Fable - Ask The World Unseen

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Bastian

The Runaway
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Asherah Ocean - The Bloody Rose

Dear fucking god did he hate ships.

Why had he ever chosen this escape? There had been a dozen others. The Empire. Alliria. Even fucking Eblion. Yet in the end he had chosen the fucking navy for some stupid goddamn reason. Bastian still didn't know why. Still couldn't have explained it. At the time it had seemed the easiest and most expedient option, but now it was an utter nightmare.

"SAILS TO THE LEFT!"​

The first Mate shouted, as he always did, and Bastian couldn't help but cringe at the mans words.

Half a dozen men moved to the proper ropes, shifting the sails and ensuring that the Rose moved in tandem with the two other ships in the expeditionary force. He watched them quietly from his perch in the crows nest, hand slowly drawing over his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't fucking believe he'd chosen this shit job.

Fingers tightened on the railings of the nest, hands scrunching against the wood. "I wasn't made for this."

He whispered softly to himself.

Bastian was meant to be on land. He was mean to be cutting throats and collecting debts. Yet here he was, perched on the fucking Bloody Rose and watching for Islands that might be creeping up on them.

The thought seemed to evoke something. As if his very words created reality itself. He beat his hand against the piece of railing in front of him, his voice raising so that those below would hear.

"Hey!' Bastian called. "Hey there's something ahead! Three o' clock! An island!"
 

Aisling Weiroon

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It would’ve been poetic if it wasn’t so transparent. An expeditionary force financed and backed by the Great Houses with one of the ships being captained by Aisling Weiroon herself. She wasn’t in command of the entire force, that honor was held by Commodore Tomas, but captaining the Bloody Rose was the highest command she’d had so far in her naval career.

Many aboard the Rose were sailors she’d served with before and while they knew of her familial connection she was fairly certain she’d earned their trust through her actions and service. They likely understood that her command of the ship was due to House Weiroon’s insistence but they’d never show it. And, luckily, there were only a few rookies serving on the brigantine.

The shouts of one of those rookies was the catalyst for breaking her thought process. "Good work,” she shouted up at the inexperienced lubber, remembering how nervous she was on her first tour. How far the praise of a senior officer lifted one's spirits.

”Anchor us just off the shore, ready the dinghy.”

Her orders were followed swiftly, they all knew the role the Bloody Rose was to play in this force. They were the away team, always. She was a corsair, as was Juliana, and thus if there was any danger it was her crew that'd be most equipped to deal with it. On the flip side, in the far more likely scenario they encountered those eager to set up trade routes with Vel Anir; it was her name that carried the most weight of all those in the force.

That name always bothered her, it was why she had joined the Anirian Navy. Though, not many would feel sympathy for her, a lifetime of privilege was envied and not pitied. Still, she felt a smidge of guilt that her name had awarded her with the privilege of being the designated leader of the away team, that it had granted her a command she was likely too young and too inexperienced to be qualified for.

Waves gently battered at the side of her ship and emerald eyes glanced up at the spotter who’d noticed the island. It’d be good to ensure he felt valued and to get him a bit of experience. Good leaders got to know their crews and that was a hard thing to do when this man spent most of his day alone at the top of the mast.

A finger pointed upwards, ”you’re joining the away team, prep your things,” she called only after the anchor had crashed into the ocean waters below.
 
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Bastian

The Runaway
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"Fuck." The only thing worse than being on the ship was having to head off of it.

There was no telling what was on that island. For all they knew it could be giant lizards or a band of savage cannibals. Some of the others had told him stories of things like that, horrors that lurked on far away Islands. Things that wanted to kill, eat, and then shit on his corpse.

He knew a lot of it was probably just stories meant to scare him, but some of it was probably true.

Though he fucking hoped not. "Aye sir!"

Bastian called down, having already learned that objection would get him nowhere. In his old life he could offer rebukes, throw out insults and speak his mind as he pleased. Now though? Now he was Bastian, the loyal sailor of the Anirian Expeditionary Force.

