Mcmolly

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

S o l i a

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Windward Island
Port Harbor, The Sunken Shephard
@SunsetWanderer

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Solia was not sure when the silent accord had been struck between them, if it had, but the gratefulness she felt for Evander’s reaction was only cemented further as he went on considering their strategy. He had, in a rather singular manner by her experience, deduced and accepted her nature at once. It was a remarkably kind gesture for a stranger, and one she hoped could be repaid with the potential rewards before them.

Her gratitude compelled her to insist on his preference for their approach, but reason reigned her in. There was in fact much for her to consider now, between the two options.

She’d seen Gullspire on her way in—a monolith in its own right, but she had spent decades traversing a spire many times its height. Not so long ago she would have leapt at the opportunity to scale Gullspire on aether wings. It would have been simple, quick. Now, however, she doubted her engine could manage to get her even a fraction of the way up, assuming she could even get off of the ground. She was not necessarily opposed to climbing, she could still climb the rock, given tools sturdy enough to support her. What concerned her was falling. With how heavy she was, reacting quick enough to any sudden problems was unlikely, and if she did fall, her body posed a terrible danger to any below her, and of course the ship itself. Supposing she took the time to separate herself from the group and climb away from the ship, they gained safety at the expense of time, and they might as well climb without her then anyway.

Despite all of this, the other option, somehow, appealed to her even less. As if in insult to Aruth’s nature, Father had designed his children to inhabit the skies, and not the oceans. True, they had plunged themselves beneath the waves to rescue sinking crews and precious cargo, and Solia could recall a sister who herself had come to prefer the water, but these were exceptions to a rule: Maelstrom’s angels belonged in the air.

And this, Solia knew, was simply an excuse. Any other time, she would have thrown herself into the sea without even a moment’s hesitation if called to do so. She could walk the bed of the ocean for days, or weeks. She had done just that when Maelstrom fell, drudged through reef and weed under the crushing silence of Mother Ocean’s forgotten depths. In a dark which drowned the light before it reached her.

Before father, when aether golems and angels were tied to their creator’s lives, the angels who passed on were buried in the deep, at the base of the island which was the Spire’s base. Solia had never seen it before she’d been cast down there. What is it that could rest at the base of Gullspire? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

But then she considered Evander, as she ought to have instead, anyway. He claimed not to have been on a dive in years, but he had experience with it. She wasn’t sure if he had any climbing, but her cursory knowledge of the Frozen Sea had her doubting there were many structures like Gullspire to practice on.

“As it stands,” she said, finally. “I...sink, much more reliably than I scale rock. It would be simplest, and I think safest for everyone if I were in the water instead. Of course I won’t impose a decision on you. If you find yourself more comfortable in a climbing harness than a diving suit as of late, I will readily accompany you in the climb.”

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

S o l i a

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Windward Island
Port Harbor, The Sunken Shephard
@SunsetWanderer@DruSM157

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Evander’s reaction was expected, albeit quite thankfully muted. She thought the grip lasted longer than necessary, but that was understandable. She pulled hers back first to lay back in her lap.

Silence. For a moment Solia thought all might actually be well. Then the dreaded question came. She couldn’t blame him, in fact to expect nothing from the inquisitive minds of people, in retrospect, seemed cruel. It was their want to know, and their right.

A man interrupted him, and Solia might have prayed thanks to Mother Ocean. He was mountainous in height, casting a shadow over their table that Solia welcomed. He seemed vexed, angry even, and it was a difficult impulse to reign in not asking him if he was alright. The fact that his outburst with the table of children had easily reached Evander and herself made it a bit easier. Clearly he had some connection with the fleeing boy, maybe as a mentor, maybe even familial. Regardless, it grieved her to see this man, whom she understood to be Chief Talu himself, berate the boy.

Nonetheless, he posed them questions, and she felt again that winding discomfort in preparing to answer.

And then Evander answered for her.

She’d lowered her head already, but tried to spy him from beneath her hood anyway. He didn’t seem upset, or afraid. Perhaps a bit quickened having to interject for her, but otherwise…

Solia nodded along with Evander’s answer, but readily took the opportunity to say nothing.

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

Alright so clearly this must be the part where Terhikki tries to tackle Talu.

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

S o l i a

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Windward Island
Port Harbor, The Sunken Shephard
@SunsetWanderer

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Father had a word for this—for when things went wrong. He’d muttered it in the workshop, almost every day, he’d whispered it in indignation when he’d chiseled an unintended flaw into his creations. He’d shouted it once, to her knowledge, when he stubbed his toe.

Damn.

Solia heavily considered doing nothing. Then she considered smiling again, and hoping that would suffice, but even she knew such an odd gesture would only facilitate further intrigue. In a game of social constructs, she was woefully outmatched, and intended or not, Evander had cornered her with a masterstroke.

She nodded, and shook his hand gently. “Partner.”

Throughout their conversation she hadn’t considered that it might have been construed as rude for her to have kept her head bowed away from him. It didn’t matter now, though, because as soon as their hands met she raised it.

