• PM To Join • Butterflies and Hurricanes

[Kali'rial]

21st Saun, 717, Late night?

The start of the trial had been pleasant, or rather, pleasant by Saun standards with the unbearable heat of the dual suns burning their wretched way across the land. Kali'rial had spent the morning hunting and walking with Nir'wei, and the rest of it had been spent out on the water just beyond the dock in the sloop resting with Pash where it was a little cooler. A spattering of boats around them had come to the same idea, bobbing gently in the chilled waters of Scalvoris.

As the trial wore into 'night' however, the winds had picked up quickly providing no cooling relief with their gusting. Even the rain that began to fall was hot, like someone had sprinkled bathwater over the town. The sky blackened with dark clouds, lighting cracking powerfully across the sky with impressive brightness and waking anyone who had been sleeping. Kali climbed out onto the deck of The Muse, trying to follow the Biqaj's guidance so he could ensure the sloops safety through the fury of the storm that was very quickly up on them.

"What do you need me to do?" She called out over the wind, squinting her eyes against the rain that blew horizontally across the waters. Across from them, maybe ten yards away, one of the other boats struggled with their sails and rigging, furling sails to protect them from being pulled further out to sea and planning on riding the storm out at anchor. The wind was strong enough to rock the ships wildly in the water and give one the sense of being 'pushed' by the strength of it.

Out over the rocky waves, bolts of lighting streaked down as though kissing the water, four or five in a row. The sky was awash with bright searing light suddenly, before the air boomed together in a crash of almighty thunder. The huntress grabbed the rail as the wind picked up and rocked The Muse violently, struggling to keep her footing as they lurched side to side in the water.

"Bäbbän!" She cursed in surprise, pushing her hair out of her face as best she could as the wind whipped it around her. Across from them, the struggling boat had managed to furl its sails, the burly sailor tying various ropes and rigging to secure his own vessel.

If Pash gave her directions, Kali would move across the deck holding onto parts of the sloop where she could whilst also helping him to do what needed to be done, her eyes darting to the sky as the lighting forked into the ocean. Some of the bolts were getting a lot closer than she was comfortable with.

Another wave of gusting wind pushed the boats in the water, rocking the neighbouring vessel hard enough that the sailor aboard was knocked off the side and into the choppy water. He broke the surface cussing, but okay, taking strong strokes to swim back to the lurching boat and grasping the anchor line to scale it with practiced ease. The brunette held onto the rail and stood to look over at him, comfortable the man didn't need their help even as their own vessel dipped in the wind as they worked.

It was then that a couple of things happened at once. The Muse lurched back the other way, the rain began to come down in warm sheets and the sky lit up. Across from them, the neighbouring ship seemed to buzz for a split second and the air around them crackled, before a bright bolt of lighting reached down from the dark sky and connected with the tall mast in a deafening crack. The wood soaked with damp and salt reacted with an unexpected violence, exploding in a burst of wooden shards as the moisture inside expanded as steam instantly. The sailor was thrown back from the ancorlines into the waves, his hands burnt from the electricity that had surged through the wet boat whilst on the orange hulled sloop Kali was pummelled with shrapnel. She felt a sharp pain in her abdomen just left of her navel as a piece of the shattered mast tore through the crocheted fabric of her dress and embedded itself in her flesh, having no time to react as she was knocked back by the concussive shock of air that whooshed outwards from the strike. Her movement exacerbated by the lurching of The Muse, the brunette's head struck the boom with force, knocking her out cold and splitting the skin on the back of her head where it struck.

For anyone near enough to the boat, they too would be impacted by the shrapnel and the shock wave, not to mention the loud sound of the lighting strike and exploding wood. It would leave a sharp ringing in the ears for those even on the docks.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash had thought himself clever, to be honest, in his making good use of Kali’s tent across the boom for his mainsail once he’d tucked it away for the evening, fastening it to the rails in such a way as to provide shade and allow them to lounge above decks where there was much more of a breeze. He was sure he could come up with an even better design, one that would allow them to perhaps also stretch the hammock under the shelter so they could sleep above decks, too.

To-trial, other small boats had joined them away from the docks and out in the open water to bob in the shallows anchored to the rocky harbor floor. When the docks were crowded, there was hardly a breeze to be had between all the ships moored there, and so Pash had taken to sailing away from the docks every evening after getting home from playing at Cally’s. Having the day off simply meant they could get out over the water sooner, something the seafaring musician was happy to oblige. Perhaps he hadn’t really expected the crowd, however, and yet the evening wore on and eventually they’d gone to bed in spite of the heat, ominous clouds gathering on the horizon where a sunset would have been had the season not been Saun.

