Fate - First Reply Candles on the Sea

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Edward Lorain

Edward Lorain

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"A flame burns wild and bright. Passion and ferocity unbridled by that air around it. Dominant and ambitious. Hungrily eating away at the air around it. A king of the elements residing on the land...However, bring even the most powerful flames out to sea and they all will eventually fall."

Elderly women explained to a growing group of children and a larger crowd around them as she helped each of them craft their miniature sailing vessels that housed candles at the center. A small ritual from the old ways that were still practiced in Alliria was originally meant to appease the sea gods and protect the city from flooding. Of course, only a select few would still remember such stories. Now, the practice was just a reason for parents to keep their children busy while everyone gathered about to chat about their lives.

An adult man listened attentively just on the edge of the crowd, as he too steadily worked on his miniature craft.

"Fuck me, this is harder than it looks."

One of the parents looked at him scornfully as a child and looked at him with a mix of awe, terror, and adoration. Yeah, that kid would not be forgetting those words. Edward mouthed the word sorry at the parent, but she ignored him and pulled her child away.

Ed shot a glance over the port, the sun would be setting in another hour or so, but already the port was stuffed with ships. Three large surrounded by four small vessels completely dominated one corner of the port. His eyes hung onto their masts a bit longer than the average citizen.

"May the wind and waves grant me favor." He whispered the prayer under his breath. Immediately, a small gust rushed past and knocked over the minute mast to his toy vessel...

"Fuck you."
 
A flame burns wild and bright. Was it ironic? Just a coincidence? The practice of these Allirians in comparison to the Nordens. Granted, there were a number of cultures whose orbit of purpose revolved around the land, and it didn’t take a dwarf to know the mountains or an elf to know the forest, for there were all kinds of creatures who dwelt within either and more and fostered their own customs.

Yet there she was, a seaborne soul, a Norden amid Allirians, and her name was Nerren. Clan Harclaw was her call, though her kinsmen were far away, most likely dining in their hall as their daughter and sister stood under the dying sunshine in this distant land, ever a foreigner on a continent over the island. Yet she was confident enough to stand amid this crowd in her distinct outfit of which anybody might pin her as an outsider.

Passion and ferocity. The Nordenfiir within her shared those sentiments. She had since discovered her Svalen. The bear was her nature. Dominant and ambitious. Perhaps those would one day be the tenets of her people if they weren’t already. Maybe when the day called the sails, and the night roared for the oars, then the men and women of ice and iron would carve their names in fire and blood, conquer castles, and the land would fall, for the sea would drink its halls.

Someday. Nerren might have grinned at that moment, her imagination drifting like the wind, when other words were uttered right beside her, but they weren’t from parents or children or tutors. They were from a man maybe her same age with eyes as green as hers. She glimpsed his corners but it was enough to make her wonder whether the sea had called these two beings to this theater, such as it was.

“Excuse me?” Nerren beckoned, giving the man her attention after his expletive. “Fuck me?” She blinked. “You’re easy on the eyes, man, but we’ll need a drink and a dance before you get me into bed,” she teased. She didn’t give a shit about the parents who looked her way in her peripheral vision. They could pay attention to their children and mind their own damn business.

“It takes more than a prayer to wind and waves for favor,” she corrected him. “Trust me. I’ve been at sea long enough to have seen the folly of superstition as much as its miracles.” Without hesitating, she grasped his hand in a fistful of her own, steadying his grip on the broken mast.

“Balance,” she released her fingers. “Gently straighten it and center it. Don’t flinch. It isn’t a piece of shit. There you go. Hold your vessel flat, as if it’s already on the ocean, and keep it firm in your grip. It is woodwork and cloth. Your hands, however, are as good as its gods,” the bear of the sea declared, flicking her gaze between his eyes until they stood staring at one another.

“And watch your language. There are parents and their children present,” she grinned. "I'm Nerren, Captain of the Iron Bitch, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Edward Lorain
 
Edward had not really been paying attention, so when he heard someone speak to him, he was surprised for a multitude of reasons. He had not noticed that parents and children alike were slowly putting space between themselves and the odd pair of foreigners making their own mini-ships. Second, he had not noticed the beautiful Nordenfir woman who also seemed to be keen on flirting, always a plus.

