OOC
Spoiler
This is not necessarily indicative of future post lengths!
Wood creaked as The Seasong rocked on coastal waters, which made a sweet harmony with the cadence of the sea. Antique could see from the starboard bow, all the birds and the tumult of the waves. She watched the shore on the horizon, wiping sweat from her brow, and smiled for the purity of that moment.
She was in a half-meditative state, circulating magics throughout herself and reflecting on the journey, which had been long. She was ready to have her feet back upon the earth, but she would miss the power of the surrounding waters.
Her coin pouch was looking hungry, for their shortage of oil had called for her to purchase her own materials to care for her sword after it had seen use. Those images stuck in her head too. Poor, poor pirates laid upon both decks, writhing as the saltwater suffused their wounds. It was a cruel image, and knowing that it had mostly been her own doing haunted her. Though, that was what she was to be paid for, and actually having seen combat might overfill her wallet.
So, perhaps one would say she was 'sitting pretty,' but wet strands of hair were difficult to pry away from her face, and she would need a proper bath when they reached land again. She felt as if she were anything but pretty.
The other towns had been minor stops along the way, refreshing forays into bustling trade ports, each with its own hopes to resemble Cerenis. So the journey had made itself something heartful for Antique to cherish.
Booted steps approached in languor across the starboard side of the ship. Gresitus was not the captain, but he was the commander of this journey. A kind man with many aspirations and the investments to see them through. He would return to Cerenis with hoards of wealth and finally earn himself the title of lord. She was about to learn that that had much to do with his approach.
"You're sure you wish to stay in the South? These Kelshedras are a strange lot, and though my wares will be highly valuable to them, you must know that they are not the most welcoming of outsiders." He told her.
She replied, "I am accustomed to earning trust." It was meant to be a curt sort of response, but once it had left her mouth, she felt the need to soften her approach. "Besides, how am I to know this discouragement isn't a nudge in your direction?"
Gresitus laughed in a sort of delight. It wasn't the first time she had cut straight to his point. "I thought I might try just one more time. It will be risky to start the journey home without you. The other guards--" He interrupted himself with laughter, though this time it was bemused. "They put away their swords practically the moment you drew yours. If I had my way, I'd
strand them in the Serha Plains and give you their wages--but, I know... You are not in this for the money. At least not entirely.
"So I concede! You will be paid fairly and I will miss the security of your company, Antique." He seemed to be finished, lingering as he picked at the lacquered rail. Did she catch a shy glance from him?
She turned to the soon-to-be lord and looked him over. Then, with the placement of a hand on his shoulder, she channeled some of her stored magic into him. It was a very minor healing, but it meant something to her. "Thank you, lord Gresitus. I wish you the best of luck."
He looked at her with such surprise, but it broke into a smile and he took her into his arms. She was considerably off guard, and uncharacteristically froze in his embrace, but she did lift her other hand to his shoulder.
He said, "Thank you for helping me." Was he almost crying? Before she could tell, he let go, bowed deeper than he should have, and jogged back to his quarters.
Now she was alone again, much as one could be on a fully crewed ship. Gresitus ran around Nuchtr's patrol, and the upper deck was far short of empty.
Two days after, Antique was awoken before the dawn by the busy rush of landing. There was no pier here, so they raised the sails and lowered the anchor in sight of the shore. That day and the next whipped by, for it was all work and business. She was given a new beltpouch entirely to accommodate her funds, and she gave away her old one to a yellow scaled reptilian.
She barely got to see the tribe's Elder, let alone speak to her, but a matronly Kelshedra with purple scales helped get her settled in with a tent for which she paid. Her name was something like Goodkind.
Antique stored herself away for rest and rituals, and mingled with these strangers in the waning hours of the second day. By then, the other outsiders had returned to the ship.
Around a sacred Flame, they shared stories and inquiries, wisdoms and philosophies. It was one of her favorite nights in a long time, and she went to bed late beneath the moon, just before the door of her tent.
Of course, she crawled inside to find her blanket and solace from the bugs that bit her, but her time sleeping in the night air was still pleasant.
The next morning, again, commotion woke her, only this time, they were gently raking pads in the sandy grass and hissing whispers.
She joined the throng as they took to a rise outside of the tents and hovels, peaking between scaled bodies only to see more Kelshedra approaching.
Foremost among them were two: a beautifully slender female with a cane, and a regal male whose body was an ominous, deep black. This was a color she hadn't yet seen among the many hews of their kind. Something about his bearing told her it was something special to behold.
What is all this about? She wondered.
