Blackfridayrule

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

"Refused to tell you? Well that seems ridiculous. I mean you had just been given the Seed and named the future Gardener, and they wouldn't tell you? Disrespectful if you ask me." It occurred to Ridahne then that she had not been entirely forthcoming with information herself, though she had never once deceived her. She merely...kept some things quiet. Still, it wasn't like she'd asked and Ridahne refused to answer. She felt like those people, who had always known Darin, now owed her some transparency at least. Unless they had been told specifically not to...hm...

Darin asked the question Ridahne had been dreading to hear (though thankfully and notably she didn't specifically ask what she'd done to get herself nearly executed and then sent away). She grimaced and gave another uncomfortable sound like when Darin had asked about the Ojih, though this was much less uncertain. This was not something just taboo that was difficult to talk about. This was outright uncomfortable. Personal. She debated answering at all for a long time.

--

"Oh. It's Hadian. I thought it smelled like fish. Ugh." The older boy sneered at Hadian and his little sister. He was from a merchant family and therefore far better off than the Torzinei family, and he wanted everyone to know it. This boy, Jirakh, was old enough to have his first ojih mark, a swirling black line form his earlobe to his chin. When he didn't receive a response from Hadian, he stepped forward menacingly, though both the Torzinei siblings were as tall as he was. "Hey. I was talking to you. Look at me when I talk to you, Torzinei."
"Go home, Jirakh. Don't you have better things to do than bother me? We have work to do."
Hadian made to leave, motioning for a young Ridahne to follow him, but Jirahk stepped in front of them both, blocking their path. "That's right, you poor folk always have to work don't you? Especially now." Both siblings' heads snapped up, eyes lit suddenly with anger. "Did you have to sell all her things?" Jirahk continued. "Or is your father holding onto her things in the hopes that your mangy sister might have a husband someday? Tell him to sell them and buy you some half decent clothes, Hadian. This one will never marry anyway...not without her mother to--"

Hadian was already cringing by the time Ridahne let out a feral snarl and leapt at the older boy, throwing her balled fist into his eye. He'd hoped Ridahne wouldn't lose her temper...but he supposed that was too much to ask for. Not that Jirakh didn't deserve it, but now there would be trouble. He didn't even see the rest of the fight unfold, just saw a cloud of red dust as the two went down into the sand, scrabbling at each other and swinging fists. Jirakh was heavier than Ridahne and tried to make use of that, but he wasn't prepared for the fight she had in her, and somehow she ended up on top of him, beating her fist into his stomach as Hadian began to grab her and try to pry her off. She slapped him away, wriggling out of his grip only to be caught in the grip of someone else.

Ridahne froze, looking up to find a tall woman with a complex ojih and a curved sword slung across her back looming over her. Both Hadian and Jirakh were backing away slowly, ready to run if they had to. The woman studied Ridahne for a moment, lifting the girl up to her feet by her arms but not yet letting go. Ridahne swallowed.
"We'll go home. Right away. Promise."
The woman's voice was cool. Icy. "You did a lot of damage to that boy...Torzinei," she said, inspecting the earring in her right lobe. "You can get in a lot of trouble for that."
"Won't happen again, Eija, I promise. We will go home. I promise..." It was perhaps not the most truthful thing she had ever said, but in that moment she believed that she would never fight again--after all, how could she stand defiant while being stared down by an Eija...?
The woman smiled, and neither Hadian nor Ridahne knew what to make of that. "Do you fight often?"
"I...yes." the answer came as a breathed whisper like it had been squeezed out of her.
"Do you win?"

Ridahne blinked, looking first from the woman, then to Hadian, and then Jirakh, who now had a bloody nose. "I uh...y-yeah? Sometimes? But I--"
The woman's smile widened and she let go of Ridahne. "You've got fire, kid. But an uncontrolled fire can burn things it was never meant to. It can cause a lot of damage. It must be tempered with stone. I can give you stone. Tell me, have you given thought to your calling?"
Ridahne stammered, "I'm a Torzinei...we...fish."
"But not you, I think," the woman said, her voice thoughtful. "Go home. I will speak to the scouts of you, and when you have come of age I think they will find you and see if you're meant for something more than fishing."

