Past Time [Joscelin.]

[Cadence]

Life hadn’t always been like this. Cadence distinctly remembered attending class with a handful of upper-class children. She recalled having money to spend, and she remembered being able to go out on the weekends, and simply being with her friends. Cadence even remembered a time when this “rich living” hadn’t been anything more than a simple façade.

She was young, and wild back then, and hadn’t thought that sort of easy-living would ever come to and end. And in some ways, Cadence is still in denial, still hoping in some way that her family’s name may be salvaged, and she may be able to scrape back up that steep hill that they’d fallen down since losing the majority of their land.

And, still, Cadence was achingly aware of her family’s financial status.

And the work that needed to be done.

_________________________

Sweat beads upon her brow, the hat which had once been pinned to her head was now clutched firmly into the confines of her hand, that thin meshwork which could usually be found in some sort of a funeral hopelessly crumpled, and digging into her palm along side the hard ridges of her small cap. She’s waving it almost frantically, voice raised.

Everyone was more than right when they said good help was hard to find these days, and it seemed that that old adage was even true when it came to simplistic dock-work; the loading and unloading of crates, and pallets, of bushels and barrels. You’d think it was work practically designed for simpletons, but apparently those simpletons didn’t so much agree with that thought, and insisted upon proving Cadence wrong time and again.

Still, someone needed to get them in order, and Cadence had no intention to lose any money today. Her hands are loosening from that cap of hers and she’s swatting it to the ground with little care before soft fingertips are working the buttons to those leather gloves free before those, too, are joining her cap upon the dock’s boards. Sleeves are next to go with a simplistic nudge towards her elbows, baring stark pale forearms to the harsh rays of the sun for the first time in what seemed like years.

It’s more than obvious Cadence wasn’t exactly meant to be working the docks, and in all truth, what sort of woman did work on a dock? Well, definitely not a daughter from the Sinclair line? Well, apparently so, and in all truth Cadence was fine with this. She well knew her duties to her family, and she knew things needed to be done in order to obtain some of the former wealth they’d experienced ages ago.

Sinclair or not, and woman or not, Cade’s pretty little high heels are bracing to the dock-boards, and slender, near bare arms are lifting above her head to bump soft palms upon the lip of an oncoming crate. It was once all too obvious that Cadence had never worked upon the docks before, and perhaps it was made even moreso when she squeaks out softly. Once soft palms firm upon the boarded up sides to push such to the side and away from her pretty face, “How about you get your head out of your ass and do this right?” she seems more than eager to call upwards, towards the wayward pulley conductor.

“That goes for all of you,” she continues onwards with a knit to her brows. Small hands sidle up the rough package to escort such downwards, and to her feet. It’s more than obvious Cadence is irritated by the lack of ambition her family’s crew was showing. Though could she honestly be blamed? Well, no she couldn’t.

And neither could they. These simple folk made far less money off of this enterprise than Cadence and the remainder of her family was. In fact, the majority of them were “Working” on a hope, and a promise of a new tomorrow, and whatever money her family could scrape together to toss their way.

The small woman clears her throat softly, bare hands settling upon the warm swell of her hips to bustle skirts upwards and towards her knees, baring ankles, and calves to the warm outer air. Despite the summertime heat, it was much more pleasant than the air trapped beneath the many layers of her dress. She balls such a fabric towards her hips as she stoops forth, fingertips extending to snatch up both gloves, and hat from the hardwood below.

“I swear,” the blue eyed woman finds herself grunting out, free hand lifting to wipe upon sweat-slick hairline. “Useless,” she breathes out next, that hand lifting to bump upon the next box, swinging dangerously close.

[Joscelin]

Smelling of salt and sweat; grime and dirt. It smells of the working class and the gulls cawing from above; sweeping downward to catch any of offal that had been tossed from the fish stands nearby. There's also the conflicting smell of perfume and cologne; scents being used by traders and anyone else who had a stake here within the port; barking at their workers and thensome. It's this that fills the senses of the men and women within, and this alone that seems to annoy one.

"I don't see why you like coming here at all, sirruh," Marcus states with a grunt; shoving one man out of the way and then another. He's a wide man as well as tall - six-foot-seven and nigh two-hundred-and-ninety-pounds. He looks somewhat laughable within his double-breasted vest; the buttons looking ready to burst and skitter down the dock. His face seems to be permanently set within a scowl as well; barking and cursing at one person and then another.

"You truly need to lighten up, Marcus. Sometimes I wonder why I've taken you on as you are, but then I recall you are the best at what you do, but please...I don't want to have to worry about some noble woman or man threatening to sue me because you decided to shove them onto the floor," Joscelin states as he saunters alongside Marcus.

His hands were lifted hand to the strap of a leather tube bouncing at his back; prints and parchments containing legal documentation for something or other. He wouldn't tell Marcus of such or even anyone else. As for why? Well...Why should they know? Except for the person that they were intending to meet and greet with. It was truly a rarity for Joscelin to stray so far from Dysprosium though. It's then that his flit over the docks and upon one.

She stood out amongst the masses more so for the fact that she seemed eager to get dirt under her nails; working away, or rather, struggling with the load. It was hard to tell if she were pretty or not from this far, and with so many brushing past, but her gown easily set her aside as not someone of the lower class. It's then that his attention's being ripped away though when Marcus had thumped into another and his voice lifts over the din to bark at the other man; shoving him aside and nigh ready to burst into fisticuffs.

