Private Tales Port and Portents

[Ispir Sione]

When Ispir had heard there was an opportunity to work with the Dreadlords as a translator, and remembering what Zinnia had told them, they had thought about trying their hand at something other than playing music for once. Life was meant to be experienced to the fullest after all, right? What they had NOT expected was to be nearly apprehended and told to wait in some boring office with nothing to do but count the cracks in the wall. They had even confiscated their instruments!

Now pouting a supremely displeased pout Ispir would plant their chin in a palm and drum their fingers impatiently into the bench they sat upon. Deciding that, if nothing else, they hadn't taken away their voice so they almost stubbornly began to hum a tune to themselves to pass the time. Aquamarine eyes narrowed and mood thoroughly soured as they bristled like a kitten that had just had it's first bath and now sat, grumpily, on the towel while waiting for itself to dry. Fierce, intimidating and daunting in every sense of the word.... truly.

As Ispir heard the door open he would sigh and adjust his cap, the tension in his body relaxing a bit as he drew his gaze up to a blonde haired woman and switched to crossing his arms defiantly. Letting her initiate the conversation since he was still technically here for a job....

Evaine​

 

[Evaine]

"What is this?" the Dreadlord remarked openly, bluntly, and gestured at Ispir Sione. Her hard gaze landed upon the bard like a cinder block and with about as much empathy as one, too.

"Your translator."
"It's a child."
"It speaks the language."
"This is a joke."
"I didn't think Dreadlords had a sense of humor."
"I don't."
"Good, cause I ain't jokin."

There came a pregnant pause as the woman's aura seemed to permeate the immediate area between herself and the broker, making a nearby candelabra wilt to the point of several flames fizzling out with a hiss.

Evaine turned her steely gaze to the Bard with dull and silent displeasure. There wasn't enough time to find another translator so there was nothing to be done for it. An slow, irritable sigh formed in her chest and escaped through her nose on a grumble.

"Keep up," she said to the Translator and promptly turned on her heel to walk right back out the door.

 

[Ispir Sione]

The short man before Evaine would only deepen their completely serious pout at being called a child of all things! That cinder block gaze earned a very stubborn huff and adjustment of the bard's cap. Even though, admittedly, the blonde haired blue eyed woman was rather scary. Even to make Ispir swallow nervously despite his displeasure.

As, after a pregnant pause, the woman seemed to accept his help Ispir would hop up and hurriedly retrieve his instruments. Scampering after Evaine with hurried steps as he retorted.

"Gosh it's no wonder you guys have struggled to find a translator for so long."

Averting his aquamarine eyes Ispir would glance only briefly up at Evaine and adjust the strap holding his harp to his torso as he mumbled.

"Zinnia was definitely a lot nicer....."

Shaking his head Ispir would suddenly dart ahead of Evaine, crossing his arms and staring up at her, vibrant aquamarine meeting ice cold blue as he gulped noticeably and set his thin shoulders.

"Hey, listen, if.... If we're going to work together then we should at least know each other's names. And I'm not a child I'm just short! My name is Ispir and I'm a bard, minstrel and wandering entertainer."

Blinking up at Evaine, and now able to get a better look, something about Ispir was.... Off? But not "wrong". If anything quite the opposite. The short bard was, quite frankly, beautiful. Impossibly so, perhaps even uncannily. A complexion that royalty would pay fortunes for, eyes as vibrant as stars in an empty night sky, absolutely no asymmetry to his face whatsoever. No doubt a boon when it came to wooing crowds and performing but almost like watching a living portrait emote when meeting their gaze so directly.

Uncanny appearance aside Ispir would hunch up their shoulders before offering Evaine a hand to shake, taking the tall blonde woman's 'child' comment as a direct challenge for the usually free spirited bard to try and be..... Professional.​

 

[Evaine]

Words pelted after her and bounced off her in the same way that raindrops did when hitting duckback oiled canvas. Evaine either was not listening or did not particularly care what the bard had to say, and very nearly bowled the child-sized not-child over when he stepped in front of her.

She did stop. A trampled translator wasn't much use to her, so at the very least she had to ensure he stayed relatively in one piece. As for names?

The impassively irritated expression spoke far more than the woman ever would. Dreadlord stared down at Bard, the glint of humanity that most people held in their gaze missing from her own. His pretty face, his perfect skin, none of it meant anything.

"Captain Coltair," came Ispir's answer, and she pushed past him without any motion to take that proferred hand. It was more likely she'd break it off, truth be told. He didn't need a hand to translate. Instead her boots pressed onward toward the shipyard where their ride out of this hovel and to their destination would soon be setting sail.

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would almost make a completely befuddled squeak of a noise as the woman gave a terse answer and then nearly pushed him over to walk by! Blinking rapidly and blushing at the sheer rudeness Ispir would go still for a moment, considering if this job was truly worth the promised pay and to even give this mean woman a piece of his mind!