The storm lumbered into the harbor full of Chrien’s ire and woke them, loud and jolting. The hot rain was hardly a relief. Up on deck, they’d managed to take the tent down in the wind and the downpour, Pash suddenly thankful to be far from the docks as the waves were more than just a little choppy, listing the boat from side to side as the white-capped water tossed them roughly. While he was somewhat more aware of himself on the slippery deck of his vessel that had been his home for so many arcs, always making sure to have a hold of something, anticipating the opposite tilt of the sloop each time, Kali was clearly not. While he enjoyed her company, this was not her element one bit:

“Jus’ get belowdecks, damn it!” He shouted back at her while his fingers secured some rigging near the starboard aft, deciding that like their neighbors, staying at anchor was safer than risking his sails getting torn in the storm. Besides, he’d already tucked them away and unfurling them in this kind of wind was risky. He moved with the speed and precision of the seasoned sailor he was, his thoughts drifting to U’Frek, praying for his protection against his sister, especially after their shared dream just trials ago, “I can take care o’ th’ rest, Kali. Go be safe!”

He curled his hands into the rope as The Muse lurched higher and then lower than it had before, the thunder leaving his ears ringing for a trill or two. He scowled, looking over his shoulder at their closest companion in a sloop only a little smaller than his own. The man was a bit precarious near the railing of his port bow, attempting to grasp at the jib line that had slipped from his fingers just as the waves swelled and tossed them again, this time knocking Pash into the raised roof of his cabin, an edge catching him below the ribs and knocking the wind out of him with a grunt.

Catching himself before he slipped, calloused hands snatching at the railing, he turned away from the other sailor who was climbing back on board their vessel and began to move toward the dark-haired Sev’ryn in order to shoo her into his cabin. Everything that followed happened in a heartbeat or two, and Pash was left dazed for another several before he could deal with it all—

Blinded and all-but-deafened for a moment by the lightning that struck the other vessel, the seafaring minstrel didn’t feel any of the wooden splinters that dug into the bare skin of his right arm or side, losing his footing in the lurch of his ship to ram his right hip back into the roof of his cabin and catching a silhouetted glimpse of Kali being knocked into the boom by the force of the explosion and the waves. He shouted her name, but heard nothing, ears ringing for several bits from the proximity of the hot expansion of air in the wake of the lightning strike,

“No!”

Pash did not pause to assess his injuries, pain along his right side and bicep not enough to keep him from scrambling to his feet on his wet deck. Wildly, he glanced toward the other vessel, noting the mast was gone, smoldering, wood everywhere and the sharp smell of ozone still noticeable despite the rain and the salty spray of the stormy sea. He may have briefly waved the other sailor over to join them for safety, to check his wounds, to get away from his ship, but it was in that movement he realized that Kali had not gotten up from her fall.

Looking back toward the middle of his deck, the tall Biqaj saw her crumpled there. She was bleeding—her red blood an obvious contrast to the silver of his own he was bent on simply ignoring,

“Kali!” He shouted, though his ears still felt strange. Could she even hear him?

The next roll of the waves allowed him to all but leap across his deck in two quick, rough strides, attempting to slide to a halt near her, though instead he over-shot and crashed bodily against the mast, cursing and wiping a trail of stardust from the corner of his mouth after biting his cheek. Twisting and shoving from the mast he dropped hard onto his knees next to the lithe huntress just as the other sailor hauled himself dripping and sputtering over the rail with a groan of pain.

Pash had his hands on his lover quickly, careful to turn her head and note she’d smashed the back of it against the boom, the red on his fingers was just significant to be noticed and quickly washed away by the now nearly painful rain. He held back all the foul curses in his language that rattled in the hull of his chest to place a hand gently on Kali’rial’s face and attempt to wake her,

“Oi, qu’ama, can y’ hear me?” His tide pool gaze noted there was blood staining her dress from her abdomen, a not-so-pleasant-sized piece of the other vessel’s wood still lodged visibly near her middle. It wasn’t much—the shrapnel obviously lodged in her flesh in such a way as to prevent much bleeding. But, still, there was some on the outside but inside there could be more unseen. That was worse. He knew that much. The words that left Pash’s mouth were so terrible, he probably could have withered flowers, panic rising in the hull of his chest at the sight of everything. He inhaled through clenched teeth and ran calloused fingers over Kali’s face in hopes she’d wake up. He could see the rise and fall of her chest and know she was breathing, but he wasn’t about to attempt to force her into consciousness.

Immortals, he knew so very little of medicine other than all he’d learned in misadventures. When Bear had been mauled by the oh-deer, Kali had instructed herself to put pressure on the wound, but … there was something in the wound. Did that matter? Should he leave it in there? Could pulling it out hurt her more? He didn’t want to do anything wrong, and for a moment his lack of knowledge felt paralyzing, fear crawling up his spine like the same electricity that crackled in the air between the sheets of rain.

