"As you will, Mademoiselle Beauchamp," Antonia said pleasantly, still smiling warmly herself and taking the first mate's attempt at the semblance for what it might be worth. The rogue took up the newly freed bottle of rum that had, just moments before, been under threat of shattering in the first mate's grip - and turned her gaze to the helmsman curiously. He took her by surprise, a sensation she found oddly pleasant, with his own light-hearted request for a drink of bumbo, breaking the near palpable tension about the woman - not so much with his words of course, but by his own irreverent lightness.
"You'll not regret it, Monsieur Jax, trying the bumbo. You'll see - you'll never want piss water grog again, I… Guarantee… " Her voice trailed off slowly though, doing her level best not to scowl at Thomas when he chided her – and by extension, his Maman and Papa - regarding the original gold piece for Luc. She bit her tongue as she moved behind the bar, listening to his tale without interruption – and then smiled, softly, genuinely when he was finished.
Ah, Captain Lightfoot. The first Captain Lightfoot of course, Thomas’ adopted father. That was a very old gold coin her lovely man rolled so easily between his long fingersHow dearly he loved that man, treasured the years he’d spent, all he’d learned at his side. Antonia smiled to herself as she poured the cool water into the flagon for the rum mixture, knowing Thomas’ heart on the matter, and knowing she would not have it in her to return his gentle chiding. Thomas would be Thomas, and would always do as he saw best, as the First Mate was discovering.
Though it seemed Luc might have a thing or two to say for himself, and his words tickled his Tante ‘Tonia to no end, giggling softly to herself as she listened.
The boy’s dark, amber-lit eyes grew even larger at the sight of the second gold piece in a single day, and attended every last word Captain Lightfoot had to say, nodding his head thoughtfully. “Did you know, Capitaine Lightfoot, that Tante ‘Tonia says the first gold piece will bring a tutor to teach me about the stars? Charts, navigation – all the knowledge to pilot my own ship one day if I like.“ There was a warm smile for the helmsman, before his eyes returned to Thomas.
“And now a second? A man will give me gold while I am young. Who’s to say this won’t be start of my all my fortunes then, for all I will have one day?” Luc couldn’t help a glance toward the lovely Nicolette at his words, though he was mindful of Tante ‘Tonia’s admonition and looked away just as swiftly, and did not stare.
“Yes, I shall change my life for the price of Maman’s pound cake then,” Luc said a bit cheekily, with an impish grin as he looked up to the copper-eyed man, getting to his own bare feet, “You’ll not regret this, sir.”
Luc paid little attention to the ship talk, though he waved the helmsman closer when he offered his help with the pound cake. The boy might have even taken the man’s hand as they walked to the kitchens, but for the mortification of seeming no more than a child before the angelic Nicolette. As he fell into step beside Jax toward the kitchens, he spoke easily as they walked.
“Tante ‘Tonia says there is wisdom in stories, Monsieur Jax,” Luc said with a sweet smile for the man, “And she tells so many. I would still like to hear your tale as well, if you’ve a mind. Wisdom, and knowledge, and fortune all in a single night? I don’t know why Maman and Papa will not allow me to stay up so late every night!”
Igraine Member
- Last Seen: 10 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Igraine
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1282 (0.28 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Igraine 12 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
*gently pats Derren* We got cold, but no snow - that's just evil ><
Nothing so exciting this week, only because there's a big test on Tuesday of next week for me, so after I get home from school all day tomorrow, it's just study study study :( SO PLEASE, SOMEONE have genuinely exciting and wonderful plans for this week, please!?
Nothing so exciting this week, only because there's a big test on Tuesday of next week for me, so after I get home from school all day tomorrow, it's just study study study :( SO PLEASE, SOMEONE have genuinely exciting and wonderful plans for this week, please!?
Ice to fire. That was what was touching her lips, deliciously cold ice to the the arid desert of her throat and she was greedy, too greedy as she her head inched toward what had to be the source of that cool relief - and paid dearly. The pain that shot through every nerve in her body sang with an agony she had never known, her eyes wide open now and unseeing as she gasped, a thin sheen of sweat forming on her skin. Elke knew she lay on her side on hard, cold ground of some sort, uneven beneath her. The fingers of one hand dared to move, the tips touching the surface she lay on, feeling, and then grasping… Soil?
It could be nothing else, soft and giving and wedged now beneath her fingernails. Her eyes half-lidded now, still unable to focus completely, to get her bearings, Elke could still make out the wavering outline of light in front of her where she lay, an orange light that radiated warmth on the skin of her fingers, delicious warmth though she began shivering uncontrollably from head to toe.
