[h1][color=#6633cc]Zarra[/color] & [color=Crimson]Trypano[/color][/h1]

“THEY’RE OPENING FIRE!” The Perrench captain shouts, having no composure whatsoever. The ship itself shakes, it dips noticeably as the breach in the hull starts to fill with water. People are screaming, running towards the nearest exit they find, the captain himself can barely hear his own orders as the ship continues to tossle.

Zarra Travendour, a young blonde haired boy with visibly violet eyes, hears the commotion and shaking while reading one of the ship’s poor attempts at literature. [color=#6633cc]“What in the world?”[/color] he says to himself as he quickly gathers his belongings and rushes out the door. [color=#6633cc]“Oh, that’s… Not good…?”[/color] He can only exclaim as there is now a giant hole down the hallway of the transport vessel. He runs towards it, careful not to get too close to the now unstable edge, looking out into the night. He sees and hears a small fireball, he looks perplexed, but his face turns to realization, he jumps towards the floor, not thinking to use his grayborn abilities on reflex. 

Another cannonball destroys the wall only several feet from him. It takes him a second to really process his current fate. If he doesn’t get off this ship now, he’ll be an ocean relic. He puts his hands onto the undamaged wood of the ship floor, red energy crackles around him as the floor itself disintegrates away, the energy warping around Zarra as a perfect square of what used to be a pathway is now gone. He hears another cannonshot. 

He breathes in, and then runs towards the damaged exit. Like the ground a second ago, the noble seems to just, disappear from midair. The cannonball strikes where he wants stood, that entire part of the boat exploding into a fractal of tree remains. In what looks like a different reality of some kind, where the sky is gray and everything is fog, barely to make out figures walk on air. Losing any color as well, Zarra slowly descends towards the water. With visible effort, he comes back to reality, gently plopping into the water surface. He takes the stolen wooden platform and summons it in front of him, creating a serviceable raft. 

The panicked boy climbs on, using his basic understanding of kinetic energy to control the water just enough to push him away from the chaos, before the shrapnel and storm waves take him out. He watches as the ships both sink, the sound of screams fading. This is the first time at sea and [i]this[/i] is how it goes. For every 40 men that die, a grayborn survives, as his parents used to preach. The phrase wasn’t false, he seems to be the only survivor… Atleast, until he notices someone in the water.

___
Her scarlet eyes scanned across the pages of the textbook. Diagrams of the human anatomy lay illustrated across, beside it paragraphs of text outlining the functions each organ holds. The ship sways, salty air drifting through the porthole. It was a quiet day on her trip.

[i]Was[/i]

Wood rips as with a deafening roar distant cannons send a solid metal ball crashing through the wall directly next to her. Splinters from the boards erupt throughout the room like shrapnel, piercing her body as well as so much else. She couldn’t say she wasn’t startled, getting impaled without warning tended to throw even seasoned veterans off their cool. Still, her first instinct was not to simply cry out or panic. It was to treat the injury accordingly. She immediately opened her purse, the whole ship rocking violently as it was battered from an assault she could not spectate at the moment. Producing her knife and some bandages she begins to wrap the area around the wound where wood protruded from her torso. It was just below the ribcage, likely piercing into her stomach. Painful, likely deadly even to other sorts. For herself it was simply a matter of containing the wound until she could create a skin graft for the region naturally and let it heal.

Prying the wood free she staunched the bleeding before attempting to seal the wound. Pinching the edges of the wound shut she turned her focus inward, concentrating as she channeled her mana towards the process of binding the wound shut. Drawing mana from the sheer quantity of material surrounding her she was able to channel it into new matter, a thin seam which joined her skin together. It was a patchwork solution, hardly dealing with the internal bleeding likely already occurring but she could survive.

It was just in time for her to notice the next issue currently approaching: The water level. She was far from the lowest room on the ship, having paid good money for a decently uninterrupted voyage. This only meant that the ship was sinking fast. She had to think before the weight of the ship and the force of its continued descent threatened to drag her with. Standing up now, her body rippling with pain from the injury, she soldiered on regardless and grabbed the wardrobe that stood in the side of the room. A side was partly smashed in from the shrapnel but it was still intact enough to float however poorly. Grabbing it she shoved with great might towards the hole left by the cannonball that just recently intruded. Despite her size she was formidably strong, able to shove the wooden container through where it fell into the turbulent waters below. With her purse of belongings she seized a loose board and then dove herself for the armoire which lazily wobbled atop the water.

She landed next to the vessel, not keen on accidentally diving through the decorative wooden backing and sinking the whole wardrobe like a veritable human cannonball. Swimming back up she grasped hold of the edge, pulling herself aboard this crude vessel. It was all she could do to rapidly paddle away, driving her impromptu vessel away from the sinking vessel before it could drag her only floatation device below. Exhausted, she collapsed against the side of her vessel, watching as small holes in the side began pouring water through into her makeshift vessel of dubious quality. There was a deep sigh of irritation, the pain from her wound starting to take it’s toll.