Now, maybe Joscelin should have stopped him and truth be told, Joscelin was close to doing that, but out of the corner of his eyes he saw the flit of a crate swinging with a pulley; the thing coming close to the woman he had saw moments prior. Maybe Marcus would forgive him, but then again, Marcus wasn't about to lose any fisticuffs brawl with his size and weight.

Maybe he shouldn't be drawing attention to himself? It was wrong and he was risking much with such a thing; with other men following at his heels - his own - to keep him within their sights and protected. It was then that Joscelin had done something that could have been considered somewhat of a rescue, or at least keeping her from getting a sore head.

He stood there within that loose shirt; the laces of his collar undone to bare his throat and chest and his cuffs high to his elbows. His riding trousers were tight around his thighs and the cuffs stuffed within his high boots. He looked as any other man here and stood out not even a tad but for the vest that was loosened at the top by two-to-three buttons; that tub nestling against his back as he grunted and caught the crate swinging close and nudged such away before eventually lowering the damned thing to the ground. He huffs outward then before shaking his head and lifting his hand to ruffle his already tousled hair.

"Mayhap you should be more careful," he says suddenly before tipping his face to look down at her; at their backs the sound of a scuffle beginning to fill the air. It was then that he had truly noticed her for the first time. Oh, her blue eyes and light flesh. She did look lovely, and she looked somewhat frustrated by the aspect of having to do any manual labor whatsoever. He didn't blame her; she looks far too pretty to be out here doing anything of the sort!

"Maybe you should leave the work to your men here? You could have gone over, you know," Joscelin utters before reluctantly looking over his shoulder to find a crowd beginning to mill closer to the sight of that giant kicking another within the ribs while the man was already down. Oh, wonderful. He'd have to hurry this up then lest the guards come and drag Marcus away. It's then that he's looking back and there's a hint of apology within his eyes.

"But then again...I suppose this dock doesn't have awfully kind people; my man doesn't seem to be quite pleased himself," he says with a toss of his head toward the crowd and a smile spreads across that mouth of his. His blue eyes gleam with amusement then; maybe he could be a tad bit free, no? He had a number of reasons to be afraid though. So close to the Admiral's Shipyard and their patrols. His mouth purses then.

"I must admit that I haven't been here before..." Somewhat of a lie. He had once but such had been a long time ago. He could hardly recall the lay of the port much less the rest of the city. So was the life of a man stranded and kept to Dysprosium; the Prince of Dysprosium. Now he was here to have legal documents signed for foodstuffs to be delivered to Dysprosium directly to aid his cause and assist with the intake back at his "castle." It wasn't even all of that though and much more than he would have told others. It's then that his hands settle upon the crate with his back to such; his face tipping to look up at another swinging though slower than before after some of the workers had begun to bicker at one another for almost killing their employer! It wasn't long until Joscelin was looking back.

"I would appreciate some help," he says suddenly with a slight smile. "If you could spare such for one lowly man as myself?"

So young, brash and courageous; what had happened to man? This was the beginning of something else so long ago; one pebble turning to two to four to six - an eventual avalanche. Oh, little did Joscelin know back then that she would play such an important role for him.

"I'm Joscelin."

He offers his hand.

[Cadence]

Cadence isn’t working on the docks because she’s particularly good at it. She’s working on the docks because her family needs the money, and obviously the people her parents had hired to work on the dockside obviously couldn’t be trusted to do the work in a timely manner, least of all do it properly, with minimal damage to their stocks.

Cade’s working as hard as everyone else because the Sinclair’s, despite their social status, needed every last penny they could get out of this deal. Still, she seems more than eager to pick up her previously discarded accessories, before her palms bump rough upon the lip of that next swinging crate to redirect such away from her brow, with some help, it would seem, much to Cadence’s surprise.

It wasn’t exactly something she’d expected - to be interrupted in such a manner, and Cadence is almost certain she would have been fine without this sort of assistance. Still, she’s ducking her head from behind the corner of that box, before her palms lay flat to the top to push it downwards, and alongside the other she’d just assisted in lowering moments prior. Once more, she sweeps up those gloves and her cap, only to push her fingers deep within that piece of leather.

Should she be more careful? Well, maybe, but then again so should that man on the deck of that towering ship. The one swinging heavy crates to and fro. Still, she says nothing to his smart comment, and simply lifts those dark, well manicured brows skywards. She doubted anyone was going to begin being any more careful than they were the days, weeks, or months before Cadence had first set foot within the port-district of her home town. After all, this was no place for a woman of nobility, such as herself, and the port-workers could hardly be blamed for their carelessness. These people were use to being knocked around, and bashed in the head by swinging booms, and wayward loads dangling from the sky.

Still, he’s speaking despite her overall indifference. Should she leave the work to the men? Well, more than likely! But, still, they obviously weren’t getting their jobs done, and needed some sort of a push in the right direction. If a prim, and proper young lady such as herself could work the docks alongside any man, then surely those males would find some sort of encouragement, or at least embarrassment over such. And no man liked being publicly embarrassed, let alone by a woman.

