Cylus 6, 718
Zi'da had passed by in a blur of darkness and sunlight, waves and voices. While Juniper had been allowed time out of her confinement, given water and sunshine, she'd been handled roughly, gawked at, poked, prodded, and made to dance to Wallaby's horrible pipe music on the mess hall table far too many times than she ever wanted to remember, much to the Captain's amusement.
The last of the sun's light disappeared at the end of Zi'da and with it came the frigid darkness of Cylus. Juniper wasn't told where the ship was sailing, didn't know what kind of cargo they carried, and only knew the crew from their calloused and uncaring treatment of her and her hapless bird. Bone was mostly safer than she was, however, the bird tolerated so long as it stayed in flight or far out of reach on the tallest masts of the tall ship, feathers ruffled by frozen winds and belted by sleet, rain, and snow.
Just a handful of trials into Cylus—well, as far as Juniper could tell, for without the sun and without any frame of reference, it could have been arcs for all she knew—the whole crew began to buzz with excitement.
Land? Maybe. The crew had talked about approaching Ne'haer, though it wasn't as if the Tunawa was entirely sure where they'd been and where they hadn't all of Zi'da. They could have made landfall any number of times during the season, leaving her to her lonesome trapped in her drawer.
Port? Soon. Just the meal before, after the pipe music and when Garby the quiet cook—the only crew member to have shown her an ounce of kindness these difficult trials—had snuck her some fruit from the emergency supplies with her water, the Captain and Smith had sat down with Jackman and gone over their routes, talking of Bayward, talking of Ne'haer. There seemed to be some indecision there, and Smith had left in anger, frustrated by their choice of route as if he knew better or as if he knew that there were dangers the others didn't.
Other ships? Could be. They'd passed a few before, and while it was unclear whether the vessel she was on was a pirate one or not, Juniper was at least aware they were a swarthy, questionable lot with morals that left much to be desired, especially when those morals came to her small self.
In all of the hubbub and excitement, Juniper was left to herself, the Captain abandoning her to the desk, drawer hastily left half open, waves roughly breaking against the hull of the tall ship as if the weather outside was once again foul and the seas rocky.
"To arms!"
"That's no friendly flag!"
Shouts rang through the hall outside of the Captain's Quarters, and the sounds of boots running echoed through the very wood pulp of the desk.
Whatever was happening, it wasn't going to be peaceful, but from here, there was no way to know.
The last of the sun's light disappeared at the end of Zi'da and with it came the frigid darkness of Cylus. Juniper wasn't told where the ship was sailing, didn't know what kind of cargo they carried, and only knew the crew from their calloused and uncaring treatment of her and her hapless bird. Bone was mostly safer than she was, however, the bird tolerated so long as it stayed in flight or far out of reach on the tallest masts of the tall ship, feathers ruffled by frozen winds and belted by sleet, rain, and snow.
Just a handful of trials into Cylus—well, as far as Juniper could tell, for without the sun and without any frame of reference, it could have been arcs for all she knew—the whole crew began to buzz with excitement.
Land? Maybe. The crew had talked about approaching Ne'haer, though it wasn't as if the Tunawa was entirely sure where they'd been and where they hadn't all of Zi'da. They could have made landfall any number of times during the season, leaving her to her lonesome trapped in her drawer.
Port? Soon. Just the meal before, after the pipe music and when Garby the quiet cook—the only crew member to have shown her an ounce of kindness these difficult trials—had snuck her some fruit from the emergency supplies with her water, the Captain and Smith had sat down with Jackman and gone over their routes, talking of Bayward, talking of Ne'haer. There seemed to be some indecision there, and Smith had left in anger, frustrated by their choice of route as if he knew better or as if he knew that there were dangers the others didn't.
Other ships? Could be. They'd passed a few before, and while it was unclear whether the vessel she was on was a pirate one or not, Juniper was at least aware they were a swarthy, questionable lot with morals that left much to be desired, especially when those morals came to her small self.
In all of the hubbub and excitement, Juniper was left to herself, the Captain abandoning her to the desk, drawer hastily left half open, waves roughly breaking against the hull of the tall ship as if the weather outside was once again foul and the seas rocky.
"To arms!"
"That's no friendly flag!"
Shouts rang through the hall outside of the Captain's Quarters, and the sounds of boots running echoed through the very wood pulp of the desk.
Whatever was happening, it wasn't going to be peaceful, but from here, there was no way to know.
