IC: Chapter 1 - NEW YORK, Starts 12th Jan 1925

[Maksim Rukov]

Maksim is passive within the hug for a moment and then struggles to get loose, his face going deathly pale, his lips tight and his dark gaze piercing. "Get off me. I have no brother. What in the devil is going on? Who in God's name are you and why are you being so ... so close?"

[imme]

Elizabeth stares aghast at Maksim, but wisely keeps her mouth closed. She lets the Russians deal with this.

[Timour Rukov]

Timour looks at Maks with a puzzled expression, then extends both arms out as though waiting for him to reach out. "Maksim," he drawls his name out, and smiles. "Don't toy with me. You should be happy to see me, eh? I almost died after all." He takes a deep breath. This was not unlike Maks to act the injured puppy after all.

"We should have a drink. A toast! Andrei, have you bought any good vodka? Or still that cheap giggle water you served last time?" He smiles at his chum and enters the room, trying his best to ignore Maks' dark mood.

[Laraqua]

Maksim turns to face the wall and leans on it with one hand, the other covering the side of his face that the others can see. He stands there a moment, trembling, before he straightens, wipes at his face and turns to the others. "Do you all know him?"

[Timour Rukov]

Timour keeps a watchful eye on his brother's odd behaviour, before walking back over to the doorway. He touches him lightly on the side of the arm, "Come with me, my brother. We will go for a walk just the two of us, eh? We will catch up like old times."

[Maksim Rukov]

Maksim's trembling worsens and his face goes quite red.

[Timour Rukov]

Timour figures it is best to let Maks have his sulk, and walks back to the others.

"Andrei! A drink my friend!"

[Maksim Rukov]

Maksim manages to last until Timour's back is turned before the laughter erupts in giant, knee-slapping waves. He titters so hard he falls back onto a comfortable arm chair, tears rolling down his face.

[coffee demon]

Andrei swallows hard and turns away as the awkward conversation progresses. He has no idea how to deal with these sorts of situations.

...

When the brothers start laughing, even Andrei can't help crack into a wide, toothy grin.

"Jesus Christ! You two are too much!" In Russian, he roars, <<You're damned right we'll have a drink! Stay here! Stay here, everyone, no wait, come with me!>>

He rushes out the door, and down the hall, hoping to find someplace to buy a few bottles before the town closes down for the night. He's already had a few to drink, and it seems like the perfect time for everyone to let loose. Like the good old days, only a week ago.

[OC: I just typed a highly dramatic post. Andrei just about had it. Phew! Glad it didn't come to that.]

[Timour Rukov]

Timour hears the laughter as he walks away and can't help but guffaw himself. He turns abruptly and tackles his brother, flipping him over the back of the chair. Maksim lands on the ground behind, and Timour tries to grab his hands and pin him down.

"You sly devil!" he says, finally, laughing all the while. "You had me going, little brother!" he chortles, letting Maks up. "Yes yes, a drink!" he says enthusiastically, and follows after Andrei in hot pursuit.

[imme]

Elizabeth thought she had become accustomed to the Russians' strange behavior, but this was something else. As Timour and Andrei go rushing from the room, she turns to the other non-Russians and raises an eyebrow.

[Decrepit]

Caroline stays on the sidelines for this oddness.

[Grafster]

As Miss Downing's eye, beneath a raised eyebrow, falls upon Johnny she notes that his chin is resting upon the top of his cane and his eyes are closed.

The diminutive detective seems to have fallen asleep in his chair in the excitement after Timour's entrance.

[Raiko]

SS Devonian

cretic1[1].jpeg (41.81 KiB) Viewed 4078 times

The Eclipse Party - The Boat Deck, SS Devonian - Somewhere in the North Atlantic
Mid-Afternoon - Saturday 24th January, 1925

Owned and operated by the Leyland Line, the SS Devonian is certainly smaller and less splendid than the glamorous liners that operate out of New York, but she is sea worthy enough and the departure of Elizabeth Downing and her friends passes by uneventfully, and hopefully unnoticed.

The last two days in America had been busy ones; with much of their personal belongings left behind in the haste to depart New York, many purchases had to be made in the department stores of Boston to prepare for what could be a lengthy trip overseas. Funds had to wired and traveller's checks obtained, and of course happily there was the issue of unexpectedly having to fast-track all of Timour's travel documentation. Fortunately not too many travellers wish to brave the stormy mid-winter waters of the North Atlantic aboard such a small liner, so over half of the Devonian's cabins were still available.

Andrei telegrammed Paris, to facilitate a mail-forwarding service, something that proved more time consuming than he had expected - Parisian bureaucracy would probably not be the greatest obstacle to overcome during Elizabeth's 'adventure,' but it would probably prove the most frustrating.

Meanwhile Johnny contacted Mr Downing at his family's New England holiday retreat, to ensure that both he and Elizabeth's mother had arrived safely.

Numerous new suitcases and baggage trunks purchased by Elizabeth were stuffed full of clothes, mostly for Elizabeth and Caroline - everything from comfortable and rugged walking cloths to glittering evening dresses - hopefully the shear volume of baggage, combined with Elizabeth's unquestionably good character, would serve to conceal both Timour's disassembled BAR and several rifles from the inquisitive eyes of any English customs officials.

Despite a hurried two days, everything that needed doing seemed to have been done, and on the chilly morning of Wednesday 21st January 1925 the investigators boarded the SS Devonian together with just over one hundred other passengers, and joined them on deck to watch the coast of Massachusetts disappear slowly over the horizon.