“I wouldn’t need to work these docks,” she grunts out, fastening those clasps upon the wrist of her leather gloves, “If the men could do it right,” she breathes out thereafter. And for the first time, Cadence lifts her own baby blue gaze to meet this boy’s own. He was attractive to say the least, with firm, and masculine facial structure, a well set cheekbones, straight nose, and firm jaw. He’s handsome, and those eyes of his. Cadence wouldn’t say she was exactly smitten, though she did find him attractive. Still, she was a woman of allegedly high stature, and such an affair would be frowned upon.

“Everyone’s been here,” she insists upon his next words, brows knitting. And it was true, as far as she was aware, anyway. Hell, this wasn’t exactly her first time on this dockside, “What do you need from me?” she finds herself questioning, lifting that small cap back to her head to pin into place; a small pill-box upon soft coils of dark locks simply piled near the back of her skull. Once more, she finds her brows lifting skywards, overlooking his face for any semblance of truth. For all she knew, he could just be some hooligan with the intent to kidnap her!

“Cadence,” she replies nigh hesitantly, slipping her hand within his own with relative ease, “Sinclair, that is,” she continues onwards, her soft lips purse, as her hip settles upon those boxes she’d just settled to the dockside.

Cade wouldn’t exactly said she was a patient woman, but something was different about this. There was that eerie sort of feeling, that despite knowing him, she simply could trust him. And despite boasting the fact that he was a “Lowly” man, there was something more to this boy.

[Joscelin]

God must have been upon his side then and there, or rather, at least Lady Luck. Whatever sort of deity had offered him this break then and there, he would no doubt pray to later and show his appreciation. Why? There was simply one answer for that then and there as she gave him her name: "Cadence Sinclair." It's that surname that fills the forefront of his mind.

It seemed that the broker and self-proclaimed business man he was attempting to meet today dealt closely with the Sinclair family's stock; their goods from their very own plantations. It's why he was here. He was here to slap down his documents and demand why he wasn't receiving any deliveries! That and to re-settle matters for whatever reason why things weren't working within the first place. Did he have to go elsewhere? Perhaps. Maybe Joscelin's coin wasn't any good any more. He offered as much as possible from his "castle's," coffers, but maybe the rates were going up?

Maybe she'd be of more help than he previously thought then. He needed that, really. He needed a semblance of a break and that's why he uttered a soft prayer of thanks under his breath soon after before leaning away from the crate. It's then he was giving her a name; testing her to see if she truly was a Sinclair and if this man truly did work closely with their goods coming through from their plantations and thensome. He hoped - he prayed - that he did and that he wasn't being fooled.

"I think you truly could help me. I'm looking for a man by the name of Jonas. He works with the Sinclair trading line if I recall. He's supposed to have an office down here doing customs. I've been here once before but that was a long time ago, but I'm here now because there seems to be issues now with shipping lines and deliveries. I've yet to receive any down at Dysprosium within Elysium for what seems like months, and it's important," Joscelin says simply and with a genuine look that seemed to ask her for her assistance.

It's more than obvious that Joscelin knew what he was up and about for. He knew what he was talking about and also knew that there was a possibility that he was being fucked right about now by some broker. So, coming upon a Sinclair simply by happenstance was obviously somewhat of a miracle. Maybe she could tell him what the Hell was going on and even assist him? She could also deny him too, right? Probably. It wasn't long until another crate was swinging low and Joscelin was assisting with drawing that to the ground with a grunt before looking back but soon being drawn by the sound of the milling crowd at their backs.

"If you could, please? I'd appreciate the help, but I believe I should get my man first," Joscelin states firmly before gesturing for her to wait there, or even follow. It didn't matter. It was up to her and would she rather follow or risk being hit by a swinging crate?

"Suck my cock!" Marcus growls before swinging that heavy boot of his against the other man's ribs once more. He was already breathing heavily and shuddering upon the floor; curled up tight when Joscelin cut a swath through the crowd before setting a hand against Marcus' shoulder.

"No one wants to suck your cock, Marcus. Now, I believe we should head off now before the guards arrive. You aren't exactly someone hard to spot. Oh, and we have someone to help us," Joscelin states and Marcus snorts before spitting to the ground; a thick lob of saliva.

"You should be more polite and eloquent around our...Ah," Joscelin turns his head to peer over his shoulder to find Cadence. "Guest," he states before smiling. "Cadence Sinclair," he adds and even Marcus seemed to know the name. He's instantly calming and pursing his mouth before looking apologetic at the young woman.

"Ma'am," he murmurs before lifting his thick fingertips to the brim of his fisherman's cap balanced upon his curly mess of hair. It's then he's looking to the wide-eyes all around them before barking and sending the milling folk scurrying. Joscelin seemed all nonchalant during the entire exchange. It must have been the norm then, right? Most likely! Joscelin had always had a friend within Marcus; the man having been with him since a young age. Now Marcus personally protected Joscelin. It's then though, with the folks scurrying off that Joscelin looks to Cadence and offers a slight smile.

"Now, I do hope you can help me," Joscelin murmurs as Marcus settles quietly at Joscelin's heels and looks somewhat impatient; still, that mattered little. Marcus - impatient or not - would have to wait as he often did. "I'd appreciate all the help you could offer me."

