Avatar of Blackfridayrule
  • Last Seen: 4 mos ago
  • Joined: 8 yrs ago
  • Posts: 679 (0.23 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Blackfridayrule 8 yrs ago
  • Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

Recent Statuses

6 yrs ago
Current Firmly. Grasp it.
3 likes

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Sorry for the delay. Went back to (regular) work (welding/fabricating) last week and immediately lost a lot of healing progress on my hands, so I've been a little down and out recently. Just had acupuncture yesterday too and I'm always a little sore after. I'm gonna try and write up a post now because there's only so many episodes of the office I can watch...lol. but we'll see if I finish it. Might end up being a short one.
Ah, bless Darin for plating her up some food. In large groups, the distribution of food was something that gave her, at the least, a bit of pause and more often, a bit of anxiety. They didn't have much where she came from. Azurei did not gain its wealth from furs, crops, or timber. As a nation, it relied on silver mines, their skill in carving precious stones, fishing, and trade-escorts, which were bands of mercenaries hired to protect or guide merchants or caravans through harsh terrain or unfriendly places. And they got what they needed one way or another, but if you were poor in Azurei, you were poor. Ridahne had been one of those for most of her life. There were expectations at gatherings about how much food you could take for yourself so that all could have something. At home, she knew the rules of thumb. Here? She had absolutely no idea where to start. Instead of worrying about it, it was nice that Darin just did it for her. Ridahne didn't know if she did that because she knew the elf's background, or if she just did it because that was who she was. Either way, she was thankful.

Nobody paid much attention to Ridahne, not like they had before. She'd outed herself as THE traitor they'd heard about already, and she'd made enough of a display the night before, so she made it through without much more than a few glances or polite words here and there. She was alright with that. So as she ravenously ate what was on her plate and even indulged in a little wine, she listened to the conversation next to her. Someday she'd like to visit this little village outside of Lively. They would likely all stare at her like the mountainously tall, exotically foreign oddity she was, but that was to be expected of small town human folk this far from the border.

It wasn't until Darin's words got a bit of backlash that Ridahne really perked up and listened with intensity. When the young man protested it wasn't fair, Ridahne actually barked a laugh. She only partially tried to cover it up out of politeness. But not fully. Her eyes were on him in an instant, and those two amber darts never left him as she studied the shifts of his weight, his hands. Ridahne had been trained to read certain types of body language. So when he got up from his seat, she did too in the exact same moment.

Her training showed very clearly all of a sudden. She didn't leap up to her feet but rose slowly and with purpose; the chair didn't even squeak against the floor. She did not move, just stood up from her seat. She didn't feel threatened enough to need a particularly sharp display of fierceness, so she did not draw her knives, which she still wore in the blade harness which was as much a part of her as her own hair. Her hands were still at her sides. Perfectly still. And the only movement she made was to incline her chin just slightly in silent challenge.

Don't.

If she had flung out a knife and started shouting, not only would it have escalated the situation (she didn't want that), but it would not have been as effective a warning as her chillingly cold, hard, immovable demeanor. It was confidence, assuredness, and utter control all in one. It was a similar kind of dramatics that she'd displayed in the forest with the bandits, though put to a different purpose and in a different way. This was more subtle and somehow more polite. But no less intense. Presentation was everything, and more so if it could actually be backed up. She could. She would.

The man backed down, though Ridahne made a mental note to keep an eye on that one. She stood there still, in perfect dignity and grace until the young man finally made it back to his seat. And then, slowly and with all the grace of water poured from a pitcher, Ridahne sat back down. The expression on her face was was cool and somewhat impassive. For Ridahne, that was not a good look, though it hadn't dampened her mood, not really. The whole thing was merely a hitch, a little hiccup in the evening that she would remedy if need be. It didn't eat at her.

Ridahne resumed eating and drinking as if nothing had happened, but she leaned over and said softly so that only Darin would hear, "I think we should start your training earlier than moonrise. Forget about evening chores, or keep them very brief. I think they will understand." In part, Ridahne needed Darin in good condition to begin training, and if she was tired from chores, she'd have a little less energy to work with. And another part of her pictured a scenario in which this bold young fellow decided to find a way to continue this conversation in private. Ridahne did not doubt that Darin could handle herself in a scuffle with a farm boy if it came to that. But he didn't need to have the satisfaction of starting one.
There was a lot of water needed to prep the large communal meal, and also to clean it. She'd worked up a bit of a sweat, though it wasn't as hot here as it was at home. It felt good to be doing something with her hands (and back and shoulders and legs, really), so when workers came to offer a respite, she shooed them away with the same businesslike curtness that she'd chased away the first water pumper with. "No. I am doing this now. Go on." And the last one she shooed away came back with a cup for her to at least drink out of. She did, and heartily. But the Orosi woman stayed by her side for a moment and didn't immediately leave to go back inside. She made some small talk, but after a lull the woman said what was really on her mind.

