Tempest Fitzgerald

Lieutenant Lemaire gave a last survey of inspection to the decks and Dining cabin's display as Fournier finished readying in near sleeping quarters. Although the leaniancy had been granted in dismissal of full dressage, the officer's and crew had chosen the wear their best of working uniforms for the impending meal. The galley had started in preperations as soon as the reply had been received and all of the Capitaine's private store of silver had been polished to mirror finish. Domiminque was unable to supress amusement to what his cousin called an "informal" affaire; a thought reinforced as Fournier entered the room wearing a formal frock reserved for the visit of dignitaries. "So...This seems much ado for the attendance of fellow seaman..." Dominique smugged. ' Perhaps there is more here than meets the eye?" The Lieutenant offered a wide grin to the other's disappoving expression.

The trace of pink renews its appearance and deepens to the Quartermaster's actions. " Why thank you, my kind sir. One could say the same of yourself." Hearing the Master at Arms' approach, she turns slightly with a warm smile.

The predatory movement of fluid bearing was not lost on the gown's binding as she came closer to the Commanding Officer. This was a side that she had often suspected of William, for he was a charming gent under normal occassion, but the appearance and grace which was given to view now was one that far exceeded expectations. Gaining the Captain's close proximity, she leaned close in reply. " It will not be the French crew that you need give worry to. It is the one who oversees them..."

" Merci beaucoupe, sir." She replied to William's act of the gallant, a brush of pink reaching her cheekline. " You are most gracious and leave me stunned to your praise." Tempest dropped her eyes to the deck.

Gaining the Gunroom's surround, the Surgeon inwardly cursed the restriction of Parisian design and longed for the comfort of usual attire. How women could force themselves to such adornments on a daily basis was a quandray of mountainous proportion to her.Waiting patiently for the others to gather, she noted Armand's nod of approval to the vissage she cast forth. His silent support calmed some or the unease which stirred the pit of her stomach, but far from quelled its being.

Armand paused in efforts to secure the bindings of intricate torture about Tempest's waist. Moving to the door, he slyed to her with a look of amusment, " Do not move or breath." Receiving the Captain's Steward with flourished bow, Mademoiselle Smith was allowed the sacred hall. There was no concealing the look of suprise upon her young features in viewing the Surgeon's choice of adornment, but, wisely made no comment upon the floor legnth gown trailing the planks below, nor the over-spill from low neckline. Message received with gratitude to its bearer, the Steward left the Ward onto other destinations predetermind, and Armand returned to the torture at hand.

conquest

From a hook of support, the layers of lace and emerald green brocade silently mocked her as she partook of Vienesse brewing. Vissually roving the finite Parisian tailoring, Tempest was reminded of a past existance that seemed to only exist as a hazy dream; in a past that did not fit the now. What a strange thing, she contemplated, to travel half a world away and be faced with ghosts that knew not to stay in their proper places, disobeying the boundries of distance and time. Armand broke the paths of her musing as he closed the large oaken door, a fresh offering of exotic brew in hand. Setting down the china pot, he slyed a glance to the bold scream of color contrasting the dim surround then topped off her cup. " I have been above..." The Surgeon inclined her head to the wording. " The scents that fill the breezes hint of Carpaccio de Boeuf..." His statement trailed unfinished and taking a seat, he filled the cup that belonged in his possesion. " I would not be concerned." He offered, she did not comment. " It was six years ago, and I am sure that is enough time to allow a dulling of circumstance..." The Gascon attempted to play it off as nothing...They both knew otherwise. " You said that there were no issues raised in your last visit, when the dispatch to Martinique was given..." "Oui...But, that was in the presence of Moreau and time was of the essence. This time it will not be the same, I had hoped that the only possible contact would be in an advisory capacity. I fear that this meeting will be of a more unofficial bearing..."

Magnifique et bravo, Capitaine!! Je voudrais deux et un cafe' creme, s'il vous plait. Merci beaucoupe!

