An unusual alliance [closed]

Claudius gave a small laugh as the girl held his wrist. He could have easily taken his hand away but he took it off and tossed it to her. Showing her his second one he wasn't worried about her turning it against him, at least not out here anyway. "Well all this rope is to teach you how to quickly claim the mass and to tie knots. Now the first thing you need to learn is knots, they are the life line of any ship. If one is to tight it could snap and brake something, if it's to lose then you the sail might open up and then we slam into a rock face. Also my name is Clauidus, sorry for not introducing myself but these men can be a hand full and well I'm kinda lazy at times."

So he handed her a piece of rope and he took one as well. He started out simple, and he worked slowly so she could follow his hand movements. He quickly untied the knot and with her working in tandem with him they redid the knot. Claudius showed her the most basic and most important knots first. "So know we will be working on these knots for awhile. Once you get the hang of them if you have any free down time practice on making the knots. Now do this for a bit then we will get on to the next part."

He hoped she would be a fast learner and get her sea legs quickly. The only problem was she was young and the men would pray on her. So in his head he vowed to she this girl be untainted by this ship like so many before her.

“Well-“ Dante began, having made his way up to the helm before the Russian to get away from the working swarm, “-your instructions for the girl’s quarters definitely prevented any unpleasantries. Permanently, God willing.”

Such a remark wasn’t necessarily in regards to the new girl whom the priest paid particular attention. Rather, it seemed a pre-emptive warning as dangerous as it was subtle. More like a reassurance to himself that he wouldn't be needing to feel the need to absolve any sinners anytime soon.

His robes were still drying from cleaning after all.

If there was one thing about the priest, it was that he always presented himself well, even in the middle of a scurvy ridden hell-hole; like the First of the Fallen indeed. Instead of slouching or leaning over the rail, he kept his back straight and oversaw the men attending their duties like a proud hawk observing a rush of rodents.

They were all rats.

Vermin.

Yet he concealed the disgust well, although it didn’t come without his years upon years of conditioning in the arts of deception.

When the sails swelled with a particularly strong current his innards lurched and he sighed; tightening his hands one upon the other as he focused to regain his equilibrium. It was always the initial pick up that made the cleric feel like his stomach was twisted but he would be damned before he allowed such a trifling human error become a weakness.

The feeling was quashed sooner rather than later and the cleric glanced at the proud figure of their Russian captain. A Czar in a Czarina’s body he sometimes found himself thinking, often as a result of his mind being idle when the times were dull. Although it seemed that in the womb that both spirits had contested and compromised on such a hulking frame in which to house such a ‘barbaric’ soul. Jekaterina was Russian after all, they were notoriously backwards. Uncouth.

“You have the name of the vessel I assume? He finally asked as port began to be swallowed by the cove they were turning out of. He was watching the assassin run through the basics of sailing with Evangeline, “'British colours' are incredibly broad boundaries.

Jekaterina would normally object to having people who actually didn't know how to sail standing beside her as she piloted the ship. But this was the priest, a grand master of the templar order but she was the captain of the vessel they were currently on. As soon as she stepped off the ship he was her superior without question but as long as they were on it it was an odd balance. He couldn't really order her around but neither could she to an extent.

So she let him be and simply hummed to acknowledge his statement of which she couldn't understand all the words. However she understood the gist of it and hoped the conversation wouldn't drag on.

Jekaterina wouldn't say she feared anyone, really. However the priest made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. Like many he was shorter (barely) and less muscular than her yes. But she still felt like he could easily get rid of her if he bothered to try. The thought of it alone made her sleep with an eye open, when she wasn't pass out drunk of course.

She had to keep herself from pursing her lips together as the conversation continued, couldn't he just shut up and think of god or whatever priests did?

There was a pause as she searched her slightly hazy hungover mind for what had been said in the letter about their target. It took her a few seconds but soon enough she had an answer for him:

"HMS Winchester is the name. A brig I believe. About forty cannons estimated and-" she lowered her voice slightly to a more private hushed tone "Controlled by assassin captain ruining shipments. Torres wanted slow death for him if possible." she said the last part as casually as if she was talking about buying bread, it was not the first time the order had requested a grim action to be performed and even if it took a while you soon got used to it. Especially if you dealt with pirates and their brutality on weekly basis as well.

