Maiden Voyage

[Vega]

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75th Zi'da, 717

"A'right, so there's some things that I need to show you," Vega, it turned out, became quite serious when sailing and they hadn't left the dock yet. She'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail and was concentrating in a way that she normally only did if they were in combat or a dangerous situation, and had been for the time since they first set foot on there. Which, it turned out, she was feeling like they were. "So, the boom. I don't need you to know 'ow to sail, but I need you to know the basics, so's yer safe, a'right? This is the boom." Touching it, she showed him. It was large and heavy. "That, there, what it's attached to? That's the mainsail. There's other booms, but we'll do this one first." She looked at him with a frown on her face, determined to get this information across to him. "If we've got to tack or gybe... if we've gotta turn, that boom is gonna move." Vega nodded and then grinned. "Tackin' is turnin' the bow, or front of the ship, through the wind, gybe is to turn the stern, which is the back."

It was strange, in a way, the change which came over Vega. They'd come and bought the boat together and she was excited, but once they'd chosen the schooner they wanted, haggled and paid for it, she was positively delighted. Yet, setting foot on it turned her into a much more serious version of her usual self. "If everything's a'right, I'll be sheetin' in an' you should be fine, But first rule any biqaj child learns, soon as they learn to walk. Gotta know where the boom is, an' keep out of the way of it, especially in the tack an' gybe, a'right?" It was the width of the boat, she explained to him, so if he got caught, he could literally end up over the side.

For all that she was stern, and it was freezing up there, there was no denying how pleased she was. "We bought a boat," she said, with a grin. She'd spent the first half a break checking everything, it seemed. Every knot and join, every inch of rope. "See there?" she said, leaning her back against him and holding his hand. With her free hand, she motioned to the ropes near the sails, all of which looked very frayed, to an uneducated eye. "That there's ballywrinkle," she grinned at him, leaning back to kiss his cheek. "It's frayed rope, wrapped aroun' the proper line rope, so's the sails don't get damaged by the lines."

She was pleased, there was no doubting it. As long as she could keep him safe, then she'd relax. "There's a ton o' words for things, an' you'll need to learn them, but that'll all come in time." He'd be chatting about the mizzenmast before he knew, she assured him. "Now that we've got above safe, you wanna start bringin' stuff below, or are we.. actually, that's a point. Are we gonna stay in camp, or here?" With a wicked grin, she considered. "I mean, one of us could sleep 'ere, an' the other one back at camp, if you want?" That would be the last thing either of them wanted, she knew. Her vote, she said, would be that they stayed in their camp until she'd sorted out the stalls for Peg and Storm, at the least. However, whilst she'd normally want to be in camp, under the stars and not under a roof when they were in dock, whilst they were working on the boat itself, sleeping here would be a good thing as it meant they wouldn't waste time each trial coming back and forth.

"Oh, an' she needs a name," she said, with a smile, turning to him and bumping her shoulder against his. "What shall we call her? We need to name 'er before 'er maiden voyage. Girl can't go out for the first time without a name, after all." With a grin she looked at him. "Your call. What d'ya think?"

[Arlo Creede]

"Yes'm," Arlo responded, straight faced but with a glint of humor in his eyes when Vega insisted on schooling him in the ways of safety aboard ship. Her particular brand of passion and fire undeniably included a bossy streak, which he tended to take in stride. Excepting those times when he pushed back in kind, whether it was disagreement or teasing that caused him to do it.

But she made a good point anyway. There were probably a dozen ways to die aboard a seagoing vessel, not even counting the many ways of dying in the actual sea. And while logic dictated that one ought to avoid running afoul of a swaying boom, inexperience was enough to make people careless. It was no different that way than learning how to survive in the wilderness.

The wilderness might have been more his usual domain, but sailing was hers. He'd learn all he could though, since this was now their ship, their means of travel and even partly their home. He'd learn sailing just as she'd learned the ways of a forest path. Mainsail, tack and gybe, The ballywrinkle, that frayed bit of rope, somehow he thought that if he could conceive of a word that rhymed with it, it might make a good bit of a story.

"Tell me once," he said of the many terms and words that seemed to apply to sailing in particular, "and I'll remember." He'd need to, though what he might not right away, he'd note down in one of his books if need be. In the margins maybe of one he'd devoted to notes about navigation.

