He's gonna moonch, he's gonna croonch

[rubyrubyruby]

The prospect of many splinters in the near future, Ruby has ordered all non-combatants to muster. Arrangements are being made to segregate anyone that shouldn't be in harm's way on one or more vessels. Lacking a mind like a steel trap, some issues have arisen and escaped her thinky bits. With little time to spare, she's commandeered the magic carpet and is making all haste to one of the remaining Arks where there is apparently an ~issue~. There is still a lot of room on the flying Uber to Carpet-pool. Below the threads during the fly-over, the fleet is arranging itself into squadrons and formations. The side of the Ark they approach has a side hatch open like the lolling tongue of a doggo, and occasionally digs at the waves. The yawning section of hull is like an open mouth full of straw. "Bog's breath, there's always somethin..."

Flying aboard the Banshee has allowed Lhasa a splendid view of the fleet from aboard. But while that was a bird's eye view, the excitement of a closer vantage point is still a treat! She grips one side of the magic carpet next to Ruby, making herself as small as possible to allow room for the others, and peers down all big-eyed. Never gets old! At Ruby's utterance, she breaks her gaze away from the Fleet to peer at the opening ahead. Uh oh.'.

Ruby brings the esoteric collection of threads in for a landing. She should have probably gotten Lhasa to do the driving. It's expedient at least, but she has to work on the idea of more gradual decelerations. The inside of the exposed decking is absent of peeps, but this is agreeable to Rubes as it probably means less people to logistically remove. "I 'ate flyin. I knew someone who swallowed bug once. Was some old Mandrake or somethin...Anyways...long story short, they ended oop addicted an couldn't stop until she swallowed a 'orsefly...died. Some Peggi-sus or 'ippogriffinus. HUP." She scrambles off the carpet. "Word is it be deepah in tha 'old we need tah goo."

After settling Shih and her crew on the Angry Eel, Maggie returned to the Beast in time to ride on over with Ruby and the others. While swimming beneath the waves is sort of like flight, Maggie has only really soared above the world once before that she remembers. Then there was an admonition about where hands should be, so she keeps her own carefully tucked out of the way. Of course, this is a carpet, not a dragon, so her caution is misguided, probably. Looking out over the sea below, she too takes note of where all of the ships are, but she also looks over the ocean and islands. Though she is likely looking for the way the land and sea are set out, she might also be looking for a sea monster0like head peeking up from somewhere.

"They got addicted to bugs?" Lhasa says laughingly, grossed out and delighted by this. She rises from the carpet behind Ruby and places a hand on the pommel of her sheathed cutlass. "Aye," she acknowledges and walks behind Incarnate, and glances at Maggie. "What else do we know about what's going on?"

The mazes of pens in the midlevels of the hold each cluster around a great open shaft, by which a broad circular lift can be hoisted and lowered all the way through the sublevels from top to bottom. The platform currently rests in the bowels of the ship, the open floors above looming over it like coliseum seating, and all of them witness to the billowing columns of hazy smoke which mingle with the dangling ropes and chains of the mechanism. If there is a fire, it has a grand purpose, by the aroma of sweet char and hints of barely familiar spice. Somehow, it succeeds in disguising the more anticipated and base scents of the menagerie containment. The observant might note the way some half dozen pens stand open, throughout the levels, though none of the beasts can be spotted wandering free.

Mags rising from the carpet, Maggie returns Lhasa's glance and shrugs. No clue here. Loosening her cutlas, she takes up the rear guard position during their initial trek toward whatever the disturbance is. As they move, Maggie takes enough time to look arouind to note the empty pens. Frowning, she catches up with the others, "The animals are gone." Sniffing the air, the frown deepens. "Does... Something smell like... spice? And charcoal?" Looking up the shaft when they reach the column, she looks quickly up, then down again, then up. "Oh... boy. That does not look good."