Eva caught the hidden blade and looked at it curiously. Of course it was different from hers in design, but overall the technique and the use of it was just the same. She also had the upper wrist blade, but this one was used quite rarely for although it was sharp and a powerful tool, it wasn't as comfortable as its relative. Eventually she got tired of examining the details she already knew of, especially since she was taught how to use it in several ways, Evangeline handed the blade carefully to Claudius. “It is very nice to meet you. I am Evangeline... but you already know that...” She chuckled awkwardly and shrugged her shoulders before looking down at the ropes.

Alright. The knots. As she looked at them, she did not see a complexity, but she knew that the process itself, especially the learning, was harder than it seemed. Everything was in this world. And the fact that she was already feeling nauseous and turning paler every moment they were sailing did not help on her concentrating skills either.

She took the rope carefully and followed his examples. In the beginning it wasn't as hard as she thought, but knowing that this was a different life and relying on his announcements earlier about the knots, Eva expected lessons to become harder eventually.
”So... how long have you been sailing?” she asked quietly, still working with the rope and trying to seem as natural as possible. But before she would even sit and politely wait for his reply, Evangeline suddenly stood up and walked up to the ratlines. Holding on on them, she leaned a bit over the edge and looked down at the water, gasping for air. Although she was not vomiting, it was obvious now that the girl did not feel so well even though they have only been sailing for couple of minutes.

He idly pressed the pad of his thumb against his Templar ring as he listened to her rough English; feeling the carved symbol press into the skin. A quick look at the soft indentation of the cross in that calloused pad of the left thumb and he recognised the attitude in her intonation, the attitude of not wanting to be in this circumstance, having this conversation.

He recognised it because the feeling was quite mutual.

“¿Tenemos los armamentos para una batalla?” (We have the armaments for a battle?) Dante asked in the Latin language he knew Jekaterina wouldn’t butcher, for the sake of his own ears. “Entiendo que la sutileza no es su ‘especialidad’.” (I understand that subtlety isn’t your speciality)

Folding his hands together before his face he rested an idle kiss upon one of his knuckles, as if he were about to entreat God.

There was a power to be found in appearances and illusions. He knew some of the Spaniards on board would follow him to Hell in the belief it was Heaven.

“El hombre va a morir de acuerdo a sus pecados contra el Señor y Padre.” (The man will die in accordance to his sins against the Lord and the Father) He crossed himself and thus concluded their brief correspondence upon the matter, knowing that he could dominate the woman with words rather than strength that was Jekaterina’s dominion. Besides, his seemingly moderate words were laced with heinous intent.

“Voy a estar por debajo de las cubiertas debe usted me necesite. Correspondencias necesitan abordar.” (I will be below decks should you require me. Correspondences need addressing)

Claudius couldn't help bit laugh as the girl grew sick, down on deck you you feel the waves hit the ship hard, feel it rock in time with the water. Now up top things were much calmer and now was a good as time as any. He reattach his wrist blade and took the two longer pieces of rope. "Recce get over here we need to show this greenhorn how to climb a mast"

The man seemed unto his job until Claudius called to him when he sat up straight and jogged towards him. Claudius handed him his rope which he threw around the mass and made it snug. [Color=darkcyan]"Now the next thing we are going to learn is mast climbing. Recce over there is going to give us a quick show before we do it for ourselves. So he first wraps one end around his hand and wrist, next he swings it around the mast before wrapping his other hand the same way. The while pulling on the rope as leverage you simply walk up the mast. This is of course a much quicker and cooler way. The other of course is the mess mesh that lines the masts themselves. So Recce would you please climb up and slide down please."t another word Recce took off in a hurry making what a normal climbing 1 minute or 2 into mere second. So when he reached out of eyesight he slid down with relative ease. So now he handed her the smaller piece of rope and took his back as Recce left to continue his work.

[Color=darkcyan]"Come closer and watch what I do and follow it exactly as I do it. Now tie it around on your hand like so..." He made a slow effort to show her how to safely tie it where it won't brake someone hand. "Next you throw it around and the pull back a climb like so. Now never let go or you will fall. Now let's get you up first and we're climbing all the way to the top."