But she was right. They'd bought a boat, and not a small one. Before he'd met her, it wasn't something Arlo had ever thought about doing. But now? He couldn't be more pleased that they had. It came with a new, different sense of freedom. They'd been free already to wander as they pleased on land without following anyone else's plans or schedules. Now they could do the same on the sea.

"It might be better while we're working on it, to live on it as well," he figured. "Maybe move in as soon as we've got a cabin sorted for ourselves and stalls for the horses." Not only would it make things easier, prevent them having to constantly travel back and forth between camp and the boat. But Cylus was coming and fast. It would only get colder, and they'd probably be more comfortable aboard ship than back in their tent.

When she bumped his shoulder and asked about a name for their boat, Arlo grinned. "A name? Well I guess she does." Thinking about it, any number of ideas came to mind. Dream-Catcher? Star-Chaser? Journey? "Or maybe there's something in biqaj? How do they name their boats?" he wondered.

[Vega]

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"Laugh it up, chuckles." Vega shot back at him with a grin of her own. "One time is all it takes fer you to realise that I was right an' you? You were very, very wrong." But that was fine, she said, he could yes'm her all he wanted. One solid overboard with a few broken ribs in the process and he'd laugh the other side of his face. She grinned at him, though, as she told him off for his insubordinate attitude not least because she knew he was listening and he would take note. He was bright, able and used to surviving in the wild. This was the same in that there were rules and he'd learn them quick, she was sure.

"Twinkle," she said, looking at him with a grin. "I used to not be able to say ballywrinkle, an I used to call it twinkle. Sometimes, Papa still calls it that, to tormen' me." But tell him once and he'd remember? She nodded and looked at him with a grin. "Show off. A'right, basics. The actual back bit of the ship is the stern, actual front bit is the bow. Aft or astern are towards the back. Anythin' towards the front is to the fore or forward." She waited if he needed or wanted to write anything down. "Facin' forward, port is left, starboard is right." As they moved around, she considered what was important for him to know.

"If yer gonna be navigatin', then you need to know about the point o'sail. That's the direction we're goin', relative to the wind. So, if you want us to go straight north, then we need to do that by not goin' in irons. That's sailin' straight into the wind, an' it's kinda hard to go forward." She didn't explain why, she thought it was probably obvious. "The no go zone is about forty five degrees either side of in irons. Sailin' directly opposite the wind is runnin'. " Standing and pointing as she said it, she checked that he understood, then she moved her hands, starting with both of them pointing directly at the bow "So if the wind is blowin' directly at the bow, we're in irons." Then, she moved her hands each of them moving to about forty five degrees away from straight ahead. "Close-haul. Port, an' starboard." Another forty five degrees, so now her hands were at ninety degree angles from the line of the ship."Sailin' beam-reach, again either port or starboard. Finally," she held her hand backwards, forty five degrees from the stern of the ship "Broad reach, port an' starboard." And then, it was back to running. Eight points of sail, she said, and they would be something they'd both need to know and work with.

She shrugged, then, and grinned at him. "An' that's enough, my brain 'urts. I'm not smart enough at this to teach you. Papa will do better, I've jus' been learnin' the basics. I mean, this stuff you pick up livin' yer life on a ship, but yeah, Papa will show you it properly." Vega was very aware that he was quick to learn and she'd probably both confuse him and end up saying something wrong which he'd take as correct and then, things could go wrong. Better her father did it.

"It's the stalls, really, that's the main work. Maybe we should think about stablin' the horses, Arlo? Nearby, in the Knight's Rest, maybe." She couldn't help but grin even as she said the name of the place and, unlike her as it was, she blushed slightly. But, moving on. "An' we can live on her then, while we're workin' on her." It was strange to hear him refer to any vessel as 'it', but that was just the land dwelling way, she supposed. There'd be a hundred little things, no doubt. "I mean, the weather is pretty vile, an' likely to get worse, not better." The horses might be happier, she thought, stabled. Plus, it bought them time, they could work here as much of the trial and the night as they wanted. "Plus, we can get 'er right comfortable."

On the subject of a name, though, he was his typical self. Vega looked at him despairingly and she rolled her eyes. "We pick someone to name the ship an' say, 'your call, what d'ya think?' an, usually, they answer." Her gaze on him was deadpan but her eyes couldn't hide her amusement. "We could call 'er, the Squabblin' Dreamers, the." Vega slipped her arms around him and kissed him. "Irritatin' Wart. Steamin' Dweeb?" Another kiss and she grinned, "The Lollygagger." There were a lot of names, she said. How they did it, the biqaj? "It's like... she's got a name, we'll know it when we find it. It's what she already is." Nudging him, she motioned. "Come on, let's go look below decks, work out 'ow we're gonna change 'er up?"

