Boogie in the Afternoon [Windwards]

[Tsin]

The mention of Roguetown received an instant reaction from the mariness tagging along with the Windwards on their walk, her ears and interest perking up as soon as the city name had left Gavin's mouth. She had opened her lips to say something about it too, just about the same time that Jun opened his as well to reflect fondly on his experiences there, somewhat traumatizing though they may have been.

Neither individual had the chance to utter a single word though, as the image of a middle aged man pounding the pavement towards them cut away all other thoughts. Tia, Jun and Fenrir all stopped and turned to the figure coming at them, the latter of the three putting his behind down slowly on the cobblestones and letting out a slow canine yawn. And that motion seemed to express all three of their assumptions towards the advancing artist. Weaponless through she appeared, the marine of the trio didn't even bother to put up a defense. Jun stood motionless, the glaive upon his back oscillating freely without his grip. And Fenrir... well, Fenrir sat.

They just appeared curious. And maybe slightly bored. As dogs of a certain type usually do.

"Ah, so it really is you boys…I didn’t think you’d have made it alive after messing around with Torsh…I see you already have....dear me is she someone’s girlfriend?"

Storytelling convention demanded that, of the three human figures Gordon was addressing, Tia and Jun probably, would blush profusely and glance at each other for just a single moment. And then, after their gaze met in that eventful second, they would turn away suddenly, finding great interest in the setting sun while stammering their denials at such a crass question. 'Who would just approach and ask something like that?!' they'd then yell at the older man, all the while reflecting on the strong bond forged through years of friendship... Perhaps forged into something more even.

"No way in hell, sir." Tia waved her hand dismissively.

And storytelling convention could go and shove it, apparently.

Jun simply seemed to nod at the comment, accepting it as fact and moving on, no memories of the artist from the Torsh incident coming to the top of his mind. "And how can we help you? You seemed to be approaching us in more than a little bit of a hurry."

"Hrrrrrrrrrnnnn.... Rrowf." Fenrir scratched at an ear nonchalantly with one of his hind legs, adding his own two cents in where while getting back to his feet and continuing the journey towards the Harbor. The mast of The Messenger was in sight now, bobbing gently in the waters of East Blue...

"In quite a hurry, Captain... The scribe glanced from the completely indigo hound to the slightly graying man before him. "We were just about to set sail though, so you'll have to forgive him."

The Navigator aside, the Windwards and their friend stood at a vaguely impatient attention. The floor is yours, Mr. Gordon Gecko... Probably.

[Terminally Chill]

The Navigator was not the only one to opt out of the conversation. Gavin had continued walking along, paying no mind to Gordon's arrival or the conversation that was taking place between his comrades and the bespectacled artist. Gordon's presence was not being ignored; the musician had just gone back to strolling along with his eyes closed. He just hadn't seen Gordon, was all. Well, actually, there was a bit more too it than that. Gavin was... uh... snoring and well... Okay, so he had mastered the art of sleeping and walking at the same time. The slumbering songwriter had not mastered a very beneficial skill though. Gavin simply continued on in a line toward the ship, head resting in his hands and a bit of drool beginning to flow. If there was someone else looking out for him while he was literally sleepwalking then perhaps it would be a useful skill when making trips on foot, but the other two were preoccupied with the gray-haired sculptor.

Gavin had made it to the dock, shabby sandals slapping against wood as he remained caught up in a drifter's dreams. Then, the inevitable happened. Considering the boarding plank had been rasied and the young wanderer had not yet learned how to jump in his sleep... Splash. A spray of sea water enveloped Gavin's lanky figure as he plunged into the East Blue. The sensation was a shock at first, Gavin opening his eyes to see that for some reason he was now underwater. The songsmith blinked a couple times before finally surfacing. It took a moment for him to get his bearings; after all, Gavin had awoke in much stranger places after closing his eyes for a nap. Luckily the familiar sight of The Messenger triggered Gavin's questionable memory and he placed himself in Orange Town once again. After crawling back onto the dock, Gavin removed the guitar from his back, turning it downward and shaking out any water. He had been underwater with the instrument before with no problems, but who wanted to play a wet guitar? The musician set his soaked six strings on the dock to dry, waving at a few of the townspeople who had found amusement in his antics.