[Cadence]

“Pleasure, I’m sure,” Cadence comes to retort with a lift to those dark brows. Was it a pleasure to know him? Well, maybe! He certainly was a handsome sort of thing with brilliant blue eyes and stubble that she found all too attractive. Not to mention his almost-easy way of being, and manner of speech. Yes, it was a pleasure to know him, if only for the aesthetics.

Surely there was more to this Joscelin than his looks, though. Well, maybe.

Could she help him? Well, maybe. Her parents were still alive, and it’s not to say that she’s useless, but, well, her idea of helping is whipping the dock workers into shape, and “showing them how it’s done.” Then again, perhaps she’s underestimating the pull that her surname held on many-a-people of Elysium. Sure, she didn’t have full inheritance, not that there was much to inherit, anyway. Still, “I’ll do my best,” she promises with an almost-gracious smile, lips bowing into a supple curve.

She was perfect, well, maybe not, but she made the perfect socialite, she’d been raised to be such, after all, and had studied her craft well. From her soft way of being to the more than polite manner in which she spoke, and even the subtle actions she made to make whichever guest she was dealing with to encourage comfort while any sort of guests may be around her. After all, you never knew who was really important.

Was this Joscelin someone important? At the time, Cadence wasn’t so sure, but she’d been young and foolish then, eyes barely open. Joscelin was to be her savior, of sorts. As he was to be many other’s.

Still, Cadence is a slight hesitant in following behind that confident step of his, and over to that loud, barking man. Suck his cock, how vile. This was a public place, after all! But then again, it was simply a dock, and Cadence was certain that wouldn’t be the last time she heard the word cock, and more than likely it wouldn’t be the last time this large beast of a man would be uttering such. Still, Cadence is a slight taken aback by these words, and she finds those brilliant blue eyes of hers to be fluttering with her shock, her lips falling ajar in a wide gape.

Joscelin is quick to scold him, though, and the prestigious Miss Sinclair finds herself floating back into reality, “Pleasure,” she utters once more, upon this larger man’s introduction. This time around Cadence is almost positive that it was no pleasure to be meeting this brute of a man, then again, little could compare to Joscelin’s pretty face, or that silver tongue of his. Especially not someone who picked fights on docks for what was apparently seen as fun.

“As previously stated, I’ll do my best,” she murmurs. She knew this man that Joscelin so desperately wanted to come into contact with. She’d met him a time or two before, and if it was at all possible, she’d prefer to not come into contact with this man again, though it seemed that even that was a slight inevitable, as they’d be going to see that particular employee fairly soon. He was stingy at his best, and, well, a downright ass at his worst. It’s really no surprise that Joscelin and his crew had some sort of an issue with him. It wasn’t completely uncommon for other employees to be found complaining of his attitude and demeanor.

“He’s this way, if he’s in his office, that is,” sure, it was true Cadence was the sole heir to the Sinclair’s meager earnings, but it’s not as if she could simply sign some paper and expect everyone to comply. This is why Jonas had been hired, to properly file, date, and sign documentations, and he most certainly hadn’t been hired to neglect some paper work simply because the buyers were from Dyosprosium. He could look forward to an earful from the young Miss Sinclair upon their arrival.

It’s then Cade finds herself turning from the two men to work their way downwards and along the dock way. There’s the scent of salt hanging heavy in the air, and it was only becoming stronger the further they got away from the shoreline. Jonas’ office was located on one of those live-in boats with wide docks and deep bellies. The problem would be finding the proper boat.

“I’m not sure which it is, but he’s in one of these,” Cade murmurs, surveying the small numbers of dingy’s bobbing near the dock’s edge.

[Joscelin]

Joscelin was happy to have Cadence's assistance. Why though? Well, she made things easier. It was hard to keep track of people's addresses especially within the Port of Wonders; Thalasa, proper. He did find the place wonderful though for all the sights though - from the busy waterways, to the dock proper, and even the Admiral's Shipyard; the sight of that mammoth walled fortess seems to be one anyone should behold within silent awe. It's all of this, and much more, that could easily overwhelm one, but not Cadence, or so Joscelin thought.

She seemed as if she had lived here within Thalasa for the most part of her life, and truth be told, maybe she had. She's a Sinclair, after all; that alone had to stand for something. So, Joscelin saunters along and Marcus presses close at Joscelin's heels and even shoots forth to shove others out of their way when necessary. It's truly a helpful thing when needing to get by but such a thing does draw attention all too easily. Still, they were arriving somewhere that Cadence seemed knowledgable about. It was no doubt the place of the Sinclair factor; their man who worried over their documentations and agreements. It's here where Joscelin purses his mouth.

"Marcus?" He begins and Marcus wipes the sweat off his brow before pinching the rim of his cap between forefinger and thumb. "Yes, Josc?" He asks of his oh, so brave charge. "Would you be so kind and step along to find his ship?" Joscelin asks and Marcus knew what that meant: Joscelin wanted a semblance of privacy with this Sinclair. So, Marcus saunters ahead and Joscelin watches quietly for the moment until Marcus was well out of earshot.

"Would I be right in assuming that it would be too much to ask your company whilst meeting with your factor?" He questions of Cadence before tipping his face to look to her. His mouth upturns with a slight smile before teeth bear down upon his lower lip. "I'm sure you know how some of these businessmen can be like: they'd ignore a fellow simply because of his status," Joscelin says simply before lifting his shoulder with a shrug of dismissal.