Taking his hand, she started to make her way so that they could go below deck and she grinned. "The Sense of Adventure," she said, with a glance back at him. "Or maybe the Curiosity or Wanderlust. Somethin' like that? I dunno, you know the words, I'm rubbish at words." Squeezing his hand, she added. "Me, I just hit things." Bits of wood. People. Mostly, she figured, it was true.

[Arlo Creede]

Vega in all likelihood was right, in regards to knowing all that she knew including the risks. They each had their strengths after all, their particular areas of interest and as often as not, those territories tended to cross, mix and mingle as their collective store of knowledge grew. However, there was a point to make and Arlo grinned when he offered it up. "You're likely right," he quipped. "But if I spend any amount of time telling you that, you'll get a big head about you." All joking aside, however, he was listening and committing all that he could to memory.

And what he might not remember right away for being unfamiliar as it was, he was sure to jot down in a blank sheet of the book he'd set aside for observations on navigation. "Twinkles, I'm gonna have to remember that," he warned her, and even made a grand show of writing it down. Stern, bow, starboard, eventually most of it he wrote down so he could look back at it later if need be. He was more familiar after all, by now, with maps and navigational equipment and so on. But more because of study from books rather than actual doing on board any ship.

He'd have to put that to rights soon enough. In fact some of what she told him related to that. Irons, broad-reach, beam-reach. He remembered something he'd read however when Vega mentioned not sailing straight into the wind. Which after all made perfect, logical sense. "Tacking?" he wondered, as much to himself as to her. He seemed to recall the process being referred to that way.

"I'll pick it up as we go," he promised when she proclaimed she'd had enough. And he put his book away as well. Arlo agreed though once she mentioned it. It would take time to finish the stalls on board for the horses, and he wouldn't like leaving them behind if they were to move to the ship before then. But no more was he interested in experiencing just how cold and hard the ground around Scalvoris could really get in the middle of Cylus. "We'll board them then," he agreed. "And by the time we move them on board Peg will be spoiled rotten and will be expecting first class accommodations."

So it was settled then. They'd board the horses, and as soon as their cabin was the way they wanted it, the two of them could pack up camp and move onto the boat. "Well you can never tell with those Biqaj and their curious ways," he teased her back when she came into his arms and they kissed. "I'd hate to run afoul of one of 'em, just for the sake of naming a boat." Their boat, that's what it was. And theirs to name anyway.

He'd almost given up on immediately settling on a name however and figured she was right. In time the boat would name herself and let them know. But as they were headed below deck to have a better look around at their new home on the water...Well there, that was it. "Wanderlust," he shot back at her as he led the way down. "That's it. I think she's gone and named herself."

[Vega]

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"Shurrup. I'm not good with words, you know that. Don't be mean or I'll punch you onto the next boat." It was a fairly straightforward response, considering who they were to his "twinkles" comment. She grinned though, and shook her head slightly, when he muttered about tacking. "You wanna be careful, you do. Yer that sharp, you might cut yerself." A gentle thump on his shoulder, just to remind him of his place and she explained. "Tackin' is right. Tackin' is turnin' the bow of the boat through the wind, yeah. You might be tackin' port or starboard. But really, Papa's better, I'll get you confused."

They agreed, though, that they'd board the horses and then, the two of them would work on getting the schooner to the standard they were both happy with. What that might mean in terms of their rooms, and above deck, well that needed working out. They'd need to agree what they wanted and then work out the order that it needed doing, she said. There was something much more.. serious about her aboard the schooner. Except when his arms wrapped around her and he lowered his head to kiss her. Then, her eyes lit with emotions way beyond her ability to express. "We're not namin' a boat, Arlo. We're naimin' our boat. It's a big responsibility. She'll 'ave her own personality, quirks an' all. Things she likes an' things she doesn't, an' we need to learn her, much as anythin' else. As she learns us." He didn't understand she explained. "An' frankly, I'm not clever enough to explain it." This wasn't a house, it wasn't where they lived. Then, she hit upon what she was looking for. "She's not the cart, an' she's not the tent. She's Peg."