Dramatizers

With decisive bob and weave, the Surgeon navigated the crowded containment of companionway in hopes of reaching weather decks and fresh air. The mood of this impromptu Wake drew memories from the Auld Sod and the same such ceremony granted her father in rite of passage. Oh, that he were here now to spur on the craic; granted, he had been a man of Gascogne in origin, but, hesitation had not existed in Rene Bertrand's adoption of her mother's country or its traditions. Hugging surface of bulkhead to allow the right of way to a massive foremast jack, Tempest spotted the Captain and Master at Arms just up ahead in the swirling pool of humanity. A quick side step to the right and hop to the left brought her into proximity and she tucked herself into the safety that the two larger men offered against moving chaos. "Good evening to you, gentleman. I see you both well, at least as well as one could expect under current times. I shall never again utter undue comment to the sick-ward's stuffiness, for this area is trifold worse at the momment." Amusement played her features until vanquished by an unseen jostling from behind, its offender dissapearing into anominity. " Zut, mince! " she commented underbreath. " I fear I must beg your pardons in leaving your company, it is right uncomfortable down here and I long for more unrestricted movement" Glancing to the Master at Arms, " Please do me the honour of your audience in the morning, inspection of healing progress needs be attended, sir." Tempest began to take her leave when the Captain removed a once sealed parchement and handed it to her. She looked to him questioningly after observing the broken seal then opened it with the nod of direction given. With gleen of opening lines, she wondered why William had handed it over, there was nothing there that could not simply be relayed in the open. Further on she parused the text and halted at the last two lines with a smallish cock of brow. Folding the paperment, she returned it to William with casual air. " Very well...Gentleman." Tempest voiced with a smallish bow, turning to the milling frey, she continued on to obtain original destination.

Mister Warren had been accepted aboard with the respect given to an emissary. Lieutenant Lamaire gave warm greeting then refused the dispatch, stating that he would conduct the Coxswain below where it could be delivered properly. Upon entrance of the Great cabin, Fournier offered a seat and waved his servant to procure a glass of claret for their guest. "You are out for a late night pleasure cruise, Monsuier Warren?" Jean-Micheale chided with a hint of smile. The Watch Dog's Coxswain stopped mid-draught at the comment then place the glass down to relay request. Listening with slight incline of head, Fournier nodded in accord. "Tres vien! With my compliments, please inform Capitaine Hollande that we look forward to his company and to that of his entourage, s'il vous plait. Also...you will relay to him that with gratitude I accept his gift and shall enjoy its content with relish." A wave to his servant gave instant refill of Mister Warren's partially empty glass and the retrieval of writting impliments. Fournier glanced to the Coxswain and excused himself for a moment to scribe a corresondance. Capitaine William Hollande Merci for your generous gift, I have always held great pleasure in the qualities of fine wine. Your suggestion of mid-day meal is acceptable and I can say that we shall do our best to appease with our humble offering.There is no need for formality, I find this will place a better air of ease for all attending. In closure, may I be so bold as to request that the company of Mademoiselle Bertrand be included in attendance. That is, of course, if she is not already one of the seven of mentioned party. I do believe that you are aware of whom I speak. Veuillez Croire, Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier The ink was allowed to dry while Mister Warren finished the crystal offering. Lieutenant Lamaire moved from his standing by the door to deliver dispatch in to the Coxswain's keeping. The Capitaine stood with respect to the other's departure wishing good tidings for the eve then watched after, as the door was closed and the room containing four became two once again.