She wasn’t conscious enough to tell him what to do, either, even if she knew.

“She alright, mate?” The other man was there in a trill or two, staggering to a stop as The Muse bucked against the waves,

“She’s breathin’, but she’s no’ awake. So, I don’ know.” Pash admitted forlornly with unconcealed anger and hurt, helplessness leaving a metallic taste like his silver blood. He looked back down at his lover and attempted to hold her to keep them all from sliding across the deck. “We need t’ get t’ th’ docks an’ get help.”

“Is your brain leaking bilge water?” The other man hissed, waving his burned hands toward the storm surrounding them, “You gonna sail and moor in this mess?”

“Aye, by U’Frek himself, I am. Help me get ‘er belowdecks. You’re gonna keep an eye on th’ bleedin’. D’ y’ know anythin’ ‘bout helpin’ th’ wounded?”

“Nah-uh. Well. Nothing useful now other than keeping her alive until someone else can help her. Let’s just be careful not to cut anything inside on that splinter, eh?”

Pash was in his own tangle already, knotting away fear, knotting away panic, straining against the terrible lurch of his ship to gingerly lift Kali’s upper half while the other man carefully lifted her lower half. Their focus was keeping her still and stable, Pash wishing there was a better solution but knowing that time was of the essence here regardless of the challenge of the weather. Together they attempted to make it to the hatch of his sloop without tossing any of them overboard or smashing themselves into the rigging or the railing, all without damaging the dark-haired Sev’ryn further.

The seafaring musician used a sharp blow from his already aching hip to shove open his hatch, the wind whipping it shut on his leg as he attempted to hold it still long enough to get them in. He growled a string of foul Rakahi curses and barely managed to keep the hatch wide enough for their bodies to pass through, his strength against the harsh storm both in desperation and in devoted defiance, battered by the doorway more than once as the two men carried the bleeding huntress belowdecks. Pash set her on his floor in the small living space, uncaring of the water or the blood, the ship’s lurching just as terrifying from inside the cabin as it had been on deck, his stomach rolling with the toss of the waves. He handed the other man towels and checked on Kali one more time. She just seemed unconscious from the blow to her head, injured, but he wouldn’t know close to death if it bit him in the ass. He hoped those fangs were far, far away, but he knew that bleeding from somewhere soft and so near to the gut was not good for anyone.

She needed medical attention. She needed the Order, Faith, or someone else. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t enough. He had to get back to town somehow. And get help.

The other man managed to get a towel near the wound in a way that seemed safe and contained without jostling the chunk of his mast that was in her flesh, though their wordless consensus was to not put too much pressure against the shrapnel or the surrounding tissue, which there was plenty of other little bits of the wood in her skin as well as Pash’s, not just the largest one. The sailor did pad her head and the bleeding had slowed there where Pash’s boom had split the skin of her scalp, so for now it wasn’t an issue of visible mess so much as an admitted inability to asses real damage. Perhaps a concussion, the seafaring musician guessed, but hopefully nothing worse.

Immortals, he could stand there the whole storm worrying if he let himself. He had to go do, had to move.

“I’ve gotta get us movin’, qu’ama. I’ve gotta get y’safe.” He spoke to Kali while brushing hair from her face, but the thunder and the groan of wood under the weight of waves in the small cabin drown out most of his quiet voice. Out of the rain for just these few moments, the seafaring minstrel was crying, though he was considerably calmer as he wrestled with the threads of his own emotions, suppressing feelings that would otherwise make him a useless mess, “Come an’ get me ‘f somethin’ worse happens.”

With that, he scrambled back on deck, knowing he’d have to raise anchor and at least raise his mainsail to get them back to the docks as quickly as he could.

Off Topic

I’ll wrestle with the storm in my next post. I didn’t want to get too wordy here. All the sailing.

[Faith Augustin]

Usually, as a rule, Faith quite enjoyed a storm. There was something awe inspiring to her about the extremes of weather and the visuals of a storm were fantastic. Not so much on this trial, though, as lightning strikes were hitting the bay and there were reports of boats being damaged. She’d heard about it and made her way down there, aware that both Pash and Kali (and Ellis the lemon plant) were likely on The Muse and the reports were just getting worse and worse. So, she’d made her way down there with another member of the Order; Galena who was Faith’s mentor and the head of the Order in Scalvoris. If it was bad, then it would get bad and then very bad quickly, Galena said and so the pair of them made their way.

The sounds as they approached were enough that Faith started to break into a run, having glanced at Galena with a nervous expression. The beauty of nature was one thing, but there were shouts and the kind of sounds which, as medics, they really had learned to be wary of and early on in their careers.

