Blackfridayrule

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Unlike a real opponent, Ridahne did not exploit her student's fall by charging in while she was down. If she was much more advanced, she would have, but she had decided long ago that the way to teach Darin was not brutality. Her first move was to hold out a hand for Darin to take, but the girl didn't seem inclined to get up, so she dropped it and squatted down beside her.

"Not bad, human," Ridahne teased with a smile. "You've got to work on keeping your feet, but I'll make a defender out of you yet." Ridahne did not say fighter, for she knew Darin was not and never would be. It had nothing to do with skill but everything to do with personality. Ridahne was the type to jump headlong into a fight whereas Darin wasn't generally inclined to unless she felt like she had to. Ridahne got the impression the human girl would rather fight for someone who could not fight for themselves rather than fight for its own sake. That was admirable.

The elf smiled somewhat reflectively and said, "You remind me of Hadian. I think you will like him when you meet him someday. He is like me, but yet unlike me in many ways. I am fire and he is water. He is a man of the sea, which is as close to farm work as we get in Azurei. Anyway. I think you'll like him." She didn't say 'better than you like me' but she did think it, and without any bitterness either. She knew they were different people. She understood. But she really did think Darin and Hadian would get along.

Ridahne sat down and wordlessly took Darin's injured arm, undoing the leather brace to inspect the wound. Satisfied that it had done its job, she put it back on. "Keep that on for a while, it will keep it protected. Might be good to have for Taja, too, until you make yourself some real falconry leathers."

Darin talked about the legend of Ravi and Ridahne had to laugh. Not at the story itself, but at how different hers was. The heart of it was similar, but it reflected her culture for sure. "I heard a different story. Ravi was a good man who loved a woman, a good woman, but one day she died in some tragedy, and he could never bear losing her. And so one night he saw her ghost and thought she was real in his desperation to have her back. So he followed her into the Dust Sea and got lost. It is a very very bad place to get lost. He became dehydrated, he had blisters on his skin from the sun, and he was very hungry. And in his final moments he begged that no one would ever get lost in the Dust Sea or anywhere ever again. So he begged his ancestors to save others from this fate somehow. So as he died, his soul went to the night sky and he became a star, but his body stayed behind and became a pillar of rock. I have seen Ravi's Pillar myself, I have used it to navigate many times. It is known for being a shelter for those crossing the Dust Sea because there is a tiny, tiny spring beneath the rock that comes up and out so that if you know where to look, you can get water even in the desert. I wonder what the Siren's legend is concerning Ravi..."

Ridahne laid on her back, one knee propped up and studied the stars too. "We're being watched..." she said with a dry sigh. "Should I bark at him like a good dog until he goes away?" Ridahne actually snorted with laughter at her own joke.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne nodded slowly, understanding. She was much the opposite, she had a lot of wandering blood growing up. She'd been groomed for fishing, as that was her family's occupation that was passed down for generations. Hadian fished, and he liked it. "Good honest work," he called it. But Ridahne always wanted more. She wanted to know what was beyond the sea, to know about the other parts of Astra and of forests and lush gardens. She wanted to be more. And oh, she got it alright. And then some... But still, she knew the feeling. Up until recent events, Ridahne was quite content with the way her life was. She traveled often, had some level of status and freedom and enough money to live comfortably, and she had Ajoran and her brother. Leaving that had been hard and honestly, it still was. And she knew with deep pain what it felt like to know that the home she loved would never be home again, not in the same way. It was different for Ridahne, but she understood all the same. "For whatever it's worth...I'm sorry." It was spoken not as a servant to a master, or anything else so formal. It was spoken casually, truthfully.

Ridahne smiled and stood. "No, Darin. I'm not here to kick your butt. I am here to teach you. You will get bruised in the process, but that is not my aim. At least...not yet..." she gave a wicked smile that was still light with jest as she opened up one of the bundles she brought. It contained two sticks, one more straight and the other obviously curved, almost like a sickle. It also contained a leather vambrace, which she picked up first.

"Here, give me your injured arm, this will protect it. I don't want to injure it further. We will not even touch blades today. The Azurei way is very slow, and you must master each phase before moving on to the next. However, you are not an elf and you do not have fifty years to study the blade, so I will make adjustments as I see fit, but I will keep the heart of the training methods. Now, stand like this..." Ridahne dropped into a wide, loose stance with her knees slightly bent and feet a little bit apart. "You must be comfortable and able to move, and not easily knocked out of balance. While we train, practice moving your feet. Now, the first thing you will learn is body language. In order to know what your opponent will do in time to block it or use it against them, you have to know how to read their body. The easiest way to start learning this is simply to block my hands." Ridahne held her right hand out flat. "A blade is simply an extension of your arm, so you will begin by using your arms. I will try and hit you with my hands, and you must use yours to block them. For today, I will not move faster than you can handle--again, my aim is not to beat you, it is to teach you. Later, I will push you harder. After we're finished, we will practice a little with sticks to get you used to having something in your hands to swing around. Ready?"