Waiting for the right moment to make a score, cut a throat, and get the fuck to freedom.

With a loud thump Bastian landed on the deck of the ship. He quickly scurried below deck to put on his uniform and grab the sword that they'd issued him, along with the karambit from his previous life. Before long he was climbing down the ladder onto the Long-Boat, the sun casting over the tropical cliffy island.
 

Aisling Weiroon

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Aisling descended onto the smaller vessel that was meant to carry them towards the sparkling sands in the distance. This was something she was familiar with, commanding small teams of corsairs to bust up a piracy den or arrest some runaway criminal. It was comfortable for her, less stressful than the job of captaining an entire ship.

"Keep your eyes keen," she whispered to Juliana, the only other corsair assigned to this mission and likely the person she was able to trust the most out of the entire crew.

She examined the rest of the sailors she had assembled for this task. A portly sailor she'd served with before, Scuttle is what the others called him and she'd never bothered to ask for his true name. Many in the naval service were cagey about their past which made her own truth easier to hide.

The other two were green. One was baby-faced and clearly the youngest member of her crew. She guessed this was part of his mandatory service and he'd either requested the navy or come from a naval family that pressured it upon him. "You're nervous?"

His face jerked to attention, "aye, I mean, no ma'am. Actually, maybe I am. Just a tad."

Scuttle laughed and Juliana looked at Aisling with a tint of concern. "You're in good hands, if there's danger we'll be back aboard the Rose quick as a wink." Her gaze moved towards the rougher looking recruit. His name was Bastian, she'd recalled, but the two hadn't said two words to one another. Was hard to speak much with the spotters.

"You're ok?" she questioned. There was something about him she couldn't quite place. Sailors were always a rough sort but he reminded her more of the pirates they normally subdued than many of the other career seaman she was used to serving with.
 
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Bastian

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"Aye, Ma'am." Bastian, or the man that he had been before, had never done well with figures of authority.

He had grown up on the street, with no parents nor Uncle's to tell him what to do. There had never been anyone to hold any sway over him save for the leaders of the various gangs he'd dipped in and out of as a kid.

When he'd turned eighteen he'd avoided his year of conscription by simple fact that no records of him existed. When one spent their time in the gutters muck, it was hard to get noticed. Especially in places where the Guard did not often tread.

Now that he was here, playing this role, he often found it difficult to fit in.

When Aisling looked at him he couldn't help but feel slightly off. As if she knew something, as if she knew what he really was. His throat cleared. "If you don't mind my asking Ma'am. Where are you from?"

He played the ignorant sailor.

"I heard talk that you're a noble, but don't see too many of those where I'm from." His papers said he was from Vel Garren, a small fort town near the Border of the Falwood.
 

Arva

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Her brief time in Ti'Ciuda had been a... different kind of adventure than Arva was used to, and while parts of it had been fun--who knew she would end up there on the same day as the Prince's birthday celebration and then end up meeting the Prince at the sea witch's place--but now she needed to find her mother, relay the information that Petra, the sea witch, had told her.

But finding her mother was going to take time. Ray-mers of her kind tended to be solitary more than not, and there were several places this time of year that her mother might be.

First, though, she needed some time to think. There was an island ahead that, well, was not deserted because it had never been inhabited in the first place, at least not that she'd ever been aware of. Arva had never delved deep into the island though, just sticking near the shore.

She'd stopped there before, and it had an abundance of vibrant wildlife, tall trees that swayed gently in the wind, and colorful flowers. While the ocean was always her first home, this place--and a few other islands like it--was a refuge when she needed to be alone and think.

It was this non-habitation that made her lax. She didn't pay attention as she approached, but with the quiet joy of returning to a familiar refuge, she smiled and let herself become playful, pushing herself through the water, gaining more and more speed as she flapped her large, powerful wings. She broke the surface of the water with a laugh and spread her wings to catch the ocean wind, soaring above the surface of the ocean for several feet.

