A Kingdom of Smoke and Steam ;; Emma and Logan
♔ — The fog clung to the captain’s heels as he paced back and forth on the bow, eyebrows pulled tight together and moustache limp and disapproving. In the distance, he could see Bowerstone Docks—well, he could not see it so much as see the fog and smoke that enveloped it, as it always did, as it had for Avo only knew how many years. Long before Logan, though his reign, his… dedication to production, innovation, ( pollution ), definitely aggravated it.
Logan’s reign, to be sure, aggravated many things, most of them being people; his father, Sparrow, the Hero King, had set high expectations but these conditions were just monstrous; children forced to work, people starving, bandits running rampant, and the way Albion was isolated. No one could tell if Logan was trying to keep something in… or keep something O U T.
…and the bloody guards. The captain couldn’t stand them, especially not on his ship—granted, he was transporting some important woman. Apparently. She didn’t look so important to him: awkward, with simple clothes, brown hair, always with her nose in a book. She smiled too much, too. Obnoxious. Nobody in Albion smiled anymore… save perhaps the princess.
—But this, ah, what was her name? Emma. Emma Ravenhearst would stop smiling soon enough.
She was to be a tutor to the princess ( he’d sent a royal missive to some women’s school across Skorm’s creation, and they’d decided to send their youngest teacher ) and anyone working in such close proximity to King Logan was bound to know misery almost immediately. The captain had never met the man — he just piloted his ships — but he’d heard that he was terribly frightening, face covered in scars, always ordering people about as if they were slaves. He’d heard stories about him executing innocent workers… they said that if he gave you a certain look, you knew you were next.
…Of course, Miss Ravenhearst would hear none of that. Another obnoxious thing about her—such optimism! He’d never seen anything like it. But now it was too late to turn ‘round and send her back—they were docking.
Princess Cecily was rarely allowed outside castle grounds, but after begging her brother, she’d convinced him that she should be the one to greet her new tutor—and, hopefully, new friend. She was so lonely, and though she had great mentors and caretakers among the palace staff, she had only one friend her age—Elise, the daughter of a nobleman, on whom Cecily was particularly sweet.
—The wharf had been blocked off so that no civilians could get it, though many of them would have liked to see the princess who, as the ship docked, could barely contain her excitement. Though she was surrounded by guards, she was able to see Emma—and likewise, Emma could see her.
She was a girl of about sixteen with a curvaceous figure ( at least in her top half—she didn’t have much hip ) and a strong jaw—tall and lean, she was one of those teenagers who you could tell would grow into a striking adult… and her smile was rather dazzling. It didn’t fit at all with the horror stories the sailors had been telling about the royal family, to be sure.
Once Emma was close enough, Cecily broke free from her brother’s guards ( her babysitters ) to greet her.
☬ — "Hello! Welcome to Albion, My Lady," she said politely—her voice was rather more sultry than one would expect, but sweet and soft nonetheless.
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