Stavanger Bay Cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart

@Smokestep gonna assume, I can edit this later if need be

Judging from Smokestep's recent reactions, Rosalyn knew he did not approve of her actions involving Sandpiper.  While she understood that family was family (not really) she would be lying if she said she wasn't bitterly disappointed in him for it.  They needed to talk, and sooner rather than later.

So she sought him out, hoping to catch him alone.  Surely she would run into him in her wanderings and they could work out whatever his problems were.  Or not.  Though if the latter, she wasn't sure what she was going to do.

The Captain's crew was already a mess. He trudged across the sands of the bay with a scowl and a bristle to his pelt. Nothing had soothed him after having witnessed Roz's overtaking. Smokestep hurt for his sister and his own pride. It was unimaginable that a Cairn would have fallen to such a challenge, but fall she had. It had left him in a state of disarray that he was not quite capable of dealing with. Skellige had never mentioned these types of turmoil when he had exaggerated the making of the Blackrock wolves. The dark leviathan had made it seem so simple, but it had been anything but simple.

With an effort to avoid Rosalyn, the pirate glanced toward the waters and debated the thought of fishing. In a matter of time, he found that his luck had run dry. The dark reddish brown pelt was there, and not too far from him. He glanced her way with a curled lip and then away from her. Mixed emotions clouded his judgment, but he would always value his sister above anyone else, including Rosalyn.

Oh hell no, she thought as he cast her a petulant sideways glare, and suddenly she was furious.  To him, it might be a challenge that spoke poorly of his sister.  But to Rosalyn, his irritation spoke of an insult that was one hundred percent personal.  She had won fair and square, her years of experience and contributions in stead, and no one had questioned that but him (that she knew).  

"You going to keep ignoring me, or should I just leave now?  Because I won't be a part of a crew with a liar for a captain."  She said, knowing it was probably the stupidest thing she could have said, but unable to stop herself regardless.

Already, she was making it known that she wasn't going to cow to another. Still, the fire burned in his gut and he gritted his teeth together to refrain from leaping upon her with all the force in his limber body. She was the first to make a remark, and it was clear that she wasn't looking for an excuse, but the accusation fell and she claimed him a liar. The corsair turned on his heel and spun, snapping his teeth in her direction and aiming to grip them down over her muzzle.

“Ye'd best watch yer tongue, lass. I ain't no liar.” The guttural sound from within his throat made his position clear; you may have overthrown my sister, but you'll walk the plank before you ever get a chance at my crew.

It was not a kind remark, but she stood behind it, because it rang true.  She knew it wasn't intentional, but she felt she had been duped.  He whirled, as expected, and she kept herself carefully calm, though inwardly she seethed.  When she had joined, she agreed to abide by his leadership.  She might have idly considered vying for captain if this encounter went sour, but she knew she would not.  She would simply walk.

"That bit about crew first.  Didn't realize it had an exception when it came to blood."  She said, trying but not quite succeeding at keeping the undercurrent of hurt out.  Sensitive subject.  "I won't bow to her just cuz she's yer sister, and if this crew's what you say they are, I doubt they would either."  Her fur prickled, but she wanted to hear his defense.  Let him try to explain why she should give a flying fuck whose blood she was, and why that should say she needed to give her deference.

If she deserved her title, she would still have it.  Simple as that.

The red woman was quick to make an effort to turn his words on him. In spite of what she said holding some merit, the pale wolf chuckled at her and then tossed his head back in a joyous laugh, though it was not one that included Rosalyn. He was laughing at her. It was like she had trotted fresh out of his father's stories of Ksenia; some self-righteous cunt looking for any reason to get a step ahead in the world. He wasn't sure if she had any idea what kind of a hole she was digging for herself.