--

Ridahne took in a deep breath and began, "My family are traditionally fishers. I was expected to follow that path and I thought I would, but...I never really wanted to. I just didn't know what else was in store for me. What else I could be. At a young age I was approached by some scouts--people who try to find young Azurei who have talent for certain callings. The idea is that you train them early and they become better at whatever it is that they do. I um...I was scouted out for being an Eija. And at the time I thought it was wonderful. I liked that someone saw something more in me than just a life of saltwater and fish. When I was old enough I jumped at the opportunity to become an Eija..."

She fell silent again. How to go about this...? "I told you that Taja means 'arm'. They are men who protect and serve the Sol. Eija...it means 'hand'. They carry out the will of the Sol. Whatever she asks, we do. You could call us soldiers, except 'soldier' implies 'war', and there's not any. You could call us constables..maybe...but we were more than that. Too dangerous to be servants exactly, too far-roaming to be guards really." There was something else she was leaving out and it was painfully obvious, but she didn't seem keen on forking over the information so easily.

"There was a time I was honored to be one of their number. I took pride in it. I met the only man I ever loved because of it. I trained and I learned and I owe who I am to being an Eija. I'm just...not so sure that I'm proud of what that has made me anymore. Maybe under a different Sol, things would have been...well just different. But." She cut off with all the hard abruptness of stone, then added, "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Works for me!

In Dark Seas We Sail

"YOU are laughing at me!" Rohaan huffed, his tone petulant. "Don't you dare laugh at me or I will rub Wheel's stinky socks on your pillow!" It was a mark of both how far he had come since Berlin picked him up but also of the points Hana received in his mind for promising not to blow him up that he did not growl or threaten to bite. He wasn't ready to give her use of his second name just yet, but that promise had done a lot to improve his view of her. That and Berlin's seal of approval, of course. "This is NOT funny," he asserted, arms folded across his chest as if to make himself as small as possible in order to conserve heat.

She offered to make the water warmer and this also won her some points in the book of Rohaan. Warm was nice. And considering how he was actively shivering he wasn't going to argue with that. He expected her to go down to the galley and fetch a few hot stones to put in the water--that's what his mother always did. But instead she dragged over a different barrel and started...chanting? He stood in the barrel, confused, but then he felt the water suddenly grow notably warmer. It wasn't an immediate switch to hot, but it was enough of a movement that he felt it change. Rohaan gave a soft yelp of surprise, a small "eep!" as he put his hands on the rim of the barrel, preparing to launch out of it at any moment. Instead he waited, feeling the water gradually get warmer and warmer. Actually it was kind of nice. He did think for a grim moment that if she wanted to, she could boil him alive like a crab, and though he assumed that her promise not to explode him meant that she didn't want to hurt him in general, it crossed his mind that maybe that assurance had been more specific to exploding, not boiling.

"Okay okay! That's good," he said when the water began to gently steam. "Ai'eda," he said softly. Rohaan thought for a minute and then added, "It means um, thank you." No longer cold, Rohaan gleefully sank down so that only his nose was above water, and eventually put that under too and started to snort bubbles; Rohaan liked water and would swim often when it was warm and they docked somewhere. He had to squat to fit completely under the water, and that left him very little space, so he decided to turn into a deep red octopus and swirl silkily around the barrel. He even reached two squashy tentacles out at her hand, wiggling them at her like a tiny version of the ship-sinking monsters depicted in paintings and spoken of in legend.