"For someone as beautiful as you, I'll buy you any drink you want and dance with you till the sun rises, sets, and back again." Ed quickly fired back almost instinctually joining in on the playful flirting.

He could only chuckle as some of his words seemed to only widen the gap between the pair and the others.

Her next words and actions were even more surprising as her words on superstition were wise and her actions forceful. Ed looked down at her hands and then back up at her. If only she knew how right she was.

"Yes, apparently you also have to put up with their nonsense." These words were not directed at her, but air around them, as if he was talking to invisible members of this conversation.

Although he had complained, he did listen to her instructions, primarily because she already had control of his hands and looked like she could break his fingers. Also, why would Edward tell a pretty lady not to touch him?

Within seconds, the ship was as good as new, his smile only growing wider. "Oh trust me, it would not be the first time someone said I have the hands of a god." He quipped.

"Edward Lorain, Captain of the Siren."

Nerren Harclaw
 
Nonsense, this man had mentioned, and he wasn’t wrong but he also wasn’t right. What was the difference? It was a genuine question that Nerren ever asked in her experience, one that lent credit to her own superstitions. There were reasons, after all, why sailors like her had deeper beliefs than others; why they kissed the mast; touched the horseshoe; danced in the wind or with no shoes. The legends differed, as did their origins, but for her it wasn’t all nonsense, whether gods or men.

She had at least ignored her contemporary’s flirtatious behavior, though she meant what she said: he was indeed easy on the eyes. Then again, she had taken eyes out of a head like his on more than one occasion. Sometimes they were as green as emeralds, other times as blue as sapphires, while her blade was generally closer to a ruby in color after it split the skin and closed the throat.

“Captain of the Siren?” Nerren didn’t recognize ‘Edward Lorain’ or the Siren per se but she did recognize ‘siren’. “That’s quite a name if a bit cliche. I guess you like your singing ladies.” Then again, with so many ships in existence, it mattered less what the name was and more how it was captained, with or without oars.

“So, you’re a captain, Edward Lorain,” the other captain grinned. “That means you’re a sailor if not a shipbuilder. Tell me, then, whether you’re a merchant captain or a pirate captain, ferry or navy…” Trailing off, Nerren couldn’t help but giggle, ever ignorant of the lessons of the teaching women or the stirs of the children and murmurs of the parents.

“Why the hell can’t you handle this little ship in your god-given grip?” She tilted her head at that, seeking to burn his embers. “I wonder if you can even sail to begin with.”

Edward Lorain
 
Edward could not stop himself from snorting at the sense of superiority that oozed from this woman after only just meeting her. Still, pirates had plenty of her type so he was long used to it. People like to say they had a connection to the oceans, the winds, or Mother Nature herself. Well, he actually did and it sucked most of the time.

"Yep, I saved one in my younger years and outright beauty. Although, I suppose she saved me first, so I was just paying it back."

He responded with a casual disregard ignoring the strangeness of the statement. The finest of singing ladies could not hold a candle to a true siren, but he did not mind them either.

"Yes, captain, sailor, adventurer, hero...lover, and so many other things. As for my profession, I prefer the term privateer, but call me whatever you like." As he paused on lover, he shot a glance at some of the wives, who quickly turned away while Ed received a few glares from some of the husbands.

He looked back down at his little ship with a small spot in the center meant to hold the candle in it before smiling in satisfaction at its completion.

"Sorry, they don't really teach miniature building at captain school. As for the sailing little lady, I'm the best sailor to ever take to these merry seas, that I can guarantee. But for all of your questions you must think yourself a pretty good sailor as well."

Nerren Harclaw
 
Privateer, he called himself, as much as captain, sailor, adventurer, hero, lover. Were they all in that order or did order even matter? That wasn’t for her to determine. Nerren simply listened, ever one to challenge and, if she didn’t, it just meant she intended to torment, for better or worse. Then again, she had often gotten into bed with men after first fighting them.

Privateer, however, now there was a term. Not everybody appreciated the differences in terminology. In some cases, a privateer was just a pirate with a letter of marque to do what pirates did against a rival nation or faction, of which the latter perceived said privateer to simply be a pirate.