"I'd truly appreciate your help, Miss Sinclair."

It's the last thing Joscelin says before sauntering off without even another word. Was he leaving her? Yes. Would she follow? Well, that's why he left her. He gave her that choice and wasn't about to go begging for her to toss him a bone. He wasn't like that. He earned what he had and he was damn was going to earn this meeting one way or another. Maybe the action would spur her to following though? It was more than obvious that this moment was of importance to him and even to Marcus who seemed - for all his size - to be moving from ship to ship with grace and quickness that belied his weight. It wasn't long until he was clapping his hands over his mouth to bellow to Joscelin where the Sinclair factor lingered. It was with that that Joscelin cut his way through the busy walkway toward the ship with or without Miss Cadence Sinclair.

It truly was up to her and something told Joscelin that she was right on his heels.

[Cadence]

Cadence hadn’t really expected to be some right-hand-man within some scheme to obtain supplies for Dysprosium. Then again, Cadence hadn’t expected to be working on the docks in the first place on that particular day. But some work had to be done, and in all truth, Cadence was more than sick of her family’s production line, and she was more than on the verge of simply offing the lot, and rehiring a new batch of applicants; people who would be far more dedicated to the cause than the ones her family had on the pay roll at the moment. But Cadence also knew that wouldn’t sit well with many.

But here she was, with two young men tagging behind her, near expecting some sort of hand out. At the very lest to be pointed in the right sort of direction.

Maybe he’d be able to pay her back for this gesture some day. It’s what Cadence hopes. After all, it was only fair, wasn’t it? Cadence was going out of her way, and while she wasn’t exactly in her place to begin with, she most definitely didn’t need to be here; at the end of those docks, peering over the ledge of such to seek out her family’s seal upon one of those live-on boats.

It’s then Cadence hears some sort of murmurings; the request of privacy before this Joscelin boy is approaching her once more, and she’s offering up the most charming smile that she can muster within that moment. “I did say I could do what I could,” she disagrees with another one of those warm smiles. Her palms settle upon the swell of her hips, before she turns her gaze towards the much larger man just out of ear-shot, “I don’t think he’ll be able to come with though,” she finds herself biting upon her lower lip before she glances back over to lip of the dock once more, “I don’t think he’ll be able to fit on the boat,” Cadence breathes, those blue eyes o hers widening before offering an almost cheeky smile.

She was teasing, at least somewhat. He was a hulking sort of man, and to be quite honest those live-in boats weren’t exactly made for men his size. It certainly wouldn’t sink if Marcus were to lay foot upon such, he simply wouldn’t be able to duck below, and into the cabin of such. It would probably be best if he played look out upon the pier, anyway.

It’s then she finds him dashing off-ways. Cadence can’t help but become partially confused, and it’s more than apparent by the knit to her brows. It’s apparent she’d never been treated in this manner. She’d never had somebody speak to her in such a way, let alone be abandoned shortly thereafter! Still, she finds herself following upon his heels with all the urgency of some needy child.

“I’d be happy to come with you, though, Sir Joscelin,” she coos out sweetly, “I’ve a bone or two to pick with him myself,” her brows knit a slight as if to display her irritation over the way things were being run. Her parents didn’t hire this man to simply sit in his floating office and do heaven knows what all day. The Sinclair’s had hired him for paper work, and to watch over the dock workers; to keep them in line when he parents or herself could not.

It’s then Cadence is tossing her head towards the end of the pier, and an offshoot which leads downwards, and closer to the waterline. It’s a set of steps downwards before they would encounter that much smaller dock, settled mere feet above the water at high tide. Needless to say with any sort of flooding that dock would be long gone for a span of time, along with anything else that may be tied to it. At the moment, however, the tide is low, and Cadence is forced to settle her rump upon the lip of that dock before bustling up her skirts yet again.

She shoots an almost-wary look towards this Joscelin before making that short hop off the dock’s end, and onto the ship’s deck. She seems more than eager to brush her palms to the swell of her rump, as though she may have gotten dirtied while she was settled upon the plank boards of that dock.

Cadence offers an ironically reassuring smile, and a flap of her hand to urge him downwards, before she’s drawing closer towards that closed office door, and bumping gloved knuckles roughly upon the doorway. Now all that was left was the waiting.

[Joscelin]

"Mayhap Marcus will stay out on the pier then. It will be for the best, wouldn't you say? I already have more than enough to discuss with your factor. I really don't want another reason," he says simply before lifting one shoulder with a shrug of dismissal and a slight smile. He's more than happy that she's following after him. He could almost go as far to say that he had established a connection with one of the trading families, or so he hopes. It would be a great asset to him overall. Oh, and her being a pretty flower didn't hurt at all either.

"Simply promise me that you won't pick him clean? It'll be hard to do business with him if he were a lump of flesh and naught else," Joscelin points out with a wrinkling of his nose and amusement gleaming within those blue eyes of his. It wasn't long until they were catching up with Marcus though who had been peering upon the live-on boats whilst he passed them; looking for the Sinclair insignia emblazoned upon one. Luckily for them though Cadence planned on showing the way and Joscelin caught his right-hand-man's attention on the way through.

Marcus kept at their heels all the while until mounting those short downward steps and finally moving along that narrow dock toward the designated area that no doubt belonged to her factor. Joscelin was quick to speak to Marcus though; hand raising to his chest.