The angry intent of Sol induced heat was loosing its hold upon this side of the mortal realm. The happenings occuring in succession with their arrival to the area were enough to make the most non superstious of seaman whisper of ill castings in regard to the English wrought frigate painted in Caribbean sunset hues. Whisperings that fell to sudden hush when Chasse de Mer's commander neared, though through veiled scrutiny, Jean-Micheale Fournier missed little in regard to the world around him and much could be told by looking into the windows of the soul. Standing in shirt sleeves and cotton britches upon "the Holy Ground" of quarterdeck, the Frenchman contemplated the latest events addressed by Capitaine "Hollande" in passing earlier in the day. With unconscience narrowing of amber hued vision, even Fournier had to push back the tugging thought that yon fregate, was indeed, an "unlucky ship". There were many things that nagged his mental faculties involving this situation and the anomilies that cropped up in rank and file with what seemed no end in the near future. Indeed, this had proven a series of incidents that smacked of strange. Extending 'glass to full potential, the Frenchman gave coursory survey to now familiar neighboring decks, not that there was any need or desire to "spy" on near distant happening, it was more a matter of curiosity and lack of dusky skinned distractions to place his concentration eleswhere. Pausing in arched travel, he observed the intense announcement of reddish mane and a knowing smile played his lips in the finalization to what he had suspected. There was no denile to what his cousin had mentioned earlier, and to what William "Hollande" had played deaf ear to when inquired upon. Some how, though undisclosed in detail, the other captain had managed to enlist the services of Jaquelyn Bertrand and the quandry now lie in just how much Captain "Hollande" knew of his pixie featured ship mate. Fournier chuckled quietly as the 'glass contiued in travel, only to be halted in movement once again. Focusing intently against the dying light, Jean-Micheale kept the figure that had perked intrest in crosshair view. A brief furrow of brow stated to the outer world that mental gears were chewing on an elusive recognition that wanted to crawl from the shadows but was sluggish doing so. It had been another time and a far away place....But when and where were the questions that harried his memory, much as the evening breezes harried the dark lengnth of hair bound against such treacherous wants. Capitaine Jean-Micheale Fournier drummed fingers upon railing surface, puzzleing Fate's newest draw of card...

beastiality

The Surgeon was lost in thought, quill hovering above bound paperment when a familiar voice broke the solem silence of medical hall, causing involentary jerk that cast inken droplet to well the log's offered surface. A smallish frown line appeared to the blemish below as she murmered displeasure to its existance before turning to the origin of verbal announcement. Gaining her feet, Tempest walked to where the Master at Arms stood and offered a smile of welcome to his presence. " Bonjour, Monsiegnuer St. Anthony. How are you adjusting to your new found freedom?" She listens intently to what Jack has to say, as the Gascon draws nearer to partake in the relay of messege. Her smile of warmth dissipates to be replaced with grim set of expression. " I see..." A small shake of head punctuates the whirling of mental gears as she purses her lips and gives a slight tsk to newest happenings. Glancing sidelong to Armand momentarily, she nods to Jack. "Thank you, sir...As you can see, there is little rest for the wicked..." The fullness of lips twist into a context of wry smile. "Very well, I shall be above directly and thank you for your delivery of dispatch...Though I must say, its nature is wanting." Tempest watches as Jack turns to make way onto other matters and interupts his passage. "Monsiegneur...I shall wish to inspect your injury's progress in the near future..." Pausing in verbose, she cocks a brow at the splintered oar being used as support. " We really must procure something of a more amicable nature for you to use. I understand all that buissiness in sea traditions, but truly do not see that...that shattered remnant of former usage as a befitting object to your wants and needs." As his form dissipates into the shadowed extention of the outside world, she emmits a minute exhalation of exaspiration. Glancing to the writting desk and the china pot gracing its surface, the Surgeon tsks again to the realization that what is contained within is going to be cold and put to waste by the time she returns. "Merde..."

The Frenchman gave a look of appreciation to the refresh of liquid spirits and partook of the offering with a note of relish. Swirling the content in thought, Jean-Micheal considered the words spoken. " The man in question is a Don located on the Isle of Margarita...A man who enjoys the company of this sanctimonious cheese eater and wine tippler, who's daughter is of certain endearments to myself..." The statement was punctuated with a hint of secretive smile. " There is no haste to be made in obtaining that port of call, but, can be made in just over a day's lapse if the conditions fair you well and your vessel is fleet of passage...two days under normality." Finishing the glass's content, Fournier set it down to the table's surface and focused on the other's expression. " I thank you for your hospitality, Capitaine. I advise that you speak with those who's council you consider of sound bearing to assure your decision. I beleive that we have both seen a very long and wearing night in our recent past and to this...I shall bid you good evening and good rest. In regard to the subjects breeched, I shall extend to you and your officers an invitation to dine as my guests aboard "Chasse de Mer" when it is of convienence. At that time, we may share a bottle of fine Calvados and you may then tell me your mind. Until then, Capitaine Hollande..." The smile that now displayed itself was one of genuine warmth, but as the Frenchman turned to take leave, he paused in step. " Be mindful to the treacherous nature of the man you know hold in security, he will bite the hand that feeds, if given opportunity in which to do so..."

