91 Vhalar 722
- Port Diablo
He woke to an empty bed and, despite himself - and knowing full well his bedmate was gone, he dragged his foot back just enough to check. He felt nothing but the chill of the small bed behind him and instantly took hold of the sheets and wound himself up more tightly within them with a faint groan in protest. Even though he was still getting used to having a regular bedmate, he found he certainly missed the Lotharro’s warmth and solid, steadying bulk, especially now in the cold embrace of the morning.
Reality swiftly caught him up in its wake shortly after and his eyes shot open. A trill after focusing, they dropped to the floor of his berth and he was relieved - and grateful - to see
By the time he made it up onto the deck, the sun was just lighting the sky through thin, wispy clouds and he squinted his eyes against the harsh glare. The morning noise of bells, shouts and calls of gulls greeted him as well and he drank it all in like it was a warming cup of tea whilst soaking up the smell and feel of the briney atmosphere as he allowed himself a moment to settle into the moment.
Mentally, he was wide awake and primed for what he would have to move to next, his thoughts ticking over a cursory checklist of things that would need to be seen to and the order in which to do it. For now, however, he let his physical being lag behind, affording it a chance to catch up at its own pace as was so often the case. His body shudder-shivered beneath his layers of clothes that he had haphazardly thrown over his frame and he felt a particular clenching twinge in his shortened leg as a cramp threatened. He’d need to move and warm up - and soon, but he also knew he didn’t want to delay the start of his mission for too long. With this in mind, he decided a few lengths and laps of the deck would suffice - he could even begin getting the lines and ship in final order as he went.
He began his wander along the starboard side, briefly leaning into the gunwale as he bent and shifted his short leg before giving it a squeeze, his hand dipping further down to readjust the straps that held his peg leg in place until it sat more comfortably once he put his weight back into it. The gnawing feeling of how he was going to manage single-handed sailing was daunting enough, but knowing he would have to navigate the cockpit, deck and entire endeavour while wearing the prosthetic added another layer of danger he wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared for. It was going to be challenging enough figuring out how to sail solo with the ship in its current condition without the added obstacle his own condition presented.
A pang hit him as he straightened and glanced out towards a passing ship boat carrying a load of sailors to one of the large tallships that waited out in deeper waters beyond and he realised how much he missed the company and security of a crew. He shut his eyes tightly and drew in a deep breath to steady his resolve: this was his lot in life at the moment, he needed to keep his mind present and focused.
His walk took him further around the deck and he surveyed what he passed, checking belaying pins were in place and easily accessible and that the lines were wound neat and secured. He passed a hand over those that hung from the mast and took a moment to commune with the ship, connecting with it with a deep breath and low murmur. “You and me,” he said privately in Rahaki, “have not always been on the best of terms.. But I hope you can forgive me for how absent and unappreciative I have been.” His vivid aquamarine eyes roamed up the length of the mast as he gave a patch of raw wood a solid pat, “We’ll figure each other out. Get back to where we should. It’ll be a journey, but I am in it for the long haul..” his words tapered off softly as his hand slid away, “If you’ll just hold up for me, yeah?” It was a gentle pleading, words earnest as he regarded his shabby sloop as if it were a living, breathing thing and not some inanimate object crafted from wood, iron and tar.
With a final nod, he appraised the boom and furled mainsail, eyes studying the lashings. He reached up and ran a hand along them, tugging to feel the give. He was satisfied with how it held, his eyes and movements following the main halyard all the way to where it left the boom and glanced over the coil he had organised it into the previous evening before deciding flaking it out would be the better option. The last thing he wanted was to be worrying about tangled ropes. Bending, he took up the coil and walked it back towards the cockpit before he began flaking it out in neat, flat figure eights.
Having to be the captain, deck-hand, navigator and engineer all in one, he realised he’d need to set everything up to be accessible from the helm of the ship where the tiller was since he wouldn’t be able to afford to leave it unattended for any period of time. Not that he could afford to even attempt to move about the deck while the ship was in motion - the ramifications of him losing his footing were great and he knew it would take time for him to regain his sealegs after the near cycle and a half he had spent land-bound.
With the main halyard now in place, he repeated the process running the two reefing lines back to the cockpit and then attempted some long strides back to the bow to stretch his tight, shortened leg. He took his time there to look over his handywork where he had attempted to secure the broken bowsprit with lashings of spare rope. He uttered something under his breath to U’frek in hopes it might hold, yet knew better than to rely on it to secure his jib. Instead, he decided it best to forgo sailing with the second sail until it was fully repaired - and until he had a better handle of single-handed sailing with his prosthetic and a better feel of the ship under sail.
From there, he hobbled along to the port side, checking as he moved along the perimeter of the deck, eyes sweeping his surroundings to ensure nothing was needlessly loose or out of place. As his wander drew him back to the rear of the ship, he was finally feeling more physically ready to attempt to cast off.
There were more preparations to be had, however. He returned below deck with some effort to collect a few needed items to assist him while under sail - namely his compass, tide chart he had crudely created on the back of his map of Tried’s Mouth and a few other navigational tools, all of which found homes in various easily accessible pockets on his person. A few bites of a heel of bread and a glug of water later and he was back above deck, ready to get what he’d need to push off.