--

"...You didn't see it's mouth..." Uban muttered, grabbing an apple and taking it up with him. He tied back his wavy light-brown hair and slid out of his shirt, which he hung loosely over a cleat. It was his nice shirt, after all, and he didn't want to rip it sparring. He immediately shivered as the breeze attacked his exposed skin, though he knew he'd welcome that breeze once they got going. When Wheel joined him with the practice blades, Uban took his, hefted its weight a bit, then dropped into a loose, springy stance and swung.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne listened, nodding thoughtfully but then she suddenly screwed up her face like she'd bitten into a lemon and stared at Darin, bewildered. "He...died? Like dropped dead right there in front of you? Okay okay...did he...was...I mean was there any kind of struggle or suffering or like did he seem to know? Did he have time to know? I...I've never heard of such a thing in my entire life." She rested her forehead on her fingertips, still trying to process that. She was no stranger to death and had seen many people die before and for many reasons, including ailments. It was always one of two things: a slow, agonizing march to the end, or a quick, violent halt. The latter was often less horrible. But she'd never heard of someone carrying on a conversation and just...keeling over like that, dead all of a sudden.

She nodded. "Yes, the Sol. He came. I did not see him, I was...away. And guests of such high honor generally are not made to suffer the presence of the likes of...well, me. This was before my execution sentence and eventual exile, but even though I was...involved...in the upper courts, I was not meant to be paraded around. So I was not. Ajoran though, he is a Taja. It is a position of great honor, and they are elite men who protect the Sol and serve them. Taja means 'arm'. But he was there and told me about their meeting. He said nothing of the seed--back then nobody knew there was one. The first the Sol heard of the Seed was from me. I asked him to describe the Gardener and he had difficulty doing so. Isn't that interesting? He never mentioned if he was man or elf or siren. I wonder...what if he is none of them? What if he is not a Child of Astra at all? Or...either that or he is but he is not one of the Three. Odd. Did you ever find out what he said to the prettiest girl and the best hunter?"

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne sighed, trying to gather herself a little. "That's just the beginning. My people tell stories of it so we remember. It's not just killing each other on a battlefield, its families ripped apart, civilians starving and scraping to get by so the soldiers can be fed, its people's homes being destroyed in fires, sabotage of crops and water sources--yes, in the past people have poisoned water supplies. It's conquering a city and then raiding it. Looting. Murder. Rape." she shivered at that last word. She had caught someone trying to force himself on a young woman once, and as far as she knew the little village still told stories of the way an Azurian Ghost of the Sands had come and butchered him. There was no mercy or help for anyone who did such a heinous crime if Ridahne caught wind of it. "The horror of war stretches far beyond the battlefield, beyond soldiers. And I saw flashes of it in my vision. There is nothing I would not do to see this mission through. Nothing."

And she meant it. If her own brother stood in the way of this quest, she would cut him down if she had to, so long as it meant saving the land she loved. Of course, Hadian never would. He was Ridahne's opposite--if she was fire, he was a cool breeze. If she was stone, he was the ocean. Calm, cool, reserved, and he desired nothing more than peace.

Ridahne's hands started to shake from the repeated tiny stabs of pain from the needle and she began to clean her materials, clean her fresh ink and smear it with the fragrant balm she used for wounds, and packed her supplies neatly away with respect and reverence as if they did not belong to her and she wanted to keep them nice. There wasn't much new ink to be seen, only a small patch that had been filled in. A tattoo could be shaded in faster if the individual dots of ink left by each needle strike were left further apart, but that was not the Azurei way.

The elf thought back to her childhood, memories of lying in the still-warm sand of the beach and listening to stories from her mother as waves crashed nearby. "Hm...we have many stories. I have heard the one about the tree being planted to prevent war. There is also a story of three slaves in ancient times, people kept in fetters and chains and made to work without pay or without reaping the benefits of what they do. At the time, an evil elf king had conquered most of the land and made slaves of those who resisted him. And one day three slaves, a human man, an elf woman, and a siren woman escaped their masters and ran for freedom, seeking new lands where the evil king could not dominate them. They traveled south for many leagues but they met resistance, and one day the siren woman was shot with an arrow. They carried her away and tried to heal her, but they could not, and she died. The man and the woman decided to bury her, but they had no tools to dig with. They used their hands, which bled from the effort, and buried her deep beneath the ground. They wept over her grave, their tears soaking into the dirt. Together they traveled on, gaining strength and support as they traveled, until they led a resistance against the evil king and threw him down.