As Arva turned her face up the sun before she dove back into the ocean, something white and flapping caught her eye near the shoreline ahead of her.

A ship.

Oh fuck, she thought, and her dive back beneath the waves became far less graceful than she intended as she lost focus for a moment.

Had they seen her? Recognized her to be a siren?

Arva dove deeper, thinking. She wasn't familiar with many land kingdoms. She'd rarely ever walked on land herself, other than on these uninhabited islands, just to maintain the skill.

And she was... essentially defenseless, with her voice sometimes not cooperating with her wishes. She could speak, most of the time, and sometimes she could even sing. But rarely anymore could she summon the siren song which allowed her to enthrall those who wished her harm.

But... she was curious. She wanted to know who was here, and why. Maybe they wouldn't stay, and she could have the island to herself again.

So she swam back around, and came up to the shore out sight of the ship. She launched herself out of the water and onto the sand, somehow managed to contain her cries of pain as her body shifted and changed from that of the large ray to a woman, of sorts. Her skin was pale white and her lips were pale pink, but with a slightly blue tinge to it all, and nails were blackish-blue and razor sharp. She would never be able to pass as a true human, except maybe from a distance, especially with her vivid aqua-colored eyes, let alone the tone of her skin.

So when her transformation was complete, Arva darted into the shelter of the tropical trees and bushes along the beach, and began to quietly make her way around to where she'd seen the ship.
 

Aisling Weiroon

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There it was. She knew that, eventually, everyone she served with would find out. Aisling had just hoped the two new recruits hadn't been exposed to the inevitable gossip that surrounded her yet. When people knew who she was it always changed everything.

"House Weiroon," she confessed firmly, "I grew up in Vel Anir, the city. My father is Sebastian Weiroon."

The youngest sailor's mouth dropped in a gesture that wasn't new to Aisling. There was nobility and then there was nobility. It truly didn't get more noble than one of the seven Great Houses.

The straw-haired noblewoman cleared her throat and added, "though you should both know, I've served in the navy for seven years. I've been a corsair for five. My family doesn't change any of that." Even saying the words she knew it wasn't completely true but it felt good to say them.

Sometimes there were sailors in the Anirian Navy who strived to treat her like anyone else. Juliana was like that, it's why she trusted her. But Aisling understood that she couldn't understand. A childhood of etiquette training made it impossible to just be, "another sailor," and that was before people found out she was from one of the most powerful families in the nation.

With a gentle thud the small deployment boat nestled itself into the sand, Aisling's boots crunched into the soil as she disembarked. "Stay behind Juliana and I," she issued to the other three, "we stay close, no wandering off."

It looked like an empty island but if there were natives the trees just ahead would provide them with an excellent ambush opportunity.
 
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Bastian

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House Weiroon.

Bastian almost immediately started to salivate. He had been thinking of a way to make money and get out. Before the ideas had always been finding a piece of treasure or perhaps siphoning some equipment from the ship to sell, but the moment Aisling revealed who she was an entirely different plot came to mind.

He'd known a few nobles in is time, even befriended some, but none of them had been from Great Houses. They were something else. More status, more.money, and usually far, far better protected.

Yet here she was, with only one crew to guard her life. Briefly Bastian smiled go himself, fingers reaching up to draw through his hair as they skirted closer towards a landing. "Aye Ma'am, I'll stick close."

He smiled as they hopped off the longboat, hand coming up to loosen his coat just a bit to ward off some of the heat. His gaze darted towards the tree-line, not keen enough to notice the woman hiding there.
 

Arva

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Arva stayed in the shadows of the trees as much as she could, but was unsure how well it actually concealed her, so she tried to keep physical barriers between herself and the beach as well.

She watched quietly as five people disembarked onto the beach. She heard snippets of voices, but the words were all unfamiliar to her.

Arva tried to shrink back a little more into the shadows, didn't notice the tangle of vines behind her feet and fell to the ground with a crash. She hissed as broken sticks scratched her, held up an arm that was now smeared with blue blood.