Eva scowled at the laughter. Suddenly the Cabin Boy was irritating, but then again she could not blame him for a reaction like that. Would she be someone who basically lived on the sea, she would have laughed at something like this too, but unlike him, she'd at least offer a few kind words.
Instead of glaring him down like she would usually do, Evangeline stared down at the water. At least she was not vomiting which already was good enough for her. For some reason she had imagined that this would be far more worse.

Turning around, she saw Claudius with the other sailor – Recce – and with a roll of her eyes, Eva pulled away from the edge of the ship and approached her teacher.
It was impressive indeed to watch how Recce climbed the mast with such speed that her mouth was slightly agape. And then he slid down. ”What?” she was surprised that she was about to climb the mast Now. She had to know more about it. What if she will fall? Or what if the ropes will break?

Eva looked at the ones that Claudius gave her and pouted her lips. This was not a good idea. She was not someone who belonged to the sea or somewhere above three feet from the ground. She was a land lover and this was as far as she would go. Evangeline knew her limits, but then again she had a fighter's spirit and she wanted to try those different things offered to her.
She watched intently how Claudius wrapped the rope around his wrist and she did so as well (or at least she tried to) and then stepped closer to the mast. Suspicious, she looked up at the mast. ”Ugh...”
She threw the rope around the mast and caught the other end. ”But how do I start climbing?” Eva questioned. It was easy for someone who had done this hundreds of times, and it seemed easy when Recce made an example himself, but when she tried to pull herself up, it did not work as she had imagined. She could climb trees, though, but a mast without any brances was far more different and complicated.

Finally! A language she actually understood. Jekaterina immediately felt the conversation become more pleasant, well as pleasant as an incredibly awkward conversation where you had to walk on eggshells around the priest could become. Relief could almost be heard in her voice as she replied:

"Estamos siempre listos para la batalla. No podemos darnos el lujo de no estar en estos mares me temo." (We are always ready for battle. We can not afford not to be in these seas I'm afraid.) A small chuckle escaped her throat at his second statement. Quickly silencing it she had to keep the smile of her face as she spoke:

"¿En serio? Yo, que había trabajado tan duro practicando sigilo, una pena que no muestra." (Really? I who had worked so hard practicing stealth, a shame it doesn't show.) A little bit of joking around could never hurt right? Even if it was to the priest.

Her joking mood soon disappeared however as the priest excused himself and she simply gave him a nod in reply, her attention being drawn elsewhere almost immediately as she watched the young girl rush over to the railing and lean over it.

Jekaterina's hand met her forehead as she processed the sight, of course the girl would be seasick. Of course. It wasn't even that windy! How would she fair when the waves were as big as the ship?

She dragged her hand down her face at the mere thought and let out an exasperated sigh, this was not going to be the easiest journey.

As she got no response to her question, Evangeline sighed quietly and her dark eyes started wandering around the deck once again, eventually ending up on the captain and the priest. From afar she could not even guess that their exchange of words was not pleasant for each other, and so she simply guessed that those two shared some details and thoughts about the voyage before the man departed.
Templar nipped on her lower lip and looked at the ends of the rope in her hand. Finally she straightened herself:”I will return shortly,” she announced and stepped away from the mast. She gave the rope to Claudius and, waving her hand, she left him and followed the priest quietly.

Once again her steps were quiet, and eventually she caught up on him. In her remaining childish manner, Eva gently tugged his sleeve, expecting him to turn around or stop. Or if not, she could easily catch up with him. Either way, she saw no problems.

”So... You failed to mention your name, father,” the Templar reminded the priest. Talking with him seemed so much better than climbing the mast and learning how to hang from the ropes. She knew that learning those skills was obligatory if she wanted to survive on the ship, but she also needed some time to get used to the sea and the surroundings. ”Hmh, this is not your first time on the ship, is it...? How long did it take for you to get used to the constant fluctuation?”

“I did didn’t I?” He remarked over his shoulder as he turned to address the girl who had pulled so childishly upon his sleeve. Such behaviour caused a good humour to haunt the corners of his mouth; not enough to make the man smile, but enough to make his countenance a more kind one to behold. The childishness reminded him of the children back on in Italy, at the little orphanage just outside the city of Palermo in northern Sicily – they were forever grabbing at the skirts or sleeves of his cassock, pulling him this way and that in order to get him to read their favourite books to them or take them into the market when he went shopping for provisions or play hide and seek or other such games for children. Of course, this girl wasn’t a slight child with an age he could show upon his hands, this girl was a young woman and a Templar at that and thus the shy gesture seemed out of place, as endearing as it was.

