Docking in the East (Stow away on the Grim)

[England]

Pulling out the chair directly across from the boy - was Feng or Wang his first name? Arthur pondered - he sat down with a mildly amused smile on his face. "Close, but not quite. We're privateers." Curling his hands together, he looked directly into the young man's eyes, looking for facial expressions that would tell him the boy was lying. "So, my next question is why were you stowing away on my ship?"

[pilipinas]

Pri-va-teers. What? Something. Not Pirates, but not . . not pirates. Confusing. He left it at that. It wasn't that important, he assumed. He'd be getting off the ship soon anyhow, wouldn't he?

The contrast of striking green iris was more than apparent against Feng's brown, almost black eyes. Some people became squeamish under boring eyes. He wasn't one of them. He stared right back. He was good at it, after all.

"To get home," Feng answered seamlessly. It wasn't a lie just yet, after all. "I don't have enough money to pay ferry all the way to China. I was . . . working, in Britain," Skidding over the truth wasn't a complete lie. This blond man looked smart. He could probably already assume one or two points already. 'Working' left a sour taste on his tongue though. Sure, it could be called work.

"Family," He continued. "I'm looking for my family."

[England]

He didn't need to be looking at the boy to be able to catch when he lied - it was glaringly obvious what he meant by 'working'. Bringing his hands up under his chin to rest his head on them, he made a soft noise in the back of his throat. Well, at least that small, if detail-less account gave him answers. The boy had been with them since he'd last docked in England - a few weeks at least. He'd run away from slavery so he could find his family again.

"And you assume that the rest of your family hasn't been interred in slavery because...?" he asked, tilting his head just the slightest bit in curiosity. Gurt flew in from upstairs and landed on his head with a happy chirp.

"Ooh! Arthur! You found him again!"

The little green rabbit cooed from where he was sitting, confusing Arthur almost instantly. What did he mean 'found again'? ...Though the boy did look familiar, he knew he'd never met him before... unless he'd seen the boy for a short moment when he was still living in England with his family and happened to see the slave - but that odd feeling didn't seem to fit the situation...

(XD in case anyone is confused - Gurt is the name I gave England's little flying rabbit-thing.)

[pilipinas]

See? The captain was smart, just like Feng assumed. No need to mention those terrible people. "They weren't on the convoy I was sold off of," He answered, and frowned. Yao and Mei weren't anywhere to be seen since he had blacked out during the attack. Not in the slave ship's brigs where everyone was held, not at the auction where Feng was bought. "I haven't seen them since I left."

The British man's words brought a shadow of doubt in the back of his mind. What if Yao and Mei were simply on another ship? Or had been sold off much quicker and he didn't see them? They could not be in Asia at all. That would cripple him like a bullet to the knee. Where else would he go . . . ? His family was all he ever had.

Feng twitched for a moment, a slight shiver going up his spine. Did someone else enter the room? Feng circled his head back to the door, finding it closed as it was when they first entered. Nobody but the captain and himself. Nobody visible, anyhow. Another presence. . . it was hard to describe. The pressure of another 'thing' in the room when only the two bodies were present. He narrowed his eyes. ". . . Jīngshén?" He mumbled under his breath.

((**Jīngshén = Spirit
I've seen a lot of stuff where Hong Kong can see/feel fairy spirits and such 'cause of Iggy's influence and all, so. . . yeah. ;;;;;; ))

[England]

He was silent for a long moment, lost in his thoughts. Yet another person searching for family - although, to be honest, as he was now the boy wasn't going to stand much of a chance in finding them. So, Arthur got up, heading for the first aide kit that Odin kept tucked away in the corner in case he needed it.

"... here. Let's patch up your face." he said as he sat back down in his chair and popped the lid open. There were two more things he needed to do. The first being - if he was going to give this boy at least half a chance (finding yourself more curious about a stow-away than angry was definitely an odd reaction, but he suddenly felt too old and tired to question it) he was going to have to get his lock-picking kit from his room to take off what was left of that ankle chain.

The other he wasn't too sure would be accepted. He remembered back when he first went out to sea and how he'd learned the hard way that there was so much more to know if he was going to make it in the real world. Daubbing the cut with alcohol, he pursed his lips in thought.