She tried to scramble back to her feet to disappear deeper into the trees.
 

Aisling Weiroon

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A rustle of leaves and snapping of branches caused heads to turn. It was Juliana who spoke first, she truly was the best member of Aisling’s crew.

“There,” she pointed in the direction of a figure that rushed off.

To her credit, the second-in-command didn’t move. Not without her commander’s say so. ”Careful. Could be a trap.” They’d need to stay together, keep tight.

Sadly, the young upstart with the baby-face hadn’t gotten that memo. “I’ll track ‘em down Miss Weiroon!” It was the only warning he gave before he ran off in the direction of the sounds. His footsteps were swift, but loud.

Aisling turned and looked seriously at her remaining away team, ”behind me,” she said while running off behind the recruit, ”don’t fall behind, we get the kid back and then we stop to think.” Running around strange islands, chasing every noise, acting without thinking… it was dangerous. It’s how people got killed.
 
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Bastian

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What a fucking moron. Bastian thought to himself as the boy suddenly broke Into a run and disappeared in the tree-line.

He'd learned early on his life that going first was something you never wanted to do. It was better to send one of the dumber kids into the alleyway first. That way if someone was going to mug you, you'd at least have warning as they went for him instead.

This situation wasn't exactly an alleyway in the Anirian Slums, but the principal was the same.

If someone was going to run head first into the waiting arms of a cannibal tribe he'd much rather it be someone else than him. Playing the good sailor was easy when you didn't have to risk your life. "Aye ma'am."

Bastian said with a nod of his head.

They rushed after the young fool into the woods. Bastian setting his pace to be second to last in the group.

A shout came from up ahead, the young boy either finding Arva or seeing the tracks she had left within the muck. His surprise was concerning, though Bastian barely heard it. His focus drawn to a strange blue liquid that seemed almost highlighted on the forest floor. Small drops speckled among the foliage.

Bastian was no stranger to blood, he knew what a wounded man left in his track. "Captain."

He hissed quietly, motioning towards the tracks.
 

Arva

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Arva didn't make it far before she heard the sounds of pursuit behind her. There was an enthusiastic shout that had preceded it, but the Kivren girl wasn't experienced enough in matters of humans to realize that the one drawing near was young and foolish, probably much like herself.

And it had been some time since Arva last walked on land, and the dense tropical forest hindered her flight with ease. When she stumbled over a fallen log and landed in yet another tangle of vines on the other side, she gave up on making an escape.

Twisting around as someone launched themselves over the log to catch her, Arva bared her razor-sharp teeth and hissed. All that did was elicit a startled cry from the human, though, and as he made to grab her, Arva opened her mouth to sing.

Relief swept through her as her siren voice obeyed her command, and though it was weak and faltering, it was enough to make the human stop in his tracks, his eyes going blank as she capture him in her thrall. At least for a moment.
 

Aisling Weiroon

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Most of her experience on the high seas had been spent dealing with pirates. They were a nuisance for every nation-state and while piracy could never be fully rooted out they all followed the same logic. Human logic. Profit was what drove them and any obstacle that stood in the way of that profit was morally gray.

”Shit,” Aisling muttered under her breath with both arms crossed at the sight of blue-blood on lush greenery.

Non-humans weren’t welcomed in Vel Anir. Most Anirians were as far from friendly as possible to other sentient species. Aisling was far more tolerant, much to the annoyance of her father, but she knew this development presented two problems. First, her crew was going to consist, overwhelmingly, of racists. A non-human meant trouble.

Secondly, non-humans didn’t think like pirates.

There could be a myriad of things the people inhabiting this island might be motivated by or desire. They could be irrationally violent or see no value in anything the Anirians had to offer. No matter what, this blue liquid meant the opposite of logic was to follow.

Chaos.

Her lips parted again at the sound of the kid’s shouts, ”follow the tracks and grab,” her words were interrupted by a strange noise in the distance.