“An' ye think they'll follow the likes of yerself, Rosalyn? Ye think that ye earned that position? Well sink me, then, yer about the best an' brightest we've got, ain't ye?” he mocked her with another chuckle and a swish of his tail in delight. None of her words left a mark on him. He still believed that his sister was further in the right than she, and she was nowhere near a proper persuasive attempt. Fixing her with narrowed brows and a cold expression, Smokestep took a step forward and drew his head rightfully above her own. It did not matter if she had taken the First Mate position; he was still the Captain. “Ye didn't earn it. Ye took it. Ye don't even have yer sea legs, lassie an yer tryin' to prove that ye can run the crew. Pathetic,” he remarked with a small shrug and a devilish glint in his gaze.

With a huff, Smokestep's ear swiveled atop his head and he frowned at the woman he had thought so fondly of. “Ye ought to know better. As Captain, I do what's best fer the crew, and that includes the right leadership bein' appointed. First Mate's job is to tend to the Captain, didn't ye know that? If yer lookin' to tend to the crew, ye ought to have fought Raptor fer his rank. But I gots a suspicion that the crew wasn't on yer mind either... ye just wanted a leg ahead, didn't ye?”

As he laughed at her, then proceeded to mock her, Rosalyn felt herself go cold.  He didn't know shit about her, and to claim that she didn't even have her sea legs when she'd likely been leading a crew before he was even a thought..... it hit her in about the worst way.  She felt like he'd cut the legs from under her.  This was the captain she'd agreed to follow?  Fuck this was a mistake.

"First mate speaks for the captain when he's gone.  Or am I wrong, seeing as I'm so wet behind the ears."  Her voice dropped, and she felt the growing urge to snap that smug smile off his face.  "You know what I think? I think you don't know the first thing about running a crew.  Because if you did, you'd know a captain is only as good as the loyalty he holds.  And so's any other crewmate.  Maybe ask yer crew who they'd rather have callin the shots when you're away."  She was an inch from walking.  The only thing holding her was the righteous anger and the fact that she'd fought so hard to stand in front of him in this exact spot.  But if he pulled rank.  If he enforced Sandpiper's rule, she would risk the consequences of desertion.  Because this wasn't the bargain she'd signed on for.

She was losing her steam, and he could see it. Her expression grew cold and she flooded him with reasoning behind why she felt she was in the right, but she didn't know how wrong she actually was. The anger of a Cairn was firing cannons inside of him, but he refrained from leaping to her and putting her in her place. It had gone beyond the fact that she had uprooted Sandpiper and stolen a rank from her with some pretentious air that she belonged as First Mate. It was, perhaps, in her vicious remarks toward how he was running his own crew that sunk the nail in the coffin.

“I don't give a bilge rat's hairy arse what ye used to do, Rosalyn,” he said her name in the most condescending tone that he could muster. “Or the crew ye used to run wit, aye? If ye liked the way they did it, ye can run yer happy lil puss back to 'em, can't ye?” The glint in his gaze was still strong and he still held his head aloft. As much as he was not pleased with Rosalyn having taken his sister's place in the ranks, he was even more upset with the idea that she was telling him how his crew was intended to be run. It was not her place; it would never be her place. “Ye took me sister's place without even the faintest idea how the Ironsea is meant to be run. Ye might have earned yer sea legs when ye were a whelp, but ye haven't earned 'em here. Ye might have earned a sad little nickname from another crew, but ye haven't earned yer name here,” he snapped at her.

The bristling of his pelt had grown, and his tail lashed like a predator. “I don't care where ye came from, but when yer tryin' to make a home in my crew... maybe take the time to see how it's run, eh? Before ye think ye can make it better. Ye may have taken me sister's rank, but ye've got a long ways to go before ye'll have the respect of a First Mate,” the yearling said and cast her a sad expression. As much as he wanted to strip her of her title and cast her to the sea, it was not his fight. Sandpiper would need to reclaim her place when that was right for her.

“Ye don't get nothin' fer free here. Ye earn it wit every speck o' blood ye got in yer body. An' ye haven't earned a damn thing.”