“My name is often of little importance,” he dipped his head as he had been caught whilst pushing open the door to the Captain’s quarters, “however it is Dante. Dante Salucci.”

The harsh and bitter smell of vodka soured his smile along with his mood yet he persevered regardless into that foul chamber strewn with bottles and other such hallmarks of barbaric Russian vice so as to deal with the letters which still needed writing and otherwise addressing. With courtesy he held the door open if she so happened to want to avoid her deckhand duties for the meantime.

The light had risen rapidly and the ‘bear’s cave’ was thus flooded with light from back window that stretched customarily along the rear. Dante ignored the irritating and contemptuous voice that slithered inside his skull which was abuzz with discontent concerning such ill-kept surroundings. He adjusted his collar, the gesture translating his hatred in subtle and mere means.

“I was raised near the coast, fishing runs in my family’s blood so the boat comes naturally,” he explained to her once he had adjusted himself to the area, “I would suggest getting used to the movement before adding your own; the idiot boy of a quartermaster would have you scaling the rigging before your stomach has settled.”

He nodded over to one of the two chairs found apart in the cabin; “take a seat if you will. There will be little manual labour within these walls to contest your senses with my daughter. Or would you prefer Evangeline?”

Eva made a short “mhmh” sound and smiled at the priest. It was odd seeing the corners of his lips turn upwards, even if very little. For some reason she felt that he did not do that often and to lure a real smile from him would need a lot of effort. Evangeline tilted her head and thought of it. The priests whom she had seen in the church were all so positive and polite, they smiled and were nice while the man in front of her seemed so distant, cold and calculating compared to those she was used to. Then again he was a Templar... She had seen many men and women from that Order, and not all of them were as intimidating as Dante. That made her curious.

”But I would still like to have it,” she replied joyfully. It would be much easier to call him by his real name instead of addressing him constantly as Father and as they were about to stick together for several weeks now, it would be good, in Eva's opinion, if she'd get to know the crew. She was a greenhorn after all and knowing some names would do her no harm.

Finally he revealed his name, and although Eva wanted to extend and shake his hand, or kiss the ring like more religious would do, but instead she simply stood behind his back and peeked from behind his shoulder to see where they would go now. The Captain's place. The girl pressed her lips into a thin line. She could already smell the alcohol, but she made no mistake to declare her distaste towards the stench of the strong beverages. Instead she simply followed the man.

”It is easier said than done, father,” Evangeline replied with a polite, but slightly nervous smile. Being on this ship made her feel uneasy and not welcomed. At his expression, calling the quartermaster an idiot, the young Templar arched her eyebrows, surprised that a priest would use such words for someone, but she did not comment on it. She had noticed earlier that those two had some sort of a conversation, but it was really hard to tell from afar whether or not the chat was a happy one. However, listening to Dante's tone, she did not need much of the deducting skill to realize that those two were not getting along so well. Another thing she had to keep in mind.

She thanked the man quietly as she took a seat on one of the chairs. ”Evangeline... if You don't mind. I suppose I am allowed to call you by the first name as well, then?”
There was a short pause during which she took the liberty of examining Dante's features freely now, not adding much to the list of things she had noticed earlier on the deck. ”I hope you don't mind me asking, but what made you become a priest, father? And a Templar at this point as well?”

“Address me however you so wish. As long as the name is a comfort to you.”

Dante followed suit and shut the door quietly behind them.

Well, as quietly as possible with an ill-oiled hinge, a bottle or two rolling into some forgotten corner from the door’s path and the general groan of the ‘ship breathing’ – like it was some great wooden beast upon which they were nought but parasites.

The click of the mechanism was satisfyingly soft in volume however and it wasn’t long until the priest had hefted one of the chairs to sit about the desk that he cleaned a space for himself upon. His hands, large, calloused but surprisingly deft, quickly and neatly compartmentalised in a showcase of efficiency. Drawers were soon refilled and maps realigned. The odd knives that had been embedded into the table top were left lest they interfered with his own small space but the eclectic menagerie of bottles were reorganised elsewhere. Those empty were collected and travelled with the Italian to a corner of the room which housed another set of drawers and a few dead candles.