Ruby grunts, adds a nod, and reaches behind her waist to remind herself of the haft of a kukri sheathed there. Satisfied, she approaches the central shaft where ropes and chains offer a means of traveling up or down. "Need tah make sure everythin be va-cated. One Ark was emptied at tha Park. All them ani-mals aboard tha one could tolerate each othah, mostly, durin tha journey. But we 'ad tah 'old a few special cases on a separate ship because we'd 'ave con-flicts. This ship." Ruby sniffs at the aromas. "Strange smell. Not what I'd figure if tha 'ull was afire...Aye, If somethin with teeth or spines wants tah chomp ya, defend yerself." Not sure about visibility down below so much, Ruby still reaches out across the drop and grabs a chain to descend.

"Hopefully they're doing alright back on land," Lhasa muses with a nod to Maggie and Ruby. She agrees with them both about the smell, and wrinkles her nose. She walks with care, her position between both Captains as they progress within reach of the ropes. She grabs one, and noting that it might just scrape her hands raw, quickly procures some gloves from her pocket and puts them on. "Best not to kill of we can help it though, right?" She then grabs onto a rope, winds a leg around it, and starts climbing down.

Maggie holds back from the chains until she is sure that the others arew securely on them. Not one to climb with a blade between her teeth, the way Clive does on occasion, Maggie resheaths it before taking one of the chains in her hand. Watching the others decend for a moment, she nods in agreement with Lhasa's query. "I'd rather avoid killing anything, if possible. But if it is you or them? Well, youi know." Climbing onto her own chain, she follows a bit more slowly to keep an eye on things from here. "I don't have to say 'stay alert', but... Yeah."

Huffing away on the edges of the platform, at six opposite points as though tracing a ritual hexagram... are cooking stations. Erected from scrap wood and surplus iron, the structures are grotesque and artful all at once, careful and careless, and fulfill the functions of grilling, roasting, braising, stewing, steaming, and of course, smoking. They are all running at capacity, joints and cuts of exactingly butchered carcass being cooked to perfection, or at least to one individual's standards.

The discarded remains overflow a rainbarrel beside a chop station manned by a burly figure clad in white from apron to large puffy chef's hat. His face is obscured and overshadowed by a wild ginger moustache and goatee below and a bushy caterpillar brow above. Nonetheless he looks up as the rappeling figures appear through the smoke, and thrusts a large cleaver gleaming with gristle in a pointing gesture. A string of guttural nonsense issues from his bristling 'stache, alerting the others in his bloody company.

The very center of the platform hosts a strong table of recovered planks, set up for a serious banquet. Braziers and pans repurposed as platters are arrayed there, holding succulent offerings and decorative garnishes made from hide, hoof, and tusk. The feast is set for just one, and he barely glances around while tearing into a candied haunch of carnivore, hands and face gleaming with juices. Beside his chair, a sour-faced freckly young woman with bright red hair teased into bobbing pigtails does all the glaring needed for both of them.

Ruby drops to the deck when there's only a few feet of empty air left, letting her chain jingle-jangle. Getting an eyefull of the big old buffet, her lips purse and peepers narrow. She rubs at the insides of her calloused palms after the short but taxing descent. Her nostrils flare at the stronger scents down here and walks slowly towards Gerath and the red-headed step-devil. "Glad tha clown ain't 'ere at least. Such a shame, Truth. Well...Got a bit peckish did we, Ger'ath?" She places her hands on her hips.

Lhasa's jaw drops at the sight of the improvised butcher's, kitchen and banquet table. She withdraws her cutlass from its sheath without a sound, and instinctively holds her hand down, palm oustretched as if she were pushing a column of air into the ground, dampening the sound around herself and her two companions should they wish to not announce their arrival so soon to the monstrous man with the cleaver. That is, until Ruby speaks. She turns her hand back into a tight fist, releasing her hold on the nearby sound so that Incarnate can be heard. She gapes, from Ruby to Gerath and back to Ruby. "Uh."

Mags releases her hold on the chain, landing a few feet behind Lhasa and Ruby, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword while the other rubs briefly at her thigh to dull the sting. Her expression is grave as she takes in the scene. A slow shudder runs through her both at the waste and the gluttony on display. While Ruby speaks to the man with the greese stained skin and the woman with hiim, she keeps an eye on the butcher. Garath. She tucks the name into her stainless steel seive of a memory and tries to keep it there. A name to remember, perhaps.