"Stay here, Marcus. I need you to keep your eyes open for me, alright? I'd rather not anyone eavesdropping on my business. Oh, and because you'd no doubt sink the boat," he says simply and Marcus grins like some oaf. "Of course, Sirruh," Marcus states and pinches the brim of his cap before turning his back to Joscelin and Cadence. It's then Joscelin catches sight of Cadence lowering herself to sit upon the edge of the dock and he couldn't help but grin.

"You could have asked for help, Miss Sinclair; not that I'm saying you're uncapable, because any woman who could work the docks as you had must have some skill," he says simply; mouth twisting to a smile before he's leaping downward and beside her; the boat swaying a slight with his landing but Joscelin moves like a man who has done this all his life. It wasn't long until the large stateroom - and seemingly the only one upon this small craft - was stirring with life and the door drawing open to reveal a man with bushy brows and soon after widening eyes.

Miss Sinclair and the Prince of Dysprosium side-by-side.

"I...I, Miss Sinclair! Forgive me!" her factor; Jonas. He looks like he hadn't had good sleep in some time and the rings under his eyes are testament to that. There was a reason though and Jonas hadn't been looking forward to this inevitable meeting. Still, his nose is wet with ink and so are his fingers and cheek; brow marked too, even. "Sir Joscelin," he breathes out next with a respectable bow to his head.

"Please. Please, come in. Have tea with me, I think we have much to discuss."

[Cadence]

She lifts her gaze towards Joscelin, before finally lowering herself to the deck of the boat. It sways, if even a slight under the pressure of her boots, “I’m perfectly capable,” she assures him with a curt sort of nod. Fingertips draw away from the lip of that ship then, so she may wander inwards, and toward what may be considered more stable ground.

Sure, Cadence was perfectly capable of such a thing, but it was still fine to see a man toting chivalry in public. Though that could easily be associated with her very own social status. She was a Sinclair, after all, and not some sort of dirty ragamuffin. As Joscelin was. Sure, he could have simply been acting upon what he believed would garner him the most assistance. But he had this strange genuine way of being, that Cadence had very rarely encountered.

High end society hardly ever provided for reliable, and genuine company.

“I make no promises to men,” she murmurs thereafter. Her gaze drew downwards briefly to her left hand, and that ring laying beneath that thin piece of leather. She had made a promise to a man. Just one. She was married, and she’d taken that vow. Perhaps this could be her reason that she couldn’t promise Joscelin she wouldn’t tear Jonas apart; All because of one man.

Needless to say their match had been made in money, and not in heaven. They’d married on their parents accord, and on the date set. The two had barely known each other, and still, it was a marriage for the ages. Invites were sent out, and it was a grand display to be sure. Save for the money, the engagement had been useless. Sure, he provided for her, and for her family, at least financially. Except this man, her husband was never there, neither physically nor emotionally. She’d been abandoned. And no one seemed to care.

Ladies don’t complain.

Ladies don’t complain, but sometimes they needed to. Still, Cadence is left high and dry once more.

“At least not ones that I can’t keep,” she amends quickly. That small hand of hers lifts upwards to rap upon that old, stained doorjamb. But the two of them wouldn’t be left to stew within an awkward silence, no, it’d been as if Jonas was waiting at his doorway, as if some sort of overly excitable puppy. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t as though his office was very large. Sure, it was a sizable vessel, considering that the vessel remained stationary; roped close towards that dock with enough leeway to accommodate for both high, and low tide.

“Jonas,” Cadence coos out. Her voice almost sickly sweet in that moment. Those blue, blue eyes of hers would draw along his body, from that rumpled sort of waist coat, to the wrinkled folds of his slacks, “You look horrendous, Dear,” Cadence comments, and purses her soft lips. He was meant to be presentable, at the very least. He was, after all, meant to deal with the matters the Sinclairs themselves could not. He was their go to man, “Please, Jonas, I know we don’t have much, but you can at least keep up appearances,” sure, it was an almost-bold revelation before a man she barely knew, but, well, he’d come to know this sometime.

“But your bath can wait, I do believe you’ve made some promises to our dear Joscelin that have not been kept for some time now,” Cadence breathes with a quick flick of her wrist; shooing him back inwards, and into the relative safe keep of that small boat. “Come, Joscelin,” Cadence murmurs, leaning towards the young man to grasp hold of his rough paw, drawing him closer, and thereafter inwards, and into Jonas’ “office.”

“Perhaps you’d like to explain yourself,” she requests, with a knit to those delicate brows of hers.

[Joscelin]

Jonas certainly did not look ready to be accepting any visitors then and there, and perhaps that's why his "office" was in such a dissaray. Oh, and mind that his "office" was simply an open work place within his stateroom; his bed within sight but hidden away not so cleverly behind a thin curtain that was beginning fray at the hem where such had brushed the wooden floor time and again. That's another story for another time though; not that the story was all that exciting to begin with. Still, Jonas leads them within and even goes as far as to offer the two of his guests tea. It wasn't much for tea though; simplistic greens used that could be found out upon a bush. Where had gone the noble chamomile? Jonas rubs at his grizzled cheek then.