It was shrill yet soothing. They were outside of the range where they’d be put under but close enough that the tension eased out of Aisling’s shoulders. ”What is that?” Green eyes scanned the faces of her crewmates who looked just as at ease as she.
 
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Bastian

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"I..." Bastian frowned.

He didn't feel woozy or delirious, but something was creeping on his mind. It was a soothing sort of touch, as if a beautiful woman as stroking her fingers through his hair. As if someone had slipped him a drink while he wasn't looking.

It didn't calm him. It didn't stop him. Instead Bastian felt irritation and anger creeping into his chest.

A breath filled his lungs. "I don't know."

Bastian didn't even know if the Captain had been talking to him, but in that moment he didn't much care either. His free hand came up to rub at his face, pulling across his skin and scrubbing at something that was not there.

He rubbed slightly at his ears, as if the sound were almost grating to his ears.

"Let's keep going." Bastian said irritably, adding after a second. "Sir."

The sailor sounded like an angry dog on a leash.
 

Arva

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Arva's heart pounded in her chest. It was a very strange sensation, one she didn't know if she would ever adjust to out of the water.

She felt her voice begin to strain, though, and let it fade away as she waited where she'd fallen on the ground. The human's eyes became a little less blank, but her thrall on him would hold for the rest of his life. Such was the voice of a siren.

Arva held up a hand, gesturing for the human to move back. Away.

She wanted to leave, but he would almost certainly pursue her, even into the depths of the ocean. Her own kind of sirens--the rays--had never made sport of dragging men and their ships to the depths. She did not wish to make him follow her to his death. But she had no idea what to do now.
 

Aisling Weiroon

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A thin brow shot up both at the unusual sound halting and the insistence of her subordinate that they press on. Aisling welcomed feedback and input from her crew but it was the way Bastian had spoken that caused the look of dismay.

He hadn’t provided a suggestion, it was order. From a man whom she barely knew who was in no position to give orders. She decided not to press it, this wasn’t the time nor place, but her glare would serve to let the new sailor know his place without embarrassing him in front of the others. She’d address his tone and bravado later, in private.

”Yes, let’s follow the trail,” at the sound of her order Juliana began to move forward, taking point. Scuttle bringing up the rear with Bastian just behind her.

Once the arrived at the clearing they saw their wayward companion just… standing there. Staring at a lump of blueish pink flesh. She almost looked human. But the odd pigmentation of her flesh insisted she was anything but human.

Aisling called out, firmly yet unaggressive, ”Vince. What have you found?”

No response.

The manner in which he composed himself was off too. He was alert but transfixed on something. The Anirian captain glanced at the creature and gave her a look of concern. ”Are you okay?” Her words addressed both to the odd blue-skinned, blue-bloodied, woman on the ground as well as her dazed sailor.

Vince just stood there, staring down at the mer-woman, while the hairs on the back of Aisling’s neck stood on end.
 
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Bastian

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Bastian came up behind Aisling, that strange vein of anger that had fled through him now gone as the odd serene noise had dissipated.

A frown clung to his lips and his hand rested gently on the hilt of his sword. He didn't draw the weapon, mostly because nobody else had either. His eyes fell on Arva, a slight frown touching his lips as he noticed the razor sheep teeth behind her lips.

Growing up in the slums Bastian had run across more...different sorts than most Anirians.

Vel Anir proper didn't like foreigners, but casting them down into the dirt was a favorite past time of Guardsmen and Nobles alike. He'd even grown up with a half-elf boy, though he'd later been killed by a pompous little shit from House Gutter. Even so, Bastian couldn't help but feel that slight tinge of disgust at the slightly monstrous woman.

"Should we kill it?"​

The question came from behind him, Bastian turning his head to see the man already drawing his sword. There was intent behind his eyes, not evil, not really. More like a dog that had been taught all his life to attack, one finally let off it's leash.

He took a step forward, as if expecting Aisling to just give him the go ahead.
 

Arva

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Arva flinched, scrambling backward across the vine- and vegetation-tangled earth as more humans appeared behind the one she'd thralled. The first one who appeared, seeming to be female and with hair like the sun, spoke, but Arva could not understand her.