And then, whether he looked at her the way she thought he did, or not, she said all that she needed to. "Shurrup."

But 'Wanderlust'? Vega thought about it, nodded and grinned. She'd make an engraving of the name, she said, but he'd have to write it out for her, so she could copy the shapes."We can sail 'er now, when we're ready. Bad luck to set sail on a boat without a name. Right, so lets 'ave a looksie then."

It would be easy she thought, to split the place into two halves. Where did he want the horses to be stabled here? When they'd taken horses as cargo, the horses had been below deck and that made sense to her now. The galley kitchen was towards the front of the below decks, and Vega suggested that they turn the back into the stalls, then put a storage area. Then, her father and cousin's room, the kitchen, then them. But it was up to him, she was happy to do it however he liked. "I reckon," she said, very seriously. "The biggest bed you've ever seen, right there. An' a hammock big enough for both of us, too, come to that." Except that would be above deck, obviously.

Then, she considered, they'd need somewhere for him to, as she put it, "do all that weird navigation stuff. You'll need charts an' tables an' all sorts, yeah? So do ya need a room of yer own, and also, this is rigged up for ten passengers. Do we wanna keep a small spare bedspace or somethin'?" They were all just ideas, but she was more than happy to work with it however he wanted. Like many schooners, there was a covered area above deck and Vega was quick to point out that, if he wanted, they could sleep there. As long as they were clear, she didn't mind and between them they could make what adjustments they needed. With a grin, she took his hand and tugged him to the area in question. "So come on, then, tell us about the galley, Cookie."

[Arlo Creede]

"You have funny rules," Arlo shot back, bumping Vega's shoulder with his own before ducking out of her reach. No twinkles for him, but plenty of steaming and dweebs for her, that was. If she thought he'd forget though she was wrong. He'd hang onto that little term of affection and pull it out when she least expected it.

"As a tack," he uttered, nearly under his breath and grinning when she declared he was sharp. But tacking was right she told him. Tacking through the wind, port or starboard. Shaking his head though when Vega insisted he didn't understand, Arlo grinned and kissed her. "Peg is Peg, but she's still a horse. She is our boat, she'll have a feel all her own, distinctive to her, and she'll need a name that suits her." He'd thought they might go round and round about that though, looking and searching for one without finding it. But as soon as he began to fear as much, the right one in fact revealed itself. Wanderlust. He liked it.

"I'll draw out the name then, make it look nice, you carve it and she'll be the best dressed schooner on the seas," Arlo promised as they went off to explore below deck. So the galley at the front down below, the horses in the rear and everything else in between. "The storage will be extra space between the stalls and sleeping quarters too," he figured. While he was fond enough of the smell of fresh hay, not so much the other aromas that tended to come with having horses around. "A big bed, and a hammock for two up on deck," he agreed while they looked round the space and imagined how it all would look when it was finished.

He'd like an extra place set aside where he could look over maps and books and fiddle with his equipment, he said. And an extra little cabin might be nice in case they took on a guest or even a paying one, once in a while. As for his galley? Unless her father or cousin could cook, it would mostly be his domain, he knew. Better he was happy with what he'd be working with. "I'd like to set up some sort of portable, raised cooking pit up on deck somewhere, maybe under that covered area," he told her.

Then once they walked into the section below decks that would be the actual galley, Arlo took a speculative look around. "A good grill top with plenty of space, and a roomy oven with storage for wood underneath," he said. Storage for pots, pans, utensils and the like. A way to keep them contained and prevent them knocking around all over the place due to stormy seas. "And here here, opposite the stove, a good sized ice box, cabinet or two for dry goods and a good sized work surface lined with a thick slab of butcher's block," he decided.

[Vega]

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"An' you've got a funny face, but you don't catch me pointin' it out, do you?" She grinned at him but then, mere trill later, she frowned and pursed her lips in an expression of half-serious irritation. "Now, see, that's not fair. That's a perfectly good, an' reasonable comeback an' yet, I need to take it back, cos, you know. It's not true an' I like your face quite a lot." Frowning at him, somehow that seemed to be some kind of offence on his part, some crime committed. It was too much, though, when he said he was sharp as a tack. In a strange mirroring of that trial on Immortals' Tongue, Vega thumped him and kissed him simultaneously, both somewhat more forcefully than usual. Rather reluctantly, she pulled herself back and looked at him. "You know, you confuse me you do. It's cos you're right weird," her grin was mischievous and somehow serious at the same time. "Jus' leave the Immortals' awful puns to the professionals. Yer a rank amateur."

