brave_kreyu | OOM All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness -Part Nine

"I understand."

There is a heavier undertone to his words, for he knows what she isn't saying. Which pains him somewhat, as they discussed earlier before they left for this trip - and while all those on the crew are indeed part of the crew, earning shares of the cut from the sale of the slaves they transport to market...he can't help but wonder if any of them are also simply captives of fate, circumstance. Would they have chosen a different path, had they another opportunity? It is something that is clashing around in his chest, his mind, loud and angry.

Skellig nods, the motion slight as he sets his jaw.

"Will there be someplace for those we free to go, once we make landfall?"

He hears a splash! as a body is tossed over the railing behind him.

"We can try, with the crew," she says softly. "Once those below are free, you may be able to speak to them, try and see if they might make better choices.

"There is a village not too far away, they will find hospitality there, at the very least. Perhaps even a home, as a sickness came through that area some years ago."

"I can hear all that they are saying," he adds, his voice still quiet where only she can hear his words. He shifts his gaze skyward - squinting slightly against the sun - glancing to the sails as they begin to raise, fill with the wind as the ship shifts direction. "I will listen as we travel. See what I can learn of each of them."

He looks back to Kreyu. "I do not think we should tell the captives of our plan. I would not want it to be known by many, yet. As much as it pains me to keep them in the dark."

"I agree, though it pains me as well. Better that no one other than the two of us know the truth."

She glances up as well. "We will make it up to them, later."

For now, they have listening and watching to do.

This journey - however short it may be, in terms of 'average seafaring travels' - is going to be the longest time that Skellig has ever spent aboard a ship. It is a good thing that he is not easily squeamish, and that the weather is fair - though he will be taking frequent moments to pause along the railing of the vessel and focus his gaze on the horizon, steady his vision (and his nerves) as he listens and watches.

At first, the crew remains mostly quiet (shock, probably) about their actual intentions for what they would plan to do after they make port and get their cut of the profits from this sale, and the discussion lingers on Skellig and Kreyu themselves - a man with WINGS, and a GIANT EAGLE still seem to be quite the hot topic among the sailors as they go about their work.

One is washing the deck boards where blood was spilled, scrubbing hastily with a lye-based soapy solution, they will never rid the wood of all the stains - but if the majority of the blood is removed, it will lessen any chance for flies, and the sun will take care of the rest of it in time, bleach it away with exposure. His energy is different than most of the others, and Skellig takes note of that...this one might be one he can convince to change his ways...

The one who was washing the deck is the youngest on board, only barely fully grown. He's what later ages might call a cabin boy, gets all the jobs none of the other experienced sailors want.

One of the other sailors, older, his energy darker, looms too close to the young man as he scrubs, deliberately invading his personal space. "Not what you were expecting when you signed on to pay off your old man's debts, eh? Better get used to blood, boy, there will be more of it before we're done with this trip, can feel it in my water."

The energy from the older sailor sets Skellig a little on edge, and he has to purposefully make a point to avoid focusing on him to too long, as it causes his feathers to bristle and his hair to stand up on his neck.

That one, he 'thinks out loud' with a nudge in Kreyu's direction. We will not be able to convince.

And then Skellig looks towards a piece of rigging nearby the older sailor's head, and gives it a firm 'push', causing a rope that was bound tightly to uncoil and start to flap in the breeze. Clearly that needs dealt with, now the younger man can be left to cleaning without being loomed over!

The older sailor curses the incompetence of his compatriots, storms off to climb up and deal with the problem because CLEARLY no one else can find their ass with both hands!

Kreyu nods in agreement, the motion subtle enough to pass unnoticed by most.

The young man murmurs a prayer of thanks that the older man is gone, gets back to work with extra haste.

There are a few others like that older sailor, but not as many as one might expect. Most are somewhere in between him and the young in terms of their energy. It's just a job, for most of them, this ship happened to have an opening when they needed the work. And, well, much safer to stick with a crew and a captain you KNOW.

Skellig is internalizing many of his thoughts and feelings on the matter at hand, simply because it is easier to keep a neutral outward expression and demeanor if he pushes the rest of things aside to deal with later.

(It may not be the healthiest way of doing things, but in this scenario and situation, it is what needs to be done.)

As the sun nears the low point on the horizon, the few faint clouds begin to shift, changing to pinks and purples; Skellig finds himself near the stern of the ship, studying the clouds (he is still listening, always listening; the discussion has shifted to dinner for the crew, and the young man from earlier is also tasked with feeding the slaves below deck their rations for the night) and the winds aloft as they catch the sails. He is tired, from having to do so much work with his mind and ears, but he will not let his guard down - which is why he hears her as she approaches him from where she has been perched most recently.

"I can keep watch, if you would rest," she offers, loud enough for only Skellig to hear. She can tell that he is tired, and she worries!

His initial instinct is to protest - he would not dare try to rest when there are this many men with weapons around (maybe they should have better disarmed them; though the Captain and his crew seem more interested in getting paid, and there is no sense in killing the buyers with the prospect of a simple, straightforward sale) but his logic also realizes that if he is worn out and exhausted, he will be of little use to her.