Now, about this time, a sprout had begun to grow over the siren woman's grave. Born of blood and of sorrow and the hope for better days full of peace and freedom, a plant had begun to grow. And though it grew over the body of a siren, the blood of humans and elves were also in the soil with their tears, and with the blood of the Three this plant grew from no seed and formed a tree. As the evil king fell, the spirit of peace that birthed the tree took hold over the land and as it grew, its influence spread and became the Great Tree we know now. I have heard that the Gardener was the human man who had helped in its creation, but I have also heard that he was the son of the siren buried beneath it, or that it was an elvish man who had lost everything in the wars and wanted to make sure it never happened again. I'm not sure what the truth is, or if there's any truth at all in the whole story. You met him...what was he like? Who was he?"

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Midway through Darin’s explanation of expectations of most women in Lively, Ridahne let out a sudden noise of sympathetic exasperation, even stopping her inking to look up at her new travel partner. “Oh, by the tree, if I was ever condemned to be like that...” she gave a little laugh. “I can’t imagine myself becoming one of those women...the ones who stay at home all day, stay inside, raise children and clean and cook. I’m not a good cook,” she laughed. “I’m better than Hadian, my brother, but Ajoran was always better than me...” A sad note touched her voice as she said this, but it didn’t stay.

“No, I can’t blame you for not wanting to be like that. What a dull life... Azurei women have different standing in society than in human lands. From what I understand, women here are supposed to be second to men, yes? Submissive? The man makes the decisions in the home and the woman follows? We are not that way. We are a matriarchy—-females are the head of the household and they rule Azurei. We believe the gender responsible for giving life should make decisions for those she cares for. And we also believe that those who give life should be the ones to take it, as well. We don’t have as many male warriors, not like you. The sword is a feminine art. It is a dance, prized for its elegance, control, and speed. The idea behind female warriors, also, is that women will naturally have a better appreciation for life and will thus be more careful when taking it from someone else.”

She went back to her tattooing. “I was also expected to be something different than I wanted. The Torzinei clan has been fishers for ages, and it was sort of expected that I would stay in Atakhara. I wanted more. And eventually Scouts came to town and took a liking to me. I wanted what they offered and eventually left home to pursue...new things.” She did not elaborate on what those were; it seemed her former occupation was something she was not keen on revealing unless cornered about it.

Darin asked about the tree and Ridahne sighed heavily, sadly. She had seen the tree. And she wouldn’t forget what she saw. “Yes...I have. In a way, anyway. I h ave not seen it in person, but the vision I had showed it. One moment I was in a cell talking to Ajoran and...the next I was in this...glade. In the center was the Great Tree, its branches spread wide and high into the sky like a living mountain. Around it were once flowers of many kinds and colors but they had all died. Wilted, dry, and broken, their colors faded. The Tree’s leaves fell but it was not autumn. The leaves that fell were not red and gold but black, brown, and gray. The bark, which was supposed to be smooth was starting to flake away like sunburnt skin.” She had dropped her tools now, eyes looking unseeing at the wall of the little cave; they were filled with tears and her voice quavered as she went on. “And I could feel the stillness in the air. No wind blew. No birds sang. The sun gave no warmth. And it showed me what would come if you failed. Darin...what do you know of war?”

Ridahne’s face was haunted as her amber eyes turned to the younger woman. She knew of war. Her people still remembered it and told stories of it, sparing no harrowing detail. The Azurei knew that its horrors should not be forgotten, even when the tree was alive and well. And now, as the Tree was failing and slowly evil was going to creep into Astra, Ridahne knew it would come if they failed.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne looked at her briefly as she re-dipped the needle into the black ink. "You're wondering if...this," she gestured between the two of them, "Will go on my ojih someday, aren't you?" She gave a short, dry laugh that could only be described as casual. "I wouldn't, by the way. We don't have such a mark anyway. But... assuming all goes well and we succeed and I make it back home, I would get another mark to partner with this one..." she pointed to one that seemed a little crisper than the rest on her face, more recent. It was between her brows and on the bridge of her nose, a kind of curved, three pointed mark in solid black. "That would be a 'redemption' mark, of sorts. To show that I proved myself worthy. But the thing about black ink, you can't cover over it. Ever. Blue and white, yes, but not black. What I've done will be on display until I die and the Keeper judges me. Like the act that earned it, I cannot take it back or erase it. It just is. Always. It makes going home....complicated. Even after all this." She gave Darin a sad smile.