The slapping of their feet against the wetness of the ground was drowned out by the crashing thunder and the torrential rain. Both women were soaked in an instant but neither noticed. It was strange, it being Saun and there being no night time, it was bright all the time. There was no darkness to see and yet still, lightning lit the sky brighter than even the two suns.

Arriving at the docks, Faith looked around and she saw that there had been something, some sort of incident. Judging by the shouts and what she could see, lightning had struck a sloop – was it the Muse, she wondered. In that moment, Faith knew that she had to get out there to that boat. If there were injured aboard there, then they would have a dreadful time trying to get back to the dock, but getting out of there might be easier. If only marginally. ”We have to get out there,” Faith said and Galena looked at her as though her head were about to drop off. ”It’ll be easier. One of the boats on the edge of the docks, a small craft. That one.”

Decision made, Faith walked up to one of the sailors who was there, trying to tie his boat up. There was no doubt in her mind what he needed to do and there was no doubt in his that he wasn’t going to do. It took maybe a full two minutes before Faith was climbing onto the small boat she had identified. Looking at Galena, she smiled and then winced slightly as lightning struck again. ”I’ll be able to help sooner. You deal with that.” By which Faith meant the sea farer who had slipped and fallen from his mast, where he was tying something off. Galena nodded and moved and Faith smiled at the older man, a Biqaj, who was rowing them towards what she was getting more and more certain was The Muse.

”Anyone hurt?” Faith called, as they got to within close enough that they could hear her.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash turned reluctantly to make his way above decks again, giving one more look over his shoulder at the other man sitting with Kali’rial on the floor of his cabin before he had to fight the hatch and the wind just to get back out again, barely missing smashing his fingers in the hinges.

The hot rain wanted clawed at his eyes and the winds ripped at his hair and his clothes. He raised one hand to shield his face while he considered his options, other hand reaching to grab the halyard line to keep himself steady as his sloop rocked in the waves. His legs ached with the effort to stay upright already, the tossing of his small vessel making his stomach churn despite his arcs of sailing, for storms still took a toll on one’s body. Adrenaline kept him ignorant of his own injuries, and Kali’s unconsciousness kept him in motion without concern for himself at all. U’Frek had called them, too: he had a purpose now alongside his love for the dark-haired Sev’ryn bleeding and wounded. Chrien clearly was already out to thwart them, he told himself. The fury of this storm full of her vengeance and ire.

Damn it all, he’d have to unfurl the sails in this wind and get them up. He’d have to raise the anchor. He’d have to fight the wind to move the boom. It was going to be a dangerous struggle to get The Muse sailing, and even more dangerous to get her tucked into the docks without damaging her or another ship.

Pash glared at the clouds and winced at the blinding flash of lightning, his grumbled, panicked curses drowned out by the thunder as he slid across his deck toward the boom to begin an attempt at untying the mainsail he’d secured just breaks before he went to bed. Neatly folded and tied to the boom, he braced himself against the rail and began to dig fingers into the wet ropes to untie it, ignoring the parts of him that hurt from small splinters and bruises after being knocked about. Another large wave lifted the sloop and listed it sideways, nearly dipping Pash into the sea. It was all he could do to grip the boom and shove a knee into the railing to keep himself from tumbling overboard.

While momentarily suspended in his compromised position, knuckles white on the ropes and muscles burning in their protest to the angle at which he was required to hang there, he caught sight of a rowboat approaching, the little craft appearing and disappearing behind the dark, white-capped waves. He recognized the cloak of the Order, but more than that, he was quite certain he knew who was on board, so he grit his teeth and hissed a promise that all the strength he had this trial was no longer his own. It was Kali'rial's. It was Zanik's. And once he knew he saw Faith's face on that little rowboat braving the waves, his strength was hers, too—not that she'd ever say she needed it. The ship righted itself and with it, the tall Biqaj was nearly flung across the deck, grasping at rigging to catch himself with a noise that was a mix of frustration and gratitude. Scrambling back to his feet, he leapt to the starboard side as the rowboat drew closer, praising his Maker and those Immortals who seemed to have granted him favor,

"Oi! How'd y' know I longed t' see your face right now? Aye, friend," Pash managed to shout, snatching his mooring line and preparing to give it a good toss in Faith’s direction so that he could pull them in and hold them steady enough for her to board, ready with his free hand. He could have hugged her had things not been more dangerous or his love been more in need of her assistance. Thankfulness and hope oozed from the tone of his voice just as silver washed from the tears in his shirt in the rain. If he was bleeding, he didn’t know it, though he’d been hit with splinters from the exploding mast as well. If he was hurt himself, he neither cared nor thought of it, his focus not on his bruises or his body at all, "Immortals if y’ couldn’t have th’ most blessed o’ timin’. It’s Kali—"

He paused, the dull grey of his eyes enough to show his concern had she at all known the colors of his involuntary form of self-expression,

"—she’s no’ conscious. There’s a bit o’ wood here," he pointed at his wet self in explanation, "from th’ mast o’ that ship near us. An’ she hit her head hard on th’ boom I think."