She knew she wasn’t dead. That one thing she was sure of because, if nothing else, the pain alone promised death hadn’t claimed her.
Yet.
Elke felt a thousand blades shredding her gut, all her agony radiating from that point, up and down her spine, and somehow she felt sure she deserved every last measure of that pain, memories she knew would flood back to her in their course only just banging furiously at the doors of her addled consciousness.
Small, incremental pieces of this place wormed their way past the pain, through the fog that still enshrouded her thoughts. She lay on soil, dirt of some sort. There was a warm, soft glow, red-orange and inviting before her though her eyes could not make it out fully, and -
And she was not alone. Elke tried one more time to crane her neck upward, to see the half-lit semi-darkness hovering above her, the play of shadows and flickering orange light still refusing to coalesce in her eyes into anything recognizable, though surely… Surely this was the source of the sweet, refreshing ice? With an aching slowness, the fingers that had grasped the soil crawled toward where she thought… She hoped she’d find a boot, her fingers splayed over what must be a foot.
Elke peered upward toward the cooler shadows above, blinking and grimacing as if she could force her eyes to focus by sheer power of her will alone. “Whe…” Elke coughed, choking on the word as she began to retch, her body racked with spasms until a gobbet of something coppery-tasting and dark finally fell from her lips and dribbled into the dirt.
She caught her breath slowly again, and tried once more to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Where… Where am I?”
It could be nothing else, soft and giving and wedged now beneath her fingernails. Her eyes half-lidded now, still unable to focus completely, to get her bearings, Elke could still make out the wavering outline of light in front of her where she lay, an orange light that radiated warmth on the skin of her fingers, delicious warmth though she began shivering uncontrollably from head to toe.
She knew she wasn’t dead. That one thing she was sure of because, if nothing else, the pain alone promised death hadn’t claimed her.
Yet.
Elke felt a thousand blades shredding her gut, all her agony radiating from that point, up and down her spine, and somehow she felt sure she deserved every last measure of that pain, memories she knew would flood back to her in their course only just banging furiously at the doors of her addled consciousness.
Small, incremental pieces of this place wormed their way past the pain, through the fog that still enshrouded her thoughts. She lay on soil, dirt of some sort. There was a warm, soft glow, red-orange and inviting before her though her eyes could not make it out fully, and -
And she was not alone. Elke tried one more time to crane her neck upward, to see the half-lit semi-darkness hovering above her, the play of shadows and flickering orange light still refusing to coalesce in her eyes into anything recognizable, though surely… Surely this was the source of the sweet, refreshing ice? With an aching slowness, the fingers that had grasped the soil crawled toward where she thought… She hoped she’d find a boot, her fingers splayed over what must be a foot.
Elke peered upward toward the cooler shadows above, blinking and grimacing as if she could force her eyes to focus by sheer power of her will alone. “Whe…” Elke coughed, choking on the word as she began to retch, her body racked with spasms until a gobbet of something coppery-tasting and dark finally fell from her lips and dribbled into the dirt.
She caught her breath slowly again, and tried once more to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Where… Where am I?”
I'm so glad RoadRash - it was a lot of fun to write, remembering those younger years again when everything in your head sounds so much better than whatever gosh-awful mess actually trips off the tongue - usually face-first!
Yup it is! *happy dances* Thank heaven, all is well again - and we can get back to the writings and the playings! XD
Sleep and rest sound lovelier by the moment, to be honest ;) I should have an Elke post up this evening!
*sheeeeeesh* Wordsmith! Well, all I can say is... Uh... Yeah overtime? >< Glad to see you again, and enjoy your rest hon, you deserve it, and looking forward to having you doing the "catching up!"
Wonderful posts, Dot and Derren - then again, there's very little either one of you writes (read: none) that isn't, so it wasn't terribly surprising to find such quality ;)
Andastra, unless you are waiting for someone in particular, there is no reason for you to feel the need to hold off on writing a post. We don't necessarily stand on some firm "posting order" here
eta: And even if you think it's a long shot, Dot? Still wishing you much luck in the photo contest! Toddlers really are adorable, and it must have been fun XD
Wonderful posts, Dot and Derren - then again, there's very little either one of you writes (read: none) that isn't, so it wasn't terribly surprising to find such quality ;)
Andastra, unless you are waiting for someone in particular, there is no reason for you to feel the need to hold off on writing a post. We don't necessarily stand on some firm "posting order" here
eta: And even if you think it's a long shot, Dot? Still wishing you much luck in the photo contest! Toddlers really are adorable, and it must have been fun XD
All set then, the second half for Svala and a little Hallerna too. Sorry for the length, didn't intend either to go on as long as they did, but... well... >.> oops? And I was thinking tomorrow evening if that works for you all?