[pilipinas]

Feng watched with diluted curiosity as the captain stood up from the table and went to the cupboards, producing a small chest-like box. He returned, producing a handful of what the Asian recognized as medical items.

Instinctly touching his cheek, Feng had momentarily forgotten that he was a little worse for wear. Probably because he finally had proper food. From what he could feel, the tear from his scolding was still healing over, and probably a little swollen. (And probably dirt-encrusted too.) The Captain dabbed a bottle on a small cloth, smelling oddly like cleaner. His initial instinct was to flinch back when the outstretched hand came closer to his face, and he did. But. . . it didn't seem like he was in too much trouble. . . yet. The alcohol was cool on his skin on contact, but stinging painfully on the open end of the cut. Feng kept down a hiss between his teeth, looking away.

[England]

He noticed the flinch - how could he not with how close he was to the boy? - but he waited a short moment before pressing the alcohol swab to Feng's face. When he deemed it sufficiently cleaned, Arthur grabbed a bandage large enough to stick over the entire scrape. Leaning in closer, he tilted the boy's head to the side and got a good look at the mark left by the ring - it was faint, but the markings were distinct enough for him to make a guess at which noble's house the asian boy had escaped from. Not the kindest noble family around - but, for some reason he was incredibly thankful the boy hadn't escaped from the worst... as the worst would never stop hunting him down for disgracing them.

Sticking the bandage over the wound with a sigh, Arthur stood back up and grabbed the boys bowl. Ladling more stew out and refilling the glass of water, he placed them back in front of the still-starving looking lad. "Finish those up while I go get my lockpicks." he frowned down at the boy. Yet another reason why he couldn't let him run away just yet - anyone with a brain would be able to tell he was a run away slave with that chain still on his leg.

[pilipinas]

For the moment, Feng did as he was told, his head tilted to better angles so the cut could be cleaned less awkwardly. Every sting of the alcohol brought images of those Westerners to his head. A skinny, shrewd woman always hiding behind a fan, and her fat lord of a husband who wore more jewels than his wife in a great attempt at attracting envy from the masses. Plus their two obnoxious daughters. Feng didn't see much of them when he was there -- unless they pulled him out to make him serve guests, or forced to become the daughters' plaything. They tugged at him and pushed him around and locked him in rooms for sport. He finally spit at one in the eye -- with better aim than he had first thought, he mused -- but that bulging father would have none of that, thus, the streaking family crest across his cheek.

He blinked out of his memories as the captain stepped away from him, and back to the quietly boiling pot. A second fill was set before the boy, which he all too quickly accepted. He began to down the stew, faster than the last serving, as Arthur turned away to get his lock picking kit. He always kept an eye looking up, watching the man when he moved out of natural suspicion.

Feng had almost forgotten about the leg chain. It was attached to him on and off so often that the skin of his ankle had become almost calloused with wear. In his escapades, the metal had still left gashes and bruises from movement recoil.

By the time he downed half the glass of water and more than a third of the bowl of food, he had to know. "Why are you helping me?" Feng asked, eyes calm but searching for a reason he could think of -- what would a captain gain from helping a slave? Maybe he really was thinking of re-selling him to the masses.

[England]

Arthur came back inside the room at the right moment to hear that last comment. With a chuckle, he knelt down by the shackled foot, propping it up with a knee so he could get a better look at the lock. "Well... it would be rather hypocritical of me to help those who are involved in slaving, seeing as how I used to be a slave myself." The faintly ironic grin he sent the young man before him was truthful - Renato had made him a slave for the first couple years aboard his ship before he'd joined the crew. It was certainly the most degrading experience of his life and despite how much he cared for his old Italian captain, he certainly did not remember the first few years fondly.

"Pardon an old man for seeing a bit of himself in you and allow me to aid you even just in food and drink."

[pilipinas]

That reply made Feng raise a brow. A ship captain as a slave? He hadn't heard of that before. He knew little about the seas and skies, but he knew enough about hierarchy. It made him curious about the blond captain.

And he couldn't pick it out completely, but there was something. . . parent-like about the man, even if he was picking away at a lock on the Asian's ankle. Maybe it was a fatherly thing, a feeling Feng wasn't used to. (His dad had no problem with the children he had, but he was never around, of course.) But there was just a something. Something he couldn't pick out completely.

"You're not that old," Feng found the need to point it out, "But. . . thank you for all your help."