Jean-Micheale inwardly gave nod of approval to the other's verve and contiued hypothetic wording... "Politics are the bane of the world, Capitaine Hollande. I have no use for the frivolous whims of the children who play us all as pawns..." He chuckled. "What I am telling you, is that in the ways of the current world, loyalties and enimies shift with the tide and winds. What I am relaying to you is a way to ensure some form of security to yourself and crew. The Dutchman has a long history of making poor decisions and has gained the hatred of many...I know of one who would be quite pleased to have that individual in his grasp...A man who would pay dearly to have such...It is a choice of your own, for it benefits myself not one way or the other." Savoring from the glass's content he considered a moment... " The pearls that are offered from oyster's shell come in many forms, Capitaine...It is a matter of knowing when one is presented to one's palm."

Fournier accepted the glass graciously, allowing the first comment to slide without reaction or comment. To the second, he raised the offering with a minute show of hesitation to toast. With sampling of spirited content and a nod of approval he noted William's segue from queries poised and setting the glass down continued observations. "It is in my thinking that for one to persue such occupations as what document states, one should be wise in selecting the company they choose...I shall offer you this, in respect of the man I think you to be. On ealier visitation, mention had occured in regard to a certain Dutch individual. With proper endorsement, that idividual could do much in the ways of engraciating yourself to certain patrons of high and secure lineage...a bartering you may wish to call it." The ironic smile appeared again.

The Frenchman cocked a brow to the loose manner of the Other's bearing and the amber hued vision narrowed a slight in reaction. There seemed an odd tensness that lingered the air aboard this vessel, one that extended beyond the norm in after effect to the passing storm. Keeping a guise of calm, Capitaine Fournier continued... " I do not know how or why said contents have been given unto you so easily, though the one that gave me dispatch in near past shurly had something to do with it. And it is in my wondering as to how you would have any connection to the Bertrands..." He fixed his eyes to William's. " I am sure you know nothing of the individual who's signature and seal grace that document...I on the other hand, do, and warn that placing faith in the power's of wealth bought title can be a tricky game to play and advise strongly, that you do not view that document as a ticket of free passage and redemption. There are many that consider a "Privateer" no more than a glorified thief and heathen." The words hung the air heavily as the Frenchman scrutinized the man before him.

With removal of hat, Capitaine Founier kept his peace for a moment after the exchange of proper pleasantries. Retrieving the teak box from velvet grasp, he placed it upon the table and slid it to Captain Hollande's reach, as smile of irony crossed his expression. "I do believe that the contents of that object belong to you, Capitaine...Therin, it is stated by decree that all under my country's rule are to extend aid and service to you if in need..." The tall Frenchman considered his wording, before continuing on. "Then...I shall do as is deemed...I do encourage you to listen carefully to what I will say and keep these wisdoms close at hand in regard to what has been given into your possesion..."

A quick survey of surrounding ticked away nuances and details of the English frigate as Capitain Fournier followed behind the officer of undeniable Celt beginnings in quest of the audience he sought. Thanking the Quartermaster who had made introduction as being Mister Lasseter, Fournier stood placidly in wait of what might occure with enterance unto the Other's lair...

The skies had given up some of their dinginess as the day had worn on, the galley fires had been relit, much to the crew's pleasure and the wind's had returned to the lightened luft of ussual nature. Capitaine Fournier waited as the men chosen to accompany gained the cutter's hollowed curviture below. The attire chosen for this crossing was not of as formal a nature as the guise choosen before, something given to much thought in the sense that such formality may stir feelings of uptight manner. Tucked neatly within one of the large pockets gracing velvet coat's lower region, nestled the teak box. Jean-Micheale waited patiently as Lamaire took seat in the waiting launch and glanced up with a daring grin for the Capitaine to follow. With a moment's consideration, the Frenchman followed the Lieutenant's wake and sat with a certain air of steeled calm as orders were issued of Coxswain's call and the bow pulled a bit to port before evening in tragectory in want of the other frigate's proximity. As the launch neared the other, Lamaire stood and called to the various expressions mingled at the edges of English design, some hardened, other's merly curious. " We request permission to board...."

