Windstorm

by famirad

A year and a half after the rising of Soltis, Domingo finds himself once again struck with wanderlust. A supposedly harmless visit to Crescent Isle results in an unwilling helmsman assigned to journey with him.

2. Smooth Sailing

Windstorm
By Famira Damaris

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Skies of Arcadia.
Author's Note: Anyway, I'll keep this short. This isn't a fanfic devoted to Vyse, Aika or Fina. It's probably one of the few (only?) based on Domingo. ^^ Anyway, possible shounen-ai later. Takes place about a year and half after the events of the game – I'm assuming that the world of Skies of Arcadia is much bigger than portrayed, so…er...new lands. ^^ . Centered around Domingo and Lawrence. *cackles*

Uh...yeah, this update is super late. Don't really have an excuse for that other than a lot of stuff came up? Anyway, things to look out for: cranky Domingo, and the assignment of Lawrence. ...and I just realized that his assignment clashes with his description in the summary. Oh well. x_o;

Italics for thoughts, sounds, emphasis
Archive: I highly doubt anyone would ask, but sure, go ahead. Just ask.

Description: A year and a half after the rising of Soltis, Domingo finds himself once again struck with wanderlust. A supposedly harmless visit to Crescent Isle results in an unwilling helmsman assigned to journey with him. Adventures seem to have a habit of growing out of proportion…(Potential shounen-ai)

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Windstorm
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[Smooth Sailing]

That had been a week ago. It didn't change the fact that he was still rankling about the whole thing, but it had given him enough time to cool down. He'd ended up using a considerable amount of gold to get his small ship in working order – it'd been sitting in the harbor for quite some time – and half of the rest had gone to supplies. The explorer wasn't at all sure how long he'd be out traveling like this, but it couldn't help to be careful. People called him nuts sometimes (he was told that he had a bizarre sense of logic), but he always shrugged it off. There was a world of different between being nuts and just being plain reckless.

At first he hadn't a particular destination in mind and for a few days he had drifted aimlessly. Around the end of the week, he decided that there was only so much one could accomplish just wandering around like that and decided that wherever the prow of the Damascus was facing currently would be his set direction. He was still traveling northeast.

I should probably be nearing Nasr by now, Domingo decided, glancing down at the compass and the yellowed map spread out at his side across the panel. The Damascus was a small ship and he was comfortable piloting it by himself – it was a few feet smaller than the famous Little Jack and wasn't nearly as old. Still, the fact that he was the only one onboard reminded him just how boring this could quickly get. The treasure-hunter stifled a yawn. Even the monster encounters were rare these days. Staring straight ahead, he could make out the orange hued rock formations of the South Dannel Strait – the wind was in his favor today and he estimated that he'd reach Nasrad in an hour. Keeping his hands on the wheel, Domingo concentrated on keeping the ship on course.

It wasn't long before one of the ships patrolling the canyon-like Strait hailed him. Coming out onto the wooden deck, Domingo shaded his eyes with one hand as the larger ship pulled alongside his. He was a little surprised that they were still guarding the Straits (both North and South this time), but he reasoned that it was probably to keep the monsters out rather than human threats. He leaned across the railing of the Damascus as two burly men came out onto the other ship's deck, one shouldering a massive hand-held cannon. Domingo noted with dismay that it was an anti-ship model. The larger of the pair shouted aggressively across the expanse of air between the two ships.

"Where're you from, stranger?"

Domingo shouted back, his voice carrying over the whistling wind. "Sailors' Island. This is the Damascus."

The two men exchanged looks, and then the shorter of the two called across the gap.

"What goods are you carrying?"

Domingo was puzzled. Goods? He wasn't carrying anything and he wasn't sure why they'd be questioning him like this. Well, he might as well satisfy their curiosity. I'm pretty sure I don't have anything to hide. Gripping the wooden railing, the treasure hunter bellowed across the expanse:

"Well, besides myself, just some cargo. Food supplies."

"Are you carrying any livestock?"

"No."