He wasn’t sure. He’d been blinded and deafened by the lightning. He could only guess and offer what he knew, "I moved her belowdecks. It were foolish, I know, but th’ storm … th’ other sailor’s down there. He’s burned but fine. I’m fine."

He wouldn’t care if he wasn’t, and he helped Faith travel the short distance from the starboard side to the hatch, his body much more used to the toss of the vessel than she was. He made sure she stayed steady, supporting her with one arm while he used the other to grab rigging that was secure. Placing her hand on the roof of his cabin, he bent to open the hatch and hold it open for her first,

"I should go down with y’, but I should keep an eye up here." He was clearly torn, the fear and concern and hurt on his face obvious, but he also knew Faith couldn’t help Kali’rial if The Muse was damaged or worse, sinking, either. Once she was safely down into the cabin, he shut the hatch behind her, turning to make sure the rowboat was secured somehow and checking to make sure everything else on deck was tied down.

[Kali'rial]

21st Saun, 717

Note

Just wanting to add a note that this post isn't signifying Kali dying. It's her wandering off into the Emea for some extended Familiar Dreaming time lol. Also, this song totally inspired the entire thing.

It was dark.

Kali...

She could hear her name, like a whisper on the wind, somewhere in the dark where she couldn't see. The Sev'ryn huntress felt light, as though she was suspended in murky waters deep below where the sunlight couldn't reach. Something felt different, and the brunette wondered momentarily why the suns of Saun had disappeared. Had she fallen into the waters of Scalvoris? No, she wasn't drowning and she could breathe. That wasn't it.

Kali...

Like a lovers song breathed in the depth of night, she heard her name again, and moved through the darkness. Or felt like she moved. Around her the young woman could see no shapes or patterns. Just more of the black abyss that surrounded her.

"Hello?" Kali'rial called out, but her voice was far away, almost echoey. It washed away into the distant dark as though blown on a strong breeze.

The brunette remembered the breeze, she'd been standing in the wind with hot rain pelting her face. The lighting had been loud, the huntress could see it in slow motion as it arced from the sky to touch the other boats mast, white and red and blue all at once. Then it had been bright, Immortals brighter than anything she'd ever seen. The world had exploded then, and Kali remembered the pain in her stomach then...

It was dark.

Reaching down with her hand slowly, the southerner felt for the injury, unable to find anything there. Perhaps she'd imagined the pain? Where was Pash in all this? She could remember the explosive light and sound of the lightning strike, but where had the Biqaj been? He wasn't here, with her, wherever she was. Somewhere up ahead, the Sev'ryn saw a faint light, pale blue and barely visible. She drifted towards it, floating through the dark. As she got closer, it formed a shape. A door.

Kali...

The sound was barely more than a sigh, but she heard it through the dim doorway of pale blue light. Kali'rial stopped at the entrance, looking though before looking around at the abyss that threatened to consume her. It felt wrong to stay here, as though if she stayed she might never leave. Still, was she right to step through the doorway? Was Pash on the other side? There didn't seem to be anywhere else to go, and so with one more look around, Kali took a leap of faith and stepped through the doorway into the light. In the abyss, the light faded slowly, ebbing away like the last rays of the sunset.

And then, it was dark.

[Faith Augustin]

The sea battered their tiny boat and Faith held on with a grim look on her face which told just how much she was not enjoying this sensation. When, Faith wondered with an internal roll of her eyes at herself, was she going to learn? Yet, she couldn't leave people stranded, she just couldn't. If there were injured people on that sloop, then it was her duty to get to them if she could. As the small craft lurched and then plummeted down, dropped by the vagaries of a tumultuous ocean, Faith prayed to Famula that she had served well enough in her life and to Vri that her death might be painless. Drowning sounded like absolutely the most awful way to die and the mere thought of it made Faith hold on ever more tightly.

It was a white-knuckle ride like no other she had ever experienced.

Yet, they got there, she and the man who had agreed to help her, to work to help the souls aboard the Muse this trial. He was the real hero of this, Faith had no doubt. Without need or reason except his own moral compass, he had steered her and rowed her safe. She looked at that man and clasped his hand. "Moseke's blessing on you. Thank you." But she could say no more as they pulled and tied their small craft to Pash's. Faith lifted up her hand and grabbed on to the hands of the Biqaj, clinging on to him as she clambered aboard. He had seen, just the trial before, that Faith was not used to boats and although she had a similar determined clench of her jaw that he had seen the season before, up in the Scalvoris Mountains, she was even more white than usual and her eyes were large in her head.