Sometimes the privateer wasn’t a pirate to begin with but a merchant ship captain with enough resources and armaments to brave their targets and act like a pirate might. The most important difference was that a privateer was sanctioned, to some decree by some party, to do what they did. Others were even pirate hunters by nature.

It was the same with Nerren, in her opinion. She was a pirate to others. To her own, though? She was a raider, a reaver, a conqueror of the seas if not the lands, and that mattered, because castles did not exist on the ocean even if they did on islands, and the closest equivalent were those great ships that yet could not escape the swiftness of the Iron Bitch.

“I’ll call you Edward Ladyface if it pleases me,” Nerren insisted, never breaking her gaze from her contemporary’s face. This Ed mentioned beauties to some degree more than once. Does he fancy me? Probably. She recognized her comeliness despite her countenance having blue lines inscribed upon it as tattoos. Because of it, rather, if that was a particular person’s thing to do.

“Little lady?” Oh, Nerren wasn’t offended, but she did spread her lips at the statement. “I don’t think me anything, truly, for experience on the seas doesn’t teach one to think.” At that, her fingers found his wrist, dancing over his skin like raindrops, cradling his grip like a wind that wouldn’t stop on the very bone.

“It teaches one to know.” She opened her eyes into his and would not look away even if he did. “To act fast. To be quick. Because the sea is merciless, and life is unkind, cold and cruel.” She lowered his hand from his ship to his hip. “And only a fool calls a captain like me beautiful without first showing her he knows the sea.”

Suddenly, there was a dagger in her grip, inches away from whatever member may lay between his hips. “You’re not brilliant at building miniature ships, Captain Lorain,” Captain Nerren admitted. “What about buying me a drink?”

Edward Lorain
 
A sigh escaped Edward's lips. Here, he was just trying to enjoy making mini-ships for a local tradition, and now he had a knife aimed at his manhood—typical Tuesday. His one now free hand ever so lightly shifted to try and protect his nether regions before looking back up at Nerren with a quizzical smile.

"Fool? I've been called worse. As for the drink, that depends, will I have my manhood after...I may need that. And I know the sea, way to well for my liking, but I know her all to well."

To be honest, Edward was not one for philosophical thought. He rarely had the time for it and his crew were not the kind fo such discussions. However, it was becoming increasingly more clear that Nerren and himself had some pretty big differences when it came to the sea and sailing. That wasn't a bad thing, in fact, it would be strange if all sailors had the same beliefs.

"So rather than ruin my day and potentially a long line of Lorains, how about I buy you a drink and you can tell me all about your experiences on the sea? I'll try not to bore you with mine, deal?"

Nerren Harclaw
 
He didn’t flinch. Hell, she didn’t expect him to yelp. She was no fearsome woman in appearance, outfit and tattoos aside and, in the end, he was a man in her presence. Yet she saw what she needed to in his words, heard the look in his eyes, for a woman like Nerren knew the senses were treacherous at best when you were stranded in the ocean at night. Soon this sun would set, yet whether the two of them would share the same bed remained to be determined.

She didn’t immediately speak, however, letting him finish his piece. He claimed he knew the sea. She didn’t see lies in his green eyes that gazed back into her own. Did he know how subtly she could shift this knife, though, and nick an artery, never mind his precious member? Probably. For all she knew he was a pirate hiding in the quiet as much as a sailor.

At the mention of a long line of Lorains, Nerren couldn’t help but spread her lips and offer a slow chuckle. Far from being intimidated, he was either amused or irritated, probably not impressed, but more important to Nerren was that she got her own amusement out of this. A bit of excitement, mildly diverting, as her knife shifted to the outside of his thigh.

“Two sailors in a tavern sharing meat and mead?” Her gaze didn’t waver from his as she flipped her dagger to grip it by the blade. “Take it. If I don’t reclaim it before the night ends then…” She shrugged. “Eh you’ll see. And forgive me. It’s a custom. Superstition. A practice of the sea.”

The women teaching the children were commenting on the lessons, mentioning the integrity of the masts and the sails, the synergy between everything within a ship, the energy of its crewmembers, but all Nerren Harclaw heard at that moment was a violin in the distance.

