A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
“Why would I?” She shook her head and leaned forward to grab the rutter again. “Counting time is a mainlander thing. For us it’s all heat and rain. A year means nothing. The stars don’t move, and the winds shift with season and location. That’s what I need to know – what I need to sail.”
“The rest?” Gal shrugged and began scribbling anew. “The rest doesn’t matter.”
“The rest?” Gal shrugged and began scribbling anew. “The rest doesn’t matter.”
“...Right.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, giving up for spell on these conversation attempts. If this was the best she could muster, perhaps she was more ill suited for returning than she thought.
She took off the hat and plopped it onto the desk, watching with silent reservation as Gal scribbled.
She took off the hat and plopped it onto the desk, watching with silent reservation as Gal scribbled.
It would be for a long while that Selene would watch before Gal spoke again. When she did it was after the page was filled to the last with the black marks and annotations only another nazrani could understand.
She looked up, black eyes seeking out silver. “Why is the year important to you?”
She looked up, black eyes seeking out silver. “Why is the year important to you?”
Selene blinked up at the woman, pulling out of thoughts she hadn’t meant to slip into.
She didn’t answer for a long moment, searching for the right words. She had no care to say the truth-- that she had been away from people for so long she had practically forgotten how to have a conversation. That much was evident, apparently. But her reasons for caring, she’d keep to herself.
“I don’t know how old I am anymore,” she settled on, the answer harmless enough.
She didn’t answer for a long moment, searching for the right words. She had no care to say the truth-- that she had been away from people for so long she had practically forgotten how to have a conversation. That much was evident, apparently. But her reasons for caring, she’d keep to herself.
“I don’t know how old I am anymore,” she settled on, the answer harmless enough.
“So?”
She’d had this conversation before – with Cerano too, of all people. It was like speaking of night and day, then wondering how the two descriptions didn’t match.
“Age isn’t…” Gal frowned, searching for words herself, “it isn’t a thing you can stack and add and take away like a pile of coins. An Anir goldpiece is worth exactly that. But one year for you and one year for a farmer, it doesn’t last the same. One year at sea or one year fucked away in the brothels of Mantessa?” She puffed air across an open palm, blowing away invisible dust. “You cannot count time, princess.”
She’d had this conversation before – with Cerano too, of all people. It was like speaking of night and day, then wondering how the two descriptions didn’t match.
“Age isn’t…” Gal frowned, searching for words herself, “it isn’t a thing you can stack and add and take away like a pile of coins. An Anir goldpiece is worth exactly that. But one year for you and one year for a farmer, it doesn’t last the same. One year at sea or one year fucked away in the brothels of Mantessa?” She puffed air across an open palm, blowing away invisible dust. “You cannot count time, princess.”
“You’re wrong,” she stated softly. She wrung out her hands on the shirt, her brows pinching in. “You can count it in meals. Or storms. Or breaths. Or the number of men that die at the foot of your tower.”
Her voice gained an edge.
“You can count it. And it means something. It means … so many things.” She softened, the anger puffing out into exhaustion at the mention of it.
“I had just lost count. And I-... I need to know. How long- … how old I am. It gives definition. If not to you, for me.”
Her voice gained an edge.
“You can count it. And it means something. It means … so many things.” She softened, the anger puffing out into exhaustion at the mention of it.
“I had just lost count. And I-... I need to know. How long- … how old I am. It gives definition. If not to you, for me.”
Gal spread her arms in a full body shrug. “Then I can’t help you. You’re gonna have to wait ‘till we make port in Cerak. Somebody there’ll know.”
Merchants kept to the same calendars whether they traded in spice, fabrics, or men. Orders had to be filled, deadlines met, goods delivered.
“I’m sure everything will change then.”
Merchants kept to the same calendars whether they traded in spice, fabrics, or men. Orders had to be filled, deadlines met, goods delivered.
“I’m sure everything will change then.”
Selene pursed her lips, eyeing the woman for a long spell. She had been holding out for a dinner, but she found herself particularly void of an appetite as she pushed her chair back from the table.
“I’ll be sure to keep you updated.”
She stood, her tone flat. “I find myself tired. Maybe I should turn in early.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’ll be sure to keep you updated.”
She stood, her tone flat. “I find myself tired. Maybe I should turn in early.” It wasn’t a question.
This night wasn’t fated to be nearly as clear as the last. As they left the refuge of the Cortosi islands and sailed further into open waters, the waves got higher and the winds stronger, booming the canvas until the ship heeled under their force.
Gal had practically gills herself, and could’ve slept soundly through the tempest. The problem wasn’t in sleeping, however – it was the sails. The squall had swept upon them sudden and merciless, straining the royal mast under the heavy windage.