The Chef's visage scrunches around his bulbous nose as their unexpected guests drop in. His other big fist rises with a severe carving fork protruding, and he brandishes both utensils wildly. Another spew of inarticulate babble, which Lhasa can come to decipher now, as a sonorous and very badly inflected dialect from some rustic, alpine shadow. He is berating the group, obviously, but the sentence structure is repetitively made up of phrases for "stop that", "go away", "no for you", and incorporates literal sound effects. Finally, he punctuates with a slam of the cleaver at the corner of the butcher station, pulverizing a bilge rat which had come scavenging.

The man dines on the bone with singular focus, but when the last chunk of muscle pulls away and disappears into his ambitious mouth, he sits back and contemplates the dull gleam on the dark joint. The pace of his breathing is athletic, measured but deep, while he chews and chews, letting Ruby's question hang in the smoke. The deadly chop of the cleaver breaks the reverie, however, and he places the knobbly bone back on the empty platter with finality before lifting his gaze frankly to those newly arrived to the impromptu feast. "Candidate. Good of you to come this far, and with such a pedigree of game meat," he extends magnanimity, smiling behind his trimmed whiskers. "I could not stay away."

Ruby darts her eyes back to the mumble-mouthed chef. She can't decipher the words, but it doesn't sound welcoming. Her hand doesn't stray to her knife, but she's feeling twitchy with the situation spread out within the banquet area. She half turns and looks to her companions. "If you mean me companions, they ain't on the menu, just loike last toime." She tongues her back molars and takes a few steps closer. "Is there anythin still in tha ship or did you see tah tha issue in yer own way?"

The young lass in pigtails and blue gingham frock regards Ruby with undisguised malice, the sort of face elders warn against making, lest the expression sticks. She gives verity to the aphorism. Thick potholders engulf her lower arms, but there is little else domestic about her.

It has taken a bit of time, but the name has finally registered within Maggie's mind. Gerath. Their once-upon-a-time host. Her manner does not relax, though she does dart the man a greeting of sorts as her head incllines in recognition. There is a lingering edge of respect in her manner, perhaps due to their past association or for Ruby's sake. Without sparing further attention to the man or the woman with him, she broadens her focus to include the chef. Just in case Ruby's admonition to keep her and Lhasa off the menu goes down ill.

Lhasa mouths the word 'candidate' to no one in particular, unable to quite move past that yet. Candidate for what? Exotic animal butchering school? Her eyes linger on the beheaded bilge rat, at the big man and his pigtailed companion, then at Ruby, who incomprehensibly takes a step forward. "Uh," she says stupidly, though thankfully very quietly. Uh, indeed.

A square of fine linen appears from Gerath's lap and is used to daub away patches of blood and sauce from his chin and the corners of his mouth. A fastidious gesture that takes nothing away from his ravenous intent towards the rest of the laden platters. Mealtime is far from over. He waves a placating hand over Ruby's insistence for her friends' consumer status, but drops the napkin with glower of keen affront. "What do you take me for? Of course. The hunter who must steal into a cage is no hunter. Besides which, nothing sours the flesh more than captivity. No, your floating domain made for the grand chase. These," he sweeps his arm around to the bubbling, sizzling stations, "beasts performed nobly and true. Now - shall we speak of dining upon companions?" he continues sharply, sitting forward with strong, steepled fingers propped upon the table. "Interesting then that you should bring up the missing Jester..."

The Chef gives a few deflated hoots over the rat-tainted splotch on the edge of his cleaver. He tosses it high over his shoulder with careless force, so that it flips several gleaming arcs into the gloom before crashing into something unseen. In the course of searching out another implement of butchery, he peers from the shadows of his bushy brow at Lhasa's cutlass, and issues a series of hand signs accompanied by speculative moans.