There was a moment of long deliberation as the two patrolmen turned and discussed the matter between themselves. Domingo only raised an eyebrow at this – were they going to actually board his ship? He'd never been boarded before and he hoped that he hadn't left anything questionable from the last time he'd went wandering around. It's not like I'm some black market dealer. Still, he was a little nervous that they were taking so long to decide their next course of action. Finally, the bearded one leaned across their deck and shouted across, "What did you say your ship was called?"

"The Damascus."

Another muted conversation before the self-appointed speaker turned back to him, his beard bristling with hostility. "There's a sandstorm coming from across the stone reefs. We suggest that you conclude your business here as quickly as possible before it sweeps through the area."

Domingo's bewilderment only increased. It certainly sounded like just a normal, cordial warning, but he was picking up the hidden threat. If anything, they wanted him gone as soon as possible and he hadn't the slightest clue why this was. As he made his way across the deck and headed back toward the cabin, the slender man glanced over his shoulder. The Nasr patrol-ship was pulling away from the smaller Damascus, the air thrumming as the engines came to life. They were already pulling over the merchant ship behind him by the time he reached the cabin.

It was certainly strange how they were so suspicious. He suspected that the only reason he hadn't been held up for longer was because the Damascus looked perfectly harmless. And, in a way, that was true. His ship had practically no weapons – it was built for maneuverability and long distance travel, not warfare. They most likely didn't see him as a threat. I suppose I got off pretty easily, Domingo felt a scowl cross his face. He couldn't help but wonder if he should be insulted or not. Well…maybe they've been like this for a while. After all, he hadn't exactly been up on the news, so…

The pony-tailed explorer got hailed three more times before Nasrad came into sight. By the time he spotted the golden spires of the rebuilt palace, he was wondering why he'd chosen to go out "exploring" instead of just taking the frying pan like a man. It's too late to turn around, Domingo shook his head in irritation, reaching up and pushing his square goggles further back. His hair seemed to want to get in his face and he wore the goggles to keep his bangs from poking his eyes out. Might as well see if I can find out what in the Moons is going on around here. Nasr's capital had almost completely recovered from the brutal attack by Valua long ago: it had once again returned to being a center of commerce. He probably wouldn't have a problem finding out whatever new had turned up.

Domingo managed to find an open space at the docks, sparing himself a long wait: stepping out of the confines of his ship for the first time in a week, the limber man was considerably surprised to see just how crowded the city's harbor was. Around him, sailors were bustling about the area, throwing ropes down from the decks, unloading various cargo. Though the air was hot, it wasn't as stifling as he'd expected it to be – for a moment, he loitered about the docks, just taking in the different exotic scents in the warm desert air. Even through the city walls he could hear the voices from the bazaar.

Domingo made his way toward the entrance, passing under the giant marble arch – the market place had spilled out toward the harbors and he was instantly assaulted by a flurry of voices:

"Sir, sir! Come, I have the finest rugs in all of Nasr!"

"Kabal Skewers! Fresh from Esperanza!"

"Fruits! Vegetables!"

Domingo entered Nasrad. It was, unsurprisingly, busy. He was a bit puzzled that there weren't any Dhabu running around – the last time he'd been here, after the whole Soltis thing, Dhabu had been imported from Maramba in large numbers. But he couldn't see any now. Their absence was a little strange, and, he began to notice, the activity in the fountain-fed square seemed tense. Conversation was muted and expectant: it wasn't immediately noticeable, not at first. Something definitely is up. Domingo wove his way toward through the crowds, trying to move quickly. He didn't really want to stay here that long – he hadn't intended to stop in the first place. As his destination came into sight – a two-story building that housed a bar – he shouldered his shapeless satchel over his shoulder.

Domingo let himself into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the change in lighting. He hadn't been to this place in a while, and he was a bit astonished to see that the owner had remodeled quite a bit of his establishment. If anything, he'd expanded the bar in order to accommodate the customers seated at the tables and the counter. Looks like it's pretty crowded. Domingo nodded to the bartender as he strolled in – they were on relatively good terms and he was pleased to see that the other man hadn't changed at all. Ramar still had that we're-doomed expression on his tanned face, a constant expression of sorrow half hidden under his hazel beard. The bartender wiped his callused hands on his apron as the younger man sauntered in:

"Long time no see, Ramar."