Doing her best to explain that it wasn't just naming a boat, his expression back to her and how he held her when he stepped in kissed her? Well, that told her that, in his eyes, she was the one who was confusing because she was right weird. What a strange thing relationships were, Vega thought. Especially and specifically when they were with Arlo Creede; a law unto himself. Had anyone asked her, Vega would have been sure that they'd end up falling out about the name before they came to a conclusion, having gone round and round in circles. Yet, there it was. The Wanderlust. "I would jus' like to point out that it was my idea, that name. Like all the other good ideas in our life. But yeah, write it out nice, an' I'll carve it. You could do the carvin', though. Let me do the 'eavy work an' you can make things pretty." It was strange, the way that Vega's mind worked and how the filters between it and her mouth often didn't. "Arlo?" Vega stopped, looking at him for a moment. "It's a'right whatever you answer to this, yeah? Would you rather I talked more like.. I dunno, properly?" She could, probably, she thought, if she tried.

Of course, there was a thought process in her head from the carving of the name to that question, it was just deeply buried in whatever passed for logic in Vega's life. Which usually bore little resemblance to how anyone else defined the word. Either way, she wasn't worried or bothered and that was obvious. She was just curious, really. But then they went to explore below decks and she watched him with a grin. "That works. We can measure it, an' work it all out. Plan it an' then make it 'appen." The place was already well kitted out, most of it would mean moving walls and re-using wood in different places. She nodded, pleased with it as a project, "you ever slept on a hammock, Arlo?" Vega had, many times and she raised an eyebrow.

The idea of a raised cooking pit above deck, in the covered area caused her to think a little. "What about somethin' like.. well, I'm picturin' a sort of bricked up circle, raised but built in such a way that you've got access to it underneath too? That sort of the thing you mean?" In the galley, however, he was very clear what he wanted. There were tricks for storing utensils, crockery and equipment, she said and she could do that easily if it wasn't already there. "We'll 'ave to be better at gettin' everythin' away an' not leavin' stuff is the only thing. An' Papa will say '"Don't put it down, put it away" that many times that you'll wanna kill 'im." She was, she assured him, speaking from experience.

"A'right," she said, looking around and nodding. What he described was fairly straightforward and they could do that. "The thing to do is to use every bit of space. Ceiling an' floors as well as walls. Right. So, we need to draw up these designs, then, yeah?" She grinned suddenly as a realisation his her. "Hey, guess what? I 'aven't even felt a little bit sick. Not even thought about it till now. It really was all in the strange links between my 'ead an' my 'eart, like Papa said. How weird." She shook her head, wondering at that.

[Arlo Creede]

"A funny face?" Arlo asked, looking aside at Vega as if to be outraged, as if it was an insult of the highest order. She knew him better of course but he snorted, "I'll have you know that there have been plenty of women who've said I'd the fairest face they'd ever seen." It was almost true. Sort of. He'd been a cute kid to have heard others tell it. And a number of his grandmother's friends had said just that very thing, while grabbing at his face, pinching his cheeks and ruffling his hair. He'd hated it.

See? She couldn't deny it, he told her with a grin then once she'd taken it back. A thump and a kiss. He'd take it, though he wasn't about to let her know that he liked puns as a general rule. Even awful ones, so long as they were hers. "I'll write out the name, draw it out in large nice looking letters, and you carve it. You're better at that than me," he insisted. Arlo suspected he knew why she was resisting, even when she was clearly better at carving than him. "I'll get a large piece of paper from the butcher so I can draw it out to scale. It'll be like a pattern then, the kind that's used for sewing. You can lay the paper over the surface your working in, trace over it and cut it into the wood."

When Vega asked if he wanted to her to talk differently though, Arlo stopped what they were doing and looked at her like she'd grown a third eye, right in the middle of her forehead. "Why would you ask a thing like that? Why would I want you to be any different than you are? I wanted to be with you because of you, not because you might be somebody else. Stop it," he said. He'd slept on a hammock once or twice he told her. One big enough for two that had hung in his parents garden, suspended from a tree. "It's not a bad way to sleep once you've mastered the trick of getting into one without it flinging you out the other side."