She abandoned the piece of wood she’d been working with her knife – an emerging jaguar – and stepped out on the deck after the watch called for the second time. Feyrie wasn’t the sort of man to get worried over nothing, and as soon as she was outside, she understood why he’d yelled.
“Lash yeself ta’ helm,” she ordered, and was halfway up the ratlines before the words had even registered with the man.
Nothing quite like negotiating with the ocean.
Gal had practically gills herself, and could’ve slept soundly through the tempest. The problem wasn’t in sleeping, however – it was the sails. The squall had swept upon them sudden and merciless, straining the royal mast under the heavy windage.
She abandoned the piece of wood she’d been working with her knife – an emerging jaguar – and stepped out on the deck after the watch called for the second time. Feyrie wasn’t the sort of man to get worried over nothing, and as soon as she was outside, she understood why he’d yelled.
“Lash yeself ta’ helm,” she ordered, and was halfway up the ratlines before the words had even registered with the man.
Nothing quite like negotiating with the ocean.
Selene pulled from her restless sleep as the howling of the winds tore through the cabin, the woman watching the retreating form of the pirate between the doors, a gasp caught on her lips.
Her stomach churned. For an abrupt moment she found herself glad she hadn’t eaten dinner. She felt horrifically sick, like her stomach was going to invert itself and crawl its way out of her own mouth.
She glanced around the cabin for a place to relieve herself, but she found no bucket. And for some damn reason, the threat of no smelling planks rang strong in her mind.
That combined with the fact that something was clearly wrong drove her out of the warm of the covers, the woman scrambling most ineloquently on all fours as the boat tipped and swayed with the waves.
She pushed through the door, clinging to it as she squinted out at the storm before her. Up above, she saw the captain, climbing like a insect up the ships parts.
“Gal!” She called out, the storm’s winds stealing her voice away.
Her stomach churned. For an abrupt moment she found herself glad she hadn’t eaten dinner. She felt horrifically sick, like her stomach was going to invert itself and crawl its way out of her own mouth.
She glanced around the cabin for a place to relieve herself, but she found no bucket. And for some damn reason, the threat of no smelling planks rang strong in her mind.
That combined with the fact that something was clearly wrong drove her out of the warm of the covers, the woman scrambling most ineloquently on all fours as the boat tipped and swayed with the waves.
She pushed through the door, clinging to it as she squinted out at the storm before her. Up above, she saw the captain, climbing like a insect up the ships parts.
“Gal!” She called out, the storm’s winds stealing her voice away.
“She cannae hear ye, fool!” roared Feyrie over the thundering sea, looking at her with wild eyes as she stumbled out of the cabin. “Ge’ yer arse back inside afore the waves wash ye o’er the gunwale!”
No sound could hope to break past the snapping of canvas nor the whine of timber as the mast swayed under her. Her Ladyship was leaning hard to port now, and Gal could practically walk her way up the starboard shrouds. It was the unexpected little jolts and swings that had her pressed tight against the lines, clinging to the coarse hemp until her hands were red.
Finally she scrambled over the futtocks and into the relative safety of the crow’s nest, breathing as deeply as the spray allowed. The horizon had long been swallowed by the mist, and now the sky and the sea were smearing into one continuous gray ebb, spitting white foam into the air every time they crested a wave.
The last of their canvas whipped below, a lone tops’l left to propel them through the storm. They could heave to and brave the weather. That’s what most seamen did when caught by a gale like this.
But not Gal.
The pirate stood up, one arm wrapped securely around the mast. She slipped the knife from her sash and drew a long red line across her forearm. The blood beaded, then spilled freely as she made a fist, teeth ground together against the pain. The wind howled past and scattered the black ichor, over and up until it was swallowed by the sea.
She breathed hard, biting her own lip to keep the dizziness at bay.
Now the only thing to do was to wait.
No sound could hope to break past the snapping of canvas nor the whine of timber as the mast swayed under her. Her Ladyship was leaning hard to port now, and Gal could practically walk her way up the starboard shrouds. It was the unexpected little jolts and swings that had her pressed tight against the lines, clinging to the coarse hemp until her hands were red.
Finally she scrambled over the futtocks and into the relative safety of the crow’s nest, breathing as deeply as the spray allowed. The horizon had long been swallowed by the mist, and now the sky and the sea were smearing into one continuous gray ebb, spitting white foam into the air every time they crested a wave.
The last of their canvas whipped below, a lone tops’l left to propel them through the storm. They could heave to and brave the weather. That’s what most seamen did when caught by a gale like this.
But not Gal.