Ruby tilts her head and glowers at Gerath. "Shant. Why waste breath. You still gots enough thralls tah stir pots an tenderize meats...Though I only see two this toime. Oh good...look, we even out." Ruby smacks her lips. Introductions are made, though Maggie has already been a guest at Gerath's table. "You moight remember Cap'n Flame 'ere. She can char better than 3 furnaces. An this be Lhasa, Sawbones tah tha fleet. She can sloice more accurate than 3 chefs." She gestures back to Gerath with a sweep of her arm. "This be Gerath. I was 'is...candidate...durin a portion 'o me loife." She reaches up and scratches at her sternum. "There was a portion there where I 'eard 'o a bloke tha knew a way tah wring every drop 'o sustenance out 'o a cutlet or veg or feesh. An tha was important before, because there was a...wastin goo'n on. A fatigue. A consumption. Was gettin eatin from tha inside out. But tha's in tha past an agreements finished."

Mags nods to Gerath once more, the incline deeper since introductions are in the offing. One hand lifts to wave a bit, though the other remains near her sword hilt. Stepping back a hair, so she can better see the chef, Gerath and the sour faced woman at his side, she notes the chef's apparent interest in Lhasa's sword. Ignoring the flying cleaver with it's rat-splatter sailing back into the darkness, she supresses a faint shudder. Clearing her throat, she nods to Ruby's explainations of how things were then and, hopefuly how they are now.

Sure, seems legit. Lhasa blinks slowly by way of greeting or acknowledgement of the big fellow. She tries to keep her gaze even once the cutlass in her hand garners so much attention, but the moans in particular make her frown. She nods when Ruby explains the how she knows Gerath. Otherwise, she's immobile, clearly uncomfortable.

Gerath lifts a brow high over Ruby's smacktalk, finding something incredibly drole about her phrasing. He withholds retort, since they have moved on to some brief introductions, which he honours with a seated bow to Maggie, following up with a knowing wink. "Knows her way around a carcass, hm? Chef seems to think so!" And the new woman, Lhasa, is also bestowed a staid half-bow. To stand up now would send the wrong message, you see. While Ruby provides a brief exposition, he accordingly shuffles the previous platter into the serving girl's mitts, and reaches over to pull the next course, a broad pan of pale tender morsels rolling in a rich broth. "Portions. Wasting." He shakes his head over these echoes, chuckling without much humour. "As usual, your quaint assumptions overlook the salient truths. Your game stock is impressive, true." Gerath looks up and through the steam of the stew. "But our agreement has not concluded. Rather, it is in breach. That is why I have come."

Ruby places her hands on her hips, feeling emboldened with the amount of backup she's got. "Breach me arse, there ain't no breach." Glancing at the stew, she can't make out specific morsels to identify whether there's cockatrice, hippogriff or some other exotic in that gumbo going on, but her imagination is running full tilt when a mental tally of what used to be lurking in the hold tumbles about. "I ain't gonna thank you for...this ~al-truistic~ effort 'ere 'o 'andlin some rare beasts so we don't 'ave tah. But we in a bit 'o a rush. Big foight comin. Unless you wanna dodge cannonballs an cutlasses, you gonna need tah eat 'n run, see?"

Is there a threat in there somewhere, from the big fellow? Lhasa squints at Gerath, hand tightening on the grip of her cutlass, then tilts her head to peer back up at Ruby.

Maggie straightens, twitching a faint, almost smile at Gerath's wink. Stepping a bit to one side, she pivots to keep herself between the chef and Lhasa while still giving her a decent view of the host or guest of honor and Ruby. "She is right. There is a fight brewing and it is not going to be pretty." Or easy. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us what the aggreement entailed? Or, please wiat for an accounting until the coming unpleasentness has concluded?"

When Lhasa declines the request for her blade without even a bork of excuse, the Chef grunts astonishment while repeatedly indicating the slab of untrimmed creature before him.