He hadn't shaved. He hadn't bathed either, nor was he respectfully dressed for a meeting with a trader woman and man who had not exactly become a self-proclaimed prince. His mouth purses as he sidles around documents and treaty parchments that were laying here and there. There were also figures; a whole load of figures bare for all eyes upon his desk - a desk that's bolted to the floor lest a wind leave all his furniture flying to one side and the small live-on ship over turning with the weight. It's then that Jonas quickly manuevers toward the small fire that had been heating his kettle and he was pouring himself a mug before lowering himself at his desk.

"Sit, sit," he says quickly; gesturing them both to two chairs that did not match. "Miss Sinclair," he says to Cadence and then looks to Joscelin, "Mister Teimlia," he breathes out and frowns. "Now, I have much to discuss and I know you may find me mad, or even fitting wrong, but I am not. Truth be told this is the reality of things, Miss Sinclair. I've gotten word by way of government officials that a plantation, belonging to the name of Sinclair, has been ceased to fund an expedition far up north. They've given a small portion of coin for the abrupt action but that hardly makes up for the profit we've lost, and I hate to say that we're far gone from our needed margin," he pauses and sifts through a few parchments before slipping one forth; their marks and figures for what they should be making.

"They've ceased Sinclair land?" Joscelin questions suddenly and seems almost dumbfounded. Could they do that? Yes, the Sinclairs lived here upon Elysium but that was their land from generations ago; something that could not be taken. Not only was the land ceased but the Sinclairs given only a small lump sum for the troubles that hardly even reaches their current income! Tragic, truly. Joscelin already knew what this meant for him and the food that should be coming to Dysprosium: unable. It wasn't his any longer nor even Cadence's to decide what she wished to do with such. Where did that leave them then?

"I'm sorry, Joscelin, but you'll have to find another factor," Jonas says simply and frowns deeply. "I've been fearing revealing this to you, Cadence, and even more so you, Joscelin. I know what this means to you. It's why I let you buy a portion of the Sinclair shipment. There aren't many who would give a man of Dysprosium much light, or even room," Jonas pauses and Joscelin shakes his head; his eyes alight with frustration.

"This cannot be happening, Jonas. Cannot the Sinclair family stake their claim upon the land? It belongs to them and not to the --" Joscelin's cut off with a wave of a hand. "You are trying to be civil here with me, Joscelin? You're speaking of the same government that we are all well known with, yes? They can do what they wish. Throw a war band at a plantation and over take it; usurp the overseer and place your own. There. Done. Complete. The plantation's theirs now. It's used to aid their expedition no doubt to open a new mines because our Good God knows how much we need another," Jonas groans and shakes his head. As for Joscelin? He looks from Jonas and to Cadence out of the corner of his eyes quietly.

"I need this, Jonas. You need to help me. There's no one else who'd accept coin from Dysprosium," Joscelin says simply but Jonas shakes his head. "I've already lost a number of contracts; traders withdrawing and all. They'd be suspect to where I'm getting the coin to buy your part of any semblance of foodstuffs, Joscelin. I can direct you to a few factors though and mayhap they'd help you," Jonas says and sounds apologetic. Joscelin seems angry though and growing angrier by the second! He scowls as Jonas finds a piece of parchment and seeks out his squill to dip within the inkwell. He's soon beginning to pen a note as he looks quietly toward Cadence.

"Miss Sinclair. I'm sorry that there's not much else I can do. You can take the lump sum that they've given for the troubles. Mayhap you can invest upon some upcoming invention or some corporation? You can make some coin," he says simply and looks apologetic.

"I do apologize, truly," Jonas says and Joscelin dismisses such.

"There has to be something you can do," Joscelin breathes out before looking to Cadence more directly this time. What would she do? He couldn't ask her for help. She herself was now pressed against a hard way and with no where to run to; no where to hide. "How many others...?" Joscelin questions quietly; eyes watchin Cadence all the while.

"A number of traders who own land to the north have been struck; closest to the mountains," Jonas says simply. It's then Joscelin's mind swims with thoughts. He couldn't amass a force to overtake the plantations. His rebellion was far too weak and only a rumor yet. He needed food...

Legally.

[Cadence]

Cadence wanted to call bull, she needed to. Poppycock! Bullshit! The lot of this.

But she well knew all of what had been said was entirely true. The empire had done it with a smaller portion of their land some months prior, and the Sinclairs had graciously accepted their fate. It was a gesture that implied want for peace. Cadence and her parents hadn’t wanted trouble. They’d wanted to keep what land they had left, and get on with their life.

Cadence is young, though, at the age of twenty-six, and she still believed this act to be wrong, and immoral. She finds those small hands of hers wringing to the arms of that mis-matched seat, knuckles white with her efforts. A distinctly shaky breathe leaves those soft lips of hers before she finds herself biting upon her lower lip softly. She’s angry and there’s no way around it.

“This is…” she begins, before giving a distinct huff. She’s acting almost childish in these moments, with a knit to her soft brows and the twitch to her fingertips upon that seat, “Have you spoken to anyone of this?” she demands thereafter. Of course Jonas had spoken to someone about it. Despite his appearance Jonas was a reliable worker, who had just as much invested within the Sinclair line as Cadence herself in. Jonas must have argued tooth-and-nail over the matter of the Sinclair plot. But the fact of the matter was, it wasn’t her family’s anymore, and it would never be hers.