The trademark beanie had been removed from the strummer's shaggy locks, who shook his messy mop in a fashion similar to that of his captain. Wringing out his hat next, Gavin squinted as he looked to see the other scribe and Tia standing with the mysterious middle aged man that had come out of the crowd. Jun was not the only one who did not recall who Gordon was.

“Hey! Who is the that old guy you guys are talking to?” Gavin called with a cuffed hand from the dock while shaking out his beanie. “He's super old!”

[BEX]

Behind horn rimmed spectacles Gordon blinked in surprise. It was as if the questioning of his identity was a completely unexpected development. His fluttering became even more prominent upon the realization that for all their meeting earlier there hadn’t been any one point where introductions were willingly shared—likely the time and place had barred any such formalities. Bobbing his head in an offhanded sort of way he adjusted his glasses and went on with the introduction with a hurried pace as if he knew someone was chasing him…

“Oh dear, excuse my absentmindedness. My name is Gordon Gecko and I’m….” He had been about to say a sculptor by trade, but that wasn’t entirely true and outright claiming himself a recruiter for an organization with held a controversial standing in the world as far as he could tell didn’t seem the sort of thing that would go over well with this crowd. What with his involvement in Torsh’s corrupt vice grip on the town until recently…he was in a pickle.

‘Old man! Wait! You’re too old!” came a voice tearing through the crowd at about the same breakneck pace a recognizable young fellow shoved his way to the forefront, only stopping short to stare slack jawed at the acclaimed heroes of his town. Live and in living color. “O-oh. E-excuse m-me,” Hod stammered, his interruption unknowingly saving Gordon from having to explain who he was, “…I just came t-to get the old man. He’s old so he doesn’t really know any better.”

Gordon remained speechless although the unruly bush of graying hair above his upper lip moved irritably. Almost like an old man chewing his words…gracious! He was getting old!

Unwilling to refute nor accept the claim—one which had not only sparked his annoyance, but several more ancient members of the crowd as well—he calmly turned to Hod, eyes pale moons behind the eyewear framing his face. While the coat still dripped it still cut an imposing figure upon the broad shoulders of the one time navy hero. Now some of that former glory seemed to seep into him, lending him added height and firmer strength of will as he examined the boy coolly. “You’ve been a fine friend…uh…erm….”

“—Hod.”

“Really? I mean, of course, Hod. Yes, you’ve been a fine friend, but my place isn’t here on Organ Island. You see….” Pausing for the dramatic Gordon copulated on his white lie, letting the suspenseful silence capture the attention of his audience before continuing, “…I’m a traveling Pro Wrestler.”

Hod’s silence matched that of the on looking inhabitants of the island and likely the stunned quietness that would have stricken the very people he had intended to convince in his small ploy. Aware of the sudden shift from attention to outright disbelief he stammered through the rest of his explanation, “…ahem as such I need passage from these fine travelers—and their fearless leader to gain passage to the Grand Line where I can start my young career.” indicating the Windward posse and their plus one in one sweeping gesture—he hadn’t quite picked up on Tia’s connection with the group. If not paramour then who was she? Once again his words met with silence and this time there was no shoddy dialogue he could strike up so he did what any man would have done in his shoes. He waited.

…and waited. And waited.

“…but you’re old.”

The youth of today’s world be damned….

[Tsin]

The world around Fenrir fell upon deaf, pointed ears as his claws rhymically clicked against the treated wood surface of the Orange Town's harbor, Gavin's trip into the big drink of East Blue having a similarly negligible effect upon his serious demeanor. The denizens of the city's port might have found it entertaining, and for good reason, but with the children gone, the mirth of being a hero had gone with them and all the navigator had left was the sea, the journey, the dream...

... And his crew.

