfway stage, and thank Bayle for that. There's a shimmery blur for a moment, and when it clears up, that highwayman cloak is fitting much more loosely and there's a different person's head poking out the collar!

Except... not so different really. Clever potion really grabbed those genes or whatever and tried to iron something out in a matter of seconds. Grimacing back upright, Merri urgently pulls at the coat's fasteners and totally flashes Maggie and whomever with its contents, dressed in a white shirt and tan slacks now just falling down. Taa-daaaa! The height stays the same, and when the female form has to stretch that much there are bound to be some... giraffe-like oddities. A broad shouldered, leggy, armsy gal, narrow-hipped. Bosom set high on an athletic torso and looking confused with the principles of gravity. Her features are aquiline and strongly reminiscent of the man's, with the thick blonde brows and piercing green gaze. Finally, potion put a bit of wave into her hair, if it couldn't actually pull any extra length from it.

Diana comes from below, sweat on the brow and her blouse unbuttoned enough to show a hint of collarbone. With the sleeves rolled up past the elbows and entirely too clean hands, it bares the question as to what she was doing. What she is stopping for now is to observe the change and the sheer bustle of activity as the crew prepares to put off for adventures unknown. Respectfully, she resists the urge to wave a handkerchief in their direction.

Ruby turns about to greet the f-away team. She tilts her head and takes in the new polymorphed people. It's an boggling display of two alchemist's working towards a similar goal. And eye-wideningly, no matter what she was expecting, the reality is something else. "Bog's boulders." Her jaw hinges and she breathes shallowly and she has a bit of a derpy leer.
The crew is mostly femme above decks, but there are eyes in hatchways from the blokes, like animated cartoon eyes in the dark.
Ruby beckons towards the longboat. "Foine, really foine. I gots tingles on me tingles."

"Susan?! I look like a Susan?" Clive's voice is not at all striking the same sort of note it ordinarily would. There's no roughness to it and has softened considerably to the point that on the first time hearing it, it catches her completely by surprise. "Yeah. Yeah, that'll do just fine. Thanks, Doc." The corner of her lips curve upward in a grin for a moment before shaking her head. "Focus up, Cap'n. Let's get a move on, huh?" Dropping her bag down next to her feet, she stretches out a hand to help Lhasa on into the boat.

Maggie keeps her eyes on Merrisol, eyes widening as the change takes him and turns him into a Magical Girl. Luckily, neither Giselle nor Justin encluded any swirly, clothed to nude to clothed montage with their transformation magic. Still, the result is striking and Maggie inhales deeply in order to keep her grounded. The stumble is caught, steadied, sparking a faint grin. "Darling, you are stunning. Although... Come to think of it, you strongly resemble your cousin. Only more so." The glance she spared for Susan is immediately turned back to her femme fatale spouse when Merrisol exposes what the cloak hides. Another throat clearing is called for! Oh, yes it is. So she does that while her brain spins out and back again. Wierdly a line from an ancient musical from a Shadow long gone to Chaos or Destruction floats through her memory though she does not spare the time or attention to try and chase down where she heard it. She'll quietly blame Martin and file it away. Natch. That there are others on deck and a mission waiting. Pull it together, Maggie. "Uh..." A blink and she smiles a bit apologetically, "Right." Diana's voice tugs at her attention and she waves almost distractedly, "Hello, Lady Lethem."

Merrisol makes a grab for her pants as they slither south, and then spends a few moments in silent bent-overness. So thaaat's why Sidonie was offering them the privacy of her office and cabin for the change. Well.... what's done is gone... err. Done, that is! Right. She stands back upright, cinching her belt to keep the trousers from escaping again. "My cousin.. Cousin Rilla? Really? Carp, well... sorry darling," she turns to Maggie, trying for some sort of nonchalant rhythm to her movements. It looks like the beginning of a Stomp Dance routine. "I wouldn't have fit into any of your things anyway, I think." Voice is still deep, but it's womanly deep, also known as Merrisol's Falsetto.

Her head cants as she darts a gaze at others nearby, lingering on Susan as the attractive She-Clive pitches her first Hissy. "Whoah.." Merri points surreally, like maybe nobody else on board has noticed, even though Ruby's and Sidonie's boggling is quite evident. "Right... let's go."

She notes those menfolk staring from the hatchways and recesses, and eye-lasers them on principle, then turns finally to Diana. "Good afternoon, Lady Diana..." How to explain. Hmm. "Hardcore femme culture. Men possibly in collars. And so." That should clear everything up? Without waiting for questions, she turns away and stomp-dances for the lowered longboat.

Diana says, "A wise precaution," Diana says, "You would look terrible with a collar." She returns Maggie's nod, but does not speak further for fear of holding up the procession as Sidonie walks Susan Clive to the longship as well. "Do well. All of you.""