Ridahne had been truthful when she once said that she had nothing left. Nothing but a thin hope. To her people, she was worse than dead, she was dishonored. Her future, ruined. What did she have left but this quest? But this one chance to prove to no one but herself that she had some worth? She would see it done. No matter the cost.

She cringed and gave Darin an awkward noise of discomfort, though she didn't immediately shake off the question. She racked her brain for something to give her and yet she wasn't sure what she ought to. Those that did not take the ojih were not supposed to know its secrets. "Errmm..." Another cringe. "I don't know how uh...to answer that. The question is...it's not...it's not rude. rude isn't the word. But it's like asking...ah..." she shook her head, unable to find a comparison. "But..I can tell you it would be...simple. And I can also tell you that you would have a mark like this..." she traced a black line from her ear, down her jawline and almost to her chin; it had other lines and branches from it but was essentially an ornamented, unbroken line. On hers, it was the most faded of all her tattoos. "It is...everyone who takes the ojih has one. And it is styled to suit you. And your first one is never done by your own hand--always by a master tattooer. It's tradition. is that...um...sat-is-fact-or-y?" she said the word slowly and clearly--obviously it was not one she used often and still felt foreign on her tongue.

Ridahne smiled a little, looking mischievous. "Okay, you asked an awkward question. My turn. you don't have to answer though. Before your father left you...who did you want to be? What did you want to do? Did you know?"

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

He destroyed her.

Ridahne actually looked up from her tattooing, all the casual joviality sucked from her face. Her first reaction was to condemn this man for leaving his family, for just discarding his partner so flippantly. And then a horrible, crushing thought came to her: Was that what she'd done to Ajoran? It was different because she didn't just disappear--he knew exactly what happened and where she had gone. But in their final moments together, she had renounced him all the same. Decades of courtship and she had callously pushed him away. But it was for his own good. He would be better without her. He needed someone who would not drag him down, someone who could support him in his ambitions instead of cause him trouble. Someone he could wake up to and be proud of.

"I don't understand, Ridahne...you could be pardoned if all goes well. Pardoned. I would wait, you know."
"I know you would. That's the problem. If a leg goes septic you must cut it away to save the body. Don't, and the body dies. You must cut me away, Ajoran." She took off the necklace she wore--a carnelian spiral carved by Ajoran himself--and pushed it into his hands. Worn as a pendant, it was something like a sign of betrothal except not so formal, and once married she was to wear it in her ear in place of the bone one she'd worn since childhood. "I can't keep this, Ajoran."
He would not take it. "Did you not hear me? I said I'd wait for you to do this task, Ridahne. To come back and be pardoned. You can come home and I can keep my position."
"Ajoran, no, I--"
"All these years..." he said, an edge creeping into his tone. Ridahne cringed at the hurt she felt in that tone. "Did they mean nothing to you that you can just--"

Ridahne burst, slapping his chest with an open palm. "It means the world!" she shouted. "And that's why I can't let you waste your life away waiting for me to 'redeem' myself." Tears streaked her inked face. "When I come back, IF I come back, I will be allowed to live but nothing will undo what I've done. Nothing. You can't change that and it's a weight around your neck you don't need."
"I don't care about that, Ridahne."
Her voice grew cold, but her eyes still flowed with tears. "You should. Take it." She tried to push the carved stone into his hand again but he pulled way.
"No." His voice was also cold, defeated. Wounded. "Keep it, even if you never wear it. It was made for you. It wouldn't be right to give it to someone else."

---

She still had it. She wore it around her neck still--mostly for safekeeping--but she did not often let it show if she could help it. Like her past, it was complicated. Ridahne shook her head slightly, obviously trying to ward off a train of thought, and went back to her inking. "Well, if you DO find him, I will hold him down." She offered a weak smile.