A rueful smile crossed the man's face under his mustache. "Domingo! It's been a while since you've frequented this place. What can I get you?"

"Surprise me."

"I'll get you the new stuff then," Ramar chuckled. Domingo took a seat at the bar, folding gloved hands as the older man began filling a small glass from a bottle. "So, how's life treating you? Still wandering around?"

"Not really," Domingo heaved a dramatic sigh. "I just got unofficially kicked out of Polly's Place."

"Unofficially?"

"Same thing as last time. Polly threatened to brain me again." Domingo accepted the mug, glancing at the other patrons with curiosity. They were mostly men, sailors and merchants from the docks huddled in groups. He didn't miss the suspicious looks they were exchanging between groups. I wonder what's going on? Something was up, he was starting to figure that out. "I decided to hightail it out of there for a while. Lay low for a while and hope she forgets about this whole thing."

"If I remember correctly, it took her three months before she let you back the first time." Ramar said dryly.

"You don't have to remind me."

"So I don't suppose you came to Nasr just because you wanted my fine company," Ramar said. A sardonic snort as he watched the pony-tailed explorer tilt his head back, tossing down half of the murky, umber alcohol. In the past, Domingo had appeared sporadically in Nasrad – the bartender wasn't at all sure just how he'd gotten past the patrols guarding the South Dannel Strait before Valua had made its attack – and had come and gone, as if unable to stay in one spot for longer than a few days. "So what brings you here?"

Domingo licked his lips, shrugging carelessly. "Nothing, really. In fact, I wasn't really planning on making a stop here, but I got pulled over by these guys with all these cannons." His hazel eyes were puzzled. "I'm still wondering what's the deal."

"Oh…." Ramar's face darkened for a moment and he lowered his voice unconsciously, forcing the younger man to lean toward him. "They didn't always used to patrol the Straits like that. After that Valua was destroyed, they were only there to escort people through and make sure no monsters wandered in –"

Domingo rolled his hands, trying to get Ramar to hurry up – this was all stuff he already knew.

"You still don't have any patience, do you?"

"Since when did I have any?"

"Well, I was getting to it. As I was saying…" the bearded owner of the bar glared at Domingo, as if stopping the inevitable interruption before it could even start, "These measures weren't as…ah…drastic as they might seem to you now. In fact, they weren't even asking for cargo or identification – as long as you weren't a Black Pirate, they'd let you through. You probably noticed that there's no livestock here." Ramar said suddenly, eyebrows rising over limpid brown eyes.

"I was wondering what happened with all those Dhabu…"

"They started baring all live animals from the city a few months ago. Well, except for a few pets – anything that had been here before that whole….rising continent thing – a lot of imported animals, such as the Dhabu, were slaughtered and burned. The patrols always ask if a ship is carrying livestock of any kind." Ramar shook his head. "If you were carrying livestock, they would've boarded you and driven them off into the sky. If you'd resisted, they'd probably pump a few rounds from their cannons into your hull as a warning. Livestock are mostly prohibited now, except for a few suppliers whose cargo passes the new regulations. And even those merchants have to go through all the paperwork."

"Sounds kinda harsh."

"It's for the good of the city. I suppose such measures are always harsh."

Domingo took another sip of loqua, "So why?"

"One of the animals came with some sort of strange disease. It killed some people before they could establish a quarantine." Ramar made a face, tugging at his mustache. "The authorities haven't been able to discover just what exactly carried it, so they've just barred everything to be safe. Everyone's concerned about it, naturally, but a lot of us think they're taking it far too seriously."

Domingo finished his glass. "Sounds like it. So everyone's all terrified about contracting this illness?"

"Yeah. It's starting to drive away a great deal of business. We're already required to visit the local physician every week – we have to have their seals with our papers, if asked to produce them. Bad for business," Ramar repeated.

"That certainly explains the hostility," Domingo snorted, handing the empty loqua to the tall bartender. He began cleaning it. "They were aiming this nasty anti-ship cannon at me the whole time."