With a single powerful push of his hind legs, the howling wind made the impressive leap from the surface of the dock to the surface of The Messenger, hardly a stumble in his 10 point landing. And, since he was the captain of the ship, he welcomed his other two, more bipedal, crewmates up by nudging one of the mechanical contrivances by the railing. There was some disconcerting noise, the grinding of gears against one another and the squeak of something that could perhaps use some oil, before the ramp of the boat lowered itself just inches next to Gavin. Quickly. And harshly. In fact, 'lowered' probably wasn't the right word to use at all, and the action would be done more justice with a description like 'fell,' 'dropped,' or even 'meteor impact.'

The floating wooden structure tying The Messenger to its landmass shook violently as the slanted construction slammed into it, a fair bit of splash and sway accompanying the crash in a fitting manner. East Blue absorbed the waves easily and quickly enough though, and within moments there was just Fenrir standing at the edge of his ark, looking expectantly out at the bard and scribe.

Speaking of the scribe... Jun reshouldered his bag idly while allowing the self-proclaimed Pro Wrestler to go on about his story. At least once, he and his female friend glanced at each other with a raised eyebrow, though they tried to keep it short out of respect for their elder. Both also tried to sidestep around the topic of his age, unlike the two before them, again out of respect.

"... You definitely look a little advanced in age to be wrestling, sir." Tried, and failed.

Jun nodded slightly, though seemed to think better of agreeing on his oldness just a second later. He shook his head slightly after that. Then just settled on a shrug. "Your years aside, Mr. Gecko, if you're looking for passage to the Grand Line with us, you should probably ask the Captain directly." The scribe pointed towards his leader, standing nobly atop the proud vessel that would, with any luck, take them all to the center sea. And then he started walking, playing catch-up to Gavin. Tia took a step in that direction as well, staying alongside her childhood friend until--

Biri biri biri biri biri. Biri biri biri biri biri.

She was surprised, just slightly, in the same way that everybody is when their phone goes off unexpected in mixed company. Jun was as well, glancing over to the mariness, though only because he hadn't seen a baby Den Den Mushi before. Cute little bugger, coming out the pocket of Tia's coat as the duo were just a few steps away from Gavin. And then... "Ensign Tiara Sannas."

"You about done there? I can see the island from the deck. Coming into the harbor now." There was a rough, angry, and perhaps somehow even endeavoring to be lariat-filled voice coming from the other side. An all too familiar one to the Windwards.

And suddenly the Den Den Mushi was not so cute anymore.

[Terminally Chill]

Gavin shook out the rest of the moisture from his beanie, placing it back on his shaggy mop after finding satisfaction in the air drying. The rest of his shabby clothes were luckily not too far behind, drying rather quickly in the brilliant East Blue sun. The musician had not bothered paying much attention to what Mr. Gecko had been saying aside from his desire to go to the Grand Line; Gavin was busy shaking sure every last droplet of water was out of his prized instrument. Soon enough the guitar was slung back around Gavin's shoulder and his appearance returned to the controlled chaos of disheveled clothing it was before the spill into the sea.. A bit of dampness aside, all was well with the wanderer. That was until Tia and her tiny snail came into earshot of the entertainer.

“Ensign Tiara Sannas.”

'Ensign...?' The gears in Gavin's hazy head seemed to be turning, slowly but surely working toward the revelation of the field of work Tia was in. '… I guess Tiara is her middle name then.' Okay... So maybe the existence of gears in the first place was questionable.

“You about done there? I can see the island from the deck. Coming into the harbor now.”

Any more of Gavin's musings on Tiara's title were put to a halt, as the voice coming from the Baby Den Den Mushi suddenly struck a string of significance in the songwriter. A bead of sweat rolled down from beneath the bard's beanie as he looked to the shelled speaker. The anger of the voice even seeped into the appearance of the once-adorable little snail, an intense rage burning atop its eye stalks. A rage Gavin felt like he was familiar with.

These words: “CO” ... “Captain”... “Commander” ... “Promoted” ... “Ensign” ... “The” ...