There was no time for fear though, and the young woman simply placed it into the hand which held tightly on to Pash. A trick she had been taught a lifetime ago, but which now served her well. It put the fear away to be dealt with later and she listened to Pash. Kali had been injured, he showed her where and how. He'd moved her? Immortals, save her from well meaning people doing that sort of thing, but at least he hadn't pulled the wood out. Faith was already moving as he spoke, listening as she made her way to the cabin.

Pash said he should go down with her, but he should stay up here and Faith gave him a soft smile and paused for just a trill to squeeze his arm. "Keep us safe. That's the best thing you can do for her." For them all, she considered and she clambered down into the cabin.

Faith was used to dealing with trauma and injury, but this was something. The piece of wood had splintered and embedded itself into Kali'rial and the risk of infection, of sepsis and the associated difficulties of that were easily as much of a danger to the Sev'ryn as the damage done right now. Yet, Faith knew that she had to do her best, had to try and so she moved. She had to get the bleeding under control, the rocking of the boat really not helping there. The wound in Kali'rial's side was bad and Faith had to pack it and use a lot of the Raft, the alternative to bandages which both worked to prevent infection and, thanks to Padraig's alchemy, pulled infection out. Her ability from Moseke's mark, too, she used and then used again, coaxing the skin to knit back together.

Faith worked, calm and precise. She ignored the danger of the ship, paid no heed to the lurching forward, lifting up and dropping down. She did not listen to the thunder nor apparently notice the lightning. She simply worked, focusing her skill on the patient in front of her and trying not to consider the time that they had giggled together over hair styles, or the fact that this woman was her friend. Those thoughts would distract her, stop her from doing what she had to do and so Faith ignored them. They went into her hands and later, she knew, they would surface. But not here, not yet.

Here and now, she needed to save a life.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

There—just right there through the fear and the sea sickness visible on Faith’s fair features—for a heartbeat or two was the flicker of disappointment or concern that he’d moved her, the briefest change of her expression at his words just enough to shift the tide of panic that he swam against in the hull of his chest. He'd made a hard choice in the storm, for in his mind the deck was far less safe, considering the lilting of the ship and the risk of losing someone overboard in the water. He’d done the wrong thing, though, he could see it, and he chewed the inside of his cheek even as he held the hatch and strained to keep himself steady.

Yet in her kindness, she paused for just one more moment, probably because Pash was ever so very poor at hiding his thoughts from his face, let alone his eyes which had darkened like the storm clouds overhead. If he followed her belowdecks, he would be useless anyway. It was true. Touch was always an anchor for the tall Biqaj, whether the human knew that or not, and her words gave him purpose.

“Faith,” his voice was quiet yet just audible over the rumble of thunder and the groaning of well-worn wood by nature of their brief vicinity. He’d said the words aloud before, sure, but to no one else save the dark-haired Sevir who deserved to hear them,

“I love her.”

It was both an unabashed statement as much as it was an admission, a confession—out of the handful of people he’d come to call his friends in Scalvoris, he knew she’d understand. Had the circumstances been otherwise, the seafaring minstrel would have grinned about those words, but he couldn’t, didn’t. Instead, The Muse lurched with another swell of stormy waves and Pash shut the hatch quickly, barely saving everyone’s fingers from being sandwiched between the wooden door and the frame of the cabin’s roof.

Then he was alone on the deck of his sloop in the storm while wind whipped his hair and rain dug at the cuts in his skin. It was not silent and he could not be still, nor could he see the edge of the storm on the horizon through the sheets of rain—peace over the harbor was perhaps half a break or perhaps several breaks away yet. It was impossible to tell from here.

Whatever happened belowdecks, he’d just get in the way, and it was clearly more in his skillset to keep everyone safe on board instead of attempt any medical assistance. He didn’t need to see that, didn’t need to watch, not when he had things to do, not while the storm raged with all its display of Chrien’s ire.

As he began to move about the deck, quickly making the decision to sail further out into the harbor, away from the shallows and away from all the other boats nearby, he rolled with the rocking of his sloop and turned his distracted attentions inward. The vibrant, seething threads of his own tumultuous feelings writhed within his magical vision, thick cords of fear and concern and doubt and anger and worry wrapped together like so much rope, mooring him to the deep hues of despair and inaction. Pash felt his stomach leap with the tilt of his small vessel and home, skidding across his wet deck and reaching for the railing of his port side. Gripping the wooden supports, he cut away swaths of feeling from his own tangle as if he was wielding a pair of shears near a loom, forcing upon himself an eerie sort of calm and a focus only Empathy could weave within a creature made up of so much emotion as himself.

Like but a fistful of trials ago in the Serenity Garden on Faldrass, movement was his meditation and doing was his discipline—unconventional, unexpected, maybe, but worry washed away in the stinging rain and concern fell from his shoulders as he did what needed to be done for those who held his heart in their hands in more ways than one.