The first two days of the voyage were rather tranquil, while the Atlantic Ocean was certainly not glassy-calm, the 30mph wind and 10ft waves where nowhere near bad enough to stop everybody on board from having a thoroughly good time. As well as a well appointed dining room and several bars (serving legal alcohol, goodbye prohibition!) the Devonian had a small gymnasium, a skeet-shooting range (from the stern of the ship), a smoking lounge, a dance hall and a billiards room.

The bad weather finally hit on Friday morning, the whole sky ahead was an ominous shade of black first thing in the morning and the wind soon picked up, causing the outside decks to be closed to passengers for their own safety. As the fierce storm closed in, the small liner had little choice but to turn and run ahead, lashed by 60mph winds and 30ft waves.

The storm continued all though the day, and the night, as the Devonian slowly edged her way around, turning gradually back onto her easterly course once more. Only those with constitutions of iron survived the storm without vomiting almost continually, and soon the whole ship reeked of it, but eventually mid-morning the storm broke and the Devonian emerged into clear skies and a fresh breeze.

Now most of the passengers stand on the boat deck, champagne flutes in hand as the sinking sun and the moon converge. During the terrible storm of the previous day, it seemed likely that today's total solar eclipse would either pass by unnoticed, or the Devonian would be so far off course that the view would be ruined, but whatever cruel god lorded over this violent Ocean had relented, and now all aboard would be treated to an excellent and memorable view of the solar eclipse.

[imme]

Although Elizabeth unhappily joined the ranks of those feeling unwell during the storm, she is now standing on the deck, champagne in hand, ready to enjoy the spectacle of the solar eclipse. Perhaps she hasn't fully recovered from the tumult of the bad weather, but those who know her realize that her smile is a bit strained. Nevertheless, she chats amiably with fellow passengers and helps to build the excitement for the imminent celestial event.

[Timour Rukov]

Timour strolls down the ship's deck, happy the boat is no longer tossing and turning. The evening before had been an unpleasant one at best. I'm used to the plane bumping around from the cumulous clouds, but that was another story! Glad I was never a marine....

Timour takes a drink from one of the waitors large serving platters, and nods at Elizabeth, standing by the railing. He gives her one of his dashing grins as he approaches, and straightens his tie. As he walks over, he can't help his roaving eye from noticing how beautiful she looks.

"Good evening," he says politely to the people she is speaking to. "All dolled up, I see? It looks good on you!" he says evenly to Elizabeth, and grins again.

[Decrepit]

Caroline joins her fellow--what? fellow cult-hunters?--on deck. Dressed in one of the new dresses that she and Beth had picked out and packed, Caroline is satisfied with her appearance, if not fully comfortable with her state of mind. Maybe they'd left their troubles behind them, but she suspected they hadn't. If anything, in fact, they seemed inclined to stir up trouble rather than run away from it, which, she admitted to herself, was her strongly held if cowardly preference.

She decided to take a look for Maksim, if only just to see whether he was adjusting well to his brother's return. She had to admit that Maks had fooled her, too, with the not-recognizing-his-brother routine, and she hoped it had just been an act. She actually found herself concerned for Maks and his welfare, despite her early and negative impressions of him. Of course, she wasn't sure that Timour would be such a wonderful influence on him, but clearly his absence had left Maks moody, depressive, and unpredictable.

[Grafster]

Johnny is loitering nearby on the deck, 10 feet or so from Miss Downing and Timour.

Outwardly he seems little changed by the events save for an, occasionally awkward, tendency toward restlessness hovering. His habit of coming and going from interactions and conversations, frequently changing his seat, and occasionally following people (both members of the party and others) about the ship has the potential to put people on edge.
His stock of worn novels, which he frequently read and re-read during previous voyages across the Atlantic remain untouched in his cabin.

He seems especially on edge during the nighttimes, roving the ship, lit cigarette in one hand and cane in the other. Some of the sailors have complained of finding him poking around in the bowels of the ship, leaving a trail of ash and extinguished butts in his wake.

Party members who spend time by themselves in their cabins, or who skip regular gatherings, often find Johnny dropping in on them on some transparent pretense.

He seems lost in thought as he rolls another cigarette, just within earshot of Timour and Miss Downing .

[Maksim Rukov]

Maksim Rukov's moods had been left excitable and desperate by Timour's routine, as though he had once more realised the fragility of life. However, his moods had toned down after he had found a newlywed couple to mother, advising and guiding the two through their rather tumultous honeymoon. The two seemed glad for it, as he mostly stayed out of their way, giving them lots of romantic time, only to return to provide advice or conversation.

The seasickness others received had shown another side of Maksim as he mother henned those who were ill. Distracting and coddling the sick and following the ship doctor about to find out just what advice was needed before spreading it about. He tried to keep people's spirits up, as though by sheer force of will and persuasion.

Now he was alone, staring thoughtfully out at the wake of the ship, a rare look of contenment making his face seem almost boyish. He didn't even notice Caroline arrive.

[imme]

"Good evening," he says politely to the people she is speaking to. "All dolled up, I see? It looks good on you!" he says evenly to Elizabeth, and grins again.

"Thank you," Elizabeth replies with a grin. "I actually bought this dress with the eclipse in mind." She waves an arm casually at the shimmery black material as if it explains itself. (A trained eye would recognize the tasteful balance between an evening gown and one more appropriate for daytime, as this event would naturally incorporate both.) She shrugs away any recognition of the thought she put into her attire and smiles even more broadly. "It is so good to see you up and about after," her eyes momentarily stray to the other passengers present, and she smoothly changes the end of her sentence, "your extended illness. A Timour who isn't out charming the ladies isn't a Timour at all." The shadow of a memory briefly darkens her eyes, but her extensive social training allows her to keep the smile from faltering.