But after thinking for a second and trying to be more mindful Ispir thought to himself that for him to be grumpy like her was probably what she wanted anyways! Let alone scaring him off the job! Well, childish or not, an impish stubbornness settled into Ispir's heart and he once again scampered after Evaine. Falling into step silently beside her for a long moment, wrangling his own emotions in silence before he took a deep breathe.

Now that he had taken a moment to think things over and not meet grumpy with grumpy he instead decided to be a little mischievous and so his metaphorical counter-punch to Evaine and her attitude came in the form of.....

Spoiler: An Absolutely cheeky, obtuse smile

.... before they asked slowly.

"So.... your parents named you 'Captain' "?​

 

[Evaine]

"No," replied the woman without missing a beat.

She wasn't even looking at him. Her? It didn't really matter. Her boots pressed on in much the same way they always would. From one mission to the next. One destination to another. No distractions, just the goal. Pausing only as a carriage drove across her path, Evaine moved through the crowds like a snowplow cleared throughways. It wasn't so much a presence that parted the people but simply the manner in which the Dreadlord cut through without pardon or care.

A wind whipped up as she rounded the end of a large row of buildings and turned down a set of salt-whipped wooden steps where an armored Anirian guard met her half way.

"Captain, we have the maps you requested."

"Good," she said without stopping, "brief the translator when we get on board."

Ahead of them span the docks and the many larger ships sitting out in the deeper waters of the bay. A large row boat with several others bearing uniforms or armor bearing the Vel Anir insignia of the Western Army could be seen just down the pier.

The guard paused as he reached the bottom of the steps to look back up after the Translator but all he saw was a small boy, "Did you lose them in the street, Captain?"

"No," she echoed back, making her way down to their departure boat.

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would hold their cheeky smile for a moment before giving a small wiggle, eyes closing, and puffing up a bit. His point made, or so he thought, despite her curt reply. As she strode onward Ispir kept pace relatively easily, they were very agile after all, so despite Evaine's height advantage with a hand planted firmly on their cap to keep it in place Ispir simply hummed a tune to himself as they went along. Admittedly he wasn't used to bowling through crowds or walking through little old ladies crossing the street like Evaine was but he wove and ducked, apologizing as he went, staying apace with her all along.

As Evaine rounded the far building Ispir was hardly a step behind her. So much so that as she had her exchange with the soldier the man would turn around to look at Ispir all but in the face.... or at least his forehead. Ispir, heaving a quick huff of a sigh, would cross his arms and pout up at the man.

"Okay what gives? There's no way NONE of you have seen an adult my height before. "

Scooting around the soldier to continue walking Ispir would tug his cloak more tightly around himself as a breeze off the water swept by, mumbling to himself as he went.

"More like the TALL-lords of Vel Anir if you ask me....."

Grumble grumble.

joining Evaine on the row boat Ispir would plop down beside her and check that all his instruments were fastened securely, then closed one eye and stuck out his tongue before looking up at the evening sky, and shrugged as he couldn't see the stars yet.

Evaine​

 

[Evaine]

An arm reached across without any pardon to take up the oar hooked into the side of the boat to Ispir's right. The Dreadlord waited for no word from the others as they pushed off from the dock and she rowed them wordlessly out into the bay where their ship awaited.

Her compatriots did not seem to be wasting any time as they held up a lantern to a map of Cortos, showing the active battles and skirmishes all up and down the coast, as well as the in-land areas situated between Anirian and Cortosi control. They spoke among themselves, pointing here and there as they updated some notations from a letter held by one of the men.

"So you speak Cortosi," said one of the Anirians to Ispir, "you familiar with the Radiant Church?"

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would sit, instruments checked, and arms crossed in what was not-at-all a pout as all this other stuff was done. Stuff BEYOND his pay-grade OBVIOUSLY.... being a CHILD and all!

Hmph!

As he was addressed however Ispir would perk up and nod, barely able to smile through his displeasure, but he would sigh and tilt his head after a moment. Confirming with a nod.

"I know Cortosi. The Radiant Church I'm less familiar with. I know some tales and songs of theirs but I'm not a umm... priest or acolyte or anything on their religion."

As the evening sun dipped low to the horizon Ispir would let out a sigh and frown as the stars still stayed hidden, eyes on the sky for a moment or two, before he asked to no Anirian in particular.

"Are there umm... any particular people I should know about?"

He was trying to sound professional as the wind whipped by, sending his twin tails flailing and Ispir would clamp a hand down on his cap to keep it from flying off his head.

Evaine​

 

[Evaine]

"Their bloody Sunfather," said the Anirian, fishing a large religious book from a satchel and tossing it none-too-gently toward Ispir, "read up. You've got a week to get familiar."

The book itself was the Scriptures of Radiance, a tome of the Radiant Church's holy histories and the Sunfather's might. While many purported the Church's righteous generosity, they were also known for burning heretics at the stake. And their definition of heretic was quite... broad.

"The Captain here will be posing as one of their Priestesses, you will be escorting her through the city to the destination playing their hymns, so you better learn a few of those as well."

Evaine continued rowing, wordless, unsmiling. They were making good time and nearly to their ship.