Daggerless, assuming her companion had taken hers as bidden, she turned toward buildings. “Tavern it is. Stories, drinks, fillets. And five finger fillet, if you’re up for it.” She winked. "You lead. Keep the ship."

Edward Lorain
 
"Uh, sure." As soon as she had turned away from him, he sighed in relief.

He had no idea what tradition she was alluding to, but he took the dagger willingly, happy too as long as it was not buried in his body. Ed slipped the blade into his belt right next to his own knife and then followed along after the woman. He did make sure to take the ship because he would need his for later.

"Drinks, fillets, and stories. Try the Drunken Clam around the corner, it's a good spot." He commented as he moved to catch up with her.

Five-finger fillet made Ed make a bit of a face. One of his crew was called Stumpy, and that was largely because the man had an unhealthy obsession with that very game. Apparently, he was very bad at it.

"But you know, normally if I met a woman itching to get a weapon off me then that would mean something went very wrong."

Nerren Harclaw
 
Honestly, appearances aside, this guy had already lost her when he decided to immediately flirt with her but, hell with it, Nerren decided to play his game and see if he was brave enough to go the whole way, with or without five finger fillet. Having some fun with him seemed better than listening to these women teaching something she already knew, too.

At least she had plenty of other daggers and knives on her person and, semantically speaking, there was a bit of a difference. The one she had given him (for the moment) was a dirk in comparison. Whether he kept it before the night ended was yet to be determined and, granted, that should make sense to only one person at the moment.

“Drunken Clam?” Nerren grinned at that. “Sounds like my kinda dive already. Let’s hit it.” She beckoned him to lead yet he managed to catch up with her. Ultimately, they both led the way, walking side by side, and that was fine.

“If I don’t get that dagger back one way or the other before the night ends,” Nerren expressed as she headed toward the tavern, not so much as glancing at him. “I’ll be itching for the deck to take me back to sea and you’ll be scratching a neck you can no longer use to breathe.”

She would let him interpret that as he wished. Moments later they arrived at the entrance of their destination. “Yep. That clam looks pretty damned smashed.” The sign above it was of a drunken clam. “Right. Inside.”

Inside, a roaring fire greeted patrons at the back, while opposite was a large bar that looked like it could cater to everybody’s desires. Tables circular or rectangular were in between, filled with patrons sitting and eating and drinking and smoking, laughing, others standing, and a stage with live musicians was off to one side, while adjacent was the entrance where Nerren and her present companion arrived.

“You buy,” she reminded him.

Edward Lorain
 
Wait, what?

Edward looked down at the dagger on his belt with a frown as she threatened him once again. Did she want the knife back or not? If so, then she could just have it back. No woman was worth losing his head for. Well, none he had met yet.

"You can just have it back if you want it," Ed stated, still kind of confused about the whole process.

As for the Drunken Clam, that was at least something he understood, as they walked in, Ed took a deep inhale of the place enjoying the smell of spilled ale and joy. Before Nerren could even tell him he was buying, he had already waved down the barkeep for two drinks.

The barkeep was a friend of Ed's, who he had helped talk his way out of some dangerous debts for the establishment. Needless to say, it did not take long for the two to find a table and for drinks to be quickly placed in front of them.

"What do you think? Nice place, drinks are ok and they treat the sailors well... Can't ask for much more."

The place was pretty crowded that night, many crews were in town having just outraced a storm that was driving up the coast. Then there were actual Allirians who were just here for a good drink and to listen to the band.

Nerren Harclaw
 
See, in Nerren’s experience, she was interested in men who knew how to accept her challenge without wincing like this one seemed to. In the end, however, she didn’t actually intend to cut his throat. If he cowarded out and wanted to hand the knife back instead of play the game and dance then that was fine, she would find some other guy to spend the night with, and this tavern seemed to have plenty of men and daggers. Besides, she didn’t expect him to understand her customs, so confusion was permitted.

Her companion waved the barkeep for drinks, at which point Nerren promptly reminded him that he would buy. The timing didn’t matter, honestly. The two men probably knew each other given the expressions and gestures but whatever, she was just happy to be seated with mead to drink.

