The two men drank then in amiable silence, Berlin letting the sounds of the sea and of his ship wash over him like a soothing lulaby. He did love the Borealis, and as always, he loved the sea. He tilted his head back to glance up at what little of his figurehead he could see--a beautiful carving of a depiction of the Lady Tevira, the very spirit of the sea who sometimes took the form of a mermaid and had been rumored to both pull sailors down to the depths or to guide them home--depending on her fickle mood. A little smile touched his lips as he lounged back, letting his eyes shut contentedly.

---

Uban nodded, taking the bowl of water from her and setting it down as he got the tools and himself ready for his task as Hana sat down. "You got powder, eh? Well aren't you fancy!" He gave a little chuckle. "It's been a while since I had any powder. Got good at doing it with just a bit of water or sometimes a bit of regular soap, myself, but there ain't no denying the luxury of good powder." He listened to her explain about the cultural significance of shorn hair amongst mages, and he tried to think back to every bald person he ever encountered and wondered if secretly they were mages. Likely not, as they dressed usually like pirates or, if they were from Oak Hill, the blacksmith. In a little tiny bowl, he mixed a bit of the water with the shaving powder and whisked it up with the horsehair brush until it frothed into a sort of light paste. 

Uban placed one gentle hand on her scalp to direct her head as he applied the frothy powder with the brush; she could feel the distinct lack of a finger on his left hand as he did so. And though his skin was rough and calloused due to a life of ropes and daggers, and an even longer life of farming tools and tack, his hands themselves were gentle, even as he began carefully scraping the blade of the razor in ordered lines down her skull. He wasn't kidding, he was quite good at it and never once nicked her, yet still managed a close shave. 

He rinsed the blade in the bowl of water and started the next little section. "So you aren't fully trained? Didn't finish school or something?" his tone was only inquisitive, not judgmental. He'd never had any schooling in his life and it was only under Berlin's tutelage that he learned how to read at all, though he picked it up far easier than Rohaan ever did, who was unused to the idea of a written language at all. "Elbar's a long way from Yonin, and you never struck me as the Telor type. It's a port city full of...well, pirates and ingrates like myself." He laughed. "What brought you out there anyhow? Berlin never said."

--

After sailing in the direction Rohaan specified, they at last sighted a break in the reflection of the moonlight on the waves that signaled land. Sure enough, the island was little more than a very large sandbar with some tropical flora making up the entirety of the land. The moment the ship was moored in the sand, Berlin (who was holding it together quite well but still swayed when he stood or walked) released the crew to either sleep in their usual quarters or to go ashore if they wished and sleep by a fire, an option Rohaan took almost immediately. The boy loved the ship, but he also loved the warmth of a good fire.

Rohaan had been sleepy on the remainder of the trip to the island and had dozed off twice where he sat after his long flight, but the moment they were ashore he caught a second wind and a wicked, gleeful glint was in his lapis eyes. "Ca-mm, can I go hunting?"
Tiredly, Berlin rubbed his face and nodded. "Aye, boy. Do what you like as long as you stay near the island." He did not lecture Rohaan about getting to bed, nor did he worry about him wandering alone. Berlin knew he was perfectly capable of handling himself and there wasn't much trouble he could get into in a place like this. Besides, he had learned long ago that trying to force Rohaan to settle down was a hopeless cause without his calming ability once the boy was stirred. Besides, if he caught something good, they could have some fresh meat and even get some hide out of the deal, too. Rohaan would sleep when he was good and ready, and when he did crash, he did so quite fast. If he had extra energy to burn, it was best to let him get it out. 

"Light a fire for me first 'fore you go, Rheoaan. I don't feel like toiling over some flint at the moment."
"Aye, Ca-mm!" Rohaan shifted to a dog, and, tail wagging, he dashed off to collect wood. When he had a sufficient pile, he shifted to a Cyradan and with a little intake of breath sent a tiny liquid jet of fire to the dry timbers and the pile blazed instantly. And then, launching into the sky, he melted into the shadows in his silent, swift form. He was not heard again after his initial wingbeats grew too distant and soft, until a bit later a small excited cry was heard from the other side of the little island and a flash of dim red lights could be seen shooting down from the sky to capture what had to be his prey. 

Rohaan was a very good hunter. All vokurians were, due to their ability to become apex predators. But Rohaan was especially good at night. His favorite form, his [I]Khiv'estanye[/I] or literally translated, 'true alternate' was a nocturnal creature of aerial stealth. Quick, silent, sharp-eyed and camouflaged. It made him a deadly foe in daylight, but a phantom at night. He returned not long after with a boar in his dark talons and dark crimson glinting off his black teeth in the firelight. The bioluminescent red stripes along his body were pulsing softly and despite his intimidating shape, he had the air of a proud bird-dog bringing back a prized goose.
"Nice catch, Rohaan," Uban said, patting the scaled creature on the shoulder like it was no less common or dangerous than a placid horse. "I'll dress and butcher it tomorrow and we'll have us something like proper bacon for breakfast, eh?"
Rohaan shifted back, looking more exhausted than ever but no less pleased. He had blood on his face and on his hands and Uban, not a stranger to this sight, still cringed and turned him towards the lapping waves. "Eesh, go wash lad."
"What? Don't like bloooood?" Rohaan grinned, his now white teeth stained red. 
"Ain't that. It's just that its chilling enough to see a man with blood on his face, much less a ten-year-old."

Rohaan did wash, and then, after fetching a blanket from the Nest, came and settled down by the raging fire he'd created. He was asleep almost instantly.