… The guitarist still had no idea what the hell any of that meant, but even Gavin recognized the unmistakable presence that was talking through the Den Den Mushi. The burning glare the drifter was receiving was not the only way the unimaginable ire was expressed through the snail; at the very end of the sentence the anger escalated to a violent climax. After what could only be described as the snail growing AN ARM OF PURE SNAIL ANGER, the small creature exploded from Tia's hand like a miniature rocket. Gavin had no time to react; the snail drove its muscular arm into the unsuspecting strummer's bare neck, wasting no time after the initial impact to hook Gavin and drive him into the wood of the dock. The port buckled and splintered as Gavin's head was driven straight through, a plume of sawdust enveloping the pair soon after.

Yeah. The baby Den Den Mushi seriously just lariated Gavin.

The snail was the first to emerge, having shaken off the angry voice's persona as it made a slow, calm crawl back to Tia. Gavin on the other hand had been smashed through the port up to his shoulders, body arced awkwardly and surrounded by ruined planks. Surprisingly, Gavin managed to pry himself free of the wreckage with no lack of cut and bruises to show for it. A few cuts had opened up on his head, blood freely trickling down his face. Napkins weren't going to clean that mess up. The musician managed to crawl back up to his full height, coughing up a bit of blood and saw dust in the process.

“Hey man, it was nice meeting you,” Gavin said in his usual deadpan tone to Tia, no pain evident on his face after taking the heavy blow. “Good luck with that scary guy you were talking to.” With a genuine smile and a wave bid to Tia, the songsmith continued on past the ensign and then directed his sleepy gaze to Jun. “Should probably tell that old dude to hurry if he wants to come with us, man.” The word “hurry” betrayed the pace Gavin was moving, but even the laid back nature of the guitarist was communicating some silent understanding of urgency to the scribe. Gavin continued on up the boarding ramp, making his way past the waiting figure of Fenrir and onto the familiar deck of The Messenger.

Then he collapsed, slamming face first into the well-crafted surface of the ship.

“Ow, man.”

[BEX]

Following the exotic looking swashbuckler’s response to his request Gordon too nodded—though with a frown. It was not that he held issue with seeking a captain’s acceptance before boarding a ship nor was it that fact that this particular leader whose birthright came from a canine lineage, admittedly the cub seemed of a proud sort with the way the light caught his fur up on the ship. No issue lay in a minor nuance, a relic of his days in service where a man offered his name and rank, a course of action expected to be reciprocated. The free world remained a delightful mystery to him each day so it wasn’t long before that momentary crinkle of that aged face was smoothed away with Gordon directing his attentions toward the ship’s master. Shuffling forth he was about to announce his attentions when a recognizable artifact was produced from the girl’s pocket.

Eyes widening in recognition the old man waited silently, listening in on the onerous voice that called out the full title of the esoteric young woman. The question of her relation to the more than controversial trio an ever deepening enigma. One which for the time was ignore d as suddenly the shaggy haired one with the dull glaze over his eyes was the victim of a brutal smash that sent clouds of wood chips and dock pieces drifting on the wind after the violent sentiment delivered by the Baby Den Den Mushi. “Must be those new updates…” huffed Gordon absently as watched as the battered bard calmly rose again to bid the stately female officer goodbye in spite of the blood flowing from his soon-to-be swelling head. A feat to be admired, the lad then casually shared words with his handsomer comrade before making it aboard the ship and collapsing in a fit of pain.

“Hoho! That one has quite the spirit!” Gordon chirped to himself while stroking his beard. These lads were exceptional indeed, but there was an ominous feeling about the message left for Ensign Officer Tiara—one that pulled vaguely at the remnant of a fragment of a legend he’d heard about in his hayday. The story of an angry fellow with a penchant for lariating people with such force that the heavens themselves trembled each time a blow was struck by the fellow. Of course that sort of tale was simply heresay shared between mugs of mead and ale….but better to be safe. After all one couldn’t paint if he were plastered into concrete. “I say there, Captain. Would it be alright if I might receive passage to the Grand Line? I’ll pay when I have the means to…as you can see I’ve only gathered water weight hehehe…”

A jest only an old man could understand, yet Gordon’s slight façade of a smile failed to hide the value he placed in the canine captain’s answer; one could say his destiny rode upon it.

