mitochondriaaya: (Steampunk AU)
No doubt many in her social set would have found a trip such as this one a great jaunt. A vacation, a pleasure cruise full of silliness and romance. Granted, most of her peers were rather silly in and of themselves and she did try to avoid them for that reason. Her guardian being a known recluse was quite handy in that regard, and her uncle and she often had a great many nights entertainment out of reading invitations aloud and concocting excuses for them.

Over training, usually. A woman who could not practice her skills while talking simply hadn't built up her stamina enough in Nevada's regard.

Still, this was a busy and bustling ship, not a pleasure liner, and she had her own work to do. The moment they had lifted off she activated the small box their majesties had entrusted to her. It was indication of a senior agent on a case, and it meant that information would find it's way to her in the form of small, mechanical birds.

The latest missive was in her hands, and it wasn't one to inspire hope 'Failed to intercept in Istanbul, targets shows knowledge of agents; suspect mole.' That was...never good news. She'd had her suspicions when their target slipped out of England, but to have a gentleman she knew confirm it? Yes. Bad news.

Their advantage now lay in the fact that the man they were tailing had never actually left their homeland before and that he would have to physically connect with resources he had. And yes, while she herself had never left the country as well, she was traveling in the company of many who had, and Nevada had made it a point to introduce her to all manner of people who came to visit them from elsewhere.

Hopefully it would be enough of an edge.

With a sigh she slipped the small knife from her sleeve so she could reset the switch in the bird, sending it winging back toward the other beacon. Her compatriot in Instanbul need not be down a bird after all. "That looks like bad news," Nevada noted easily from the doorway to her cabin. He'd been cleaning and oiling her weapons while she worked, his own sense of danger to come driving the actions no doubt.

"Failed to intercept," Aya admitted a touch grimly, tapping her pen against her lips. "Your friend Evral in Istanbul suspects a mole."

Ah, yes, it was bad news. Worse than he'd expected in fact. "Better we're here then." No one on Braig's ship would be reporting elsewhere. No one. "Come on, I'm going to throw you to the wolves. Or cats as it were."

"They said yes?" Aya laughed, dropping her pen and checking her clothing automatically. No full corset today, which was good, she'd need to move better than that now!

"They agreed to toss you around like a shuttlecock if that's what it takes," Nevada agreed easily. "And you'll stop being cocky about being able to dodge an old man.

"You're hardly old, Uncle, and I know they'll wipe the deck with me." How not? Katzu were incredibly skilled in most physical areas, and Nevada had been disinclined to throw punches at her proper since she grew up as it were. She hoping to be able to simply brush up her ability to roll without hurting herself at this early date.

"Yes yes, so you always say. Regardless you'll find me in the galley after your workout session with the ladies." He knew himself well enough to know that watching his niece being bounced around would not be good for his health. It was rather part of his job to ensure she wasn't after all. "Or someone better able to walk will."

"Now that seems a challenge, Uncle," Aya chuckled. "I shall endeavor to walk away from any such punishments I bring on myself."

He touched the top of her head gently and chuckled, "yes, you're a stubborn child, but you've never wrestled katzu before. Regardless, I'll see you afterward. And please do not inform your father, he already despairs for your future," Nevada sighed tiredly.

"Of course not." She probably sounded far too cheerful about the prospect of self defense lessons with the ladies on board; she could tell by the way he arched an eyebrow at that comment. Oh well, the quality of her social peers wasn't the only reason she didn't spend much time in their company.
mitochondriaaya: (Steampunk AU)
She sighed softly and reached up to absently massage a temple; no matter how she pieced the facts together one of them remained triumphant above the others. They should not be going to India. No, rather, the man they were carefully hunting should have been caught on Bournes in London. He should never have made it across the Thames and certainly no further than Paris!

No matter the reach and influence that the East India Trading Company still held none of the agents she knew of had even whispered about the mole from parliament. And yet the quarry had eluded them; twice was stretching coincidence, three times and it spelled a grim future for this hunt. There was another hand at work here, there had to be, it was the only factor that would make sense of what she'd observed and encountered in this chase!

But who?

Certainly there were no shortage of enemies to contemplate. She worked for the crown, and the crown was quite the enchanting target, ergo most names of power and discontent had crossed her desk, and her uncle's before her, at one point or another. But who would stoop to spiriting away a functionary?

Who indeed.

That question had spun her mind in ceaseless circles for well over an hour now. It was a sign that she was tired, certainly, that she couldn't pull the details she intended from the papers but instead was mired in these useless chains. Some days she felt as if she hadn't slept well since she was a child and far before she began taking on some of her uncle's work. Information seemed to linger in her head long beyond the point when her body gave in.

She'd get nothing more from the pages before her eyes so with an act of will she dropped her hands from her temples and closed the notebook in disgust. It would be some time yet before she could sleep no matter what biology demanded so she checked her hair and stood from the small desk, swaying slightly as her body registered the movement of flight beneath her.

Ah yes, the air ship.

It was interesting to meet friends that figured so prominently in her Uncle's stories. She knew better, of course she knew better, but she'd expected men of his generation. These friends were still in their prime and she was rather certain that her uncle was quite happy to be back amidst them with the prospect of raising bedlam again.

She'd worry if the idea didn't intrigue her.

And the company, so far, was pleasant. Her uncle would laugh if she admitted such to him!

Speaking of, she cracked her cabin door open to meet her uncle's amused gaze. He knew her well, and damn the man for having more stamina than her even at his age! Biology or no she should have been able to catch him napping at least once! Alas, it was an old, old game with them. "Restless?" he asked, not unkindly.

"A touch," she admitted. "I thought to walk the deck, clear my head before sleeping."

"By all means," he gestured her grandly to the door and...pulled a stool out to set on the deck for himself. He wouldn't pace her, not here where he was convinced it was safe, but they both felt better when she was in eyesight.

She brushed a cheerful kiss against his cheek as she passed him then braced herself for the far cooler air at this altitude. It was bracing, and quite what she needed to clear her mind...or she hoped it would be after a bit of time. She didn't pace; that wouldn't be lady like and it would most certainly be rude to pound out her frustrations on a hapless deck before the night crew. No, rather she drifted in a slow circle. There were plenty of things on this ship, after all, to catch her attention and to study briefly.

Walking the deck in leisure for the first time was quite like walking in a garden; it would be an unkindness to rush the viewing. The entire ship spoke of care and maintenance; it was not overly gilded nor built for show. She rather approved, and the quiet hum of function beneath her boot heels was soothing. By her second circuit she was fiddling quietly with her pocket watch. Taking it apart and reassembling it was another of her soothing habits, the familiar motions helping to lull her further toward sleep.

Yes, this had been the correct decision, the right path, even if the early misses had frustrated her.

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Aya Brea

February 2025

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