His next verbal attack started slow, but culminated to one of the biggest slaps in the face he could have delivered.  That was all they'd thought of her, the only reason they'd valued her.  And she'd fought tooth and nail, dragging herself from the bottom, to never be in that position again.  To never be worthless.  Thrown aside.

In a way he was right.  She didn't know what he meant by name, nor did she know how he planned to run things.  But at his spiel about nothing for free, her lip curled.  Oh, right.  Don't expect to be given respect, but heaven help if you try to take it from his fuckin ass of a sister.

"Glad to know where we stand." She said, her voice ice.  If she had done nothing to earn his respect, than he had just lost hers completely.  Hell, half his crew had been recruited by she herself.  What had Sandpiper done?  

She was at a loss for what else to say.  She was beginning to see there was no way to win here.  Maybe the best course would be to cut her losses.

“Glad to know where we stand.”

It seemed that she had taken to being curt. The boy wasn't certain what he'd said to her to be granted such an attitude, but he had a feeling that somewhere in his words, he had struck a chord. Still, the pirate turned his head so that his eyes locked to the sands beneath their feet. He could not help but to feel a modicum of heartache for the loss that he was facing. Smokestep had been more than eager to bring Roz aboard his crew; he had wanted her more than he had wanted any of the others. Still, they stood with bristling fur against each other and he felt a seize in his chest. It was not what he had wanted.

“I don't know wot ye expected. I haven't stripped ye o' the rank. Yer still First Mate, but ye sure as hell can't expect me to be pleased about how ye got it,” he admitted to her, finally returning his mismatched gaze to her face. Some of the sourness had faded from his voice, but he was still stiff with the cold winter chill that had taken hold of his bones and his soul. Then, the pirate shrugged and frowned thoughtfully. “This was our purpose. Piper an' me, we was sent back here to lead our home. Wasn't s'posed to be anythin' like it is now. It ain't just a crew; it's our home. This was me father's... our father's land. An' she's looked out fer me since we was young-” but he stopped himself there and bit his own tongue. She wouldn't have understood, he felt. There had always been Sandpiper, and so he saw fit that she should be his First Mate.

Flicking the tip of his tail, the pale Cairn had grown tired of exhausting his emotion. He had hoped to avoid the entire conversation, but he should have known the predictability of stubborn women. Smokestep did not know if she would stay and endure, or stay to make change, but he was tired of the conversation and no longer wished to fight with the red woman. He would know what her choice was, no matter which path she picked. The pale wolf turned to leave, glancing back over his shoulder.

“I guess ye've got some choices to make. Ye can learn wot it takes to be the kind o' First Mate Ironsea needs, ye can keep on like yer goin', or ye can leave.”

She wasn't sure, as he spoke, what she had expected either.  Whatever it was, it wasn't this.  Hell, she'd taken precautions against this.  It was the reason she'd called, the reason she refused to challenge Sandpiper without some measure of the crew present; to win with an audience was to prove that it wasn't only your decision.  It allowed your crewmates to back their own interests, and if any had interceded on Piper's behalf, likely she'd still hold sway.  She would have liked him to have been there, but Sandpiper hadn't allowed her the time.  She'd had a crew stolen from beneath her paws before; she would not ever believe she had done the same thing here.

Suddenly she was exhausted too; still angry, but his own calming took much of the wind from her sails.  Instead a sort of dejected acceptance overcame her, and she no longer bothered to try to explain.  Just as she could never understand his reasons, he would not hers.  She just watched him go, silently, and felt her own sort of mourning for what had just taken place.  This wasn't what she had wanted, but she knew in hindsight, it didn't matter.  She would have done the same again in a heartbeat.

This was her home now too.  And she'd rather leave than answer to a wolf who had no grounds, and would likely have lorded her undeserved seniority over her.  Awful as this was, it was at least better than that.  This was the tale she continued to tell herself as she walked away, opposite the direction Smokestep had gone, her course set for the border.  She had a lot to think about.