"I suspect that they'll see that it was just a rare occurrence sooner or later. I'm sure they'll drop these drastic measures after a while. I fear that they might just start banning imports altogether. It's starting to get ridiculous."

"If there's anything I can do to help you out, just ask. I'm heading north-east."

Ramar paused: he was seriously considering the other's words. A snap of his fingers as the bartender suddenly remembered something. "Well, you could help me out, actually. I've a few barrels of aged loqua that need delivering…"

"Where to?" Ergh…hope it's not some far-off place like Yafutoma… He couldn't help but wonder if he'd made a mistake volunteering himself so quickly. It was true that he didn't mind helping a friend out, but he didn't really want to go out of his way for deliveries. For starters, there was the matter of fuel…and also the fact that he was still a bit miffed about the whole Sailors' Island thing: if he went wandering about, he was concerned that he might actually prove Polly right, that maybe he did need to get out. I'm not about to give her the excuse to say "I told you so"…

"It's pretty close, don't worry about it. Y'know Crescent Isle? The village there? I was supposed to ship the loqua there, but with all the confusion with this quarantine, I haven't had a chance to get out."

"…It's pretty much on my way." Domingo got to his feet, with his cocky trademark grin. "Sure, I'll deliver them for you. Just have them loaded onto the Damascus by tonight and I'll be on my way."

A laugh. "They'll be loaded before then. My thanks. I'll be sure to repay you somehow for this."

It'd better be worth this. Domingo scowled at the compass. The compass was oblivious to the expression, continuing blithely to point northeast. With a frown, the tall adventurer glanced back out the window, wondering just what had possessed him to volunteer himself for this. It had been several hours since he'd left Nasrian airspace and he was thoroughly frustrated. The loqua barrels were sloshing about in the cargo hold and he could swear that he could actually hear the things dribbling all over his ship. Not only that, but the perpetual storm above Valua decided to extend a tendril in his direction. Lightning flicked across the dark ceiling of forming clouds, white lightning spider-webbing across the black sky seconds before the booming thunder followed.

In fact, he'd better have a good price for this. Especially if something unpleasant happened, like lightning hitting the Damascus. Domingo was sure he was heading in the right direction, but with the all the gloom, it was getting hard to tell. It'd better be worth this.

Rain was starting to patter down on the deck, sliding greasy wet trails down the windows. Visibility was dropping and it wouldn't be long before the winds would start to pick up. The problem with Valuan storms was that they weren't at all like those elsewhere in the world. They were far more unpredictable. Maybe I should find a small island and see if I can drop anchor. It depended on how the weather turned out. He'd die of embarrassment if it only lasted a few minutes, and that he'd drop anchor only to find that he was practically on top of Crescent Isle.

I must be pretty close. Domingo had taken into account that he would have to turn just beyond Nasrad, and he'd made this trip hundreds of time on the Delphinus a year previous. By now, he would've thought that navigating would be the least of his problems. But it was difficult to distinguish the small islands littering the sky from the rain splattering onto the windows. They were all starting to look alike, every damned thing. Domingo could feel the claws of an irritated headache approach as he stood at the helm of the Damascus.

Despite the wind, the Damascus made progress – he was farther than he'd thought and he would've gone right past the dark hulking shape of Crescent Isle if he hadn't seen a fleeting gleam of light to the port-side. A start. A will 'o wisp? No, that was just superstition – and they were nowhere near the area with the….

No…it's a moonstone. Venturing the Damascus in for a closer look, he could see that it was a blue moonstone, set in an elevated alcove of carved granite. He raised an eyebrow: rather clever. The moonstone, considering its large size, was acting as a sort of beacon and the blue properties were actually making it easier to navigate, the wind dying down slightly as he pulled in closer. Rather thoughtful of Vyse, Domingo thought to himself sardonically. Of course he didn't want lost merchants to be running into the island. So maybe it was just practicality.