Skellig nods once, glances around and spots a stack of crates set back from the edge of the ship; he moves to it and tucks his wings in close behind him as he sits down on the deck, leaning back against the wood as if it were a wall or a dark corner, folding his arms across his chest.

(This is familiar, in a sense...almost comfortable?)

"If any of them so much as look at you sideways," he mutters lowly. "I will rise at once."

Kreyu follows him to the crates, perches on the rail right next to him, his guardian eagle.

"Of course," Kreyu replies, voice low. "And if any of them come anywhere near you with hostility in their hearts I will tear them asunder." Partners watch one another's backs!

"I know."

Skellig shifts a little to get settled, his motions slightly awkward (he's unsure why, but it is because if he were wearing more than a kilt and his boots, he would draw his knees up and dig his soles into the concrete or asphalt and curl inward on himself) until he manages to find a position that works for him.

And he does rest, though it is not the most productive; very close to the epitome of 'sleeping with one eye open'.

Edited 2024-08-22 02:10 (UTC)

When it is getting close to dawn, Skellig wakes naturally. Kreyu takes her own rest, perched on the rail, knowing his eyes and ears are very sharp.

The ship is starting to become busier, but as the sun rises no one has dared come anywhere near either of them.

Skellig does move from his sitting position, unfolding himself silently from where he has made himself 'comfortable' once the sun rises to stretch his wings and flare them out, flex all of his muscles in his arms and legs, each of his fingers and toes to ensure that everything is in working order. They will need it today, even though he is unsure of how long it will be before they reach the port.

(This was a vital detail that perhaps would have been beneficial to get from her before she took her rest? But it does not matter, for the time being.)

He will not wander far from her as he moves across the deck, but he is interested in seeing if they can spot any land on the horizon - or if he can spot any, given his eyes are likely better than those of the crew, except perhaps if one is on watch with a glass of some sort?

He will spot the land before they do, a green and gray smudge on the horizon.

In another hour of travel he will just be able to make out the dock. It seems at their present pace he should wake her when the sun is at its height, which will give them a little time before the ship lands if they need it.

The young man from earlier is at work again, making oakum to caulk the ship. It's slow work, unpleasant and wearing on the hands, picking apart old pieces of tarred, worn out rope to reduce them to fiber. He's dared to sit closer to the two of them than anyone else, which isn't all THAT close, but still! He keeps sneaking glances at them, curious and wary.

The curious glances do not go unnoticed; during one of his 'laps' around the ship he pauses nearby (but not threateningly close, not looming like the other older bastard likes to do) and takes a moment to study the work the young man is doing.

"It must take a fair amount of time to gather enough for what you need it for," he comments quietly, as he drops to sit on a nearby crate. It is idle conversation, not meant to be distracting (or get him into trouble, though if an argument starts, Skellig will NOT hesitate to end it) from the work at hand.

The young man startles a bit at being addressed. "Aye, that's why I'm the one doing it," he says softly. His smile turns slightly wry. "Lowest on the ladder always makes at least half of the oakum to caulk the ship, seems like."

"Seems like," Skellig agrees.

He studies the sails above them for a moment, not making eye-contact as he speaks (he's deliberately trying to remain neutral) again. "What is it you did before you joined this crew, might I ask? Or is this the only work you've known?"

He shakes his head. "Was a farmer, before. Not many crews as will take on someone green as me, even for the lowest work on the ship."

His expression wavers. "Could be worse, a lot worse." Could be a LOT better too, goes unsaid.

"Would say working the soil might be easier on the hands," he says. "Might not be easier on the back, but I am not to say."

He cocks his head, curious. "Did you join this crew by choice? Or of necessity?"

"More necessity than choice," he replies. "Debts to pay, naught to pay them with." Skellig might feel the echoes of terrible decisions made for survival's sake.

Those echoes are loud enough to easily feel and pick up on, and Skellig nods in understanding, just ever so slightly.

"Would you farm again, if given the choice?" To elaborate, he motions at the horizon with one hand. "I know many men become tied to the sea, almost as if it is a mistress of theirs, unable to break away. I do not fault them," he says, almost amused. "She can be quite enjoyable."

(Is he talking about the sea or about mistresses? It isn't totally clear...)

"It is a siren's call, for some."

"I'd farm," he admits. "But I'm not likely to get the chance. The others say the sea will chew me up and spit me out before I earn enough to pay the debts."

"Did, did you meet her on the sea?" he asks, tilting his head ever so slightly toward Kreyu.

"No, about the furthest from it," he shakes his head. "I met her in the desert," he says. "By happenstance, truly. I was a traveler seeking shelter, and she happened to be along my path."

He glances over at Kreyu, who is sleeping soundly while still maintaining her well-gripped perch on the railing of the ship, rocking gently with the motion of the sea beneath them.

"Who are you indebted to? This Captain, or someone else?"

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