[Tsin]

Like their shaggier friend, the voice of that muscled marauder coming out of the previously innocuous-looking snail seized Jun and Fenrir by their very souls, clenching around them like the jaws of some horrible, nightmarish beast and shaking the fear from their bodies like streams of blood. It was a much more subtle effect in real life, with the man and dog simply freezing in their mental tracks, but no less powerful. Far less powerful, however, than the incredible flying snail and his ridiculous lariat, dropping Gavin into and partially through the docks like a 10-ton wrecking ball.

Predictably, Tia gasped. "Oh god!" Unpredictably, she was not surprised. "Not again!" The young lady snatched up the bug from the shards of wood with almost inhumane haste and put the receiver right up to her lips, saying with impeccable calm... "OKAYSEEYOUSOONCAPTAINBYE!" Then she hung up. Her gaze, and Jun's and Fenrir's for what it was worth, all gathered upon the trashed troubadour, getting up from his little experience. Only the mariness laughed though, albeit... nervously. "I'm so sorry, Gavin... Phone snails, right? Is there anythi--"

"Hey man, it was nice meeting you." It was Tia's turn to be frozen this time, though less in horror or fear as the others were and more at the bard's shear... ridiculousness. Or maybe his fortitude. She let him say his piece though and just... waved.

At the same time, Gordon was putting forward his request but the words just seemed to wash over Fenrir and his unmoving form, no denial or confirmation offered at all. And things stayed that way for the most part, even when Gavin had walked by him and collapses, even when he finally unfroze and gathered his canine wits about him, and even when he rushed off to lower the main sail so the Windwards could get the hell outta dodge.

The Captain and Navigator didn't do it in silence though. "Rrrowf woof woof wooof WOOF!" He let out a long string of orders to get the ship ready for travel and postponing all other discussions for the time being.

Jun was more than willing to comply. His boots clomped against the boarding ramp as he scaled it with ease and his hands immediately began working the mechanism to pull up the anchor. He shouted back at the older gent on the deck though. "I suppose we'll talk about it later; Get on board!"

It was about that time that Tia snapped out of her reverie and crammed the phone snail back into her jacket pocket, looking straight at her childhood friend. "Hey! You're just leaving me here?!"

Then the main sail finally came down with a triumphant 'fwooomp!', it's canvas beginning to catch a bit of wind and displaying the proud mark painted thereon with gusto. Tia pretty much instantly took notice of that too. "What the hell-- I thought you weren't pirates!"

"Er... It's just a painting, right? No specific insinuations about it."

"IT'S A JOLLY ROGER!"

Jun finally hooked the anchor onto the railing of the The Messenger and ran over to pull the boarding ramp up as well. "A Jolly Rover, perhaps... I mean, who would name their dog Rog--"

"WHO THE HELL CARES, JUN LOKUAN?!" One of the mariness' own boots stomped against the dock this time, knuckles white from clenching her hands into fists. Her firey glare lanced out and landed upon the scribe...

... Who only smiled. "... It was nice seeing a familiar face, Tia. Will I see you again?"

"In Grand Line?!" A moment of silence passed, one angry stare and one nostalgic gaze intermingling in the air over East Blue... And then the rage seemed to quell itself as a small smirk crept across the lady's lips. "... Count on it."

And though the future was nothing if not certainly uncertain, there was some kind of promise in there; not just to each other, but to fate, to destiny, and to the world. For Jun at least, the journey finally felt like it could begin.

... As soon as Gordon was on deck, anyways.

[Terminally Chill]

While the eccentric Mr. Gecko negotiated his passage into the grandest sea with the Windwards' canine captain, Gavin simply remained with his bruised face pressed against the deck. The musician did not feel the need to move from the spot; with a certain notorious marine captain on his way to the docks, Gavin's two cents wasn't exactly needed. The finer points of the Gordon Gecko discussion would have to be saved for later. If they wanted to avoid an escape as precarious as the one they barely managed to pull off in Roguetown, they needed to leave Orange Town.

“Rrrowf woof woof wooof WOOF!”