Domingo was pleased to see that the small island had made some expansions (finally). There was a larger dock now – for visitors, he supposed – and even through the gloom, he could see that there were more buildings situated about the plaza. About time he did some remodeling. He nudged the small ship toward the empty docks, breathing a sigh of relief as the hull scrapped against it and soon came to rest. Anchoring the Damascus, Domingo stepped out onto the decks. Immediately, he was sprayed with rain.

Great…just great. This wasn't going to be fun. Pulling his goggles down from their customary perch on his forehead and over his eyes, the nineteen year-old stalked down from the docks, leaning forward against the whipping winds – the area of protection from the blue moonstone was intended only to extend to the docks, not toward the rock-solid buildings past the decline, it seemed. The short tails of his orange overcoat were furiously flapping about as he descended – his long pony-tail was being a general nuisance, strands of black hair plastering themselves to the glass of his goggles as he moved.

To his surprise, a lone figure waited for him near the island's small bay. The other man was shielding a lantern with his hand, watching Domingo approach. Striding down the slope, bent forward, he shouted a greeting through the slashing rain as soon he thought he was within hearing distance:

"Hey!" Domingo quickly fought his way through the biting winds onto level ground. The waiting man said nothing in reply to his greeting, "I'm Domingo. Where's Vyse?"

More silence. Domingo raised an eyebrow as the other simply turned around and wound his way silently through the gray buildings. What the hell was that? Domingo certainly didn't know. Either the guy was a complete ass or he had some damned good reason for brushing the young explorer off like that. It wasn't much of a welcome. At least it was a comfort to know that he'd been expected. The welcoming party could've been better though, Domingo decided, following the other man at length. Something about the stranger looked vaguely familiar – the explorer must have seen him somewhere – but he was too annoyed and soaked to try to remember the details.

Passing under the arch of an overpass, Domingo was led into the plaza. Wordlessly, his guide lifted his lantern and bowed his head, examining a latch. Domingo caught a glimpse of faint scar running down his pale cheek (he could've sworn he'd seen that before) as he came to a stop behind the taller form.

"Is Vyse even here?" Domingo asked sourly.

The scarred man shrugged, voice low and almost inaudible in the patter of rain on the pavement.

"Yes," and Domingo's guide couldn't be prodded to say anything further, instead flatly turning his back on him. The latch finally opened and the door to the elevator swung open. Without waiting, the lantern bearer stepped on.

Where did Vyse pick up these people? Domingo wondered. He hurried into the lift, frowning. The least the stranger could've learned was common courtesy. The rain continued to slash down as the elevator creaked up the cliff-side. His guide said nothing as the lift came to a stop, only motioning silently toward the heavy wooden door at the end of the wooden catwalk. Muttering a caustic "thanks", the raven-haired explorer stepped off the heavy elevator, leaving the other man standing alone.

For some reason, Domingo was actually looking forward to seeing Vyse. But then again, any company was better than the one he had just left.

"Oh, thanks. I see how it is," Vyse attempted to look put-out. "I'm wondering if I should be flattered or not."

Domingo, lounged comfortably against the window sill, grinned. "Hey, I like to be around people with a little life to them, y'know?"

The captain only shook his head, chuckling. He didn't appear all too different from the last time Domingo had seen him. A slight difference in hair, maybe – it looked slightly longer, wind-swept – but that was about it. The same glass sky seer eye-patch, the same charming grin, the same boyish enthusiasm. Moons, even the same clothes. Well, that might be exaggerating. But Vyse hadn't changed much since then. At the moment, Vyse was fiddling with a weathered quill, flipping it deftly between his long fingers as he stared across the table at the lanky explorer.

"He's a good helmsman. He was on the Delphinus, remember?"

Domingo tried to rack his brain. Yes, he had seen that creep before, but other than that, he was coming up with nothing. You would think a dark, scarred, and altogether unnerving man would be more memorable…

"Lawrence."

Domingo stared as recognition dawned at the name. "You serious? The guy who was always hanging around Sailor's Island?"

Vyse nodded. "Yeah. That's Lawrence. Not really much of a talker, but I don't think he's too bad. He just…keeps to himself."