No suitable materials were found on board which could be fashioned into fork or spoon, apparently, yet the strange visitor seems to be getting about his meals fine without any utensil. The pan rises to chin-level, supported by both hands, whereupon he begins to teeter it, slowly and gently, to swirl and agitate the broth. "Oh, just braise the rack whole," he intercepts his chef's further gesticulations for Lhasa's cutlass, then without missing a beat, scoffs at Ruby's denial. "Fighting again. Altogether too much of it. You turn to fight when the hunt fails.. or worse, you imagine the two to be one and the same." His movements with the bowl brings a round white chunk of ~something~ to the edge, and with a deft tip, he washes it over the rim into his mouth, which he closes in order to swish the bite around like a tictac in mouthwash. His eyes roll back in an instant of fervent appreciation, then water over as he gives a great gulp of a swallow. "Ahhh. Best part of the Skach Glutton, its sweetbreads. All the unhinged ferocity in a single bite. It would have done her some good. The knowing she would have acquired." He shiny-eyes Maggie balefully, then turns his focus to Ruby as he lowers the bowl to add, "I will no longer have you to continue your candidacy. The ignoble slaughter of my good entertainer Roswald saw to that. As it so happens, I came for the other. She, for whom I honour the contract."

Ruby hands on hips move to arms crossed under chest. More haughty posturing proceeds as she tries to cover confusion and work this out in her head. She mouths the words ~other~ and ~contract~ while her brow furrows. Gerath is providing another morsel of enlightenment over the meal he's devouring, such as when he was a Host a year ago, presiding over a different dinner. Her head tilts, and then with mentioning of the rabid red-haired clown, eyes go all a-squinty. "I don't do duels. Foights can be fatal." she yammers and then thinks. "You can't be seri-ous. Whut...tha kid?"

Lhasa looks at the chef, then down at her cutlass. "It's not for... cooking," she says doubtfully, perplexed as to why someone would think of using her very special magic jeweled cutlass for such a thing! She glances at Maggie, then back at Ruby and Gerath with a scowl. "Certainly not," she echoes. What kind of contract is this!

Maggie holds her tongue at the eye-rolling glance Gerath gives her. A frown begins, irritation flickering in her gaze. As the conversation turns both to the way to prepare an uncut slab of whatsis over there, then to another woman, she lifts a brow. The kid? She flashes Ruby a glance, stance remaining alert and ready for action if it is needed. Her lips form a soundless 'kid?' the query evident in her gaze. Then her eyes drop to Ruby's belly, eyes widening a bit. Turning back to Gerath, she casts her frown his way instead.

Well. There appears to be an immediate resistance to his intentions. So. Gerath abandons the bowl, resentfully, and pats the corner of his napkin to his dribbly beard before stashing it folded in his jacket breast. With a push back on the chair, he stands up from the table now, his every movement purposeful and possessed of a cunning and grace to match those of the beasts he has conquered and consumed. "It's simple," he speaks slowly and reasonably, as though to soothe the skittish cattle. "Having managed to track down all manner of potent game, she brought these kills, their meat and bones, in offering to me. She sought to learn the ways of the feast from me. Did you not, Ruby. The esoteric art of consumption. A demonstration of the flow of raw quality and power. I agreed, I would take her on. *I* have been tolerant. Not only did she bring to my table a bevvy of uninitiates when she presented herself as my candidate." Gerath's voice descends to the sibilant timbre of a reptile. "She brought another, unseen, within. Yes. I imparted my secrets to them both. And, where is the other candidate now? She will accompany me on the hunt."

Ruby chews and gnaws at her bottom lip as she listen and digests Gerath's comments. "Well..." she begins and trails off. She reaches for a number of loopholes and is found wanting. She ditches that tactic and grunts. "She ain't 'ere, obviously. She gonna get sent off with tha rest 'o tha non-combatants, roight? Tha foight we gonna get in an all, it ain't safe. She can't even 'old a storm-rattle. Can't climb a mast yet. She sure 'as 'ell can't pull tha pigtails off yer red 'eaded devil girl 'ere, so 'ow can you even ask she goo on a tour with you?" Ruby half-sneezes, half-guffaws. She swoops a arm up 'n down, gesticulating. "Enrollin 'er in tha Academy 'o Iron sounds about equally as sane. Why in Bog's name would you be suitable?"

Lhasa echoes Maggie's questioning look almost exactly, and she also stands at the ready. She squints at Gerath, pointedly avoiding a glance at the mountains of meat dishes, feeling rather grossed out by them at this rate. "I don't suppose we can leave this conversation for another time?" she says softly. "When battle isn't imminent, and maybe the little one can choose for herself?"