Evander had hard eyes. Fantasy of the north had led her to expect blue, or white, or some thin color that could pierce the look of another. Instead they were earthen, and no less for it. Rather than pierce, they might have just as easily crushed, and buried. Solia felt for an instant like she was looking into the eyes of an enemy, that their battle could be won right here, right now, in a clash of gazes. Quickly, she realized better than that, but once again that nervous, inner shudder rocked through her.

She didn't know what he might learn from this contact. Simpler men had assumed her grip clammy and cold and dismissed it there, but those with keener senses knew flesh when they felt it, and when they didn't. It seemed a fair bet Evander would fall into the latter category.

She tried to plead with her eyes what she couldn’t speak aloud.

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

No happier paupers in the seven seas! @Fading Memory

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

S o l i a

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Windward Island
Port Harbor, The Sunken Shephard
@SunsetWanderer

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Solia had spent her life under scrutinous eyes—the eyes of Maelstrom’s people, the eyes of her siblings. The eyes of her father. She had weathered them proudly for decades, preened under the compliment of inspection. And yet now, and for weeks past, the eyes of strangers unsettled her. Stone was not given to quaking easily, though, and even for the disquiet within she endured Evander’s prying with utter stillness. Let him see, then. Let him know.

If indeed he had, and did, he said nothing of it. His reaction was entirely inscrutable to her, and though she was not yet fully accustomed to analyzing the full range of people's emotions, she was quite sure he was simply...tough to read. What he did offer brought her no less discomfort though—the truth. Her warm smile, having survived those tenser moments, withered then.
“You are right, it is not often. And what a terrible thing,” she said softly. Her stalwart softness returned. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Evander. My name is Solia.”

Content though she was that he had not gleaned her true nature, she did not offer her hand as she knew was customary in friendly greetings. She knew well enough to temper herself and not crush another’s hand, but others had remarked before how distinct the angel’s flesh felt. Not quite stone, yet far from flesh. Wholey unnatural.

“Indeed, I doubt the waves will be gentle with us. Though from what I’ve been told, you from the Frozen Sea are no strangers to harshness.”

A moment, if that, passed before she realized that perhaps she had conveyed that wrongly.

“Pardon. What I mean…” she stumbled, slightly. “Is that I’m sure you’ll have endured worse weather in your time. Might we have an agreement?”

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

S o l i a

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Windward Island
Port Harbor, The Sunken Shephard
@SunsetWanderer

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Solia followed the flick of Evander’s eyes, to the boisterous table not further in, and found herself smiling again. These too were children, older than the ones at the docks hoisted on their parents shoulders, but clearly no less excitable.

She lingered still, perhaps too long, on the Imperial girl. The group had clearly gathered to her. Unsurprising, few though they were, the Imperials that had visited Maelstrom Spire garnered no shortage of company. She wondered if, as with then, these children had come to her in hopes of currying favor with the Empire. If so, she wished them luck. It had not worked for her home, but it may for Windward Island.

Another question from Evander drew her back. This one she could answer just as readily.

“Certainly. These people are troubled, it would appear direly so. It is nice to see such a volume of volunteers, I can only hope it will be enough.”

She thought again of the children at their table, bragging their names and lineage and hopes for glory. It troubled her in no small measure that they too planned on making their way to Gullspire. Whatever awaited them there, she doubted it would be handled easily.

“If this forwardness is inappropriate, please forgive me,” she said, pulling her attention back to Evander. “But if you have come here so that your captain may trade, perhaps you might consider lending your own hand to this expedition. You seem experienced, capable. Windward Island could doubtlessly utilize your talents.”

She remembered then that, as often as she’d seen selfless acts among people, it was fair to expect payment for work done.

“If the reward troubles you, you should know I have no intentions of collecting on it myself. I’d gladly donate my share, should there be one, and any artifacts the chief has so generously allowed the divers to keep, in exchange for your time.”

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

S o l i a

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Windward Island
Port Harbor, The Sunken Shephard
@SunsetWanderer

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Solia had managed to busy herself for a while simply observing the docks. An instinct deep within beckoned for her to abandon her seat and offer help to those few ships struggling to dock. Doubtless a strong arm to hold down ropes would have gone a long way, but in her hesitation, others much closer and likely less-prone to causing panic, stepped forth.

‘So pleasantly curious, these people,’ Solia thought as she watched them come together. On Maelstrom, the residents had relied mostly on the angels for such tasks, but here and many of the places she’d been over the weeks, these displays of comradery had become common. Together, they did not need help.

That thought, while at first inspiring, echoed deep within her.

She was nearly embarrassed when the stranger’s approach caught her off-guard. Solia lacked the faculties to jolt, or yelp, but if she had lungs, she imagined she would have gasped.

It was a man sat with her. He was, to her approximation, average of age amongst the other divers present, but with a broadness indicative of those borne of the harsh, northern seas. To her he radiated experience, and yet he posed her a question.