Two others arrived then, and while Arva did not understand their words, she saw their body language. She saw disgust in the eyes of the one who had hair nearly as dark as her own, and the flash of a blade as one behind him drew a weapon.

Panic pulsing through her, Arva looked up at met the transfixed gaze of the one within her thrall, and sent a command through the thrall-bond.

Protect me.

The boy swiftly turned, standing between Arva and the others, and drew his weapon.
 

Aisling Weiroon

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”No one is killing anyone,” the commander said. She stared hard at Arva for a moment, the female thing before her looked terrified. Despite her order Scuttle walked forward another two paces, weapon still drawn.

Then, something unusual happened. Vince pulled his own cutlass and positioned himself between the crew and the fallen girl.

“You mad, boy?” The man with the protruding gut asked in annoyance. “No one threatens me. ‘Specially not some runt on his first tour.”

Aisling was beyond annoyed. She had a hothead ready to kill anything he didn’t understand, one recruit trying to issue orders to her crew, and now another recruit threatening the crew to defend… whatever the woman they’d encountered was. ”Everyone is going to sheath their blades and we’re going to just talk.” That last word held harsher emphasis.

To her dismay, Vince’s blade remained in his hand. His eyes dim yet filled with a strange determination she’d yet to see in the lad prior to this expedition.

“All due respect ma’am, no can do til he does,” Scuttle said.

He regretted the words as Juliana twisted on her heel and placed a firm hand on the sailor’s wrist while driving her knee into his chest. The swift action disarmed the man and Juliana placed her boot upon his blade.

Scuttle recoiled and grunted, “fuck, why did-“

The sailor bit his tongue, not wanting to push the issue any further. Aisling debated using her magic but she wasn’t even sure what good it’d do. If she amplified the luck surrounding Vince maybe he’d land a solid blow on them, or maybe he’d drop his weapon. Too much of a risk either way.

For now she just frowned as the young navy man continued to hold firm, defying her order.
 
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Bastian

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Bastian glanced towards Julia as she disarmed the fat sailor in the span of a heartbeat.

Going to have to watch her. He thought to himself with a slight frown, glancing at Vincent and expecting him to back down. When he didn't the young sailor seemed to tense slightly, fingers tightening on the hilt of his cutlass.

Out of the corner of his eyes he glanced at Aisling.

He saw a weariness in the way she looked at Vincent. If he read her right, he guessed she didn't want to necessarily be violent towards the man. He was her soldier, and unlike Scuttle he hadn't exactly made a move just yet.

Bastian frowned, debating for a moment.

Then he suddenly stepped forward.

Bastian moved fast. Faster than anyone had any right to expect. He closed the distance between himself and Vincent in the blink of an eye. The sword in his hand was batted away, and it was almost as if the boy hadn't even seen Bastian step forward.

Metal clattered, and then suddenly Vincent was caught in a tight grapple that had clearly not been taught by the Anirian Guard.

Arm locked around the boys throat, his body turned and pulled tightly against Bastian's chest as he held him in place. A low gasp for air escaped from the boy, but as he struggled his head began to lull. Bastian let Vincent lull within his arms, and then once he felt him limp let go of him just enough to give him breath.
 

Arva

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Watching with no small amount of mounting horror as another female disarmed the fat one with the sword, Arva began to realize she had made a hopefully-not-fatal error, of a sort. Less an error and more that the tools she had at her disposal right now were inadequate for the situation she found herself in.

While she had one of the crew under her thrall... he was inexperienced. And Arva couldn't compel him to do something that he didn't know how to do. So when the black haired male tackled her... protector, Arva scrambled further back, and began to push herself up to standing again.

She opened her mouth to bring forth her siren voice again. She didn't want to thrall this many people, because then she'd have to do the whole damned ship's crew and drag them all to the depths.