Pash was not quite sure when he began to sing, whether it was as he slipped and shimmied his way halfway up the mast to snatch for the halyard pulley that had come loose in the wind or after he smash-landed painfully on the deck without a hint of grace to feed the mainsail line into its place. It may have been when once he’d finally managed to wrench the ties free from his neatly folded mainsail, hands aching. His song was quiet at first, just a rumble in the hull of his chest, a child’s tune sung in the half light before bed, a moral ballad that sang of Chrien’s stormy wrath, of her bad luck, and of U’Frek’s protection. The verses were few but the chorus was catchy, and by the time the seafaring minstrel’s baritone could be heard above the wind, he’d reefed the mainsail and furled the jib, bruised and banged about the deck more than once.

The old, familiar song was a rebuke now, a loud telling off to the thunder above and the difficulties he knew were best left unseen, Pash finally raising anchor as The Muse dragged it across the harbor floor, a tied animal foaming at the mouth to be freed in the wind that snapped his worn sails and threatened to rip them should he hold the sloop still any longer. Silver stained his hands by the time he made it to the tiller, the lilt of the small vessel almost sending him tumbling over the starboard aft, barely saving his face from the railing. His song picked up volume as he scrambled to his feet, the act of making music an encouragement to himself, an internal strengthening as his spirits dipped. He refused the helplessness, and he all but begged without speaking that Zanik be honored by not just what strength he had left but also what strength he dug deep into himself to retrieve with each new stanza.

Up again and still singing his lyrical Rakahi defiance (which had admittedly become a bit of an improvisation instead of any song he knew), the tall Biqaj set about heaving to—turning his little sloop close to the wind, backwinding the jib. Quickly pulling away from the docks and the other boats in the shallows of the harbor, he could feel the drag of the little rowboat, the way it threatened the balance of his small vessel as the waves attempted to shove the sloop over with white-capped, foamy fists. Once away from everyone else, he struggled to lean hard into the tiller, roughly positioning it back into the brake so that he didn’t need to man it anymore, their direction into open water one that was clear for probably a handful of breaks.

The threads of fear cut and tied away, his song loud on his lips, Pash could think clearly despite all that was happening. He knew he’d only bought some time, that safety was a slippery concept at sea in a storm, that more needed to be done. He required more of his aching body—everyone belowdecks did. He needed to make a sea anchor, the waves far too rough to keep going as he was, swiftly cutting an unsteady course in the angry brine, the threat of capsizing very real. Kali’rial’s tent was around near the cabin somewhere, tucked away. He just had to make it back over there to jury rig something out of it, something as close to a sea anchor as he could come up with.

[Kali'rial]

21st Saun, 717

It was so bright on the other side, Kali'rial found herself hold a hand up to shield her eyes, almost not noticing that she could feel a surface under her feet now. It was hard, but whether it was stone or soil she couldn't determine. Around her, it was nothing but pale blue light like a blinding blanket across the world.

"Hello? Pash? Anyone?" Calling out loudly, she heard her voice echo in the strange light, yet no one replied. Picking up her feet, the huntress began to move forwards, ever looking around for a hint of another in the light. Further before her, a figure was becoming visible, a fuzzy silhouette in the blinding blue. Squinting, the Sev'ryn moved closer.

"Who's there? Show yourself." The brunette called out with a confidence she most certainly didn't feel. As she moved closer still, the figure became clearer, until finally Kali lowered her hand to look with a smile.

"Nonna. I'm dreaming again." The older Sev'ryn smiled at the younger then, reaching out to take her hand much to Kali's surprise. She gasped at the warmth, holding it tightly as tears stung her eyes.

"My Kali-Kali. Look at you...so different now." Her voice was whispy, as though fading in and out, yet it was her voice. The huntress let out a sob, relishing in the sound of her grandmothers voice. Xan'neua smiled, her rheumy eyes kind.

"It's time for you to listen Kali. Listen..." Around them, the light was fading, and the Sev'ryn huntress could make out familiar shapes. It was Desnind again, just before the gates. Turning her periwinkle gaze on the woman, Kali'rial frowned.

"Listen to what Nonna? I don't hear anything." The Elder smiled still, holding her hand as the blue finally faded away completely and they stood in the evening light of the South. Somewhere in the distance, Kali finally heard it. A sound, somewhere far away as though carried by the wind. Not quite a deep voice, but not an animals roar either.

"Go Kali. You must go." Xan'neua's voice wafted to her, and as the brunette turned back to look at the woman, she was gone. Wiping the tears from her eyes and closing her fist around the warmth that remained in her hand, Kali'rial followed her ears outside of the gates and into the jungle.