Reality swiftly caught him up in its wake shortly after and his eyes shot open. A trill after focusing, they dropped to the floor of his berth and he was relieved - and grateful - to see
Ymbre
must have bailed what water had seeped in while they slept before he left. Judging by the small amount that had trickled back in, the Lotharro hadn’t been gone long and the courteous act afforded the Biqaj time to get moving - and hopefully on his way - before it became a threat once more.By the time he made it up onto the deck, the sun was just lighting the sky through thin, wispy clouds and he squinted his eyes against the harsh glare. The morning noise of bells, shouts and calls of gulls greeted him as well and he drank it all in like it was a warming cup of tea whilst soaking up the smell and feel of the briney atmosphere as he allowed himself a moment to settle into the moment.
Mentally, he was wide awake and primed for what he would have to move to next, his thoughts ticking over a cursory checklist of things that would need to be seen to and the order in which to do it. For now, however, he let his physical being lag behind, affording it a chance to catch up at its own pace as was so often the case. His body shudder-shivered beneath his layers of clothes that he had haphazardly thrown over his frame and he felt a particular clenching twinge in his shortened leg as a cramp threatened. He’d need to move and warm up - and soon, but he also knew he didn’t want to delay the start of his mission for too long. With this in mind, he decided a few lengths and laps of the deck would suffice - he could even begin getting the lines and ship in final order as he went.
He began his wander along the starboard side, briefly leaning into the gunwale as he bent and shifted his short leg before giving it a squeeze, his hand dipping further down to readjust the straps that held his peg leg in place until it sat more comfortably once he put his weight back into it. The gnawing feeling of how he was going to manage single-handed sailing was daunting enough, but knowing he would have to navigate the cockpit, deck and entire endeavour while wearing the prosthetic added another layer of danger he wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared for. It was going to be challenging enough figuring out how to sail solo with the ship in its current condition without the added obstacle his own condition presented.
A pang hit him as he straightened and glanced out towards a passing ship boat carrying a load of sailors to one of the large tallships that waited out in deeper waters beyond and he realised how much he missed the company and security of a crew. He shut his eyes tightly and drew in a deep breath to steady his resolve: this was his lot in life at the moment, he needed to keep his mind present and focused.
His walk took him further around the deck and he surveyed what he passed, checking belaying pins were in place and easily accessible and that the lines were wound neat and secured. He passed a hand over those that hung from the mast and took a moment to commune with the ship, connecting with it with a deep breath and low murmur. “You and me,” he said privately in Rahaki, “have not always been on the best of terms.. But I hope you can forgive me for how absent and unappreciative I have been.” His vivid aquamarine eyes roamed up the length of the mast as he gave a patch of raw wood a solid pat, “We’ll figure each other out. Get back to where we should. It’ll be a journey, but I am in it for the long haul..” his words tapered off softly as his hand slid away, “If you’ll just hold up for me, yeah?” It was a gentle pleading, words earnest as he regarded his shabby sloop as if it were a living, breathing thing and not some inanimate object crafted from wood, iron and tar.
With a final nod, he appraised the boom and furled mainsail, eyes studying the lashings. He reached up and ran a hand along them, tugging to feel the give. He was satisfied with how it held, his eyes and movements following the main halyard all the way to where it left the boom and glanced over the coil he had organised it into the previous evening before deciding flaking it out would be the better option. The last thing he wanted was to be worrying about tangled ropes. Bending, he took up the coil and walked it back towards the cockpit before he began flaking it out in neat, flat figure eights.
Having to be the captain, deck-hand, navigator and engineer all in one, he realised he’d need to set everything up to be accessible from the helm of the ship where the tiller was since he wouldn’t be able to afford to leave it unattended for any period of time. Not that he could afford to even attempt to move about the deck while the ship was in motion - the ramifications of him losing his footing were great and he knew it would take time for him to regain his sealegs after the near cycle and a half he had spent land-bound.
With the main halyard now in place, he repeated the process running the two reefing lines back to the cockpit and then attempted some long strides back to the bow to stretch his tight, shortened leg. He took his time there to look over his handywork where he had attempted to secure the broken bowsprit with lashings of spare rope. He uttered something under his breath to U’frek in hopes it might hold, yet knew better than to rely on it to secure his jib. Instead, he decided it best to forgo sailing with the second sail until it was fully repaired - and until he had a better handle of single-handed sailing with his prosthetic and a better feel of the ship under sail.
From there, he hobbled along to the port side, checking as he moved along the perimeter of the deck, eyes sweeping his surroundings to ensure nothing was needlessly loose or out of place. As his wander drew him back to the rear of the ship, he was finally feeling more physically ready to attempt to cast off.
There were more preparations to be had, however. He returned below deck with some effort to collect a few needed items to assist him while under sail - namely his compass, tide chart he had crudely created on the back of his map of Tried’s Mouth and a few other navigational tools, all of which found homes in various easily accessible pockets on his person. A few bites of a heel of bread and a glug of water later and he was back above deck, ready to get what he’d need to push off.