In regards to Darin's question about tattoos, Ridahne shook her head. "All of them? No. Some are just...art. Many are ones I got during significant points in my life but the designs mean nothing in particular. This one is one of those." Tap tap tap. She was quick and confident with the little bone needle, her hands steady and practiced despite the pain. "The face ones, they are called ojih, and they do mean something. All of those ones do. There are some things in life that are significant enough to define who you are, and those things get put into the ojih. Good things, bad things--doesn't matter. The symbols are universal to a degree, enough that to someone who knows what they're looking at, they can be read. A stranger can look at me and know I am a Torzinei and I am from Atakhara just by looking at this," she tapped the large bone earring dangling from her stretched right earlobe, which was carved on the flat face that hung down. "That isn't part of the ojih, not really, but it sort of is in a way. The ojih could show though if I..." she considered, trying to give general examples instead of more specific, personal ones. "Was wed or not. Or my profession or status I've achieved. It would show great achievements maybe, or rank or...well..." she shrugged. "Crimes."

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne shrugged, though she didn't look up from her work. The skin was smudged black with streaks of red from small beads of blood but even through the ink her dark skin was reddened and puffy. It didn't seem to bother her much--after getting her ojih, a calf tattoo was nothing. She still thought the ribs were horrible though, especially for her since she was thin and didn't have much in the way of 'padding'.

"I don't know...what did you farm? Tell me about your mother. Or about humans in general? Do you have special holidays and festivals you celebrate? I might be ancient by your standards but I have not left Azurei much. Some, but not much. I know little about humans and their ways."

Mitaja gave a contented sigh and her huge paws kneaded the ground, claws leaving rents in the dirt as she did so. It was for Mark and his team that Mitaja had not been involved; she was as much of a warrior as Ridahne was, though she required no blades and no training. She had keen senses, speed, and very large teeth to aid her, and she was fiercely loyal to her handler.

Ridahne frowned, considering. She had never seen a green tattoo before, though she had seen red before yesterday. Some of the Orosi occasionally used red ink in their ornamental tattoos (they did not have ojih like Azurei did), though they mostly used black. "I don't know how you would get green ink. I guess it is possible...and red I think you could mix with white but I don't know how that would actually turn out on your skin. Especially not mine. But we don't do that in Azurei. We use black, blue, and white. It's...just what is done. Those are the colors of Azurei, and we are proud of them. I guess I could get a red tattoo somewhere on my body and it wouldn't be wrong or anything, but definitely not on my ojih." She pointed to her face. "Those must be black, white and blue, and which color you use for which mark matters."

In Dark Seas We Sail

Berlin was eternally grateful for the way the conversation was progressing. In a way, he'd forgotten what it was like to meet a vokurian for the first time, forgotten just how frightening it actually was to see one up close and see what they could do. He'd been determined when he brought Rohaan on, and that helped him push through, but seeing Hana's small admission of worry about being eaten made him remember what it was like. Part of him wished he had prepared her a little more for the whole experience. Still, that hesitation served to bring the two understanding, as Rohaan was very sympathetic to fear and it rarely occurred to him that people could be afraid of him as he was of them. That realization humanized her in the lad's mind, Berlin thought.

It would be nice not to have to worry about those two. Berlin had enough on his mind. Not to mention, his mind was reeling with the kinds of things they could accomplish together like she and Uban had. But all that satisfaction and relief bled away like warmth in a winter storm when Hana mentioned a bath. Pieter actively spat out his drink--Berlin might have too, if he was drinking something--and a silence fell upon them like night. Berlin broke it with a whispered, "Damn..."

Rohaan's smile was wiped immediately clean and he looked at her with a distrustful eye as though they had not just shaken hands. He rolled his shoulders a little, weighing how worthwhile it would be to agree. It wasn't that he hated being clean, nor did he necessarily hate water or being in a bath. In fact, he enjoyed them when they were either warm, or in the summer if they were cool. But he did NOT like soap. Growing up, his village bathed in the ocean and scrubbed themselves with fine sand, then rinsed the saltwater off from rain barrels. He never minded doing that and would do it semi-regularly if they were in warm enough waters. But he did not like being cold and he hated the way that soap got in his eyes, the way that the slimy substance clung to his skin. And sometimes it smelled funny.