"I've heard about you, you know."
Ridahne stiffened but did not speak. She knew when she was being baited and she didn't feel like getting into a shouting match with this woman.
"I have a twin back home. She is a merchant and goes to Azurei often, so she hears a lot of news, and she passes the important things on to me in letters."
Alright, Ridahne couldn't take it. She did try to brush it off, but she just couldn't. Baited, maybe, but she was easily baited into an argument. It was part of who she was, unfortunately. She continued to pump the water, filling a large bucket that would be used for rinsing up after the meal. But her voice was cold. "What do you want?"
"Not what you think, Guardian." The Orosi woman offered a smile, her bright teeth standing out against her dark skin. Ridahne had to admit, it was disarming. "I can only imagine how things are for you. But I have faith they will get better. And I know that's not much comfort to you now, but perhaps this is...my sister told me that she heard of you from a man at a tavern. She had heat sickness and he brought her inside, bought her a cool drink, and talked with her for a while about many things. But he told a story of how a fire had injured him badly a month before, and how his wife had tried desperately to make ends meet while he recovered."

Ridahne stopped pumping and stood stock still. She knew this story. The couple had a boy, she knew. "So she went to her Sol."
The worker smiled. "So you have heard this story?" she said knowingly. "Yes. She did. And that night, the bells rung to mark the assassination of that Sol. The woman was afraid, but she thought if her own Sol could no longer help her, she would petition another. And she learned of the assassin, of the Hand who turned on her own Sol. She asked questions, and the Sota-Sol herself took her aside and explained that the woman's life had been in danger, and that after an investigation, they found that the assassin had saved her. And she and her entire family are in her debt."

Before Ridahne knew it or could stop it, there were tears on her face. She put a hand over her mouth. "Wh...what?"
The worker nodded. "They sing your praises, Guardian. And when they hear folk speak of the Assassin, they are quick to correct any false rumors."
Ridahne could not speak. She never knew that the woman who's life she refused to take would ever hear about what really happened that day. She didn't think she'd understand. But she did. And somewhere out there, someone was glad for what she did. Not just grimly resolved that it was the right thing like herself, or like Ajoran and her brother Hadian. But someone actually was jubilantly thankful. It made a world of difference to her, more than she imagined. More than Ravi's words to her the day before. That was all that needed to be said between the two women; Ridahne couldn't speak anyway out of shock, so she abandoned her post at the water pump (there was plenty of water to use now anyway) and slipped off to her room to take a moment to process all that.

When Ridahne did come down to the main hall for the evening meal, she was still in her traditional garb instead of her traveling clothes, but she'd cleaned up again, combed her hair and braided it back, and washed her face and hands. And though there was still a measure of discomfort at being thrust into another extravagant feast, she radiated an almost regal pride. She sat beside Darin again with all the grace and dignity of a cat.

"No quiet, humble meals for us, I see," she said in that dry humor of hers. "I have the feeling we'll miss it on the road though." She seemed in good spirits tonight, better than the night before for sure.
Rohaan heard the crack of gunshots that were now clearly aimed for him, though he was careful to stay out of their range. He burned with anger. How DARE they! They had hurt him twice now, and they deserved to die. Die slowly by his hands, or rather, his teeth. They did not deserve the quick death of severing, but drowning, burning, and being eaten alive. He would show them fear. He would show them fear like they had never felt before, and he vowed that they dared shed his blood again, it would burn them like acid in the end. He'd make sure of it.

Enraged but still remembering he was alone and outnumbered and that Berlin had instructed him not to fully engage, Rohaan sent a ball of fire streaming down towards the galley. It fizzled out some twenty feet over the sailor's heads, but that was enough for now. They just needed a reminder of what he was. What he could do. Muskets be damned, he'd have them by the end of the night. Somehow that didn't feel like enough though, so on an impulse and out of sheer spite, the dragon changed into a small bird in the blink of an eye, and as a much smaller target Rohaan swooped down in an irregular pattern towards the galley and swept past them as fast as his wings would take him. But as he did, his talons snatched one of the sailors' hats off his head. And in the space of a breath he was shooting back up into the sky towards the large dragon, now in his cyradan form. The hat was a nasty thing and he would likely burn it later, but for the moment it was his prize and it was also a metaphorical middle finger.