'Oh Eyja... '
Svala bit her lower lip, frowning with a hint of frustration as she watched her little sister run to the healing house, to Raudr and the quiet man of Ragnar's, the one who'd earned her smile. Oh, it wasn't that Eyja was doing or being anything other than her most Eyja-like self this morning. Svala knew very well, her sister's heart was as large and bright as the summer sun in a cloudless sky. But in the end she was only ever just a little girl, and could neither know nor see all things, after all, nor understand how brittle Madir's iron strength was slowly becoming.
The young woman cast a sideways glance to her mother. None of these people in Trellesborg knew Hallerna Halfdannarsdottir as she and Eyja did. Oh, Madir had always been unnaturally strong, a hard, unrelenting worker and a shrewd manager of house and hearth, never a woman to be taken lightly. But no one here knew how easily and naturally the wide, pretty smile on her face had once appeared; how her laughter could carry the length of the longhouse, to dance out the door and across the yard to the fields on the very breezes. No one had yet heard how lovely her Madir's voice was when she sang, low and warm and comforting as her embrace.
All Svala could see now was the dark, bruised looking skin under her mother's eyes, and the shadows just beginning to haunt the hollows of her cheeks. Even when Madir slept, she did not truly dream. Not anymore. Thin as Orran's precious paper was her rest, clutching Eyja close beneath the furs as if she feared to let her vigilance fall, should anything come in the night once more. She ate, but never as much as she should, always pushing the best of what was to be had onto Eyja's plate, or her own, as if Svala couldn't see what she was doing well enough.
Yesterday she had done the work of any man in the village, and then did so all over at Trellesborg when they returned with their cargo. She had tended to those in the healing house, had sewn Tora's ghastly wounds - and at the end of the day, discovered that all her effort was for naught, if the sanctuary she thought they had found here was only the thinnest veneer of safety. Her eldest daughter had to kill a man to defend her life, and now would learn swordplay under the tutelage of the Christian foreigner who had saved them.
And the final blow to what small peace of mind she had thought to carve out for them here in Trellesborg: the remnants of her family must avail themselves of the kindness of the housekarl Loker for their safety, possibly for their very lives. Svala had watched her mother wrap the keys to their lost farmstead, the home they would likely never see again, knowing that in Hallerna's eyes, even the pretense of hope had become more burden than she could shoulder anymore. No, her Madir's loss was no more nor less than that of many refugees in Trellesborg, husband and son and home - but that did not mean the grief cost her any less to bear.
Madir never snapped at Eyja. Not ever. Svala saw her mother wince, the near instant regret in those deep blue eyes the moment those sharp words left her tongue. And the fact Hallerna had to pretend to look to the skies for a long moment when Eyja slipped away to Raudr, to blink back tears she would never allow to fall in front of her daughters, only troubled Svala's heart all the more.
"I will fetch her," Svala said as she took her mother's hand in her own, squeezing those strong, calloused fingers with as sweet and genuine smile as she could muster. The young woman shouldered the bag she carried easily, catching Hallerna's tight, thin attempt at an approving smile, and kept it close for what is was.
Still, the young woman's smile could not help but grow as she approached the healing house, amazed that even with her arms full of unspeakably lazy cat, Eyja still somehow managed to appear ready to burst into song or flight, Svala was never truly sure which. She lay her free hand on her little sister's shoulder, tapping her gently for her attention.
"Eyja, come away - you can play later. Madir is waiting on us," Svala bent to whisper before standing to her full height once more.
"Good morning Raudr," she said kindly, noting the proud light in his eyes and the fine blade Svala knew very well was not in the boy's possession only yesterday. "You are looking quite impressive today."
Her gaze turned to the tall, darker man standing beside the boy. "And to you as well... I mean, the 'good morning' of course," Svala added hastily, "Not the looking impressive - though you do! I didn't mean that you don't, only that... "
Svala began to laugh, at herself of course, at her own foolishness, her cheeks blushing nearly as bright a red as the dress she wore. She likely should have stuck with the "simply smiling." Apparently that tack worked far better for her than actual conversation.
"Only that I am making a terrible mess of this. There was precious little time last night to say as much, but we thank you for yesterday. Truly."