His work often had him working deep into the night, far beyond when the world deprived him of its light like a jealous lover depriving her man of warmth, and thus the candle light by which he worked in those small hours had often been to blame for some crewmembers having ‘unpleasant encounters’ when disturbing the working priest whilst they were drunk or otherwise restless. With odd eyes in the daylight regardless, by the yellow glow of a candle they were rendered almost demonic; pinpoints of red reflecting from the deepest vaults of maroon like hellfire from the soul.

It was always best not to interrupt him at night. Indeed, by then he was far from amiable. Dante didn’t blame the uneducated dross for thinking him a devil in the dark and rather welcomed such a thing. After all, he didn’t suffer fools gladly and the more reason they had to avoid him the better as far as he was concerned.

“The Church, the Order,” he began in answer to her question, voice as deep as always but somewhat distracted by his search for the letters and clipped by the sound of settling the glass bottles away, “I was in search of guidance, as is any man or woman. I found such in my decades of serving the Lord God and seek to teach others likewise so they may live the better for it.”

He returned to the table with writing implements and a thick handful of letters and parchment.
“What of you Evangeline?” He asked without looking at her, his attentions focused more upon reading the correspondence he had unfurled. It was written in Spanish and his brow furrowed studiously as he concentrated upon its contents. “Do you find yourself one of the Lord’s flock?”

Despite his multitude of attentions, his voice always had that quality that made it sound as though he was focused entirely upon the person he was addressing. At some times a comfort, at others…

Well. Not so much.

Evangeline hummed quietly in reply, happy that she got some sort of freedom of choice in this. Then Dante it will be, as she liked the sound of the name and as it was foreign, she enjoyed it quite a bit.
She looked over her shoulder. The door, although quietly on its place now, made a disturbing sound that sent chills running down her spine. Eva was used to things that worked and ran smoothly around her. Guess things were a bit different on this ship. And then again she thought that the Captain did not have much time to deal with the squeaky door. Or she simply did not care about it.

Then her dark eyes followed the priest as he walked to the table and rearranged the mess that was left as a display for them.
Before coming to this ship, she had heard several things about the crew and their beloved Kapitan, but she never imagined such a mess. Bottles here and there, the sweat lingering in the air and alcohol. Although the bottles were empty, she could feel vodka's stinging taste on her tongue. Eva tried not to swallow, but in the end she failed.

Sighing quietly, she then looked out of the window. Water. Water everywhere. It was more disturbing than she had thought. The girl was seemingly in her thoughts, either daydreaming or simply concerning herself about the possible scenarios of drowning, and only when Dante took a seat did her “dream” come to an end and once again she looked at the priest.
For some odd reason she had always enjoyed watching how other people busied themselves with work. The concentrated look on their faces was sometimes beautiful. They all revealed something about themselves then.

The red in his eye caught her attention once again. It was an odd composition, in her opinion, as she had never seen anything like that. Evangeline had friends, co-workers, or she simply knew people, who had brown eyes and had a similar glow in them, but nothing could compare to Dante's. It was demonic indeed, but also very very interesting.
Her eyes, too, had left people often wondering. They were dark, almost as black as her hair, and some even bothered themselves to wonder whether she had the pupil in her eye or no.

The conversation took a turn and now she was being addressed instead. Templar smiled to herself. Part of the Lord's Flock. What an amusing way to call the believers, especially by someone who was supposed to be spreading the religion. ”We are all part of it, Dante,” she responded. ”But honestly, I am not certain. I feel that with my path I have abandoned it and there is no way back.”

"'The Lord our God is merciful and forgiving, even though we have rebelled against him,'" quoth the priest from David; a mere excerpt of the holy book which he had dedicated one half of his life to knowing so thoroughly. However, any scripture denoting forgiveness or mercy for transgression were especially well-trodden tracks in Dante's mind considering how many people confessed of their sins when they were wanting for such benevolence. It almost repelled the priest that only with the threat of dire consequence would humanity apologise and grovel and beg so pitifully. Akin to children, grown men and women would murder one another if they believed there would not be some retribution to be held against them.