That was exactly what he meant though, he told her when they talked about the outdoor cooking area. As for there, or down in the galley, it would be more important to keep things put away. But it was more than that. He'd have to make more adjustments in the way he cooked too. Method, things like that. And ways to prevent things spilling over and sloshing around too much on anything but dead calm seas.

As for drawing things out, that was easy. Arlo had brought along a notebook filled with blank pages, an ink pot and more than one pen to draw with. No time like the present, he suggested as he pulled those things out and handed them to her. As for seasickness? "Good. I'm glad," he said. "It's not so weird is it, really? Mind over matter?" That was his thinking on the matter at least, not so different from his suspicions about why she had trouble reading.

[Vega]

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"Oh? There's been plenty of women tellin' you 'ow 'andsome you are, 'ave there?" Vega's eyes swirled colours at that. She knew he was teasing her, and yet she still didn't like it. "Well you jus' tell 'em to shove off, cos you're taken." Vega had an ability, a talent even, she could mutter and grumble at just the correct level which meant that he could hear her perfectly well, yet it was a grumble and mutter still. "Fairest face they've ever seen, indeed. My Papa's always told me, 'andsome is what 'andsome does." But no, she couldn't maintain the 'funny face' comment and she sighed and grinned when he told her that she couldn't deny it. "You practicin' for Cylus, Creede? When it's icy an' some of that ice will be thin?" He confused and confounded her, but she'd have it no other way and she grinned in contentment.

She rolled her eyes when he insisted on her doing the carving and bit back a comment about how, if she was better at it than him, he should do it and get some practice in. It was marvelous and most excellent logic, that, but only until he turned around and applied it to cooking, she thought. Then, it would be abysmal logic and he was just contrary enough that it would be first thing he did. He came up with a solution that she couldn't argue with, as much as she wanted to, although she shook her head. "I can't sew, an' I can't follow patterns, can I?" He knew she couldn't read, and patterns were definitely words. "An' if you're gonna do that, Arlo, jus' chalk an' pencil it straight on to the wood." Her lips pursed, though and Vega looked at him with a very serious expression. "An' I don't get why butchers sell paper." It wasn't the first time he'd mentioned it, and she was confounded. "I mean I know it's tough, thick paper for the whirl an' gig things, but I don't get it."

But stop it? Her eyebrows shot up and Vega's face took on a very particular look. "I bloody well will not stop it, you bog off an' boil yer head while yer there." It was only what he'd said before which stopped her from blowing up completely. "I don't mean what you seem to think I do. I'll explain it an' use small words, so try an' keep up." Two in breaths from losing her temper, but far too close for her to be nice about it. Looking at him with more than half exasperation on her face mingled with quite a lot of irritation and just a pinch of amusement, which was all that stood between her and a full on explosion, she spoke again. "Yer gonna be learnin' a lot of new words, an' doin' all this navigation stuff. I jus' thought it might be 'elpful to you if I was clear, cos I can't write 'em down for you." A frown settled on her face and she had to admit, amused was fleeing. "Talk about jumpin' too far. I said Wanderlust was my idea, which led me to thinkin' that gettin' the boat was, too. An' then I said I'm doin' the 'eavy stuff, which includes the sailin'. An' I was thinkin' about you with the navigation' an' learnin' all those words. I wasn't talkin' about us. Bloody 'ell, Arlo, you jumped there right quick"

Shaking her head, slightly, she turned and walked down below decks, confident that, even should she live for two hundred arcs, she would never understand men and especially Arlo Creede. As she stomped, she couldn't quite help but think about it. How did he get it being about them from what she said? What she'd meant was obvious, and she was sure it was. Yet perhaps, obviously in fact, to him it wasn't and it being about them somehow was the logical place to jump. It unnerved her, that he had taken it there, but that was up to him and there was nothing she could do about it. He could deal with that lot himself.

Still, best left where it was or they were going to spend their first trial on their new boat screaming at each other and that probably wasn't lucky, she reckoned. So, she put it down to him being an unreasonable idiot of a male and turned to the galley. "Yeah, there's tricks an' things to that. We'll probably wanna get some diffrent pans an' stuff. Lids. Shon, does some cookin'. Not a lot, an' he's not great at it. But 'e'll help, I'm sure." It would be alright, she said, he was an excellent cook and he'd adjust quickly, she was sure. "The trick is, see, like this?" Pointing to one of the work surfaces, there was a jar on there. Just a plain pewter jar, meant to hold some ingredients. Lifting it up, off the surface, it was obvious that it was sitting inside a small wooden holder, attached to the wood. "If we're movin' about, it's not slidin' about. Anythin' that's left out, needs a means of bein' attached. See?" They could do that kind of thing, she said, and it would help. That, plus lids and it would be less adjustment than he thought. If he was having second thoughts, they could change it around, she was sure.