“I think it’s cozy,” Nerren answered genuinely, gesturing toward the fire. “Plenty in our company along our blue veins, as they say.” Who ‘they’ were was always anybody’s best guest but sailors and ocean would be a good indication. "And pretty sweet music."

Taking a deeper sip of her mead, she licked her lips, curving them into another grin and taking in Edward’s visage. “Speaking of sailors, sailor,” she narrowed her gaze. “I like it, ‘Siren’, but why the name, Captain Lorain?”

Edward Lorain
 
She did not ask for it back, but that did not dissuade him from being worried about the blade. Still, he kept it for now until she asked for it. Ed considered himself a lover before a fighter, but even he understood that some love, or just specifically women, could be very dangerous.

"Bart will love that you said that." Ed smiled, commenting on the bar owner.

He took a good long swig of his new drink before focusing in on the question Nerren had asked him. A smile spread out on his face, not the cocky and flamboyant smiles that he had been putting up till now, but a genuine smile of remembrance.

"Oh, it's a funny story. So, back when I had just got my first job on board a ship. Keep in mind I had already been sailing, but this was my first real job so I must have been 12 of 13. Anyways, our ship comes up on this huge storm and I am washed overboard. Naturally, I assume I'm dead, but as I am getting swallowed by the sea, a beautiful face appears and saves me. She was actually just a Kivren with the voice of an angel when she was under the sea. Anyway, she saved me and took me to an abandoned island. Spent a few days there making a raft, then she guided me back to the nearest port."

Ed sighed as he took another strong drink before taking a moment and continuing.

"I thought that was the end of it, imagine my surprise when I saw her three days later. Some lousy fishermen caught her and two of her people. So, I snuck aboard and released them while also knocking a big hole through the fishermen's boat."

"That was the last I ever got to see of her, but I don't forget what she did for me. That's also when people started calling me 'Lucky' Lorain."

Edward leaned back into his chair to signal the end of the story while looking at Nerren expectantly. People reacted differently to that story, some called him a liar, some a hero, and most anything in between, but he did not really care.

Nerren Harclaw
 
So, Bart was the bartender’s name. In hindsight, Nerren didn’t know why that name fit perfectly for a barkeep but it did. Perhaps, before the night ended, she would share drinks with him, never mind meat or mead. To call Nerren Harclaw a social creature would be an understatement indeed.

For the moment, however, she simply listened to her present companion speak, giving him her attention with her eyes, never wavering her green seas from his except to blink. A funny story, he called it, but she found as much amusement in his eyes as pride, and no lies.

Kivren. Nerren licked her lips after another sip. They weren’t mermaids by any cliche but they certainly fit the fancy, fantasy and story beats. As words dripped from Lorain’s lips, Nerren grinned, already imagining what kind of antics this man and that woman might have gotten up to in private on their island.

“Lucky Lorain, is it?” She chuckled. “Let’s see, you found yourself out of trouble from a storm, washed overboard, saved by a pretty-faced mermaid and, let’s be certain, you got lucky with her more than once on the shore before that damned raft so, huh…” Nerren lifted her cup, her taunting smile never fading from her face, never mind haunting memories of nearly drowning.

“I’d say it’s no wonder you named your ship Siren and why they call you Lucky Lorain.” Cup lifted higher. “To Kivren, Siren, Lorain, luck, Nerren, blood, and my Iron Bitch.” She sipped. Deeper. Tilted her head back and gulped her drink with a sigh as she wiped her lips. “Another.”

Edward Lorain
 
Edward smiled back at the description of the events, in fact, most people assumed such things. However, Edward had never slept with the kivren, even if now he maybe wish he had. At the time, Ed had still believed he was going to die, and his savior was not all that experienced with the landraces so that had never even crossed her mind. So, in the end, it had just been friendship.

"To all of those things and more." Ed joined the toast, feeling that it might be a moot point to ask about where Nerren's ship was called the Iron Bitch...he could guess.

Edward waved down Bart and ordered several more drinks. He figured that he might as well buy them now before the place gets even busier.

"You said you're from up north? I've sailed up that way a time or two. Unforgiving waters, it makes sense why you are so tough and for the name of your ship."