Solia turned to him and smiled, happy to help.

“Not this harbor, no.” Solia spoke with him as she did with everyone, be they man, woman or child. She was gentle, measured, and considered each word. “And by the size of the dock, and the enthusiasm of the local populace, I assume all of them would agree with you. Many of us have come in response to Windward Island’s request for help. Is that not what brings you here?”

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

@May96 Alright, seeing the blank post at first got a laugh out of me

In Search of Gaea: A Seafaring Fantasy Adventure

S o l i a

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Windward Island
Port Harbor

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A small fleet had amassed in the crystal waters around Windward Island. To a place of more commercial repute, this would not have been so exciting, and in fact a more refined port might have found itself vexingly inconvenienced.

None who had come did so in gilded galleons and warships, rather, the ports bulged with a ramshackle collection of schooners and the odd caravel of a small-fortuned merchant. Many who disembarked onto the docks, were just reflections of their crafts. Their hulls were gnarled and beaten by Mother Ocean’s ire, and some who had clearly rotted past the point of restoration were easy to pick out. They hobbled on patched boots, or wooden legs, and wouldn’t last. Others though, were made of more resilient stuff. Their bodies had weathered hurricane winds, clashed against the scaly hides of dangerous beasts, and survived. Their demeanors were grizzled and jaded, but intrinsic to their personal brine was hope for the people of Windward. Hope that some among the newcomers could help them.

This was what had drawn Solia here. The message Windward had sent out was not a cry for help in the way she most often encountered them, but it was one nonetheless. Something troubled the people who lived there, something they didn’t understand, with the potential to bring them harm. If there was something she could do to stop it, or help them in anyway, she had to try. She always had to try.

As she stepped onto the dock, the boards whined and bent beneath her. She would have to be careful here. Windward was not some buoy-port cobbled of driftwood and hope, but even still, if she wasn’t delicate, or at least mindful of her actions, she might step right through the wood, and be plunged into the waters beneath the isle.

As the most eager adventurers stormed from the docks, her slower pace spared her from the brunt of the islanders’ attention. She had donned more layers than perhaps was necessary for the climate, but stone did not sweat. Only weeks ago, the sight of her broken face and grainy chips had nearly driven a crew to toss her overboard. Now she favored discretion, to an extent.

She was not ashamed of her being, as of late it did perplex her, but she would never deny what she was to anyone. Father had built them to be proud of their elegant forms; she was a masterwork, a creation unlike any Maelstrom had ever produced, unlike anything Aruth had ever produced. Some of the Spire’s own residents were chary of calling upon their aid, or even approaching them. Such was the way of new and strange things.

There were children among the crowds of onlookers, that brought a smile to her. Maelstrom had few children for its prodigious size, but they’d been among her favorite. Minds, untethered with reason or tragedy, conjured the most fantastical tales, and these stories often passed about the ranks of her siblings, shared in their off-time. As she watched Windward’s children gather and gawk, she wondered, briefly, where the children of Maelstrom were. Briefly, because she knew the answer already.

Not keen on frightening them, she keep her head low, and her face shaded beneath the hood of her cloak. Her clothes were damp and salted from the weeks of travel, but the bandages wrapped ‘round her head and arm were still fresh, and firm. Undamaged she could pass for pale at a glance, but such was not the case. As it was, the clear skies did her no favors, and she sought out a place less bare.

An open tavern caught her eye, “The Sunken Shephard,” and she hesitated. Shelter it was, but sure as the tides would rise, sailors would flood a bar. Perhaps it was best to avoid company until companionship was unavoidable, until they were out at Gullspire and protests could not stop her from being there. This was the logical decision. Solia chose to ignore it.

Beneath the pavilion, she found a small table, small enough that she was confident the others would fill before anyone thought to join her, if they did. This decision, she decided, was close enough to reason. Runner-up. It granted her the discretion she desired, but also allowed her to keep an eye on the dock’s proceedings. Skiffs making ground at the shores, more divers and adventurers embracing the awed welcomes of the islanders. It was a pleasant sight, and she settled into it. Solia had been used to stillness, spent many hours on Maelstrom as a statuesque sentinel. The tavern was comfortable, at least, and for the most part empty.

Among the patrons, she spied a few who might be divers, and one about whom she had no doubts. Short, pink-haired, very proper, but this was not what stuck out most about her, not to Solia. What struck her most about the woman was her uniform. Clean, sharp, and above all undeniably, unmistakably Imperial.

If she had breath, it would have caught. What she had instead was a spark, an impulse, to do something. Exactly what, she didn’t know, and that itself was curious. She thought, gravely, that she wanted to hurt this girl. It was not a difficult thought to repress, the impulse just as easily smothered. She sat, quietly, and watched her for a time until she was certain that if their eyes met, there would be trouble.

To think of terrible things now, just before the call to action, would not do. So she returned her attention to the ships and crews, then further on, the sea and the distance Gullspire rock, and tried to busy her mind with more pleasant things.