“I think I'll just lay here, man...” Gavin mumbled in reply to Fenrir's urgent orders, the troubadour's ringing ears listening as his two comrades rushed about the ship to have it prepared for departure. The trio could only hope the steely-haired sculptor's entrance onto the ship was as hasty as his acceptance given the current circumstances. The battered bard continued to lay motionless, picking up whatever parts of Jun and Tia's parting conversation was in earshot.

“Man, I already told her we aren't pir–”

“A Jolly Rover, perhaps...”

“Jolly Rover. That's a good one man,” Gavin said quietly, the weak chuckle that followed reverberating against deck of The Messenger. It seemed that the true start to the Windward Wanderers' adventure was about to be underway as soon as the newest addition to the ship was safely on board. Maybe not even safely... Like one foot would do. Any part of his body touching would suffice.

In the meantime, Gavin did what he did best.

“I'm gonna take a nap, man,” the minstrel called out as best he could. The rest of the wanderers had most likely assumed he was napping anyway by the looks of him. “Just... wake me up when we get there, I guess?”

Yeah, just wake him up when they got to the Grand Line. Made sense.

SPOILER: Click to show

Yo Jack, after Gordon gets on the ship could you go ahead and have the Windwards just sail away and end the thread? Doesn't have to be anything fancy. Thanks dude.

[BEX]

From the moment the request was made Gordon felt the winds of change churning around him. Sighing playfully through the crowd of gathered faces of the town and blowing into the open seas with ghostly cheers of adventure beckoning him to the boat. There was the off-chance that it might have been the stoic canine navigator voicing his guttural impatience with the add-on of the group, but such things were often swept beneath the rugs of history. Nodding his acceptance at the terms of his partnership, the old man hopped aboard with an impressive leap of his own. His jump was surprisingly strong, carrying him from where he had been standing on the docks to near the main mast of the ship. Not shabby for a rickety, old has-been—not shabby for anyone.

The landing was even more peculiar. As noiseless as the soft breeze that habitually kissed the placid surface of the East Blue waters, Gordon’s worn rubber soles meet the deck. Certainly not the skill of a clumsy professional wrestler. Remembering his purpose as well as the small tale he’d given to his new comrades-at-sea he added an unsteady lurching to his once elegant pose in hopes of keeping suspicion from being cast upon him. All faking aside, the perfect landing eluded him as his beloved bifocals, which had until this point enjoyed a most comfortable ride on the ridge of his gnarled beak of a nose, spilled onto the finely finished deck. Crack! “Oh dear” Picking up the glasses he found a fork shaped crack etched into the surface of the left lens. An ill omen if he ever saw one. Casually replacing the eyewear back to its rightful place upon his face he stopped mid-sigh as superstition quickly proved itself reality as it did when men rarely wished it to be so.

A few leagues into the distance a strong navy blue insignia branded into a square bit of pure white cloth flared into vision. The navy had come. Back at the dock, townspeople pointed out the vessel with a bit of excitement rushing into the excitable members while others simply wore expressionless masks as unreadable as the unmolded pieces of stone or marble or whatever material he liked to use in his ‘little projects’. Only a few paid the coming government ship mind as many still bid their hero’s goodbye—Gordon excluded—and many whistles and cheers went up for the journeying men of the sea. Tia remained smiling enigmatically by the time Gordon turned to give his own farewell and that was a source of curiosity, but he allowed the matter to rest without question. Hod dejectedly returned his wave; likely the only person who had actually done so and in return the boy received a genuine smile from the old man as the ship creaked to life. Slowly pulling away from the dock it moved to beat the encroaching navy boat in the race for time, but there was no tension aboard the ship for its inhabitants had seen worse days and escaped direr situations. It was a time of adventure, of change, of chance.

This was the path which Gordon had taken. Where he was actually headed, he couldn’t be certain. Oh, the dog’s nose pointed purposefully in one direction, but how accurate could the sense of smell be at sea? In spite of the many questions and looming faces masked in mystery at the back of his mind the newest passenger aboard The Messenger smirked distantly at the horizon which offered more inspiration than could be imagined. A world of stories to be captured at their purest…that was the life for him….


End