He didn't seem to be, though, in fact he declared that there was no time like the present and pulled out a book, a pot of ink and some pens. Then he handed them to her and she looked like he'd put a disembodied giant spider in her hands, then put them down on the nearest flat surface. "So, I'll measure an' call out stuff, an' you can do this, yeah?" But she grinned and shrugged slightly, when he suggested that her lack of seasickness was mind over matter. "I dunno, it feels weird. How can it by my mind, when I don't know I'm thinkin' about it? I mean, I've been sick at sea as long as I can remember, Arlo." She hadn't started her life thinking she was going to be seasick, or she didn't think she had. "All that matters is it's stopped, any'ow, an' as long as it don't come back, I'll be a 'ole lot happier." Grinning at him, she added, "especially since we've forked out for this, now. I've never spent so much money in one go, quite gave me the heebie jeebies."

[Arlo Creede]

Well if he told them off, Arlo told Vega with a barely concealed grin, he'd have to travel all the way back to Rharne and revisit the cackling, busybody old women that had flocked around one neighboring farm or another, or in the stalls at the farmer's market. And if he was to do that, in all likelihood he'd find them all gone and buried by now. "Thin ice is unpredictable, it riles easily and that makes it all the more fun," he teased her.

So far as him writing and drawing out the name of their boat, and Vegai carving it onto a proper plaque, he was coming to the conclusion that she was being deliberately contrary. He couldn't prove it, therefore wasn't willing to point it out. Even if he could prove it, it would have devolved quickly into an disagreement. "You don't need to sew to use a pattern like the one I'm talking about," he insisted. "You only need to trace one anyway and transfer it that way. I was going to use paper because that way I have plenty of chances to get it wrong before getting it right, without having to mess with removing the marks from the wood every time." Stubborn, he decided. That's what she was being. Women. But butcher's used a special paper to wrap meat in, he told her. Waxed on one side but not on the other. It kept the freshness and moisture in, not allowing it to leak out, but prevented the meat from becoming dry, due to the waxy outside.

And then? She said something, jumped to a conclusion that convinced him she was spoiling for a fight. "And I didn't mean what you think I meant," he said, pausing to turn a deep and frustrated frown on her. "I didn't mean any of like that. You asked if I'd rather you speak properly. I said I liked the way you talk and don't want you to be any different." That was all. And, he added, he wasn't going to fight with her about who meant what, when they weren't even agreed on who said what. "I love you. I don't want you speak any differently than you do." And wasn't that all she really needed to know? Arlo hoped so, if they were going to go rounds, well, he'd just rather not this trial.

As for tricks that could be used in the kitchen to stop things sliding and flying about while on the water, Arlo took all that in and nodded. That they could do. "I think then," he considered, "that it's better not to have any slick surfaces to set things on, but more textured instead. And a floor that doesn't get slippery when it gets wet." But again, when he put the book in her hands and she dropped it like a pot with the handles too hot, again Arlo thought she might be misreading his intentions. "It's for drawing," he explained. It didn't even need to be to scale, he figured, just a rough outline of the boat, divided into sections for the spaces they wanted. He wasn't anywhere near an artist, but neither of them really needed to be.

He was happier nonetheless to have her call out the measurements and he'd write them down. When she talked about her seasickness though, it reminded him of her reading, and what he was starting to think was the real problem. He grinned though when she mentioned the nels they'd spent. "I never thought I'd spend so much in one place. But it's well spent. It's going to great Vega." Then working quietly for a few trills, he looked up again. "You know, I was thinking about reading, you know," he said.

Tricky, finding a way to bring up the topic without her thinking he was criticizing her. "When we were forced to stay indoors those three trials and we were looking over the books you gave me, I noticed something. You can read Vega. I noticed that during those times when your eyes were brown, the letters didn't seem so jumbled up to you. Or at least it didn't seem that way to me. You were reading them," he said.