The dragon was a matter that confused him entirely, though. It smelled like death, and looked like it too. The part that stuck with him the most were the arms. Human arms that stuck out from the side of the thing like....like....he didn't know what. It would be of particular interest to Berlin, so he made sure to really take a good look at them even though something in him wanted to look away. It made him uncomfortable, the whole picture. And if he wasn't so fired up by the slavers below, he might have just done a quick flyby and returned to the Borealis. But he was feeling bold and determined and he would not be cowed so easily.

He was keenly aware of the dragon rider who leapt up at his approach and trained a gun on him, though the fact they did not fire gave him pause. He was in range and he was not a small target. Though he was small for a dragon, he was still a dragon. The rider could have shot at him. But they appeared to be waiting for something? That was his guess. Probably reading his intentions as much as he was reading theirs. Berlin would not have approved of his next thought, but Berlin wasn't here.

Following the dragon up higher into the sky, Rohaan kept his eyes on the rider with the gun. He roared at them once, a quick call, not a drawn out howl of battle and rage. The shifter took advantage of his superior speed and maneuverability to surge back up above the dragon, except this time instead of circling around or diving back down, the svelte black shape angled back a bit and with steady wingbeats he hovered just above the larger dragon's back, near the aft. And then, his form shifting into a man, he dropped and landed.

He did not revert to his natural state of a (now clean) pirate child of ten, but an older version of himself. He appeared to be about twenty now, with a very short but rather full beard the same blonde as his unevenly curly hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail like Berlin's. He was tall, fit, but had a distinctly 'travel stained' look about him. Calloused, worn, weathered, and hale. He called out in a voice that was both his and not his. It still had an accent that in these parts was unidentifiable, but it was a man's voice, not a boy's.

"That ship down there will burn tonight. What do you want with it? And who are you?"

---

Berlin still anxiously watched the horizon through his glass. There wasn't much he could do that far out--both Pieter and Wheel relied on being close by to attack, Berlin's greatest power was through touch, and Uban, who was still too far away to do anything, was open-mouthed snoring below deck. Hana was likely the only one who could do anything if something went horribly wrong out there, but he didn't know the range of her abilities either. So he watched.

The black shape swirled around the larger pale one, flitting in and out like an angry sparrow pecking away at an eagle. But then the black dragon hovered momentarily above the thing and was still, and then it was gone. Berlin knew it did not disappear, not truly, but he couldn't make out specific humanoid shapes from that distance, and so he could not be certain what happened to his shifter. Desperately, he looked to the space below the dragon, hoping he would not see a tiny speck falling from it. He didn't. That made him release a tightly held breath. But then the implication of that realization settled in, and his heart began to race again. If Rohaan did not fall, then he probably landed.

"SHIT. Rheoaan! Damn it!" Berlin whirled around, going right for Pieter. "Damn it, the boy landed. I can't fathom WHY, damn it, but he's decided to parley with whoever's riding that thing. Idiot. Bloody idiot. Remind me to slap that boy when I see him next!"
The tumult of feelings Ridahne had inside her began to slowly erode away as her mind was occupied with other thoughts. Now wasn't the time for it. There would come a day when she got a chance to speak her mind over Khaltira-Sol's grave. No. Not Khaltira-Sol. Just Khaltira. She did not deserve the title of Sol in any of its meanings, and Ridahne would no longer give it to her. But that day would come, and she would be able to howl and scream in anguish over the position the woman had put Ridahne in. Over what it cost her. She would face the living Sols, including Khaltira's replacement. There would come a day when she would reunite with Hadian and Ajoran. She would face Ajoran's parents and explain why she had not yet married their son. What she'd done. And what she still had yet to do.

But that day had not come yet. So she put those thoughts away for now.

Ridahne gave a ghost of a smile. The ones that were genuine were radiant, even when they were small and subtle and maybe a little dry. They were radiant because they were real, and they were true and candid. And they were even more so because they were rare. Her other smiles lacked warmth, either because they were fake, forced, or, more commonly, simply tainted by some other thoughts that did not warrant a smile. This was one of the latter. She was trying to be real, to be genuine. But in that moment genuine was difficult, so she did her best.