The pirate stood up, one arm wrapped securely around the mast. She slipped the knife from her sash and drew a long red line across her forearm. The blood beaded, then spilled freely as she made a fist, teeth ground together against the pain. The wind howled past and scattered the black ichor, over and up until it was swallowed by the sea.
She breathed hard, biting her own lip to keep the dizziness at bay.
Now the only thing to do was to wait.
But Selene didn’t listen, was that any bit of shock?
Her fit of hysteria was lost to the wind as she took in the sight of the looming wave towering above them, Gal pinned up to the crows nest and…
She screamed in protest, calling out for the pirate again.
To no avail. Selene didn’t know much about the sea, but Gal looked stuck. And abruptly suicidal?
What in the Gods!
She stumbled across the deck, scrambling on all fours as she jumped out and latched onto rigging under the crows nest.
“Gal!” She screamed again, trying to encourage the woman to attempt her way down.
Her fit of hysteria was lost to the wind as she took in the sight of the looming wave towering above them, Gal pinned up to the crows nest and…
She screamed in protest, calling out for the pirate again.
To no avail. Selene didn’t know much about the sea, but Gal looked stuck. And abruptly suicidal?
What in the Gods!
She stumbled across the deck, scrambling on all fours as she jumped out and latched onto rigging under the crows nest.
“Gal!” She screamed again, trying to encourage the woman to attempt her way down.
The nazrani was neither pinned nor suicidal, but it was a simple mistake to make for a landlubber. Not that Gal spared it any thought – she hadn’t even heard the woman screaming herself hoarse on the slippery deck.
Her black gaze was fixed on the foaming sea far below. She knew how peaceful and silent it would be under the waves. A great wall of nothingness between her and the raging world. The surface churned and spat, but the depths were quiet as ever, undisturbed by the petty squabbles above.
She followed the thin thread with her eyes closed, hauling down the line like a halyard. Concentration and spray beaded on her forehead as she gripped the mast, blood still running slick down her forearm.
It embraced her, and she gasped to see it looking up at the little walnut shell of their boat from the deep.
Te nui raro.
She fell to her knees beside the mast, bowed her head with respect she reserved for no mortal creature.
Nou mākou to koe.
The ship shook under the weight of another massive wave. Feyrie grunted a curse and marched forward to pry the foolish girl off the shoruds. “Ge’ yer arse inside, noo! The cap’n’s nae ta be bothered in this!”
I raro te ngalu.
Fyrie had just about dragged them both inside the cabin and slammed the door closed when ship gave a great groan. It was a thousand trees roaring their protest; a thousand nails and lines whining, the very air shimmering with the noise.
Then the bowsprit pierced the waves, and they sank into the great below.
Her black gaze was fixed on the foaming sea far below. She knew how peaceful and silent it would be under the waves. A great wall of nothingness between her and the raging world. The surface churned and spat, but the depths were quiet as ever, undisturbed by the petty squabbles above.
She followed the thin thread with her eyes closed, hauling down the line like a halyard. Concentration and spray beaded on her forehead as she gripped the mast, blood still running slick down her forearm.
It embraced her, and she gasped to see it looking up at the little walnut shell of their boat from the deep.
Te nui raro.
She fell to her knees beside the mast, bowed her head with respect she reserved for no mortal creature.
Nou mākou to koe.
The ship shook under the weight of another massive wave. Feyrie grunted a curse and marched forward to pry the foolish girl off the shoruds. “Ge’ yer arse inside, noo! The cap’n’s nae ta be bothered in this!”
I raro te ngalu.
Fyrie had just about dragged them both inside the cabin and slammed the door closed when ship gave a great groan. It was a thousand trees roaring their protest; a thousand nails and lines whining, the very air shimmering with the noise.
Then the bowsprit pierced the waves, and they sank into the great below.
Selene was all nails and screams, attempting to remain firm under the mass so she could attempt some sort of assistance. But she was light to scoop up, with ill-suited legs for a storm to boot.
Wrangling her inside was a simple task met by only a few scratches and the battering of the storm.
“Are you an idiot!” She cursed in common. The door closed around them sending the room into a deceptively calm spell. And before she could curse him out any more, everything creaked and-
She looked wildly around, stumbling back and forth as she fought to remain on her feet. Her eyes were set on the walls around them, a strange, echoing creaking coming from the wood as the pressure of the water bore down on it.
“What was that?” She whispered, switching to his tongue. It took her a moment to realize there were no more winds, the sudden lack of white noise leaving goose bumps on her arms. She stood there like a cat on edge, waiting for the chaos to resume and come crashing down on them.
Wrangling her inside was a simple task met by only a few scratches and the battering of the storm.