Did someone say food? Chase makes his way into the mess, his nose twitching as he peers about. Even in human form the Dragon General has a feral gleam in his eyes at the scent of all that raw meat. "

Mags starts shaking her head. Slowly at first, but then once with enough force to whip her braid from over her shoulder, "No. A child cannot enter into any kind of an agreement." She takes a step forwrad, her hands planting on her hips, one still near her sword's hilt. "And, if that clause in the contract was not properly gone over, Ruby can't be penalized for not knowing it." Defiance rises in her, though there is a strong undercurrent of irritation in her words, though whom that irritation is aimed at is left unclear, unspoken. She does dart a very leaded glance to Ruby, however. The under currents of irritation turn toward a dangerous sort of caution. Letting her gaze slip to Lhasa, she nods, "That. Exactly that. The child has the right to weigh the options herself when she is of an age to do so."

The sourpuss serving girl reacts to the growing dissent with a lowering of her carrotty head, while her gaze shifts about angrily from person to unwelcome person. Finally, she settles on Maggie as the main target for her hate-on.

Gerath waves his hand dismissively over the arguments. "Don't be stupid. She is already my charge, and has been ever since you took instruction at my table, and the legacy of hunger passed from you to her. All that was left was for you to eject her," he nods to Ruby, before roundly addressing all three femmes. "She is her own entity *now*, whether you can admit it or not. Your pathetic little notions of civilized law have no place in this discourse." He glances at Chase, recognizing the man as he descends into the Ark's bottom hold and into the light of the cooking braziers. He tilts his head in further acknowledgement of something, perhaps a nod to a fellow ravenous predator.

Ruby curls her own lip. There's bits and pieces offered from comrades that are supportive and some from the cuisine corps that are troubling. She ruminates on this, feeling the itch of troubling possibilities. She casts a glance towards Chase as he drops in, and notes his expression. That touches off a bit of memory of some past hunts for chompables. Her brows furrow. "You sayin all them 'unger pangs an troubles with diet an fastin an con-sumption gonna creep up on tha kid loike they did with me? She been eatin an drinkin tha same as tha creche 'o kids on tha laps 'o Nannies. 'Ow does it get turned oof before tha 'appens? It nearly did me in. She can't bring down nuthin but a case 'o nappy rash."

"Wait," Maggie begins, one hand lifting from her waist to wave to Chase in distracted greeting. Ruby's questions give Maggie pause, for the answers are even more critical than whatever she might have put forth. The hand falls and she turns more of her attention to Gerath.

Chase inclines his head to Gerath before another look at the feast laid ready, and cooked to perfection...well uncooked but Chase quite prefers his fare bloody, and on a good day still squirming as he meets Ruby's eye a moment he smiles showing off his very white teeth, those who know him might well note that same smile with a maw of dagger pointed fangs, he draws a breath and forces down the hunters urge "What is the symptoms?" he asks in a slightly distracted voice, "maybe there is some medication that would...control them?"

Gerath's attention stays diverted by Chase a few moments more, eyeing him eyeing the feast table. Something of a snarl wrinkling his lip... then he looks at Ruby, then Maggie, with an air of summoning patience. "Can you prevent her teeth sprouting in? Maybe you could," he muses, then shrugs, shaking his head in preemptive disapproval. "And keep her on a regimen of mashed berries and greens. Mere garnishes. Squash all her natural appetites and longings," he offers that option softly, eyes agleam with red loathing now, for such a fate. These cruel people. "With me, the candidate will learn to rejoice her appetite and become strong and proficient in the hunt."

"There ain't proper toime for this." Ruby reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose. Feeling a throbbing there as there's just more things heaping up on a big platter. Squinting one eye closed and the other half-lidded and getting red rimmed. "Need toime tah think on this. You don't know what you sayin. Wyntah spirited 'er away tah safety once, an she was marked an we all ended up gettin attacked. You think you just takin on a mouth tah feed, an you gonna get targeted if anyone foinds out, same as what 'appened tah us." Ruby sighs and turns to mumble to Maggie, Chase and Lhasa. "I didn't know tha baby would be affected by Ger'ath's...regimine. Thought it was just me when I was lookin for a way tah reach beyond a certain threshold 'o physicality. If what 'e sayin is true, there's gonna be a lot 'o pain comin for tha kid. There's a risk if she doesn't get tha roight diet. I know what I can take, but dunno what she can take as a wee beebee." She rounds on Gerath. "We gots a foight comin for Bog's sake!"