"Ah, finally having me make good on that promise! Yes, I think we will start tonight. I will give you a full lesson tonight, and you will learn the way I learned. But I'll start you with this, and you can ponder it while we eat: The art of swordplay and its related specialties is truly nothing less than art. To wield a blade is not to wield a weapon, a thing of destruction and of pain and of death only. It is itself a skill and a beautiful art, like a dance. A dance with high stakes, yes, but it is no less graceful. It is no less a song. Think on that. And then tonight when the moon is high we will train. I'll warn you now, I won't go easy on you. You will have bruises. You will get cut. You will be sore. But that's how you learn." Another wan smile, though this one was maybe a little warmer, a little more real now that thoughts of home were just a little bit further behind her. "I will teach you what I can of Azurian, though you will learn it better when we are there and you are immersed in it. I will try and teach you words, and by our words you will learn something of our culture, I think. But if you want to know the words for something, just ask."

They made their way towards the farmhouse again, Ridahne padding along in almost perfect silence with her bare feet (Ridahne hated shoes and avoided them if she could help it). She also felt like doing some work or favor in return for the hospitality of the farm was in order, though as Darin spoke, Ridahne's inked face twisted into a thoughtful expression and softly she said, "But we are giving back. Yes, we are doing this quest and that is important. But we also give them hope. And without hope we are just animals toiling for survival. Trust me, I'd know." She laughed a little, very softly. "Do not feel like a burden to these people, even if we are shooed out of the kitchens and chased away from the woodpile. Your quest is what they've dedicated their lives to. To the Tree. To Astra. I think they are glad to give some food and supplies as payment to see Astra safe and whole."

Nevertheless, she did make her way out back towards the water pump and waved away the man operating it with a curt but not impolite or unfriendly, "Go. I will pump the water now." She had a way of speaking sometimes that was not quite an order, but it was not quite a question either. Very businesslike. She adopted the same manner when treating Darin's injuries, and while it was brisk, blunt, and spoken with a soft determination, something about it was comfortable, friendly, and casual in a very 'Ridahne' kind of way.
Berlin felt his stomach twist. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good. He'd assumed that much even when he thought it was something of The Salt, but when Pieter was just about as lost as he was, a little worm of anxiety crawled into his chest and slowly made its home there. If any ship's crew was equipped to handle the unknown, they were. Together, they were a disturbingly powerful force, and yet... He put the spyglass to his eye again. Rohaan was very far out now, barely a flapping dark shape that seemed to eat the light around it instead of reflect it like most objects did. What had he just sent him to? Berlin trusted the lad to take care of himself most of the time but some part of him that he hesitantly thought of as fatherly always worried anyway.

He was going to fuss over the direction but Pieter had it handled. Damn, he hated waiting. Hana and Wheel had gone below to prepare weapons, which was good. They'd need that. Rohaan was out, Pieter was manning the wheel and...ah. Uban. Despite the tightness in his stomach he had to laugh a little. He hadn't been kidding when he said he'd crash. Berlin made a mental note of how long that had taken and how much effort had been exerted before he got to that point; it would be important to know in the future. Berlin stooped and picked up the mug, then plucked the wedge of lime from Uban's teeth with a chuckle, plunking it into the mug and setting them both aside.

The captain reached his hand out and placed it softly on Uban's shoulder. He did not stir. "Uban, mate..." Though the volume and tone of his voice was soft, there was something about it that gave it command. When he earned a soft grunt from Uban, he continued. "Get up Uban. Go down below and get yourself in bed for some proper rest. You earned it. I'll call you when I need you." The nine-fingered sailor made a noncommittal noise but his muscles moved and he stood, swaying a bit. Berlin walked with him, keeping his hand on the man's shoulder (it was easier if he had constant contact) and the still very much asleep Uban swayed and stumbled before him as obediently and unwillingly as someone held at knifepoint. Berlin had to hold the hammock steady in order to help maneuver Uban into it, but he succeeded and released his hold over him; Uban sighed sleepily and melted into the canvas.

Berlin was back up on deck in a moment. He was still very concerned about what was happening out there and productive distractions would only get him so far. He went out to the prow with his spyglass and squinted through it as best he could to keep eyes on the situation.