“Are you an idiot!” She cursed in common. The door closed around them sending the room into a deceptively calm spell. And before she could curse him out any more, everything creaked and-
She looked wildly around, stumbling back and forth as she fought to remain on her feet. Her eyes were set on the walls around them, a strange, echoing creaking coming from the wood as the pressure of the water bore down on it.
“What was that?” She whispered, switching to his tongue. It took her a moment to realize there were no more winds, the sudden lack of white noise leaving goose bumps on her arms. She stood there like a cat on edge, waiting for the chaos to resume and come crashing down on them.
Feyrie looked surprisingly calm at the turn of events. Almost like it wasn’t the first time they’d weathered a storm like that.
“The cap’n doin’ her job.” He was curt to answer, and kept glancing at the cabin as if someone was going to walk in – until they did.
The door creaked, a bloody hand cracking it open before the rest of Gal managed to slip through. She slammed it behind her and leaned against the wood, sucking in deep breaths of saltless air.
“Don’t look outside,” she ordered sharply before marching off to the chest. She flopped down into her seat a moment later with a bottle and a length of bandages. The alcohol she splashed first across the wound, then down her throat, and got to work wrapping up the weeping gash.
“Feyrie.” He looked up, jaw set. “My arm’s useless but someone needs to steer.”
Apprehension ran swift as a fox across his grizzled features, but then he dipped his head. “I’ll go.”
There was a flash of white when he stepped outside, and then they were plunged into the silent darkness again.
“The cap’n doin’ her job.” He was curt to answer, and kept glancing at the cabin as if someone was going to walk in – until they did.
The door creaked, a bloody hand cracking it open before the rest of Gal managed to slip through. She slammed it behind her and leaned against the wood, sucking in deep breaths of saltless air.
“Don’t look outside,” she ordered sharply before marching off to the chest. She flopped down into her seat a moment later with a bottle and a length of bandages. The alcohol she splashed first across the wound, then down her throat, and got to work wrapping up the weeping gash.
“Feyrie.” He looked up, jaw set. “My arm’s useless but someone needs to steer.”
Apprehension ran swift as a fox across his grizzled features, but then he dipped his head. “I’ll go.”
There was a flash of white when he stepped outside, and then they were plunged into the silent darkness again.
Selene wavered in place, looking righty shocked over the events. A better woman of her standing would have already fainted, but she never understood that course of action. Why toss yourself to the ground when you could do something to help.
She swallowed back her own fear and stepped forward, kneeling before Gal and taking the bandages from her one-handed grasp.
“Give me that,” she hissed, agitated at the woman. “Why would you do this to yourself? You could have fallen. You could have died.”
Her agitation was spared from her fingers, at least, which clamped down soft but firm over the wound to try and encourage the bleeding to slow.
She swallowed back her own fear and stepped forward, kneeling before Gal and taking the bandages from her one-handed grasp.
“Give me that,” she hissed, agitated at the woman. “Why would you do this to yourself? You could have fallen. You could have died.”
Her agitation was spared from her fingers, at least, which clamped down soft but firm over the wound to try and encourage the bleeding to slow.
Selene gave a slowly look to the intentional wound, then to eerily quiet walls that engulfed them. She shivered, her expression sobering. “It’s quiet,” she stated, looking for confirmation on what she suspected. “Too quiet. Almost as if we’re no longer at sea,” she hedged.
Her gaze flickered to the porthole, though its angle masked all but that strange white glow.
“You…?”
Her gaze flickered to the porthole, though its angle masked all but that strange white glow.
“You…?”
Selene stood up, briskly crossing to the porthole and going up on her toes to press out and see.
She gasped, staring uncomprehendingly at the sea around them, then ship encapsulated by… “What the hell sort of magic is this?” She breathed, cursing again.
She lowered back onto her heels and took a few steps back, shaking her head. For a princess that had lived her life in a tower guarded by a dragon, this shocked. She couldn’t help but to feel that was saying something.
“Will we be alright?” She asked tightly, turning back to Gal.
She gasped, staring uncomprehendingly at the sea around them, then ship encapsulated by… “What the hell sort of magic is this?” She breathed, cursing again.
She lowered back onto her heels and took a few steps back, shaking her head. For a princess that had lived her life in a tower guarded by a dragon, this shocked. She couldn’t help but to feel that was saying something.
“Will we be alright?” She asked tightly, turning back to Gal.
“No kind of magic,” Gal snapped back, rolling her wrist to work some life back into her arm. “It’s a spirit, so, yes, long as you don’t mouth off and insult it.”
She stood, stretching the climb and lingering pain from her body. “Koinei te mana,” she murmured under her breath as she stalked over to the bed.
She stood, stretching the climb and lingering pain from her body. “Koinei te mana,” she murmured under her breath as she stalked over to the bed.