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[center][h2][color=00aeef]On board the Marigold, in the Thalassa Sea[/color][/h2][/center]
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Under the heat of the summer sun the Marigold, clad in its golden paint which gave its namesake, swayed upon the open water. White surf lapped against her reinforced hulls and the occasional spray surged over the edges, delighting the passengers on the decks above. She was fashioned to take storms and surfs higher than her cabins, a casual trip like this barely registered for her or her crew. The captain took a stroll around the deck, greeting crew and patrons alike. A man of many seasons and even more voyages his tanned, wrinkled skin clashed with the stark-white attire he wore. And beneath the brim of his cap were his eyes shone with an exuberance befitting someone of many years younger than himself. All his life he'd been on the ocean in some capacity, and not once had he lost his love of it. Though gone were his days of leading vessels into battle he still found delight in being upon the water, even if to only ferry people to and fro.

"Cap'n, we should reach port in a few hours, sir!"

"Excellent, let the crew know we'll be making landfall soon," replied the captain, a toothy grin on his face as he looked out to sea, "Galloway's a-waiting, and we're ahead of schedule. Let the boys know once we reach port we'll be heading to the taverns, I think you've all earned a bit of fun." 

Excited, the deckhand saluted before hurrying inside to spread the good news. These kids worked hard so it was only right to let them enjoy themselves. They would be in Galloway a few days anyway, being restocked and awaiting the next load of passengers. Adjusting the brim of his hat, the captain smiles, watching a pair of children run by him, chasing one another. An adult, presumably their father, chases after them while shouting about minding the edges. 

"The rails are there for a reason, sir!" he calls with a laugh, though he's certain the man doesn't hear him. Folding his hands behind his back the captain resumed his tour, greeting the occasional passenger and exchanging pleasantries. It certainly was a stark contrast from his old life, but it was a contrast he liked. He loved people - the good kind of people, he knew well enough not everyone was agreeable - and a chance to meet new faces was one of the many perks of his station. They took all kinds of folks aboard, each with their own stories, their own adventures, and often times he got to hear those. Few jobs enriched your world quite like his own.

Spotting a lone passenger near the bow of the boat he approached the young man, noting how he was leaned over the rails. Standing at the boy's back he leaned over and confirmed what he'd expected: seasickness. Smiling sympathetically he reached out and pat the boy on the shoulder, a hearty laugh bellowing from his stomach. "Not everyone can find their sea legs I suppose! You'll be glad to hear we're nearly at shore, just bear with it a little longer."

Ethan didn't so much as lift his head from its position, merely raising a hand and giving a thumbs up for confirmation. That was a godsend, though it would be even better had it come several hours earlier. For a luxury ship this journey had been anything but luxurious. The captain gave him another word of encouragement that went unheard as the splashing of water drowned it out. Left alone again Ethan let out a groan, picking himself up and steadying himself with the railing. He couldn't wait until they got back to land and he could actually stand without feeling ill. He swore he was going to kiss the ground as soon as the ship made it to port.

"Still losing your lunch, eh?" a man called, and Ethan turned to see one of his companions. Kent, if he remembered right. He'd only met the man before they set sail and, having spent most of his time along the ships rails, hadn't much socialized.

"If I even had anything to eat," Ethan replied somberly, groaning as he returned to his post, covering his hand with his mouth and letting out a belch. "I just want to be in Galloway already, this boat is killing me."

Kent rolled his eyes, reaching out and grabbing Ethan's shirt. The boy protested and tried to hold his grip on the railing but was overpowered, whining as he was stood up straight. "Don't forget why we're on this ship, kid. You can't do your job if you're busy staring at the water." Reaching into his pocket he pulled a small vial out, shoving it into Ethan's hands. "Peppermint, drink it. At the very least you'll be able to walk without looking like you'll pass out."

"Yeah, th-thanks!" Uncorking the bottle and swallowing the contents in one go Ethan shuddered, his face contorting at the overwhelming taste. Kent was already on his way back underside, leaving him be once again. Smacking his lips and resisting the strong urge to spit up what he'd drank he pocketed the bottle, taking small steps as he willed himself away from the edge. Just a few more hours, he could bear it.