[Faith Augustin]

When Pash told her that he loved Kali'rial, Faith smiled at him and nodded her head. Her hand squeezed his arm and she nodded her assurance. He loved Kali'rial and she was injured. He was terrified and facing a loss and feeling utterly helpless. "Keep us safe, I'll do my very best," she assured him and then she made her way below decks to do what she could. She had to leave behind her feelings, ignore her emotions and her care for these people and she had to be professional. They needed her to be.

Swaying to try and move with the boat, Faith considered her job. As a doctor, she had to cut away things, to hurt people in order to make them feel better, to do what was needed. If she let feelings get in the way, then she would find herself in a place where she hesitated. Simply put, if she hesitated, people died. So Faith left her emotions, her worry and her concerns for the young woman laying there and the young man who loved her and focused on feeling relief when she was done.

The injury required a lot of attention. It would leave a scar, there was no doubting it. Yet, Faith combined skill with the blessing of Moseke and she worked and healed, to the point that she herself was close to exhaustion. That was not the point, though, she had to do the best she could and, even then, she pushed herself harder. She didn't hear Pash sing, she stopped even feeling the rocking and swaying of the boat. There was just her and Kali'rial. By the time Pash did come down, Faith would be fairly sure of a few things, but one of them was that she wasn't leaving the young woman's side so it would be when he came down and not before.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

The rain had begun to sting less, to ease off just enough to be a relief, though the seas were still rough and the wind still strong across the open water of the harbor, whipping up the waves which were, relatively speaking, more dangerous in the shallower island's inner sea than out in the unfathomable depths of the open Orm’del. Pash had managed to make a move for Kali’s tent and tug loose his shroud lines. Bracing himself against the mast and the boom as The Muse was tossed by the rough waters, lilting dangerously as another flash of lightning set the clouds ablaze and thunder rang above the sound of his voice, the tall Biqaj thanked Zanik for his faithfulness and urged himself to keep going, the adrenaline and encouragement from his song assuaging aching muscles and keeping him focused on what needed to be done to ensure the safety of his sloop and those he cared about belowdecks.

Once he’d tied the four corners of the tent, he secured the ends of his shroud lines to the aft rails, hands aching, legs tired, he simply tossed it over to drag like a parachute under the waves. It wasn’t a real storm anchor, so it wouldn’t be entirely efficient, but it would be enough. It would be somewhat unstable without the proper frame, yawing back and forth as water spilled from one edge of the chute-like attempt to the other with each swell of wave, but he could feel his little sloop stabilize within a few bits of making use of his somewhat creative improvisation.

Everything hurt and his voice had long-since begun to waver, broken by his defiant need for volume. Pash luffed the sails and let them drop, wet and heavy, slowing his ship even more. He’d taken them all quite a bit away from the docks and the shore; he’d have to raise the sails and head into the wind in order to get them back again, but the storm was still a bit too fierce to try such a thing. He’d bought them some safety from capsizing with the sea anchor, and now the tall Biqaj felt he’d bought himself some time to slip belowdecks, admittedly still afraid to do so. He let his song fade, determined grey gaze lingering for a trill on the horizon in hopes of seeing a bit of Saun’s light instead of the dark cloak of clouds. A little hint. A little hope. He sighed, not yet willing to feel relief.

The seafaring minstrel opened his hatch and half-slid, half-melted, and almost fell down the three stairs into his cabin, dripping and tired. Had his need to see Kali’rial warm and breathing not compelled him, he most likely would have sat there on the floor near his galley instead of hauling himself up and taking the three and a half steps to bring him near Faith, who looked no less exhausted than himself,

“Is she alright?” Pash felt the obvious question still needed to be stated out loud, as was his insatiable nature, gaze washing over the dark-haired Sevir before settling on the face of his friend, employer, and healer with impeccable timing, “Is everythin’ goin’ t’ be okay? What can I do?”

It was perhaps a messier scene than he wanted imprinted upon his memory, but the soaked bard sloshed to his knees with a groan, wiping silver on the wet fabric from his blistered hands. Parts of him stung, parts of him ached, especially as he sat for a few bits and felt the adrenaline pool around his drenched person like all the rainwater that dribbled onto the floor,

“Thank you,” Pash would quickly, hoarsely, honestly follow up her news, “I’m thankful that ‘f all th’ Order, you’re here. This be a fair different trial than yester-trial, that’s for sure—”

He always had tea and food around. He could turn the bench and the table into a spare bed should she need to rest. He’d just have to get up and move to do it, feeling the wood of his cabin floor necessary for a few more bits, just a few,

“—It may be another break yet ‘r so b’fore th’ storm settles enough that I can get us back t’ th’ docks, judgin’ by th’ horizon an’ th’ speed o’ th’ clouds.”