Don't get Ed wrong, if you asked him where the best sailors were from, he would always say Teth and then maybe Cortos. However, both of those places sailed with a certain degree of grace. In the north, the grace was often thrown out for pure brawn and steel, and sometimes that was exactly what you need. There was no better sailor than a northerner during a storm when you needed someone who would not break.

Nerren Harclaw
 
To all of those things and more. The words rang loud throughout Nerren’s head, listening to them over again, suddenly taken back to another island amid a sea of memories. This and more. Someone had once spoken. See it, Nerren. Sea to shore. Take it. It’s yours. That remained to be determined, however.

For the moment, meat, mead, bread, cheese, potatoes, tomatoes, and plenty of drink would be enough for Nerren Harclaw, warrior of the northeast, born for the storm. After Edward waved over Bart the Bartender, Nerren made sure to order the tallest darkest ale for sale for herself and a shot of strong whiskey for both of them. If he didn’t want his then so be it, it would be hers and just as well.

“I’ve got the shots.” They would be on her, she assured, but the rest was from his purse. “Up north, aye,” she answered at first. Bereft of drink at the moment until they came their way, Nerren settled for crossing her arms at the table, giving her companion her unwavering gaze, steady as a wave.

“Tough, am I?” She smiled at the compliments, taking them as no less than genuine but ever enjoying her teasing, especially when it came to men. “Rough name, some say, the Iron Bitch. Just as well. She’s one hell of a ship.”

She was probably just as much a mystery to him. For her, he was similar. The manner in which he had accepted her dagger (for the moment), whether he carried it or casually sheathed it down his belt, whatever he did, her eye was on him. The meaning of her gesture? That remained to be seen.

Yet Edward Lorain was no mere flirt from the water after all. Hardly taller than her, not that it mattered, he had confidence but wasn’t pompous. He might not be tomorrow’s most famous craftsman of ship figurines but he was no liar.

“She needed to be and so did her captain.” Her eyes flashed wide for a moment as though her very words triggered the memory of a violent encounter, but more the feeling of it than the vision, and it passed an instant later. “I am Nordenfiir. The Eretejva Tundra is my island, the Kingdom of Nordengaard, and the port of Sittekar is where some of our best sailors are born.”

Nerren glanced away to catch a server bringing their drinks over. She would order food too. Later. “My homeland is frozen over, a land of winter in comparison to this land of summer we’re in, but the ice thaws and I break it.” She sipped her ale. “Nerren Harclaw takes her Iron Bitch and her Svalen and sails over the oceans to pave her own way.” She lifted her shot of whiskey with a grin. “Drink with me and celebrate. This one’s to the Nordens, the north, the storms and the waters in between.”

Edward Lorain
 
"To the storms and waters in between." He repeated with a grin before downing a portion of his drink and then leaning back into his seat with a sigh.

She may have said that the name of her vessel was a rough name, but it did not really matter to Ed. It was more important that a name identified or connected with the Captain or crew in some way. After all, that was going to be your home for a very long time.

"I'll admit, the few times I have visited the Tundra it is a little too cold for my taste, but still beautiful." He was talking about the land...right?

Edward had only visited the north a handful of times, often smuggling weapons or food to some war party or the like. He had even served as a make due ferryman for a raiding party that had lost their ships one season. That was good pay.

"Have you ever visited Teth?"

Edward's home was a strange place, widely known as the home of all pirates, when in actuality only a small few were actually born there. Originally built on a small island, the floating fortress now received more maritime traffic than any other city in the world. Of course, most of that was criminals, but the point still stood.

"Decent enough weather, although the storms can be rather rough in the middle of the ocean."

Nerren Harclaw
 
He could drink. Did drink. It wasn’t his first sip and it wouldn’t be the last before this night was over, however. Whether he parted with a dagger in his heart or not remained to be determined. Yet Edward Lorain seemed to Nerren Harclaw to be a man of words who didn't mince them, no mere jester, and there was a difference. He had the face, had the hands, but perhaps he also had claws.

