Cylus 10, 718
They'd been following the strange ghost pirate map when it happened—the storm of a handful of trials ago had been the largest one Pash and Kali'rial had faced in The Songbird, and had the pair not weathered such severe ones in Scalvoris just seasons before, they surely would not have survived. While the damage to the schooner would have been minor close to shore somewhere familiar, in the Orm'del far from cities of note, the repairs needed were next to impossible to make.
And yet, as if U'Frek himself knew what his favored needed in his Domain, they'd been found by not one ship but many, not one crew of random sailors, but a whole clan of Biqaj. Biqaj! To say that Pash had been excited to run into his people out at sea after almost an arc and a half of being far, far away from home would have been an understatement, and though the Nji’hadi were not a clan he was familiar with, being still so far from Ne'haer, they were open and friendly and helpful to se'qat in need. More interesting still? Their guests—gy'at who'd fled an anti-magic kingdom of Rynmere with barely their lives intact. At least that had been the seafaring musician's interpretation of things, the Empath far too sensitive to everyone's feelings to ignore the unspoken undertones to their harrowing tales. Seekers, they'd called themselves, and Pash had been quickly intimidated by their professed magical prowess.
Still, the darkness of Cylus settled in and the Nji'hadi had a handful of islands they called a cold cycle home of sorts, familiar places they could weather the chill and repair all that had been broken—The Songbird as well as mortal hearts.
A whole season of sailing had invigorated the tall Biqaj, and he found he required to be busy instead of still lest he end up bored, restless. To be among his people again was strangely empowering for a creature who already hardly suffered from issues of confidence, yet simply needed the refreshment of the sea and cultural familiarity. Kali'rial had perhaps assumed she'd seen the seafaring musician in his element before, and yet, maybe she hadn't, hadn't until now.
While Pash was comfortable talking shop and could spend breaks working on repairs as if he was once again living his first life, he also knew when he needed something different, when even music or conversation wasn't enough to satiate his yearning to be in motion.
Conveniently confident that the unusual map they'd been given led to somewhere among the very islands they'd ended up on with the Nji'hadi and their guests, the tall Biqaj couldn't help but attempt to satiate his curiosity. The darkness of Cylus was cold, and the islands were rocky, some of them not even entirely explored by their new friends, but the salty bard didn't find that small fact at all daunting. It was, instead, all part of the fun.
His dark-haired huntress was easy to convince, of course, but the Empath felt as though the pair weren't the only ones who needed the distraction of danger or adventure. Pash had managed to persuade at least two of their new acquaintances to come with them—Aeodan and Edalene—as well as convince one of the friendlier shipwrights to loan him a sloop for the trial or two, the Empath terribly hard to say no to when he did his best to be convincing. Cramming everyone onto the familiar, smaller vessel with supplies and food, Pash was very motivated to just do something different for a while, especially with good company.
The trial was clear, the host of stars overhead twinkling comfortingly with a near-perfect breeze caressing the sails of the single-masted sloop. Willing to give Kali'rial the experience, he chose to offer her the role of piloting the smaller vessel while he puzzled over the map with their companions next to her, bundled against the frigid sea in his ever-warm cloak,
"I don't quite get this part o' th' map. It's no' like th' rest—like it's no' directions but somethin' else." Pash pointed with a calloused, Empathy-stained finger where the messy outlines of islands were overlaid with what he could only assume were constellations, for they matched up well when he looked up into the Cylus sky. His other hand couldn't help but scratch behind Sarkis' ear, admittedly attached to his Sevir's Karem-gifted spirit creature, "I think it's a warnin' but it's so old, who knows if 't matters now?"
What he meant to say was who cares, but he didn't. The tall Biqaj just grinned instead, rolling his sea-built shoulders and glancing upward as if to judge the differences between the brittle old pirate map and the stars above.
And yet, as if U'Frek himself knew what his favored needed in his Domain, they'd been found by not one ship but many, not one crew of random sailors, but a whole clan of Biqaj. Biqaj! To say that Pash had been excited to run into his people out at sea after almost an arc and a half of being far, far away from home would have been an understatement, and though the Nji’hadi were not a clan he was familiar with, being still so far from Ne'haer, they were open and friendly and helpful to se'qat in need. More interesting still? Their guests—gy'at who'd fled an anti-magic kingdom of Rynmere with barely their lives intact. At least that had been the seafaring musician's interpretation of things, the Empath far too sensitive to everyone's feelings to ignore the unspoken undertones to their harrowing tales. Seekers, they'd called themselves, and Pash had been quickly intimidated by their professed magical prowess.
Still, the darkness of Cylus settled in and the Nji'hadi had a handful of islands they called a cold cycle home of sorts, familiar places they could weather the chill and repair all that had been broken—The Songbird as well as mortal hearts.
A whole season of sailing had invigorated the tall Biqaj, and he found he required to be busy instead of still lest he end up bored, restless. To be among his people again was strangely empowering for a creature who already hardly suffered from issues of confidence, yet simply needed the refreshment of the sea and cultural familiarity. Kali'rial had perhaps assumed she'd seen the seafaring musician in his element before, and yet, maybe she hadn't, hadn't until now.
While Pash was comfortable talking shop and could spend breaks working on repairs as if he was once again living his first life, he also knew when he needed something different, when even music or conversation wasn't enough to satiate his yearning to be in motion.
Conveniently confident that the unusual map they'd been given led to somewhere among the very islands they'd ended up on with the Nji'hadi and their guests, the tall Biqaj couldn't help but attempt to satiate his curiosity. The darkness of Cylus was cold, and the islands were rocky, some of them not even entirely explored by their new friends, but the salty bard didn't find that small fact at all daunting. It was, instead, all part of the fun.
His dark-haired huntress was easy to convince, of course, but the Empath felt as though the pair weren't the only ones who needed the distraction of danger or adventure. Pash had managed to persuade at least two of their new acquaintances to come with them—Aeodan and Edalene—as well as convince one of the friendlier shipwrights to loan him a sloop for the trial or two, the Empath terribly hard to say no to when he did his best to be convincing. Cramming everyone onto the familiar, smaller vessel with supplies and food, Pash was very motivated to just do something different for a while, especially with good company.
The trial was clear, the host of stars overhead twinkling comfortingly with a near-perfect breeze caressing the sails of the single-masted sloop. Willing to give Kali'rial the experience, he chose to offer her the role of piloting the smaller vessel while he puzzled over the map with their companions next to her, bundled against the frigid sea in his ever-warm cloak,
"I don't quite get this part o' th' map. It's no' like th' rest—like it's no' directions but somethin' else." Pash pointed with a calloused, Empathy-stained finger where the messy outlines of islands were overlaid with what he could only assume were constellations, for they matched up well when he looked up into the Cylus sky. His other hand couldn't help but scratch behind Sarkis' ear, admittedly attached to his Sevir's Karem-gifted spirit creature, "I think it's a warnin' but it's so old, who knows if 't matters now?"
What he meant to say was who cares, but he didn't. The tall Biqaj just grinned instead, rolling his sea-built shoulders and glancing upward as if to judge the differences between the brittle old pirate map and the stars above.
sorry not sorry
Assumptions and liberties taken. Wanted some navigation knowledges, so I'm being selfish. Make shit up here, I'm just having a good time. If it sucks, I'll make up for it in my later posts. Starters always weird me out, people. YAY! Let's do a thing together!
