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

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?"

"Good thing she didn't eat you," he replies. Then realizes that perhaps he should not have said that out loud, and flushes.

"Someone else," he says. "Said they made a deal with my father before he died, had a paper with my father's mark on it. Can't read it, and it would be my word against his any how."

"I am not her usual prey," he quips, voice wry.

But the admission that the young man is not even able to read the terms of the 'deal' sounds like a complete load of bullshit to Skellig, and his expression shows that. "Perhaps that will be sorted after this trip," he mutters. "I will speak to my wife, see if perhaps there is not some way we could help."

Skellig would simply buy THAT contact outright as well - but destroying the ship and letting the young man resume life in a new locale might do just as well. A new name, a new vocation...

The young man almost blurts out a 'Why?' when he speaks of helping, Skellig can see it.

"It would be good to see my sister again, get her out..." he trails off, suddenly worried about continuing what he was going to say.

The subconscious reactions and emotions being displayed are easily picked up on, but again, Skellig doesn't react outwardly. In fact, he pauses a moment to allow for the other man to collect his thoughts, his settle a bit as he picks at the rope.

"She held under contract also?"

He offers an explanation (of sorts, it is an lie but it is plausible enough to be believed easily for now) and nods towards the coastline. "My wife and I have plans for expanding our property. Hence the need for workers," he still can't quite call them slaves. "Working a section of the land into fields, caring for the house, tending some of the beasts we intend to keep..."

To sate someone's appetite, perhaps?

"As you can imagine, I am a bit...private," he nods towards Kreyu. "As is she."

"Tighter than mine," he says, quiet. "Collateral on the debt, and leverage to make sure I don't just up and run."

He brightens at the explanation. "Oh, that makes sense! I remember how much work it was, to keep our farm, and it must be even harder with only one of you having any hands."

He nods. "People can be cruel. And you are both fearsome in appearance."

"We do both hold a reputation," he mutters in agreement. "Fearsome in both appearances and other avenues."

Skellig idly shrugs a shoulder, rustling his wings as he does so. "I will speak to her in regards to both you and your sister. Where is she held?" He doubts he will recognize it, but there is an off-chance he might. At the very least, a location will be helpful regardless.

"Mycenae," he replies. "I, I would be forever grateful," he promises.

He hurriedly looks away from Skellig as the Captain comes out of his cabin and stalks over to speak to the helmsman about their heading.

Not wanting to cause trouble, Skellig leaves the young man to his work and moves to head back near where Kreyu is perched and still resting - while listening closely to the conversation regarding their heading.

It seems to be a straightforward discussion...

It is straightforward, though the Captain seems to fear being betrayed once they reach their destination. The helmsman has more of a wait and see attitude.

Kreyu stirs to wakefulness and IMMEDIATELY glances around, looking for Skellig.

Skellig was smart enough to choose a stack of crates to lean against that put him directly in her line of sight - she does not have to scan much when she wakes before she lays eyes on him.

"Mornin', love."

He keeps his voice soft as he allows a small smile to cross his features; his ears are still trained to the deck where the Captain is speaking, but he can do more than one thing at a time.

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