Skyler Dross enters the establishment on a warm oceanic breeze.

She'd graced the Half Mast with her presence prior to the Rocket invasion, making merry (and starting a few good ol' pub brawls) with the local seafolk after a long day's work. It is, she thinks, an entirely different beast during the day: what little light slips through the windows now doesn't do it any favors, highlighting gritty corners and stained surfaces. Shades of neglect.

(It doesn't help that some of its patrons have fled Sootopolis since Rocket's takeover.)

What brings her here this time, however, leads her away from the bar and further into the establishment. A quick conversation garners a bottle that she slides onto the table scant seconds before she's slipping into the seat facing Rowan Wrynn . 

Her smirk is a brief glint of teeth, there one moment and gone the next as she extends her hand to Rowan Wrynn for a handshake. "Captain Skyler Dross. I hear you have a business proposal for me?"

Rowan Wrynn

☉

Brows are raised in a momentary show of surprise, the captain leaning back to peer at Rowan with intent curiosity. “… Gavin?” In typical Skyler fashion, the captain is quick to discard all formalities regardless of her actual relationship with the Underboss. “Wasn’t expecting him to go and sing my praises this fast.” There’s a measure of amusement to her words and, beneath it, a sort of understanding.

She’d offered her services to Rocket, hadn’t she?

The bottle pops open, and Skyler pours two glasses. One of them is pushed over the salt-stained surface of the wooden table in Rowan’s direction. The name Sea Mauville gives Skyler pause, superstition creeping briefly over her visage.

“Yeah, I know of it.” Unbidden, she finds her eyes drifting down to the manilla folder and what lay inside before rising to meet Rowan’s. “Always figured it was cursed, y’know. Grim place, with a grim story and even grimmer fate. Most sailors keep a safe distance.”

She takes a sip from her drink, pensive. Should the Beast try his, he’d be met with cheap ass tequila. This was only their first meeting, after all – Skyler usually kept the good stuff for later.

“What do you need from me, Rowan?”

Rowan Wrynn

☉

Rowan's warning is warranted as the file slides open to reveal ghastly picture after ghastly picture, showcasing shredded bodies torn asunder in a terrible display of unbridled violence. Skyler forces herself to take careful stock of the injuries, lips pulled down in thought.

Finally, her gaze settles back on the young man, file closing silently under her fingertips.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Rowan." Even if Rowan hadn't known them, they had been part of his crew. Skyler might be oblivious, but she isn't callous - for the most part. She raises her glass briefly in their memory, taking a long sip of her drink. 

It burns all the way down her throat, and Skyler sighs in pleasure.

"So, muscle?" The captain finds herself pleasantly surprised by Rowan's blunt, straight-to-the-point approach. This is the way she likes to conduct business.

"What's the plan? We're goin' to brute force this thing?" Leaning forward, her eyes alight with sharp interest. "'S nothing like I've ever seen." And she'd seen a fair amount of ocean bullshittery since she'd taken to the waves.

But if her keen expression is anything to go by, she's definitely intrigued.

Rowan Wrynn

☉

Her grip on the glass turns white-knuckled with each new revelation that slips from Rowan's mouth, broad strokes painting a blood-curdling picture. Any sailor in possession of a single speck of common sense would've heard the tale, thanked Rowan Wrynn for their time, and walked straight out the door. Skyler downs the rest of her drink in a single gulp, then pours some more.

It remains between them, untouched.

"You sure know how to pick 'em. Of all places, good ol' Sea Mauville." Despite her words, the captain doesn't make to leave. "Straight into a buffet of horrors. All yours for the picking." Give her an ocean storm, giver her rage and fury and the sweet, unfathomable depths - she'd happily test her mettle against them.

She raises her glass in his direction. "Well. That's ballsy, if nothing else." Her grin is fleeting, a light-hearted gulp of air before her face morphs into stark, business-like intensity.

What Rowan was describing was an entirely different beast from things such as tempests and storms. One that has often, though with different interpretations, made an appearance in old sailor tales. Superstition, the captain thinks, always has root in truth.

"Have you been able to track its movements at all? I'm assuming it stays near Sea Mauville." Within her mind, a map of the area unfolds. It was thankfully well-documented given its prior occupation. 

"Doing a perimeter 'round the area and closing it in might provoke more attacks, but if you're looking to kill it you want to lure it out anyway." A pause, while she sips from her drink. "I've got a war ship, the Sotally Tober, and a crew." And the creator of the sea itself, according to some myths and legends.

Rowan Wrynn

☉