--

The photophores in Rohaan's black, scaly dragon skin pulsed their red, almost reflective light in a quick but steady rhythm as he pumped his wings. He could feel his blood was up, and despite knowing better, he wanted to tear that ship to pieces and burn it down, and personally chew (or just plain eat) any slaver that dared try to escape him. Berlin was right though. There were people on that ship that didn't deserve to die. People like him. But he would not let them get away while the Borealis caught up and he'd hunt them down all night if he had to.

As he drew closer, he could see that this dragon was indeed massive and far larger than him, though considering his species of choice that wasn't a surprise. Cyradan were neither large nor armored. This one wasn't extremely well armored as far as some dragons went--he'd seen some before that looked like living stones. Clearly the slaver's guns gave the thing some pause and even Rohaan shuddered at the sound of them, remembering all too keenly the very recent gunshot wound of his own. It had taken him out of the sky, but the sky was HIS. That anyone had the gall to remove him made his blood boil further.

Rohaan noticed there were people on the back of the dragon. Multiple people. He was trying to identify something about their clothing or colors or...anything really, but they weren't familiar to him. Well. There was no sense in being stealthy; it was time they knew he was here. Rohaan kept out of range of the gunshots, but he cried out with his dragon voice that was both shrieking high and rumbling low at once like two voices become one. He could not speak words, not in this form, but still he spoke in his own way.

I am here. And your hours are numbered.

He came in really close then. He did a swooping fly-by over the back of the large, pallid dragon, studying both it and the people riding it. Due to its size, he could dance circles around it. If it was a galleon, he was a schooner. He tucked his wings in an angled fold and dropped down to sweep under it, his black tail following his svelte body like liquid. Rohaan flapped a few times and then came back up above the dragon, circling overhead. He roared again, sort of testing the waters to see if either the dragon or its riders would acknowledge or engage him. Again he swooped low, then pivoted back up and circled it. He liked the idea that these people and this creature were obviously hunting the Barizians, but he wasn't sure that automatically made them allies, either. His captain needed to know.
Ridahne followed Darin back to the little shaded room where the bird was being kept. She was normally a light footed person anyway, but without shoes (which she still hadn't bothered to put back on) she was nearly silent without much effort. That was due in part to her training but also elves had a natural inclination for it. The elderly jokingly said that was because elves were 'pulled skyward' at all times while humans were drawn to the stone. Once, Ridahne asked about Sirens and was told, "Have you ever seen them move, child? They are themselves like water; equally at home in either land or sky. They are both the oceans and the rain, child. They are the rivers and the mist."

"Arm..." she muttered, still sort of trying to grasp Darin's reasoning for the name. But she shrugged. If she liked it, then that was all that mattered really. She stepped softly inside and spoke to the hawk in Azurian.

"You've had a hard day, sharp-eyed one." Ridahne came near but still kept some distance between them and she knelt to be closer to his eye level. "Are you called Taja? Yes, I think you are. I am called Ridahne. Darin is your keeper. It is fortunate the winds brought you here, Taja. You will be well kept." Ridahne was taught that it was proper to speak to animals and to treat them with great respect, so she cooed softly to him.

Ridahne looked up and turned to Darin. "Isfa'ali? Fire-bread? That's what toast is, right?" She chuckled. "You could name him toast. Or in the Azurei fashion, fire-bread." Her tone was a bit flat, but she had a smirk on her face that showed her teasing sarcasm. "But I think Taja is better, you're right." Her smile broadened.

Ridahne rose slowly and shook her head. "Trust me," she said with a kind of bitter laugh, "I don't have any plans to go straight back home. To be honest with you I am both yearning for and dreading that day all at once. When it comes, it will be..." She inhaled a breath and let it out in a huff, "Well...it will be a lot. For both of us. All of my personal baggage aside, it's going to be different than going other places. The entire Court of Sols at the least will know my purpose and thus, who and what you are. And there's no telling what kind of word got around to the common folk about the traitorous murderer called to accompany the Seed-Bearer. One look at my ojih and I think a lot of people will put it together. You won't be able to hide so much out there. Neither of us will."

Ridahne sighed with a kind of exhausted air. "What's more, you can bet that we'll be brought to the Court. I at least will have to go in order to get a nimarih." Ridahne shaped her fingers like a circlet and mimed putting on her head. "Or else every eija and eija-alihn, every taja and every able-bodied do-gooder would pounce on me like hunting cats, and I'd be endlessly harassed, potentially assaulted, definitely arrested, and likely refused service anywhere and everywhere. I have to get a symbol to show I have leave to be there and to be alive." She made a grim expression. "Azurians do not take kindly to betrayal, and especially not regicide, and I can guarantee you most people won't even know half the story." She set her jaw and a kind of cold fierceness settled on her. "Every story needs a villain. And the best villains are the ones that are the most believable. What's more believable than a beloved leader assassinated by a depraved madwoman? Even with a nimarih it's going to be..."