Drawing in a slow breath, Maggie listens to Gerath, sifting through his disdain to see if she can find some truth there. Zeroing in on a few statements, she nods once or twice. However, that shifts when she hears Chase, "I don't think that medications will help, sadly. I think that the regimine Ruby followed, along with Gerath's influences, changed the child's physical makeup. Possibly." Turning back to Gerath, she studies him for a very brief moment before turning back to Ruby, "If his oblique statements are interpreted one way. The way hs might hope that they are. I have no idea whether his veracity can be trusted, frankly. However, it is not my decision. So, what do we have? Her cravings should start when her teeth come in. So, yes, the right diet will be critical." She glances at Gerath now, but briefly. Looking back to Ruby, she adds, "All children have appitites, Ruby. They all desire and strive to fulfill those desires. They learn from that striving, from success and failure. Until they can make choices for themselves, with understanding, it is up to the parents to present them with challenges suitable to their development and abilities. To aid them when they fail and encourage them to try again. Ultimately, to gain success. To learn that by striving they grow, by succeeding, they win and by failure they learn. Not only in hunting, but in all things." She does not look at Gerath or the red-haired serving woman, not to Chase nor the chef nor Lhasa. "Ruby. What do you want for your child? Until your child can choose what she wants for herself?" Another thought occurs to her and she licks her lips, "Perhaps Gerath should stay. He could assist with raising the child within the parameters you set as her parent. That way, she can learn from both of you. He can teach her what she needs to know to hunt. You and Wynter can teach her to be a good and noble person. Afterall, it serves no one if she dies on her first hunt and Gerath can't really teach an infant."

Chase listens folding his arms across his chest, trying to draw a bead on the problem at hand, "Maggie makes sense, but do remember Ruby, we are what we are." drawing a breath, "you can raise a wolf with ducks but it will never fly and learn to eat corn." adding "trust me, I know this from personal experience."

Gerath studies Ruby dryly. "I seem to have underestimated the depths of your mammalian instinct. Sentimentality, as you might call it," he tells her, speaking in a lower but direct tone in the midst of Maggie's speech, as though conspiring and bargaining behind her back. He then glances at Maggie, waiting perhaps a whole dozen seconds, although if any of it is touching any chord with him, it is lost within his glazed stare. He considers the remainder of the feast, cooling before his nose and mouth and eyes. Degrading from peak nutritional values! He tosses his hands in languid acquiescence after Chase puts in his two bites. "And neither will the ducks," he interjects drolly. "Oh, fine. Give it all your best thoughts. I have time on my side, unlike yourselves. But I'll not tarry here, in your foolish war. When you have reached your decision, or are otherwise grown desperate... seek me. Likely within the fine old hunting ground, beyond the ruin." He casts a hand negligently in the direction of.. well.. might be the coastline, or might be the open horizon of the sea. "You almost made it through, you know."

"Almost served well enough for what I needed. I trust you not leave before dealin with tha last 'o tha larder tha be lurkin down 'ere." Ruby mutters and turns on a heel to head back towards the shaft they descended. She exchanges a glance with her companions and says over her shoulder to Gerath. "Breath 'o fresh air on deck will make things clear."

Mags looks at Gerath as he acquieses for now. "So witnessed." She pauses, then nods with some solemnity and only a little seething rage filtering out. Turning, she follows Ruby to the shaft. Maybe some cooler air will help her dispell that anger.

The young thrall grips the platter tight in her mitts, sharp points breaking through the padding to click against the cast metal surface. If given any sort of Go signal from Gerath, she would have launched like a bolt from her position by his chair. As it is, she snarls and drops the pan to the floor. If this is what knowing wordy-words come to, she's wildly glad to be a mute.

Chase eyes the table a moment, "too cold" he mutters and follows the others toward fresh air, "A seal or a shark will better serve then cold meat." he inclines his head to Gerath before he departs.