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I love trains ♥
So naturally this plot draws me in ^.^
I will get a character up too! Hopefully I can snag a spot between all these other female characters.
Ah that's too bad. Thanks for letting us know!
I will subscribe just in case xxx
If you'd like I can work on something with you on Discord? I am still partnerless ^.^
As a mage preferably ♥
I have to take a small break from this roleplay. I am too bussy with the coming holidays and schoolwork to properly focus.
Which you have probably noticed by the long wait between posts from me.
Does that work for you?
I will be posting tonight!
Sorry for the delay.
Mira was overcome with a sudden and overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. The sight of the wood carvings struck a cord deep within her. Their tragic beauty filling her with a sense of wistfulness. An involuntary tear ran down her cheek. She was touched, to be reunited in a sense. The cold drop of water tickled on her cheek and she brushed it away, momentarily at a loss for words. The young woman carefully took one of the carvings into her hands, holding it close to her heart. She drew in a shaky breath and looked at Ryland.

"They are a work of true art, you should be proud." Her voice cracked in the end, revealing she was moved beyond words by his creations.

The fact that Ryland doubted his own talents made Mira suspect he was not much appreciated on board of this ship. Perhaps as a crew member but not as an artist. She also knew the town well enough to conclude his wood carvings would not sell well. Not because they weren't worth anything, but because most folks barely had any spare coin to spend, whatever they had left they used for drink.

"I would like to buy one if you are ready to part with them" She said, still holding one of the wood carvings. She held it with such gentleness you'd think it was made of glass. Mira retrieved a sachet of large pearls she'd kept hidden from Faflon. If she had learned anything in the time she'd spent with him it was the fact that he only ever took things. She let a few precious pearls roll from the sachet onto her palm. It was the right of the artist to determine a price.

"This is the only currency I have." Mira had blessed these pearls under the moonlight, to protect the ones at sea from troubling storms.
"They are lucky pearls, they'll protect you"
"No need, I will follow you there" Mira replied calmly.

She began to move towards the docks, glancing over her shoulder once, to make sure he would be leading the way. So his name was Ryland....
It was foreign enough she could tell he wasn't from this town or the next, but it was not so specific she could determine where the sailor was born. Chances were he was born on a ship, so that would make the sea his birthplace, like it had been hers many years ago.

As the ship grew closer Mira began to feel a feeling of uneasiness she hadn't felt in a long time. The wood was aged and touched by the sea, hints of green could be found here and there, mostly on the bottom of the ship. Sea algae and clumps of seaweed swayed in the water below. The young woman took a deep breath before stepping on board. Many of her older memories were vague recollections, probably to protect her from going mad. Her forgetfulness was her savior, but it made the feeling of unease difficult to fathom. It was like a fog clouding her mind.

Mira was curious to see his depiction of the sea maidens. It would the first time in almost a century she would once again see them. She waited for Ryland to find her wooden sisters, watching the sea from the edge of the deck quietly.

It would be safe to say Faflon was unimpressed by the amateur woodcarvings of the sailor. His choices as a merchant may have been questionable at times but he knew when to cut his losses. He did not appreciate the captain the misuse of his name by the captain. What would become of his reputation overseas if the woman could not even pronounce his name?

The merchant made no effort to hide the disinterest clearly showing on his face and heard in his tone voice.
"Mira dear, I'll let you decide if they are worth something, you have an eye for such rattletraps and trinkets."
With that Faflon turned his back to them, his expensive robes flapping in the wind. He made his way back to the village feeling worse with every step he took, realizing he had yet again created more losses. The prospect of earning some coin at the inn eased some of his worry.

Faflon had managed to once again put her in a compromising situation. Mira went out of her way to avoid unnecessary social interactions with strangers or even acquaintances for that matter. The constantly present gloom that hovered over her like a dark cloud made everything seem like a mountain to be climbed, tiresome and inescapable.

There was something about this sailor and his charming wood carvings however which stirred her heart. He was passionate about his creations and it made her feel the same. Ironically that was the best skill a merchant could possess, one Faflon did not have by any means. Mira held her shawl close to her to keep it from blowing away, as it was fluttering in the wind dangerously. She approached the sailor, grateful she did not have to introduce herself and admired his woodwork from up close. In her many years she'd seen plenty of them and they were beautiful in an unpracticed way. There were some novice mistakes along with some skillfully crafted details at the same time. It made each of them unique.

The young woman seemed to be lost in the details of the small statues, forgetting momentarily she was in the company of someone else. Then suddenly as if she was waking from a dream, she asked him one question.

"Did you make one of the sea maidens?"

Mira looked into his eyes, capturing them with her own. It was a strangely specific question she felt the urge to ask.
I noticed and it was good ^.^
The post went through a couple of changes. I was steering us to the village at first, the post was much longer back then. But I decided this would be a great opportunity for them to interact some more. We could go to the village after a time skip maybe.
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