Yet, such a thing did not repel him so much in this moment as the letters from Havana piled upon the desk and open before him. He rubbed his temple as he set aside one letter and brought a blank roll of parchment before him along with a quill and ink pot in order to fashion some kind of reply to the Spanish. His eyes flicked to Evangeline briefly before resuming their attentions upon the words that flowed from the tip of that hollow feather; transforming the black liquid into refined script with his excellent penmanship. He had noted her dark eyes like pits in her overall pale complexion and in his mind he would have likened her to one of the marble statuettes of Roma if not for the fact that she lacked the fine sculpture of the stone. Whether she was in possession of it's inherent strength however, he was sure he would see in time.

"If the path you are referring to is the Order of the Knights Templar, then why do you believe you are so lost from the graces of God?" Again he dipped the hollow point of the quill and the scratch upon the parchment resumed, "the cause is a righteous one."

For some odd reason it sounded so right from Dante. Maybe it was because of how he spoke. His voice was deep and smooth and it had probably convinced many sinners into the righteous path. It was beyond Evangeline how people could convert themselves into a faith or simply drop it all from one day. It was a huge step after all.
But then again she did not know what those people went through, what was going on in their heads and how they felt. It was certain however that they must have been very desperate to either adapt or abandon to something like that.

As for herself... She has never been a true believer. Going to church and belonging to the community was one thing, but times were different now. People were more critical about their surroundings and religion was not deemed as necessary as fifty years ago. People, especially her parents, cherished freedom and they taught Evangeline to do the same. Follow no one but your heart. And yet there was this small thing that she did believe into something, may it be God or something else.
Why she did not believe that he would forgive her, she did not know. Eva just felt that way and it was hard to explain, even if she'd try to. She knew she was innocent, though. Far more innocent than many Templars of her age as she had not killed, laid with anyone or done anything bad to anyone. And she knew this was all about to change for this trip should be the real mission for her. They had to execute certain people and it was Evangeline's task to participate in it.

She sighed quietly and lowered her gaze, thinking of Dante's words. ”And what if he will run out of forgiveness?” the girl asked. The answer, of course, would be an abandonment. Would they witness another Great Flood with only chosen few being able to survive? Ah, this all sounded so scary and fascinating at the same time.

Evangeline lifted her chin and looked at Dante. ”Because even though we strive for order, some people forget the reason why they have joined the Order and they get fused with the thirst for power. Corruption runs in all of us and some get infected more than the others. And, to achieve our goal, we get rid of those who stand on our way...” she sighed once more and shook her head. ”I am sorry, I am just nervous. I have never been on a ship and I don't know what I am talking about.”

The priest could always tell when he was keeping company with the faithful and when he was not; some kind of sense that had developed to acutely measure the bedewed spider web of social interaction and nuance. After all, the Catholic Church was an old and complicated beast that grew with each century it devoured rather than be poisoned and wither away. Of course, there had been times when its flesh had been pierced and its body wounded with the slings and arrows of blasphemy, slander and scandel however it's hide was thick, it's body broad and it's blood slow to drain. It recovered, as it always did and often it was the upstart foreign aggressors who perished or the internal tumours that were viciously cut like the cancer they were. The Church must remain as pure as possible.

Or at least have the appearane of such.

With this northern heathen, this young Evangeline, he knew he was in the presence of one who was uncertain upon the matter of faith let alone her own personal allegiances to any higher power. It was always the uncertain who were polite in their numerous questions; snuffling about in the scrub and foliage like inquisitive animals looking for something of substance. Now that he thought about it, she did put him the the mind of an animal but rather a winged one than any creature that found home upon four legs. A gull perhaps? No, she seemed too unassuming for the loud maw of the coastal bird. But then again, her unassuming demeanour struck a cord of dissonance with Dante. It was often those who appeared the cleanest who had taken the most care in washing away the blood and sin upon their hands.

And her skin was as white as snowfall.

Interesting indeed.