Ridahne closed in and with her "bladed" right hand, she made a simple swing at Darin's upper arm at a slower speed that gave Darin plenty of time to react. The elf did this a few times, striking from different directions at different points, and eventually she upped her speed just a little, though it was still manageable. If Darin ever faltered or missed, and Ridahne's aim struck true, she would hit with just enough force to make the point, though not enough to hurt. If struck in the same place multiple times, it would eventually bruise, but one or two strikes wouldn't quite be enough for that. She'd spoken true when she said she was not out to beat Darin bloody. Ridahne's control was evident. Along the way, she would give pointers or encourage Darin when she was on the right track. Despite the elf's usually prickly demeanor, she was not a harsh teacher, not yet. There would come a time for harshness, but not until Darin grew in her skills to the point where it would actually teach her something and push her skills further rather than just give her welts.

Ridahne's teacher had not been so merciful. She hadn't been cruel exactly, but she was relentless. Her teacher had worked her in the hot sun, or late on moonless nights to stumble in the darkness. Her teacher had thought directed pain would be the best punishment, incentive, and instructor. Ridahne frequently came back bruised all over, occasionally shallowly cut (when they did progress to swords), always exhausted, and often less hydrated than she should have been. Yet her teacher would be the first to give her cool water when they were finished, the first to treat her cuts, and would aggressively defend Ridahne's sleep time so her student could be rested for the next day. She hadn't been unkind, but those first few years were hard and Ridahne did not want to subject Darin to that kind of treatment.

In Dark Seas We Sail

Rohaan couldn't figure out where these people were from, but he wasn't fully convinced they were human. One had...tentacles. Maybe he'd ask Pieter about it, he seemed to know about things with tentacles. At any rate, they knew what he was. Though it would have seemed obvious, he didn't think about the fact that shifting in front of them would mark him as a shifter. He was too focused on what he wanted to pay attention to that. It put him a bit on edge, as people were never kind to shifters, but he did note the aim of the gun lower...a little. He shivered--he did not have the hide of a dragon in this form, nor did he have one of those quilted jackets the riders had. Which vaguely reminded him that he had no winter gear that fit him anymore--last year's was too small. That was a later problem.

He didn't want to let the ship go, but he could hear the beating of the drums increase even over the rushing wind. He could see that they were gaining speed fast. They'd lose them. His bright eyes flicked from the woman in front of him to the ship below and he wanted desperately to shoot down there and burn them all. He would make the ocean red with their blood. They would all suffer. But...he was alone. His crew was still too far out, and they had a lot of guns. If he got shot again, Hana might be able to fix him up again...if he didn't just die first.

It looked for a while like the blonde man would jump into the air in pursuit once more; he was tensed and poised to move, but he seemed undecided. Finally he made up his mind, though it seemed to pain him. Later. They would die later.

"Will you speak to my Captain? He would like to learn of you." Rohaan tried to keep his responses simple and short, as he was decent at imitating the way adults spoke and even more decent with Carisian, but he was not perfect and he knew it. He wasn't ready to reveal his true age just yet. Not alone. "I can take you, and can return you when you are finished. But know that ship down there is as good as burned. If not right now, then later, I will see it to ash. Will you come?"

Rohaan didn't exactly want to have her on his back--he didn't know her and wasn't sure he liked her. But more strongly he needed Berlin to handle this. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, engaging them in the first place, but he had no idea how to handle it now that he did. Berlin would.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne watched silently as Darin rebuked Ravi, and it took everything in her to stop from applauding her companion. When they'd first met, Ridahne had wrongly pegged Darin as a little mousy, but by now she knew she had just as much fire in her as Ridahne did, it just came out in a different way. Ridahne approved. She'd seen a trend among human women, where they were quiet and docile creatures. Some probably were in truth, but some Ridahne guessed were taught to behave that way. Some human males liked their women quiet. She never understood that, but she was all the more thankful that Darin was not one of those types. She did what she wanted, did what she felt she had to do, what was right.

Darin stormed off and Ridahne watched her go. She would follow eventually, but she would give the human some space, too. Because Ridahne was a pragmatic person, she put the contents of Darin's plate onto a cloth napkin and wrapped it up in a neat bundle for later. She'd want it when they were done training. Ridahne finished her own food quickly, and when she did, she stood, bowed to her hosts, and said to Ravi, "You were right. We are more alike than I guessed." And taking Darin's food with her, she left to go find her.

There was a whole flock of animals clustered around Darin. Animals that never would rightly be together like rabbits and foxes and yet they were there together for that moment. Ridahne approached and greeted Talbot with a few strokes of his silky neck, then sat near Darin with remarkable resemblance to the barn cat that lingered near by. She had two bundles in her arms, one was clearly a table napkin and the other was larger and the contents were elongated. She set both aside.

"For what it's worth, Darin, I thought you did well back there." Ridahne offered one of her rare, genuine smiles. "You had every right. And.." this was more personal territory but she thought she'd risk it. "If you ask me, I think you'll see your mother again. And she will be proud of you." She did not add that she knew what it was like to miss home--Darin knew that already.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

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.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

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.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

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.

In Dark Seas We Sail

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 Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

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.

In Dark Seas We Sail

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.