[center][h1][u]Marlowe Vallis[/u][/h1][hr]• Windward Island, Port. Southern Seas • [hr][/center] [indent] “Do you really think they'll be able to fix it, though? I don't think any of these Divers come from the area, so they won't know what all to look out for, especially with their thoughts occupied by treasure.” Marea’s words struck true to Marlowe, as they usually did. She was terse but to the point and that was something Marlowe needed in his life. She was a grounding force that he didn’t have when it was just him and Chief Talu. Still, it was hard to truly gauge her feelings—beyond what she explicitly stated. Marlowe did not believe that any one person could truly be so calm and neutral always. The irony was lost to him, of course. “It’s Chief Talu’s request, though. He won’t let anyone from the village sail out to Gullspire in a skiff.” Not that anyone besides Marlowe [i]had[/i] requested to sail into the storm. He’d called it suicidal. Marlowe simply thought it would be dangerous. He never expected to die from such an endeavor. “[i]For good reason as well. [/i]” The stern chilly voice was deep and well-known to everyone in the village. Chief Talu stood behind Marlowe and Marea, his arms crossed. “Marlowe, I thought I told you earlier to get the contracts from the meeting hut and to bring them to the tavern.” Even though Marlowe was fully grown, Talu still stood a head taller than the young man, his skin dark tan and his hair neatly shaven. He was not wearing his ceremonial garb; there would be time for that later; for now, he simply dressed [i]nicer[/i] than most of the fishermen. “Marea, thank you for delivering the food.” He smiled at the girl, and turned to walk towards the tavern. “You should strive to learn from her, Marlowe. Marea works hard and is well respected. She’s like your mother.” Marlowe sighed, kneeling to let Mala down, and started walking towards the meeting hut, his attitude now sullen. Whatever excitement that was building in his chest was now deflated by Talu’s words. [/indent]