Setting down his quill, he folded his hands together and rested his chin upon the knuckles; the short but well managed beard, with gentle fades to grey and white about his jaw, cushioned the firm masculine lines and he looked at the young woman before him properly. His countenance was serious but not entirely mean or unkind and after what seemed to be a time of contemplation his rubbed his right cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

"I do not believe we shall see another flood of such divine magnitude in our lifetime, yet I shall not be one to claim to know the infinite workings of His mind in all it's wisdom." He drew a deep take of breath and sighed quietly; blinking slowly as if alleviating some ache or another. "Yet the Lord is a merciful one; he will not abandon or destroy you or forget the covenant with your ancestors."

The question concerning the Ord made his hand move from his cheek to his brow and he pinched the bridge of his nose as though he could work out the crease caused by furrowing the dark brows in thought. "Don't apologise my child, admitting ignorance of any kind is the first step needed to become wise. One cannot learn what she believes she already knows." His hands found themselves interlocked beneath his chin once more and he found that his thumb rested idly against the top of his naturally tan throat.

"We are but men and women. It is our condition to make mistakes and then rectify them with the help of our fellow men and the guidance of the Lord. Those who persist in their efforts to undermine the sanctity of any order, be that natural or an institution such as ours," another contemplative pause as he fixed Evangeline with an earnest yet powerful look and became aware of his calm heartbeat beneath the tip of his thumb;

"then they deliver themselves unto the mercy and forgiveness of the Lord our God as to remove the wicked from the earth is our solemn duty. The task is not a pleasant one, it is one of sacrifice. Yet it is a just and worthy sacrifice if from it the meek shall have the earth as their inheritance."

She did not know whether should she feel relieved by his answer or no. From somewhere, or someone, she had heard that God would not repeat what he had done before. The Great Flood. But if he truly was looking down upon the creatures he had created, he would eventually see that there is no salvation for people who stab each other in the back just to get what they wanted. Not everyone was like that, though, Evangeline was certain. But the majority of the human population, the wicked, were still dominating.

However Eva did feel a bit brighter when Dante spoke to her. Maybe it was because of his tone, or perhaps because he seemed to know what he spoke about. Either way, it was better than her own destructive and paranoid thoughts. Perhaps it was now a good time to actually dig into the Bible and see what really was written in there. She knew the most well known facts, but apparently this was not enough. She had to educate herself more.

She leaned closer to the table and relied against it with her elbows; her eyes, although distant, were locked on the priest's face, but it was obvious that she was not staring at him directly, but more or less through him.
According to Dante the task they were given was so Grand and only the privileged enough were assigned to it. And yet Evangeline did not feel special about getting rid of the wicked in the Lord's name. These were human lives they were set to destroy, and yet she did not argue with that. She was raised not to, and instead had to fulfill her orders and as a good girl that she was, she did not want to disappoint anyone.

She drew a deep breath, smelling the alcohol and for the first time she did not wrinkle her nose, but allowed herself to at least try and get used to it. This place would be her home for a while now. Then, suddenly, the girl smiled and her “glassy” eyes sharpened and she looked directly at Dante now.

”So... judging by your name, you are from Italy then, correct?” they had such a colorful crew! Evangeline with Icelandic origins, Captain Jekaterina being Russian, the priest Italian and the Cabin boy... she was not certain. Claudius was a beautiful name but she did not know which country would she link it to. ”How was it there? Do you miss your home? And considering that they have Templars there as well, what made you to leave the country?” she knew there were far too many questions from her side, but she was curious and Eva could assure herself that once she'd get used to the captain, she'd assault the woman with different questions as well.

"How astute of you," he began with no traces of the sarcasm with which he had intended, taking his hands back to his work after flexing them on the table top, "although I would ask what this entity you call 'Italy' is?"

Tapering the quill between thumb and index finger and staining the fingerprints in spots of black, he lay out another piece of paper upon which to continue his correspondences and re-dipped the feather. "The most logical answer would be the collection of states and principalities that are inhabited by 'Italians' whom are so grouped because of a common language," he began writing again and his eyes left her to upon the white paper before him, "yet I am Sicilian rather than 'Italian'. I am not sure if the cabin boy would feel the same yet he would be Roman as opposed to Italian."

He went quiet for a time as his sentence tapered off and wrapped them both in an odd silence caused only by the anticipation of another point.

"At least in my eyes. But I am older and set in my ways. History runs deep in Latin blood."

Another dip of the quill; the sound it made against the ceramic ink pot was small and merry and altogether seemingly at odds with the sombre quiet in which they were both locked. Quiet, at least, when compared to the ruckus outside consisting of braying men trying to tame the waves and the wooden beast upon which they rode.

