"Has anyone been out to Hybras recently, do you know?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"My Aunt says she hasn't gotten any letters from her friend there in months. I would go that way myself, but..."

"There's not much money in it, is there? Middle of nowhere, Hybras."

"Right."

"-Tried to nail the cook's hat to the cook! Rambling about 'everything in its place'. Too much starlight, I think. She got over it after a few days locked up."

"And you still have her aboard?"

"We all make mistakes. Plus, it's hard to find good signalers."

"-Prefer a rapid-fire, short range weapon for hunting sky beasts."

"But that's the thing. I'm not going to hunt sky-beasts, I just want to be on my way."

"Ah. Listen, I know a bloke who makes this clever thing called 'mines'..."

"Anybody recognize the name 'Rattington Rest'? We found her wreck out by the L-and-S Reserve a week ago. But no bodies."

"Damn. Always a shame to see wrecks. I don't recognize it, but that's creepy as hell."

A third voice interjects. "Well, it's the Reserve. That explains the bodies vanishing, they just got eaten by something from the jungle."

She eats, and lets the atmosphere of the place sink into her a little. She's been to bars like this in Sigil, places reserved for cutters and bloods hunting adventure. And - there's an opening! 

She approaches the pair talking about Hybras. "I heard a woman with a movie camera offer a hundred sovereigns for passage to Hybras just yesterday," she says. "Not sure if that makes enough of a difference to you that it'd be worth the trip, but I thought I'd mention it." 

"-Yeah, I think that's enough to justify going out there. Thanks for the tip. Did you happen to get a name?"

"Haven't seen you in here before," the other one comments. "Welcome."

"Didn't get a name, sorry. I'm Thorn; I'm new, looking into comissioning an engine of my own. Figured I'd come here to listen to someone who actually knew something about the business."

"'Commissioning', that's a fancy word for it. Getting something cheap from Wolversey and trying to make it fly, right?"

"Word of advice, then. The sky's bloody dangerous and you might die. How about a description better than 'a woman with a film camera' at least? Or a round of drinks. Or both."

"Yeah, pretty much. I've heard enough sky stories to understand that I'm sunk without some proper experience guiding me. As for the description..." She focusses for a moment, then rattles it off precisely. "And the next round's on me."

"Cheers!" He shouts to the bartender for drinks.

"I haven't ever given advice to a total novice before. There's a lot out there that can hurt you. Be cautious and diligent, I suppose. Have you served aboard before, at least?"

"Watch out for the wind. Engines are big and heavy, but winds can still push 'em around dangerously. And don't try to fight anything except maybe a Cantankeri or especially pathetic batch of pirates, if you can help it."

She pays, and tips the bartender a shilling. "I haven't served aboard before but I intend to fix that, spend a good month as crew at least to get some sky experience. And as for fighting things, I've seen the results of a failed scrive-spinster hunt so I've no intention to borrow trouble." 

"Good plan. I'd personally want six months of experience before a vessel of your very own, but any time in the sky is better than none. You can stretch your fuel out some by riding the wind and moving slower, but you're also heating up the locomotive so it doesn't freeze and that doesn't work forever. You have... Maybe twenty-four hours at the outside to do something about it when you run out of fuel, before it's too late."

"Even if you're in enemy territory, signal for help if you're damaged or out of fuel. It's an unspoken law of the sky to assist all vessels in distress, and only scum and mortal enemies ignore it. If the crew get their heads in a twist about superstitions, it's up to you to indulge them or not, but know it might hurt morale."

"...Also, the Waste-Waif is real."

The other captain looks doubtful, but doesn't interrupt.

"A little god of the lost, forgotten, abandoned. Like skyfarers too often are. Damn what the New Sequencers say, she's real. You do not want her upset at you."

She nods along eagerly. "Tell me more about her. What's she like?"

"The Waste-Waif is a lonely power, cold and alone and starving. She has power over the cold, the bitter wind, and the barren stretches of sky where no thinking soul resides. She hates the Uninvited Guests. Destroying them can earn her favor, sometimes. Or if you have it, a simple shrine will drive them out. And sometimes, in your darkest hour of need, she'll help out. If she's angry at you, you'll know it by the cold. You can throw out all your food and fast, to earn her sympathy."

"Or a scapegoat," the other captain darkly interrupts, smiling viciously. "Give her some company. Get them drunk, dress them up in your clothes and give them a keepsake, toss them out to join her. That's the story I remember about the Waste-Waif."

"That's... Also part of the lore, yes. Sometimes captured sky-beasts work too, dressed up in your clothes and given a keepsake. She's not very discriminate."

She nods along, not even flinching at the tale of scapegoats. "I see." She glances at the clock; it wouldn't do to talk through her meeting with Lenora. 

It's 3:45 PM.

"What about the Burrower Below?" the skeptical captain asks. "Or the Storm that Speaks. Would you shout secrets to the wind and sacrifice food to something that may not even exist?"

"I don't know as much about them. I'd follow any superstitions propitiating them, though. They're spoken of the same way as the Waste-Waif, and I've felt her cold hand on my throat, I have." The man's eyes are penetrating and convicted on this point.

She buys drinks for an hour or so, and listens to both the argument and the advice following it. Then she finally bids them farewell. "There's a meeting with a prospective first officer I have to get to," she explains. "Thank you for all your time and trouble." She makes sure to nod to the bloods' table on her way out the door.

The harpoon-bearing one nods back with an approving glance at her gun, and they pay her no more mind.

Lenora is a few minutes late, but eventually comes jogging up to the pub, a bit more out of breath than Thorn was doing the same thing.

"Hey. Sorry for the wait. I hope it wasn't long?"

"Not at all. I've just come from the Promise of Days, actually. Been listening to sky-captains tell me about the Waste-Waif and give me advice for a first time out. You?"

"Checking out my cannon, oiled it and looked for rust. It's in good shape. And then visiting friends, like I promised. I found a prospect for the temporary captain plan- Maximillian DeVries is planning on a circuit of the major Eastern-reach ports. Port Avon, Kensingtonville and New Devonshire, the Nature Reserve, Titania, Magdalene's, Port Prosper, Weston-Upon-Memorial, then back to New Winchester. It should be seventeen days if nothing goes wrong. He's got his head on straight, Max does."

"That sounds perfect. Any idea when he'll be shoving off?" 

"I know, right! Lucky. Two days from now. He wants to meet you tomorrow morning at ten."

"I can be there. I'll ask my questions about crew gear and so on when I meet him. You served on his engine, yeah? Any stories from there?"

"Briefly. He's really no-nonsense, it was boring in the absolute best way. Safe and smooth, I mean. We found this rock covered in weird fungus and the cook was pretty sure it was edible and the chief engineer was pretty sure it was usable as fuel, but no, Max just wanted to back off and set it alight to clear the hazard to navigation."

"Sounds like the kind of captain I'd want to learn from. I've always been a bit reckless; perhaps the two of you can tame me." 

Her eyebrows shoot up. "I'm just a little iffy using that kind of talk about a person. If you don't want to be tamed we oughtn't tame you. Anyway, are we eating in there or did you have somewhere else in mind?"

"Let's eat in the bar, yes. And I was flirting, poorly. Not sure I should be doing that, it just seems to come naturally around you."

"Ah. I can see how that's flirting now. I don't mind really, as long as you don't mind that I might not, er, accept? I've decided to just do what feels right. It's a little awkward, like, is this two friends eating together or a date, but-" Shrug. "I'm a fairly casual person? I don't know how else to explain it."

She goes into the bar.