He was not wrong in his words, his assessment. His experience was no different from hers when it came to the hard, harsh horizon over winter’s ocean whose island was both bright and brilliant, taunting and treacherous at the same time. It could glow underneath the stars, yielding to an aurora green as the eyes of a man and a woman, or be as dark as night. Though, none of this made the Tundra less beauteous.

“Snow glitters and I know I’m home,” the reaver whispered, sipping her drink in between his speech. “I see the frost, feel the cold, wrought in Norden steel, born for my wooden hull.” A bit distracted at the moment as a question came her way, Nerren lifted her gaze, grinning at her contemporary.

“Teth. Decent enough weather, for sure, and rough enough storms…and the same could be said for its inhabitants.” She shrugged. “Minus decent.” She challenged his reaction, knowing he brought up the location for one reason or the other. Perhaps he simply pegs me for a pirate. He wasn’t wrong by any means, in a certain definition, but perhaps there was a difference in the end.

“A city of pirates who told Cerak to fuck off.” She drank to that. “So they say. Aye, I’ve been there once or twice. For business. For pleasure. Same difference. Some praised the name of my ship. Others didn’t think too kindly about Nordenfiir. One accepted my dagger. In the throat though.” She gestured with her finger. “Why? You don’t strike me as the kind of guy or captain to like a hive like that.”

Edward Lorain
 
Edward actually laughed at the description of the island city's people. Nerren was largely right, that was a good sign. So far, Nerren was a bit rough, but she saw things for what they were and they always got straight to the point. It was like a keel slicing straight through the waves.

"Yeah, that is what people say, but Teth is way older than that, older than even Cerak. Teth started off as a small island. the original people were actually an ocean-going tribe that was said to have glided across the ocean like they were born to it...better than any other people in the world...Then the pirates came looking for shelter. That's where Teth began."

Edward smiled with a twinkle in his eye, the unsaid words speaking the loudest.

Not common knowledge, as Edward did not go around shouting his origins to the world, but he had been born and raised on Teth. Never had a chance to get away from the dirty, lying, and stealing that was ingrained into the place. But Nerren was definitely right about one thing.

"Yeah, I don't like 'em all that much."

He polished off the rest of his drink.

Nerren Harclaw
 
A history lesson. Fitting, really, given that Nerren had given her own without ever knowing how much her drinking buddy had already known about her homeland. In the end, however, this was one conversation where words weren’t necessarily given in repetition so much as emphasis. That was one difference that this woman could appreciate as she gave her gaze.

Sometimes it was the unspoken word that spoke the loudest. That instant, Edward’s eye seemed to glitter quite like ice, but it wasn’t romantic. No, it was in a sense, except not toward her person as a woman. Instead, it was like a reflection of his history; a spark from his heart that betrayed the casualty of their conversation in a tavern filled with men and women, with a bar that knew no length.

“You don’t get a place like Teth without legends to its inception,” Nerren admitted. “You say tribes, I hear nobles. Some sailors, others pirates. Whatever. What matters isn’t how Teth came to be yesterday but what it is today.” She raised her drink. “A city of the free.” And drank.

“Granted,” Nerren wiped her lips. “One person’s freedom may mean another’s slavery. Yet in my time in Teth I met more men and women willing to take up the sword or a blade to their neck than irons to their wrists and, rest assured, that is freedom in its finest form.”

A sailor ought to know. The ocean was in her bones. “Then again, I say nothing you don’t already know.” She tilted her head. “Given Teth is your homeland. Yet I reckon you weren’t born for it.”

Edward Lorain
 
Edward deflated from his storytelling persona ever so slightly when he relaxed a bit. Yes, the blanket of piracy had come to lay upon Teth quite thickly. And ultimately for the better. For being so adventurous and skilled as sailors, the original tribes were isolationist. The pirates brought with them freedom and also ambition, something Teth had been sorely lacking.

Edward toasted with her once again, thankfully receiving another drink at the right moment. "The city of the free!"

"Truly Teth's finest quality. They would see the city sink before giving into the demands of some overlord who wishes to bind them."

Ed was in agreement for all that was said until the last comment forced out a short laugh.

"I wasn't born for Teth? How so?" It was not that he necessarily agreed or disagreed, but he was interested to know her understanding for the claim.