Just because he wasn't looking at her however, didn't mean he escaped the noticing of how her eyes had become all that more alert. He could feel them burning into his scalp past the thick locks of dark hair and occasionally he looked up to see if they maintained their passive ferocity.

"I do miss my home yes, but your multitude of questions does make me believe I am there again," his reference, of course, was to the orphanage he helped run back on the outskirts of Palermo, yet that was information he wasn't going to divulge so readily.

"National ties to the Spanish were what compelled my transference to this side of world," he answered in simple and honest terms to her last question, "Governor Torres and myself had shared a brief but succinct correspondence to the fact. Where God wills, his servant shall follow."

Another pause and the scratch of writing filled the vacuum; written word taking the place of those spoken for the briefest of times.

"And yourself? Is it familial obligation?"

Evangeline bit her lower lip. She could actually hear the suppressed sarcasm which he hid so well, but made no comment on it. The silly question was her mistake really, and she had asked this without thinking much, but who could blame her? She had never even seen a real Italian. Her whole life she was either contained in a “cage” which was her home as she was not yet married and she was considered not ready for the world, or training. It was a miracle she was allowed to the ship, though. Her father was quite against sending his daughter on a trip like that to test her abilities.

She watched quietly how he dipped the end of the quill into the ink and wrote on the paper; his handwriting was very beautiful and small compared to hers. For some reason Eva's written letters were always big and had some twirl in them. Her mother considered her handwriting majestic and easy to read, but the girl wasn't quite glad with the outcome.

”And where is Sicily located in Italy?” She also made a note to ask Claudius about his home then, too. Hopefully the young man would agree on sharing some details of his life with her as Dante did. And while he wrote, she stood up and began walking around in the cabinet, her steps making little to no sound. Finally she stopped and knelt down next to a box on the floor. Jekaterina had told her earlier that she was allowed to look around there and see if she'd find any books hidden under the items. Her hopes were high.

Tilting her head, she offered a smile to the priest. At least she was not annoying him with the constant flow of the questions, and hopefully he understood that in a place filled with strangers, she wanted to know at least tiny bits of the people she was working with. ”And how many years ago you arrived here then?” she turned her dark eyes back into the things all thrown around in the bin and finally, from the depths of the box, she saw a book frame! Taking it out, she walked back to the table and sat on the chair.

”And your family?” he did have a wife, right? According to her knowledge, which was minimal by the way, the priests were allowed to have a wife and children. Or was Dante so devoted to the church and the Order that he did not find time for that? And then it was her turn to respond to the question. Happily and of course out of politeness, she replied:”Yes it is. My family has had members in the Templar Order for generations now, even though part of my heritage is not even from a place where they rule or have any agents... It is quite an isolated spot, a small island not so far away from Greenland.” And the other part was from England.

She opened the book and turned couple of pages, but sighed in a disappointed manner. It was Russian. So much for reading during the voyage then.

Jekaterina did not mind that the priest had acess to her cabin (she did mind a bit but knew better than to say anything) as long as he didn't touch her maps, which he never did from what she knew, she was fine with it. What worried her however was that she had seen the child enter with him. Even if it might have looked like she was dense Jeka knew exactly what was going on on deck at all times, really when you saw it from a birds eye view it was hard not to. She would have prefered to go and drag the child out of her cabin and away from the priest but she knew they were nearing Crooked Island and thus also nearing the brig they were aiming to sink.

"Recce!" her voice rang out and immediately grabbed the attention of said man.

"Aye captain?"

"Climb to crow nest and look for british brig named HMS Winchester with spyglass."

"Aye captain"

She watched him scamper off below deck, most likely to retrieve a spyglass before she turned her attention elsewhere, such as to the small whale that was waving it's fin in the distance. Truly a beautiful creature. She wanted to hunt it and she would have if she didn't have more pressing matters at hand.

Sighing she steered the ship so they fell into the wind's direction a bit better and looked at the small islands they were passing, she saw a tavern on one and immediately wished she was there, drinking herself silly, they'd have to pop by there after they were done with the brig and "stock up" before they headed to Havanna.

Yes that was a good plan. At least according to her.