Domingo heaved a dramatic sigh, swinging his goggles lazily by the band. "You're not much of a social creature, Vyse. You don't understand." With a quick motion, he snapped the square goggles back onto his head. "Hey, how many of the original crew're still here?"

Vyse thought about it. "A lot went home after the whole…Zelos-thing. I'm guess maybe…" he did a mental count in his head. "Six are still left."

"…Don't you miss it?"

The Blue Rogue blinked at the sudden question. "Miss what? The sailing?"

Well, that wasn't exactly what Domingo meant, but it was close enough. He nodded. Vyse was silent for a few seconds, brushing away shaggy brown bangs from his eyes as he focused on something beyond the raven-haired explorer. Biting his lip, Vyse gave a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I guess I do. I mean, sure, we practically had the entire Empire after us. And we did hit some rough spots, not just with the Armada," Vyse set down the quill. "But it was really fun. Something most people don't get to experience in their life."

"You're telling me," Domingo muttered.

For a long moment, the two men were lost in thought. Domingo stared at his hands: it was almost depressing (well, it was probably easier for Vyse to shake off, since nothing seemed to faze him), to think that maybe that had been "It". That it had been The Big Adventure every kid, at some point, must've dreamt about. Domingo could barely remember his childhood, but he remembered the sense of wonder he had felt the first time he had set foot on the deck of a ship, then the exhilaration experienced when he'd made his first discovery. He had been addicted then – his desire to unveil the unknown, to discover, to do things no one else had, fueled him. For a while, he had been unstoppable as an explorer…

Vyse coughed, clearing the silence.

"Well…at least you're not stuck with all this paperwork," Vyse chuckled, making a face at the clutter of letters and forms sitting on his desk.

"I'm still trying to figure out why a pirate has to mess with that."

Vyse grimaced. "I wish I knew. Dad never told me he had all this stuff to do – I always wondered why he spent all that time in his office." The Blue Rogue got to his feet, rounding his desk. Reaching back into a basket of fruit, he tossed the explorer an orange. Domingo caught it deftly and returned the lop-sided grin. "Why don't you stay the night?"

"My room still there?"

Vyse rolled his eyes. "No, I had it converted to the crew's dining quarters."

Domingo only laughed, concentrating on peeling the orange.

"I hope I'm not prying, but where're you going? Or is the question more of why you're out here?"

"Moons, it's a long story, Vyse…"

"So let me get this straight," Vyse said at length, groggily. "The only reason you're sitting in my office right now is because Polly kicked you out?"

Domingo nodded. His story had taken surprisingly longer than he'd expected: between his commentary and side-tracking, and Vyse's questions, it had taken them into the early hours of the morning. In fact, thinking back sleepily back onto it, most of it hadn't been even about how he'd gotten to Crescent Isle. He couldn't remember the last time he had sat down with Vyse and just talked. The last time he'd had an extended discussion with Vyse, it had been about the Dark Rift when they had first gone through, about his own concerns and what courses of action were available in that lonely, eerie graveyard.

Vyse, resting his chin on his crossed arms, regarded the explorer with an amused expression. "Basically you have no idea where you're going."

"Nope," Domingo yawned.

"Why am I not surprised?" Vyse couldn't help but follow Domingo's example, yawning as well. "Don't answer that."

Domingo lounged back against his seat, closing his eyes. It wasn't very comfortable, but he'd slept in worse. He was sorely tempted to just go to sleep right where he was, but it would probably look rather strange if he waltzed out in the later hours of the morning from Vyse's office, disheveled. He supposed he should probably be making his way to his quarters – but that would require him standing up and he figured he was too lazy to bother. Another yawn.

"We'll do what we can to help you; you'll have to tell me in detail what you need tomorrow – " Vyse paused, squinting at the mantel clock not far away. He corrected himself. "- later today. How's that sound?"

"Fine with me."

Domingo said his good-byes – the two men exchanged parting words before Domingo left Vyse's office. It was still dark out since dawn was still a long way off. The rain had lessened to a drizzle, the warm kind that made one even more sleepy. The spring kind. Stumbling slightly, groping about for the guard rail, he felt his way along the catwalk, eyes half-lidded. His quarters were on ground-level, which meant he had to go locate the blasted elevator.