Nerren Harclaw
 
Whiskey. Ale. Something else in between. To say that Nerren wasn’t getting buzzed would be an understatement. To say that she was getting drunk would be an overstatement. There was indeed a difference; a fine line between blooming and being loopy. She was beginning to be the former, setting the mood, not the latter, for the tune of the tavern’s music wasn’t ignored but grasped like grass between fingers.

It would take much and more like meat and mead for her to dance in her seat or on the floor. Then again, if this man was willing for this woman, the dance need not be one wanton or born of drunkenness by any means. Perhaps that was a chapter for later, however, quite like the mystery of the dagger.

Ed mentioned overlords and binds, how a city like Teth might sooner sink than give into the demands of being bought like the binds of bondage. It was a sentiment that she could certainly appreciate and extend to her own elements. A sailor like her, Nerren Harclaw, knew that nobody owned you.

Only the ocean if it takes you…yet even then it doesn’t break you…you just give in to its chains made of seaweed and lose your name in its warm embrace.

It wasn’t a contradiction by any means. The deep was cold and the cold was deep. Yet there were some sailors, others like her, who wore armor so as to be weighed down and drowned in the deep with no fear. None would shed a tear for their beliefs. The water was crying for the dying already.

At Edward’s short laugh or chortle, Nerren didn’t cackle back but simply sat in relative silence amid the music and conversations permeating the tavern; laughter at her back, dancing in her midst.

“You seem to me to be too kind for the kind of inhabitants I met in Teth,” Nerren answered, her gaze never wavering from his face. “Besides, for a hive of pirates, I think I could build a better ship figure than you while blindfolded and high as a kite with no ashtray.”

Whatever that expression meant, Nerren would settle for being more drunk or less. “We could attempt it.” She gestured toward his dagger the next second. “Or play a game of five finger filet, if you’re brave..." A sip of her ale, offering no burp to indicate she was staggered. Far from it. "...Edward Lorain."

Edward Lorain
 
Edward feigned hurt at the words but made it clear he was only joking. That was often the energy he gave off when meeting people for the first time, and it was slightly true. Compared to some others that were more well-known in Teth, he was a field of flowers. However, he had survived in Teth for longer than most of them.

"I'm telling you every sailor doesn't need to know how to build miniatures. I can patch a ship if need be, but I'm more of a helmsman."

He was never going to be able to live that down. There were just some really skilled kids out there today and they probably would not go on to be great sailors.

The next words did make him hesitate again, as he still wasn't exactly sure what the dagger entailed, but one thing was for sure.

"I vote for the first option. I'm going to need to be way more drunk for five-finger filet." To emphasize the point, he took another long swig of his drink. He was getting there but still had a long way to go.

Nerren Harclaw
 
The energy that Edward Lorain gave to Nerren Harclaw was one of amusement and being amused, whatever the difference; a man who jested as much as he was serious, which meant something to his contemporary. That was especially so given Nerren now knew even an inkling of Edward’s history. Teth was no fancy place to grow up in so whatever tricks he had up his sleeve were likely earned.

Helmsman. Nerren grinned at the expression. Despite her teasing behavior he was, of course, correct: one didn’t need expertise in constructing a figurine to work with the real thing. Heck, there were others within her own crew who couldn’t even swim despite the water they traversed. Not that it mattered in the end, for they expected their death to be beneath the waves, and on their way they would pray with grace.

“There’s a saying I heard,” she gestured first, lifting a finger in answer, though never dismissing his vote. “Those who can’t, teach,” she snickered, taking another sip of her beverage. “Like those women with those children.” She shrugged, feigning no innocence. “My opinion, at least.”

So, Edward had voted for getting more drunk before he would play this other game, and fair enough. “I say we both have a long way to go for five finger filet, eh?” She snapped her fingers. The gesture was curt enough to wave over a server, some waitress.

“A shot of your finest firewhiskey,” Nerren demanded.

“Um…what’s that, miss?” The gal asked.

“Whiskey with fire lit on its surface,” the Norden rolled her eyes. “Make it snappy.” She winked at her drinking buddy. “It’s gonna be a long night…”

Edward Lorain
 
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