RPG: Merrisol declares he is consuming token fxn:
-------------------------------------------------------------------[ fxn ]----
Author: Giselle Held By: Merrisol
Date: Tue Oct 9 14:31:01 2018 Focus: 3
Title: Victor/Victoria
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Created via Alchemist (ALC-AL): power-token token-3 type-magic
Gift description:
This character can brew potions for a variety of effects. A potion may be given to anyone, and used by anyone. Each individual potion is represented by a 3-Focus token; the token must be consumed when the potion is used.
Specifically, a potion affects the drinker for up to the duration of a scene. It can generate a single effect, similar to a 5-point chargen-available RPG gift that affects the body. Examples of such effects include temporary immunity to fire, the ability to breathe underwater, and the ability to move exceptionally quickly. It cannot grant mystical abilities that do not manifest themselves in a direct physical manner (for instance, it can grant the ability to breathe fire, but it cannot grant the ability to create a glamour, speak with the dead, or sense the presence of magic). It is not mind-influencing in any way (with the exceptions of sleep, uncontrolled hallucinations, and the like, which are treated as strictly physical effects). If this is used for shapeshifting, only mundane animals that grant no combat advantage and have no special abilities are permitted, and the animal must be determined at the time the potion is created.
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Token Description
This potion will alter a person to their opposite (traditional) gender for one full scene, as though they'd been born that way. Nothing will prevent the drinker from returning to their original shape afterwards. The new body is infertile, so becoming pregnant or impregnating another is impossible.
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RPG: Clive declares he is consuming token FSY:
-------------------------------------------------------------------[ FSY ]----
Author: Justin Held By: Clive
Date: Wed Jul 11 21:12:13 2018 Focus: 3
Title: The Contrary
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Created via Alchemist (ALC-AL): power-token token-3 type-magic
Gift description:
This character can brew potions for a variety of effects. A potion may be given to anyone, and used by anyone. Each individual potion is represented by a 3-Focus token; the token must be consumed when the potion is used.
Specifically, a potion affects the drinker for up to the duration of a scene. It can generate a single effect, similar to a 5-point chargen-available RPG gift that affects the body. Examples of such effects include temporary immunity to fire, the ability to breathe underwater, and the ability to move exceptionally quickly. It cannot grant mystical abilities that do not manifest themselves in a direct physical manner (for instance, it can grant the ability to breathe fire, but it cannot grant the ability to create a glamour, speak with the dead, or sense the presence of magic). It is not mind-influencing in any way (with the exceptions of sleep, uncontrolled hallucinations, and the like, which are treated as strictly physical effects). If this is used for shapeshifting, only mundane animals that grant no combat advantage and have no special abilities are permitted, and the animal must be determined at the time the potion is created.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Token Description
This potion tastes like a Rose Red wine with a sweet apple aftertaste. Experimenting is the key to life! Who doesn't secretly want to experience a change here and there? Especially if it is just for a short time! Whoever imbibes this concoction ends up changing from their current sex to the opposite sex with everything they could possibly want for the thrill of a liftetime.
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Maggie's hand darts over to try and help Merrisol with those pesky trousers but she has it under control. Sort of. The stomp-dance catches her attention and sparks a hint of a smile, eyes sparkling with mirth. It is adorable, see...? Turning heel to toe, she waves again to Diana, but addresses Merrisol. "Rilla is a lovely woman, Beloved. As her cousin, I would not expect you to recognize that. Her exuberance and zest for life do make her difficult at times. And her age. But. That is beside the point. You have nothing to be sorry for." A hop, skip and she is walking beside the taller woman. By the time they have reached the longboat loading area, Maggie's expression has shifted to a more thoughtful one. "We should ask Ruby to give us a rundown on social norms. Just... in general. How should we respond to compliments... What constitutes a compliment... Stuff like that." She is decked out in similar style to Ruby's get up. Leather straps in strategicly important places making up the majority of what passes for clothing. Thanks to her Rebman training she can manage this getup without too much overt embarassment.

Clive's attention wanders over toward Merrisol for a moment, she blinks a few times, and then she snorts with amusement, "Nice legs there, Cap'n." Taking Lhasa's hand, she steps back to make room for her aboard the boat. "Ya got that right, Doc. Thanks for lettin' me use your room." She leans in to whisper something, then releases the hand to move on over toward a spot with her bag. With an introduction of the a Lethem happening, she looks over with a touch of a smirk and faint narrowing of her eyes before returning to looking things over on the longboat. "Rundown'a social norms and such along the way would be good. Hate to go through all this trouble and ruin it over usin' the wrong salad fork or somethin'." A thought occurs to Clive rather suddenly and she whips around to lock eyes onto the dagger at her back. Her hand hovers over the handle and she hesitates before finally dropping it down onto it, with relief showing almost immediately. "Phwew. Scared that would get all wonky on me..." Letting it go, she goes back to settling in.

Diana spots the smirk, and considers Clive more closely this time.

The tease from Clive gets a flustered(?) growl and a more humoured show of grasping the jacket's lapels and forcefully overlapping them to cover up. Except.. whaaat, she just punched her own boob? Oww! Merri drops her arms and coat back open in helpless, bemused chagrin, and nods to Diana's staunch farewell. "Uh.. you as well." A polite response, but one that causes a bit of internal harrumphing in retrospect. It takes several clomping strides in boots a few sizes too large for Merrisol to decide she's better off with none at all, and steps higher to pull right out of them on the way to the boat. "Guess you're right. A visit to the Morfilod holdings is long due.." she agress, and still turns to give Maggie over and down, running on instinct and habit.

Sidonie's face breaks into a delighted smile at whatever Clive whispers in her ear. She says something back to him, inaudible to anyone else, then takes a seat on the longboat, big medical pack at her back, hair kinking up even more in the sea air. The adorable Merrisol's predicament garners a warm, amused glance from Sid. There's another look back at Lady Lethem, the look in her eyes now cautious, and a quick glance back at Incarnate. There's a question there, stowed away for a more quiet moment. She feels compelled to say the one thing she knows for sure, and tries to inject as much gravity as she can, "No magic, under no circumstances at all ever." The memory of the grave ship grows vivid in her mind, and it makes the young woman scowl and grow quiet, big cinnamon eyes dark and thoughtful behind her spectacles. Now there's two things she needs to talk to Incarnate about.