It had been a while since he'd slept in an actual bed. But then again, he'd spent longer than a week out sailing the skies before – he supposed he'd grown soft over the past year and the explorer couldn't help but feel almost appalled. Before, he hadn't ever looked forward to sleeping, since there was so much to do, so little time. And now, not long after, he was actually looking forward to collapsing in his firm bed located in the crew's quarters. It was downright ridiculous.

Maybe Polly was right…

Not paying attention where he was going, Domingo reached out expectantly for the railing. His hand closed over thin air.

Suddenly startled awake, he was horrified to find he was already starting to tip over – even in the meager red light of the moon, he could see the ground, several stories below. For a second, he had begun to tilt into free-fall.

A strong hand suddenly grabbed at his wrist and roughly pulled him away from the drop, and back toward the safety of the catwalk. He stumbled, still shocked, into his rescuer's chest. For a long moment, Domingo was frozen against the other man, all too aware of how he'd just narrowed avoided a nasty drop. If whoever had pulled him away hadn't been watching him, hadn't been there, or had missed...he would've certainly broken something, if not his neck. A breathless thank-you bubbling up, Domingo looked up to identify who his rescuer was.

Lawrence's scarred face stared down at him, his expression one of faint disdain. He still held Domingo's thin wrist.

Domingo's face flushed in a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. Muttering a "thanks" that was more irritable then he intended, he pulled away from the helmsman as if stung. Lawrence, expression unchanged, released his gloved wrist slowly. His face still red, Domingo brushed past and hurried away to the waiting elevator. He was being more than a little rude, but, despite his near-miss, all he could think of was his own stupidity – and how Lawrence was probably laughing at him.

Hopefully his marvelous display of "grace" wouldn't be brought up to anyone. He already had a shaky reputation as it was.

Thankfully, his reputation – shaky as it was – hadn't been further damaged. Getting up and leaving the crew's quarters, there had been no strange looks. Aika hadn't mentioned it when she had randomly run up to him and practically tackled him in a bear hug, squealing how it had been "so long" and that "he had to come back and join the crew". Vyse, when Domingo had met up with him, didn't seem aware of anything. And Lawrence, despite their brief run-in last night, was satisfied to completely ignore him.

A good night's sleep had done wonders for Domingo. Waking up in a different bed had been pleasant and he felt less lethargic than he had at Sailor's Island only a few days ago. In fact, feeling unnaturally cheerful, he even offered to help Vyse's crew unload the barrels of loqua from the Damascus. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now he was feeling considerably less generous as his back and arms protested under the weight of the heavy barrels.

Luckily it didn't take long. Domingo joined the remaining crew for drinks as they rested. He hadn't enjoyed the work, but it hadn't felt bad to be out and doing things again. A mental correction: well, it was alright. Nothing to give Polly any more incentive to shake her head at him with that same "I told you so" look. Domingo would be damned if he was going to roll over that easily to the woman. Even he had more pride than that.

He'd wandered off a bit toward the small pond, sipping his glass of water, when Vyse joined him. The Blue Rogue had helped out with the loading himself, and now was missing his eye-patch and his outer tunic.

"Thanks for going out of your way for that delivery."

Domingo snorted. "I wasn't really going anywhere."

"Well, still. You know what I meant." Vyse glanced back at the main group. They were still laughing and talking amongst themselves. "So now what?"

Domingo blinked and glanced, startled, at the other man. "What?"

"Now what're you going to do?" Vyse asked again.

Trust Vyse to be this blunt. The explorer scowled. He supposed it was one of Vyse's many charms but right now it was a charm he could do without.

"I don't know. I wasn't exactly thinking about it when Polly chased me out of her tavern."

Vyse ignored his sarcasm. "Well, I don't know if you want to stay here or not. We're not really busy so it might get boring real fast…"

Domingo sighed. If he stayed here, he'd probably just return back to the same state he'd been in on Sailors Island. Except this time instead of Polly kicking him out, it would be Vyse and he honestly didn't want Vyse of all people to be scolding him for being a baby. It was bad enough when those words came from Polly. He shook his head at Vyse's offer. No, he couldn't stay. But neither did he know what to do. Things had been a whole lot easier when he'd had a goal.