The inexperienced mage continues to look, trying to be for sure that it’s a person and not just debris. He thinks about leaving without them, but that thought scares him just as much as the cannon that nearly turned him into pink mist. He continues to manipulate the raft with little resemblance of control, to the… Oh, her looks strike him as very odd. He thinks maybe for a second she’s some sort of fish person, but then he remembered the looks of blood children from his studies. Never got to see one up-close before…Regardless, he approaches with curiosity.

As she drifts along what was surely to be a very long day indeed she spots from the corner of her vision another survivor, one with a raft that looks more seaworthy than her tattered wreck of a wardrobe.

[color=#6633cc]“Um.. You want on? That can’t be comfortable…”[/color] Zarra thinks that was a really strange thing to say, but keeps his look of worry instead grimacing at his own comment.

[color=Crimson]“Ah, yes. It looks like your vessel is more… Buoyant than mine is currently.”[/color] She attempts to stand, the wardrobe rocking under her shifting weight as she attempts to step clear from her own ship onto his, provided his offer is genuine.

Zarra watches the wardrobe struggle to stabilize under her, the image of her smacking her head into his raft quickly allows him to grab her arm and pull her fully onto the raft, which is now shaking itself as their combined weight throws its buoyancy off for a second.

Stumbling aboard the ship she makes her way to the center where her weight will tilt it the least before collapsing back down. She checks through the blood-soaked and otherwise regularly soaked bandages to see the skin seam she left. It looks discolored and bruised but she knows the truth: Subdermal bleeding.

With all that’s happened and in the dark, Zarra doesn’t notice her injury until she’s on her back messing with her bangade. [color=#6633cc]“Oh, Shune! What happened to you? I’m a binder, I can attempt to heal it, but I can’t promise it’ll stop the bleeding or anything, I’m still learning how to use recreate proteins…”[/color] Zarra looks, almost disappointed, and even a little self-loathed to admit that. 

She glances up from her work towards him.

[color=Crimson]“I’m a binder too. I’ve already sealed the wound. I should be able to mend the remaining flesh or at least give it enough mass to join together naturally faster. I’m just waiting for the ship to steady. Or land. Whichever comes first.”[/color]

It seems she’s been fairly focused, her expression still a cold mask of professionalism amidst this catastrophe. Before he can respond she adds: [color=Crimson]“Thank you.”[/color]

He sits down, attempting to be comfortable, a task nigh-impossible on a wave shifting raft. [color=#6633cc]“So, where were you going, anyway? I assume you’re a pirate? Because your ship attacked us first, I think. Not that I care, really, you’re not in the position to threaten me, I never understood people who bite the hands that feed them, anyway…”[/color]

She casts something of a questioning glare back towards him.

[color=Crimson]“I was on transport for Ersand’Enise Academy. As I was below deck I was not aware of what took place until fire was exchanged.”[/color] It was a frank response. She didn’t bother humoring the notion of who would threaten who as it was irrelevant.

Zarra looks back out to the horizon while he listens, his mind clearly elsewhere while at the same time in the conversation. [color=#6633cc]“Do you believe in fate?”[/color] There’s a solid pause… [color=#6633cc]“Well, do you?”[/color]

She blinks a couple times, the only real sign of her confusion towards his sudden shift in topic.

[color=Crimson]“I… Believe in magic, the causal forces that govern this world and the entities that enforce it.”[/color]

[color=#6633cc]“Well, I was asking because I was [i]also[/i] on a ship to Ersand, Unfortunately, we’re the only ones [i]going[/i], apparently… I only survived because I’m a grayborn.”[/color]

[color=Crimson]“I suppose unless there were any others in transit to the academy aboard our vessels who may have survived the exchange then we may well be. Until then our main focus should remain among the living to arrive.”[/color]

[color=#6633cc]“Do you know what direction the ships were going? If they crossed paths, that means they were both likely converging, we just have to guess where they were both gonna turn at. Ersand will be there”[/color]

[color=Crimson]“There’s little guesswork to it.”[/color] She answers his theory, looking up at the stars.

[color=Crimson]“If we arrived at the same point then likely odds are that we aren’t far from shore. As our ship was heading due south then…”[/color] Her seasoned eyes scan the sky before locating the tell-tale north star. [color=Crimson]“East should take us to shore.”[/color]

She points her wooden board in the direction where shore would lie, her natural experience in sailing feeding into this educated guess.

The teenage boy smirks with satisfaction as shows her that he manipulates the water to enough extent to send them in one direction, like a modern boat engine. [color=#6633cc]“This should shorten our wait.”[/color]

[color=Crimson]“Sub-typing into Kinetics I gather?”[/color]

[color=#6633cc]“Yep, I figured it would work on a grayborn, be both fast and dodgy, you know? I’m not excited for dawn, that’s for sure!”[/color] They sail into the setting moon towards the great Academy beyond the horizon.