Ridahne turned away. There was anger in her voice but it wasn't directed at Darin, nor was it directed at the people of Azurei. If they did not know the truth, how could she blame them for filling in the story? If she had served a Sol who was just and honorable and good, and she had been assassinated, Ridahne would be outraged too. She was angry at fate--no. No. She was angry at Khaltira-Sol. And for the first time, right there in the shadowed little room, Ridahne realized that. Not at herself. Not at fate. Her. She whom Ridahne had served and protected, defended and obeyed.

The elf's hand was coiled around her other arm like a rope, her knuckles white from the effort. And with her back to Darin she took forcibly controlled, deep breaths. One. Two. Three. Four. And then, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin with the pride and fierceness of the ocean in storm, Ridahne released her grip on her own arm and turned back to face Darin. Her amber eyes were bright with the threat of tears that had not yet fallen. But everything else about her was the picture of control, poise, and dignity. She'd been taught over the decades to never let anyone see her waver or fall. Physically, emotionally, or otherwise. None but a select few like her family or Ajoran. And, she supposed, Darin ought to be added to that list at some point. But old habits live long and die hard. So she swallowed her rage, her fear, and the crushing weight of loss like she'd been taught. "No," she said, her voice even. "I don't intend to go back to Azurei in anything resembling a straight line. We'll end up there eventually I think, but we have all of Eluri to wander first. If fate is good to us then we won't have to go there at all, but I have a feeling we will someday. And..." She took a slow breath and, recalling that Darin mentioned a desire to learn Azurian she said, "J'tuli ali'han--If I show my heart, or as you say, to be honest...I...have a lot of healing to do before I am ready to go back. I think I understand that now." She released a breath she didn't know she was holding. That was harder to admit than she thought.

Ridahne shrugged, and with that shrug she attempted to release some of the tension she still felt within her. "Day after tomorrow is fine by me. You are the one with the mission, after all. My mission is simply to keep you safe wherever you are. And anyway, it will be good to be indoors among friendly company for a while. There's no telling how long it will be before we find that again. But we should use that time wisely."
No worries mate!
Ridahne offered a little smirk. "You are a better patient than most. When I was younger I hunted for my family out in the Dust Sea. I got to know it very well, and I learned how to survive. So I made a living guiding people through it, for a while. Sometimes I would go out on a hunt and find some poor soul who tried to cross it themselves without knowing what they were doing. Or some who did, but fortune was not on their side. One man was cut up badly and I had to sew him up in a couple spots. Both my cat and I had to sit on him to keep him still because he kept squirming and screaming." She laughed. "He was fine in the end. I saw to that. But he was a big strong man, and he did worse than you."

Ridahne was cleaning her supplies and putting everything neatly into its place in her kit as she listened to Darin. She wasn't sure what she expected the girl to say the bird's name was, but 'Taja' was not on the list of likely possibilities. The elf's face went studiously blank as she stopped and looked at her companion. "Arm? You want to name him 'Arm'?" She blinked rapidly but quickly added, "I mean, you can. There's nothing against it and if that's really what you want to name him, then okay. But just as long as you know what it means." She smiled, actually showing teeth this time. "Ajoran might have a few things to say about that, but he doesn't get a say." Her tone was jesting, but as she thought of the man she loved, her smile faded. She tried not to think about him too much because it hurt when she did. It bothered her that Darin thought she'd abandoned him--it just wasn't like that.

It looked like she was going to clam up as usual, but surprisingly she opened her mouth to speak again. "Did I tell you he carved this himself?" She hooked a finger around the necklace she wore and pulled the pendant up from under her shirt. The carnelian spiral glinted in the sunlight, and in the solid circle in the center was a carved design highlighted in white paint that resembled the seahorse pin that fastened the rust-red sash around Ridahne's waist. "In Auzurei, we do not exchange rings. We exchange tokih." She tugged the large bone earring that dangled from her right ear and was embellished with fine scrimshaw. "See, the tokih represents your family and where you are from. It's how Tax knew I was a Torzinei without me telling him. Bone means I come from Atakhara. When a man wants to marry a woman in Azurei, he makes her a tokih to match his to show everyone that she is part of his family now. But he must carve it himself, and as he makes it he must think of her so that she will carry a symbol of his love for her. Carnelian is of Insmarr, in the mountains, but he wanted to keep my family name, so he put the Torzinei crest on it. If we marry someday, he will put one like it in his ear, and this one in mine, and he will be Ajoran Torzinei."