"I'll pass. I was thinking of leaving today anyway," Domingo said.

Vyse nodded. "Well, we'll make sure your ship is ready. If Polly kicked you out, you're probably going to be out for a while."

A dry laugh. "Don't remind me."

"So you don't have a crew?"

Domingo finished his remaining drink with a gulp. "No. The Damascus isn't big enough for a full crew. It's basically just me."

Vyse nodded. If Domingo had bothered to look, he would have seen the gears turning in the Blue Rogue's head. But he didn't and so he was blissfully unaware of the idea forming. It wouldn't be good for Domingo to be traveling alone at this point, Vyse decided. He'd pick someone from his crew who would be helpful and expendable in his services. Vyse himself was a decent enough helmsman, so…of course. He knew who he could send with Domingo.

After a while the conversation turned to idle small-talk. Vyse eventually excused himself, saying that he'd have all the preparations for Domingo's departure finished in a few hours. Domingo went back to his quarters and waited. He didn't want to admit it, but this wasn't too bad.

That feeling was about to change, however.

"Vyse, no."

"Look, it's stupid to go by yourself."

"I did it before I met you guys. I don't want any more people on the Damascus other than myself."

"You're just being stubborn!"

"So are you!"

The two men glowered at each other. It was nearing late afternoon, the sun glowing golden in a way that would have been rather beautiful had anyone been paying attention to it. But all attention was drawn to the growing argument at the dock near the Damascus. Vyse stood with his arms crossed over his chest, Domingo with fists planted on his hips. Both wore matching expressions of ire as a small crowd grew to watch the clashing personalities. The cause of the argument stood just behind Vyse silently.

Domingo shook his head, flicking a stare at Lawrence. "For the last time, I don't need a helmsman."

"He's one of the best and you know it."

Well, he couldn't really refute that, but he was damned if he was going to give up without a fight. He changed the subject. "I always travel alone. That's just the way I do things."

"Yeah, and what if you get attacked while you're out there? Who's going to watch your back?"

"It's not like I don't know how to take care of myself, Vyse."

The Blue Rogue rolled his eyes. He knew that Domingo had "Angler", a large gun that required both hands to use it, but he'd never seen him actually use it. And besides, Domingo was just being difficult. It was obvious that having more help could never hurt. And if this was what Domingo had been acting like back at Sailor's Island, he could see why Polly had kicked him out. If this was what a year of inactivity did to Domingo… well, even he would've probably gotten sick of it.

"Look, he already agreed. And I paid any fees he'd ask of you, so you might as well. He's a much better helmsman than you and he's practically free since I covered the costs for you.."

Lawrence met the explorer's stare without a change in expression. Domingo looked very much like one who had tasted something sour. He scowled but he said nothing in immediate reply. How could you argue with that? He didn't want another person onboard, especially not Lawrence, but it was a losing argument and prolonging it any further only made him look more and more foolish, especially when Vyse was resorting to that cursed logic.

"…Fine. Whatever, Vyse. But for the record, this wasn't my idea," he turned and stormed up the gangplank onto the Damascus's deck. Lawrence followed without a word.

Vyse watched as the small ship began to pull away from Crescent Isle. Domingo wouldn't like it, but this was probably for the better. And who knew? Maybe it would be something new for Lawrence. With just the two of them, the normally taciturn helmsman might open up.

Well, that might be hoping too much. I better just hope they don't kill each other.

Turning, Vyse went back down the hill.

To be continued...

Um...I'm going to be probably jumping from Domingo's POV to Lawrence's. I don't really know where this is going, so I'm basically just winging it. I realized that Domingo doesn't really have a weapon, so now he's got a shotgun. Oo; And he's cranky because he's been pretty much out of a job for a year, so...yeah. oo Anyway, I'll just be updating when I can get around to it, but my main focus is going to be Digital Shuffle. ^^;

- Famira Damaris/Camille Vidan