Svala bit her lower lip, frowning with a hint of frustration as she watched her little sister run to the healing house, to Raudr and the quiet man of Ragnar's, the one who'd earned her smile. Oh, it wasn't that Eyja was doing or being anything other than her most Eyja-like self this morning. Svala knew very well, her sister's heart was as large and bright as the summer sun in a cloudless sky. But in the end she was only ever just a little girl, and could neither know nor see all things, after all, nor understand how brittle Madir's iron strength was slowly becoming.
The young woman cast a sideways glance to her mother. None of these people in Trellesborg knew Hallerna Halfdannarsdottir as she and Eyja did. Oh, Madir had always been unnaturally strong, a hard, unrelenting worker and a shrewd manager of house and hearth, never a woman to be taken lightly. But no one here knew how easily and naturally the wide, pretty smile on her face had once appeared; how her laughter could carry the length of the longhouse, to dance out the door and across the yard to the fields on the very breezes. No one had yet heard how lovely her Madir's voice was when she sang, low and warm and comforting as her embrace.
All Svala could see now was the dark, bruised looking skin under her mother's eyes, and the shadows just beginning to haunt the hollows of her cheeks. Even when Madir slept, she did not truly dream. Not anymore. Thin as Orran's precious paper was her rest, clutching Eyja close beneath the furs as if she feared to let her vigilance fall, should anything come in the night once more. She ate, but never as much as she should, always pushing the best of what was to be had onto Eyja's plate, or her own, as if Svala couldn't see what she was doing well enough.
Yesterday she had done the work of any man in the village, and then did so all over at Trellesborg when they returned with their cargo. She had tended to those in the healing house, had sewn Tora's ghastly wounds - and at the end of the day, discovered that all her effort was for naught, if the sanctuary she thought they had found here was only the thinnest veneer of safety. Her eldest daughter had to kill a man to defend her life, and now would learn swordplay under the tutelage of the Christian foreigner who had saved them.
And the final blow to what small peace of mind she had thought to carve out for them here in Trellesborg: the remnants of her family must avail themselves of the kindness of the housekarl Loker for their safety, possibly for their very lives. Svala had watched her mother wrap the keys to their lost farmstead, the home they would likely never see again, knowing that in Hallerna's eyes, even the pretense of hope had become more burden than she could shoulder anymore. No, her Madir's loss was no more nor less than that of many refugees in Trellesborg, husband and son and home - but that did not mean the grief cost her any less to bear.
Madir never snapped at Eyja. Not ever. Svala saw her mother wince, the near instant regret in those deep blue eyes the moment those sharp words left her tongue. And the fact Hallerna had to pretend to look to the skies for a long moment when Eyja slipped away to Raudr, to blink back tears she would never allow to fall in front of her daughters, only troubled Svala's heart all the more.
"I will fetch her," Svala said as she took her mother's hand in her own, squeezing those strong, calloused fingers with as sweet and genuine smile as she could muster. The young woman shouldered the bag she carried easily, catching Hallerna's tight, thin attempt at an approving smile, and kept it close for what is was.
Still, the young woman's smile could not help but grow as she approached the healing house, amazed that even with her arms full of unspeakably lazy cat, Eyja still somehow managed to appear ready to burst into song or flight, Svala was never truly sure which. She lay her free hand on her little sister's shoulder, tapping her gently for her attention.
"Eyja, come away - you can play later. Madir is waiting on us," Svala bent to whisper before standing to her full height once more.
"Good morning Raudr," she said kindly, noting the proud light in his eyes and the fine blade Svala knew very well was not in the boy's possession only yesterday. "You are looking quite impressive today."
Her gaze turned to the tall, darker man standing beside the boy. "And to you as well... I mean, the 'good morning' of course," Svala added hastily, "Not the looking impressive - though you do! I didn't mean that you don't, only that... "
Svala began to laugh, at herself of course, at her own foolishness, her cheeks blushing nearly as bright a red as the dress she wore. She likely should have stuck with the "simply smiling." Apparently that tack worked far better for her than actual conversation.
"Only that I am making a terrible mess of this. There was precious little time last night to say as much, but we thank you for yesterday. Truly."
Outstanding Dot! I'd worried I'd left you with too little, or just a hot mess you didn't want to deal with or... Something? >< Wasn't sure which and...
Well looky there! Ask and you shall receive from our beloved GM, no?
Well looky there! Ask and you shall receive from our beloved GM, no?
© 2007-2026