Wolf in sheep's clothing

With a tour of early morning inspection put to momentary rest, Fournier had retried to the surface of writting desk within his sleeping chambers. The night had been long and wearisome with overseeing the safety of ship and crew; but the storm's fury was subsiding its hold, though it seemed to be with a relunctant manner. Foutunately, there was no damage to report and only three crewmen had obtained injury of minor infraction from the toss and turn. Not satisfied with the conditions still remaining, Jean-Micheale had not issued permission for the relighting of galley fire a decision that was one of need and not want for he took no pleasure in the denial of hot food and liquid's comfort to those that served him so earnestly. There was hope with the signs of gale's weakening, that it would soon beat a retreat and discontinue its plagueing mannerisms. The only advantage presented with the long hours sustained in wakefulness, was the fact that with the demands of duty, he had been able to puzzle the situation floating nearby to some resolve. With the pouring of libation from eloquated decanter, the Capitaine procured a sheet of parchement, unstopped inkwell and set to the task of scribeing correspondence that would be dispatched to Capitaine William "Hollande". With proper protocol, a request was issued in regard to private audience upon the other's frigate. There was no demand to the wording, no sign of threatening airs and far from any underlying manner of presumptuousness...Jean-Micheale Fournier had better things to do than play games of overbearing intentions, he considered such manners below him. Sipping from the crystal offering, he allowed the ink time to dry and considered the options that had presented themselves to mental prowess in the wee hours. When safe passage could be assured to cross the small distance that sepperated the ship's stance, Capitaine Fournier would have his cousin deliver the request and wait for an answer. It could easily be done by a lesser officer, but he knew that Lamaire had a way of putting other's at ease and his command of l'Anglais tongue was as good as his own. Refilling the glass of slender stemed wrought, he leaned further into the comfort of chair and wondered at the events pending with sidelong glance to the hinged teak box sitting innocently to his left. Time was of the essence, the wheels dictated by Fate were already grinding into motion and gaining headway...

The dimness of storm lantern did its best to illuminate the Infirmerie while the Surgeon paced its legnth to the passive watchfulness of the Gascon. Back and forth, hands clasped tightly behind back as the planking below shifted with the storm's demand of water's manner. Occasionally she would pause as if a sudden revalation had made itself apparent, only to be dismissed by wave of hand or mutter of vanquishing; and the pacing would resume. Knowing over well what effect any comment would have, Armand simply refilled the tin cup in near company and kept silent vigil at the desk. Eventually this constant strike of boot heel would stop, it was only a matter of time and nothing would deter it until the courses had been run. After ensuring that the Armoury was secured, he had ignored the Master at Arms' verbal resitance of aid and helped the man to the private quarters assigned him. With the knowledge that Jack was well provided for, the Frenchman had gained the upper decks in search of the one who now tried to wear a path before him. Resisting steely glare and words of protest, he had convinced the Surgeon to the safety of these walls. This was one of those circumstances that could only be labled kindly as a test of cool head and calm mannerisms, for the smallish mademoiselle was fired up and it was best to allow this quality to run out of steam on its own....And finally it did. Joining him near the desk, Tempest took a seat and removed the soaked thru leather boots with a toss to the side. Armand glanced to her cassually with cocked brow and hint of smile. " Meilleur pour le moment? " he chided. Her eyes narrowed slightly...." Non. " "Que sera, sera?" he offered. She answered with exasperated sigh. " You know that there is nothing to be done for the moment. Whatever happened over there will be known soon enough..." Armand offered his tin cup to her, " I trust the Capitaine's judgement and am sure that he would not...faire l'imbicile." "Non...I do not think he would play the fool, either. I just wish to know what transpired over there and curse myself for not insiting upon being there. I know Capitaine Fournier and judging from what manner William arrived back, it is my suspicion that things are not as they could be..." Tempest paused to down the draught and handed the cup back looking earnestly to her companion. " I need to know what has happened. I need to speak with William....I need to speak with Fournier...There are things that could be swinging in awkward balance and I need to ensure that the balance is laid to rights for this is no simple matter and Jean-Micheale Fournier is anything but a simple minded creature." She reached for the past the proffer of refilled tin cup to the content's origin and pulling deeply from the fluid fire, closed her eyes to the roar of nature's wrath.