 

[Ispir Sione]

There was one issue with such a large book being thrown with force at Ispir. For you see the book was large, heavy even, and one whole Ispir is not heavy. In fact one Ispir cannot really receive a lot of force before toppling over like an especially flamboyant cat. So! As the Scriptures of Radiance slammed into Ispir's waiting hands... and chest.... Ispir would flop backwards from the sheer velocity of the tome and land on his back on the damp wood of the rowboat.

Popping up with a soft grumble Ispir would climb back into his seat and nod along with the Anirian's words as he began bundling the tome in a spare bit of cloth. Just the sheer humidity in the air here could damage and curl the thing and, though Ispir didn't follow the Radiant Church, if he was going to read their book he would prefer if it was in good condition to do so.

Once the book was more or less secured from the humidity Ispir would nod at the mention of hymns and gave a genuine smile.

"That'll be easy enough."

He reassured, confident in his natural knack for all endeavors musical, before glancing sidelong at Evaine and clearing his throat. Not entirely sure how to ask what he wanted but seeing no alternative he simply asked.

"You..... are going to be a priestess?"​

 

[Evaine]

Well at the very least, one portion of this mission would be easy.

Nothing else would be.

Evaine continued to row. She broke no sweat nor seemed winded. For as fast as their boat was moving across the waves of the bay, it was a feat that would have taken two strong and fit men to match. The Dreadlord might as well have been on a leisurely stroll through a park, though no doubt she'd maintain the same stony, determined look about her she had now. Stopping to smell the roses was certainly not on the agenda.

Though she did break her stare between the heads of her men as the town receded behind them to glance at the bard.

"Only in appearance," replied the Dreadlord.

The other Anirians chuckled. There was nothing Priestly to speak of about her, unless of course you were a worshipper of battle, danger, or death in no particular order or priority.

Waves lapping against the bow of their ship heralded their arrival. Evaine tucked away the oars and moved to pick up the loop of pulley rope at the front of their boat while one of the Anirians picked up the same from the back. They tossed them up to the waiting and outstretched arms of sailors above who affixed each rope over two pulley hooks and then disappeared from view.

Slowly, with easy jerking movements, the boat began to rise out of the water and up along the side of the ship.

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would not at Evaine 's words as he hadn't expected anything otherwise. He did give his head a curious tilt as the Anirians set about preparing for them to get on board the ship. Ispir would give a curious hum as they were slowly, steadily brought up out of the water, fastened to the ship level with the deck, and would carefully hop over onto it's deck before looking around with the book still in it's bundle. Remarking passively.

"Ya know it's strange I always thought I'd get seasick more easily but...."

Looking down at his feet and doing a little dance he would then spin around to look at Evaine, grinning proudly, hands on his hips.

".... honestly this is pretty easy! I wonder why people talk about 'sea legs' and stuff so often?"

Shrugging at the largely rhetorical question Ispir would approach Evaine and, smiling up at her, give her a VERY professional salute and ask.

"Where to next, Captain?"​

 

[Evaine]

"We aren't even on the sea yet, kid," replied the Anirian from the boat with a roll of his eyes as he hefted supply crates on board with the others.

The Dreadlord eyed her tiny bard without a word then shifted her gaze to look up over his head.

"I'm the Captain on this ship," said a voice directly over Ispir's shoulder, a strong Cortosian accent heavy on the woman's voice, "Captain LaRue, to you." Dark of skin and trim of physique, the woman righted herself with a grin, "And we are going to Cortos, little bard. I hope you know some good sea shanties."

Judging by her well-appointed attire, this was a ship within the fleet of a legitimate merchant business. Trade, by the looks of the many neatly stacked and secured crates around the deck. The Captain carried a sword, but it was certainly nicer than anything a ruddy pirate might carry.

The Captain smiled at Ispir before looking at the Dreadlord, "Right then, ship rules: I give the orders here. No smoking, no fire. We're shipping delicate cargo."

"And the uniforms?" Evaine questioned.

"Below deck, as promised. Your lot should get changed before we head out to sea. We'll be passing plenty of Cortosi flags on our way. Don't need those Anirian colors drawin' eyes."

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would wince a bit at the Anirian's reply. Blushing softly as he mumbled quietly.

"Oh....."

Quite literally jumping in surprise, feet leaving the deck for a moment like a shocked cat, Ispir would turn to look up at the Cortosian woman with wide eyes. Only to give her an actually confident grin and nod his head.

"Absolutely! But wow I bet you have a lot of stories I could write songs about!"

Seemingly actually... giddy Ispir quite liked this captain already. Finely dressed like him a fan of music like him, and tales aplenty for livening up a room! He was already a fan and they had just met! So much so that Ispir would flourish a surprisingly elegant bow and greet her in fluent Cortosi.

"It's an honor to meet you Captain LaRue, I am Ispir, and I am deeply honored to be aboard your ship."

He would then straighten at the mention of uniforms, nod, and look up at Evaine expectantly. Ready to follow her once they were ready to go below deck.​