And then there was his hair. It hadn't been cut since he'd left home two years ago and that was fine with him--he could tie it back like Berlin and Uban did with theirs if he wanted to. But his curls were irregular and wild, ranging from loose waves to tight spirals, and trying to keep it untangled was a hopeless endeavor. So it just got more tangled. And if she thought he was going to let her pull out his hair with a stupid comb, she had another thing coming.

But he looked at her, calculating, and with his eyes slightly narrowed he said slowly, "okay. Fine."
Berlin shook his head; that was FAR too easy. "Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen, you look me in the eye. That's an order, lad." The boy complied. "Don't you dare test her, do you hear me? Draw blood like you did with Uban and I WILL hang you by your ankle and send you up the mast like a damn flag, got it?" Rohaan just sort of grumbled, but Berlin reached out and grabbed the boy's wrist with a very firm grip. He didn't use his ability, as he'd made promises to the lad about use of force, but he simply held it, and Berlin the Bear towered over him. "The answer I'm looking for is aye Captain..."
Rohaan glowered at him. "It's coooold..."
"Deal with it. I quite agree--it's high time you had one and I'll stand by her on this. So you'll do it. Without trouble."

Rohaan grumbled and tried to pull his arm away, but Berlin's grip was iron. "Still waiting, sailor..."
Another grumble, then a very reluctant, "Aye Ca-mm..." Berlin let him go and the lad stalked off to find the accursed soap and a scrub brush, muttering in vokurian all the way.

Berlin looked to Hana. "You've got a hefty set on you, I tell you what. He'll do most of it on his own if you shout at him enough and make him do it proper. But ain't nobody on this ship gonna save you if you come at him with a comb. You're authorized to use force, if necessary."

Rohaan, still glowering, brought the stupid nasty soap and the brush to the aft deck where most of the rain barrels were kept. Unlike everyone else, he was small enough to actually fit into a barrel, so he selected one that was a little more than half full. The lad tossed off his clothes without much of a care (he had zero qualms with nudity and failed to see why anyone else did) though he was very unhappy about the cool autumn breeze and shivered. The round pink scar from his recent encounter with a rifle stood out from his suntanned skin, as did a white line across his side where someone had swung at him with a knife. One of his ribs, too, looked like it had once been broken and never properly set back into place so it sat awkwardly under the skin. The lad slithered into the barrel and shivered, scowling powerfully.

--

"Oh, rude," Uban said with mock indignation, though the light in his eyes showed he really wasn't bothered by Wheel's remark about his past. Like he'd told Hana, he had a lot of time to think on that mistake, time to curse fate and hate himself and feel guilt and anger and eventually acceptance. He'd come to terms with that a long time ago and no one would use it against him again. "You just wait, I have some more ideas I want to try. Speaking of, you wanna spar a little with some knives?" Uban had a mischievous look in his eye. There was indeed something he wanted to try, but he wasn't about to do it on anyone but Wheel.

He shoved some dried meat in his mouth and chewed. Something about his expression darkened at the remark about the turtle. He gave a decidedly nervous smile and shook his head. "Uh, no...I don't think so. Not one of those. They're like...the size of a galleon, Wheel. That thing could have eaten the Borealis if it wanted to." He shivered visibly. "A grenado would just piss it off horribly." He thought of the way it came up to him, whispering in his ear...

What exactly had it said, anyway? He never really did think much on it, though he remembered it with perfect clarity. Maybe he'd write it down...or ask Hana to help him. He was more literate than Rohaan, but not by much. He'd have to think about it some more, he thought as he rejoined the rest of the crew topside while balancing the mug on his plate with a shaking hand. It wasn't the ship's lurching that made his hold unsteady, just his own body. The mug rattled lightly as he perched on a barrel, noting a tension in the air. He looked to Pieter. "Geez. Who died?" He asked through a mouthful.