Cadence finds herself pushing from that seat, small hands balling upon her skirts, before her arms folded beneath her breasts. Those pretty blue eyes of hers fell from Jonas, to this Joscelin. He needed that land just as much as the Sinclairs did, and the Sinclairs needed his money, but it seemed neither of them would be getting what they wanted. The two of them screwed over by those who were suppose to protect them; the people they were suppose to trust.

She sighs out with another deep scowl, “I suppose we all knew this was coming,” she confesses, biting to her lower lip thereafter. Despite that, Cadence had no idea how to reply to this occurrence. Her palm smothers over her mouth, and those eyes of hers are falling closed in a moment of contemplation.

“Take the money we’ve been given in compensation, and allow Joscelin what he needs,” she finally decides, smoothing her fingertips through her hair, palm pressing flat to her chest.

There’s a moment of consideration. While she knew it was the right thing to do Cadence was almost positive that it was the foolish thing to do, all at the same time. This could be the last amount of profit she would ever see from that piece of property. And it probably was the last she’d see of the land, let alone the profit made off of such. “I’m sorry, Joscelin,” she breathes thereafter, small hands falling to press upon the swell of her hips, “I’m afraid after this point there’s not much else the Sinclairs can do for you,” at least not until things picked up, or they got of either. their land back. Though Cadence doubted the possibility.

“Jonas,” she continues onwards, tossing a glance in his direction, “I need you to run some numbers for me, figure out our projected profit if we ran the plantation year-round,” it was truly the only available option. Cadence wasn’t entirely sure what sort of crop may be cultivated over the duration of winter, but it wasn’t exactly her job to figure those sorts of things out.

“I’m sorry, Jonas, Joscelin, I’ve…some other business to attend to,” she murmurs with a wrinkle her nose. The fact of the matter was that Cadence didn’t have any other business to attend to. She simply couldn’t stand to be embarrassed in such a manner. The empire was making a fool of herself and her family, and Cadence couldn’t stand it.

The small girl finds herself turning on her heel, “See to it that Joscelin gets his supplies,” she requests once more, drawing that door open, “Joscelin, perhaps we should connect on a different date concerning your supplies. Perhaps there’s still something that can be done.”

[Joscelin]

Of course Jonas had spoken to someone. He had to speak with the officials held within Fabrica and eventually accept the news, and reality, of the fact that another plot of land had been ceased. They were being pushed toward a wall and Jonas felt trapped. Still, he didn't run and hide, or maybe he had somewhat. It wasn't as terrible as one may think though. He still stood about and kept to his task with as much efficiency as anyone within his position could muster.

"Miss Sinclair...Are you sure?" Jonas questions of Cadence with raised brows. Would she truly do this for Joscelin? Jonas wasn't so sure whether or not the move was of a surety. Joscelin no doubt needed such but was Cadence within a comfortable position that allowed her this? His mouth twists to a frown somewhat as he fingers at his thinning hair. "Truly, nothing lasts forever, Miss Sinclair. If this is your command then I'll follow such without a hitch," Jonas assures her before looking quietly toward Joscelin and sizing him up for that instant. He'd better be worth every bronze coin otherwise they'd be within some sizable problems.

"Of course, Miss Sinclair," Jonas breathes out quickly before fetching out a sheet of parchment to quickly jot down a contract and agreement between both parties; marking out figures and penning out another note of acceptance of what they've been given with compensation for their losses. It would be a busy day and Jonas didn't doubt much footwork. Jonas' sudden work gives Joscelin and Cadence more than enough time to speak amongst themselves.

"I understand, Miss Sinclair," Joscelin's quick to say but still looking vastly grateful for all she's already done and offered. She could have denied him but she hadn't; offering him what little she had still. His mouth upturns toward somewhat of a smile; his eyes warm with gratitude.

"Thank you, Miss Sinclair. I assure you that I shall repay you one day. Mayhap with a visit to Dysprosium?" He questions of her with another slight smile. Whatever ounce of frustration had been there before had melted away to the deepest recesses that's Joscelin proper. It wasn't long until Jonas was lifting his head off of the ridge of his palm whilst his quill still scratched at a sheet of parchment with deftness and a practiced hand altogether.

"I'll cross-reference the figures with the current hands and pen a letter to your overseer," Jonas was quick to say; fully well knowing that that's what she would have wanted. He didn't doubt she was stressed with the moment as he himself was. It wasn't his stock but Jonas had been dealing closely with the Sinclair family as their factor for so long that he was dependent on the success of their way of being. Otherwise Jonas was lost as he was now. It's then Cadence was stating she must go - business, or so she states - and Jonas was quick to bow his head and assure Cadence he'd send a note her way when all had been done. As for Joscelin? That was a different sort of story altogether, but then again, Joscelin's a different sort of man.

"I will pen you when I arrive home and I will ask for you to come to see Dysprosium for yourself, Miss Sinclair. There's much that can be done but not here to be discussed ever so openly," Joscelin says simply; leaving a veil of mystery between the truth and her. Jonas knew though even if he would not speak. He had always known who he had been dealing with directly.

"We will see one another again."

There was no question upon his tone of voice. There wasn't even a semblance of thought. He was stating fact and naught else. They will see one another again and there simply was no doubt to that. His eyes were warm all the while before turning away to settle upon Jonas.

It was a fitting end to a fitting beginning.