It didn't really matter, though, because while a single note of her siren song reverberated through the air, it faded away into a croak as pain spasmed through her throat. Arva found herself curling into a ball, clutching a hand to her throat as tears pooled in her eyes.

Oh Kiva, not now!
 

Aisling Weiroon

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Lids blinked in a rapid rise and fall. She hadn’t given Bastian the order to disarm the other rookie but he’d made the right. With both sailors unarmed they could focus on the strange being instead of worrying about an escalation of violence. Bastian even went a step further and rendered the young man unconscious.

His sudden action was an interesting development. The speed at which he took down the recruit faster than even Aisling could’ve mustered after years of corsair training and service. They’d need to have a rather length chat once they were back aboard the Rose.

”Keep them subdued,” she asked of both Juliana and Bastian.

Curiously, the blue-blooded woman scurried to her feet and pressed herself backwards. The stranger stood on two feet for only a second, an odd sound crept from her lips, and then a gurgle as she clung to her throat and crumbled back towards the forest bed.

Aisling crept forward slowly, giving the woman space, but she kneeled down and eyed the creature. ”We aren’t here to hurt you,” her words soft, soothing. ”Our expeditionary force is purely for making contact and scouting undocumented areas of the Asherah Ocean.”

Although, anyone who knew Vel Anir likely realized the Weiroon’s were only interested in trade if they got the leg up on others. The Virak’s intention was likely more centered on expansion or subjugation than cooperation. But the first contact group that Aisling oversaw didn’t need to worry about that. They’d be cordial and peaceful and maybe she could convince the admiralty to take steps to avoid the malevolent intentions of the Great Houses. Of her father.

”Do you understand me?” She asked gently of the mer person. Not entirely certain how to help her.
 
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Bastian

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Bastian did not need to be told twice.

The woman opened her mouth, looking as she was about to speak. That odd note passed from her lips and he couldn't help but tighten his arm around Vincent's throat. It was an almost automatic reflex, as if the sound brought out some nascent feeling just below the surface.

His face twisted again, muscles relaxing as Arva twisted into a ball and curled into herself. Dark eyes watched her for a ment, suspicion roiling through his chest that perhaps the other man had been right about this...thing.

What had that song been?

He frowned for a moment, watching as Aisling carefully stepped forward to approach the creature. Vincent seemed to stir within his arms for a moment, weight shifting as his unconscious mind tried to register whatever was actually going on.

"S-stay away from her…"

The words were soft, barely a whisper. Bastian looked down at the lad. "Shh, quiet time now."

The runaway said, patting the young sailor on the head.
 

Arva

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The sun-haired female crouched before her, and though Arva could hear that her tone was gentle and soothing, the sounds falling from the woman's lips held no meaning to the Kivren. Arva just continued to clutch her hand to her own throat, wishing the pain would fade faster, shrinking away from the crowd of people.

Arva glanced up, past the woman. The black-haired man had still had hold of the young one she'd thralled, but the fat man with the sword at least was restrained, and continued to be so.

The mer looked back at the sun-haired woman, trying to judge what to do, what to attempt, but her tone and demeanor.

Finally, Arva just lifted a hand. She pointed to herself, and then through the trees toward the shore and the ocean.
 

Aisling Weiroon

Lady Luck
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Odd. Had Vince managed to communicate with the girl before they had arrived? Why was he insistent on protecting her?

”No one is going to hurt her,” the corsair reassured her unusual recruit.

Aisling was well traveled enough that non-humans and language barriers weren’t completely unfamiliar to her but the movements of Arva still elicited some concern. She bit her lower lip and her brow furrowed.

Her fingers pointed towards the vastness of the sea and the Weiroon gave a nod. ”The ocean?”

Without missing a beat her arm extended, palm flat, and she gestured outwards towards the crashing waves by the shore. Hoping to signal that the blue-pink girl was free to leave.

Aisling pointed at herself next, then a thumb pointed over her shoulder towards their ship. ”We came by boat,” she said, unsure if the woman they’d cornered had a boat of her own tucked away somewhere.
 
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