Her cheeks went red, and she put the pendant back under her shirt. "I don't know why I told you any of that. Anyway...you'll meet him someday soon when we go to Azurei." She wrapped up her kit and stood. "Let's go see your bird, yes? I'd like to properly meet him."
Rohaan just sort of shook his head and gave a distracted shrug. "Dunno...but I know whenever Berlin stands like an admiral instead of a pirate, somethin's up. Somethin' bigger than just another ship 'cause we just burn those." He said this casually. What else would one do with another ship? "Maybe...I think your lin...ment is gonna have to wait." The boy didn't move yet, but he didn't relax either and stood at the ready for whatever his Captain ordered. The command came even sooner than he thought.

--

Berlin waited in suspense as Pieter looked out at the anomaly on the horizon, and though he wouldn't have guessed it himself, Pieter's answer somehow didn't surprise him. That shape would be a dragon, wouldn't it? But then...he'd never once seen a dragon in these parts that wasn't Rohaan. And especially not one on the ocean and not one that...big. He was used to cyradan, which were somewhat small as far as dragon species went, so maybe that wasn't unusual. He didn't know. Really, he didn't know much about dragons, but he knew who did.

"Rheoaan!" It was an order. The lad knew it and sprang from Hana's side as a bird and glided from the aftdeck to where Berlin stood, crossing the space in the same amount of time it would have taken him to just reach the stairs if he'd walked. The boy shifted back and landed with a couple steps to stop his momentum and stood alert at Berlin's side. To his surprise, Berlin knelt down to his level. "Drop this and I'll kill you, lad," he said in a soft tone, holding out the spyglass. When Rohaan blinked up at him in confusion, he explained, "There's that dark shape out there, see? Take a look and tell me what you can see."
"Me?"
"Aye. You happen to be our dragon expert."

Rohaan's eyes widened in recognition and he nodded, carefully taking the device and fitting into his eye. He had about as much trouble as Pieter keeping it steady, so Berlin put a gentle hand over his to offer a bit more stability. The man knew that when the boy scowled, he'd found his mark.
"It's them! It's the gal..gal..."
"Galley, lad. Aye. But the dragon. Is that a dragon?"
"Uhm...well it looks like one. But not one I ever seen. It's real big. Like way big. And kinda weird colored but I seen 'em in lotsa colors so I dunno. Can I go? I wanna see it." And more grimly he added, "And I want to get them."
"There's more than likely live slaves on that ship. Do you want to burn them alive?"
Rohaan looked a little stunned; he hadn't thought of that. "No."
"Then go look. Don't get in over your head. We'll be on them in maybe an hour and a half or something and we'll engage them properly then. Aye?"
"Aye."

The young shifter hopped up onto the gunnel and vaulted off it; the boy's shape disappeared behind the side of the ship and what came back up was a cyradan, bioluminescent red stripes pulsing and flashing as he pumped his wings for more speed and altitude. Berlin watched him go and desperately wished he could have ridden on Rohaan's back to see for himself, but the lad was sore already from training and he would be faster and more agile alone. So he watched the sleek dark shape soar off towards the distant one, and when the vokurian was too far to see with the naked eye he watched through the spyglass.

--

Uban was perhaps the only person on the ship not at all concerned. He was too exhausted for it. Sending Rohaan out to investigate something wasn't that unusual either, so he didn't give that much thought. He sucked at his lime as he squinted out to the horizon, seeing nothing in particular of note yet. But squinting brought his eyelids even closer together, and they closed. "Mm, right," he said to Wheel through a lime wedge. He forced his eyes back open. Come to think of it, something did seem a bit off. The way Berlin and Pieter were standing made him sure of that. Curious... Unbidden, the memory of the encounter with the turtle came to his drifting mind and he softly muttered the last thing the turtle had said to them, "Watch out for a rotting eel..."

Uban fell asleep with a lime still between his teeth and his chin on his chest as his tin mug finally clattered to the deck and rolled away.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet