• Closed • Saltwater Contemplation.

[Nir'wei]

4th of Saun, 717.

The ocean wasn't something Nir'wei had seen a lot of, in his childhood. Now he'd seen more than enough of it to last a lifetime. He'd spent his fair share of time on Ivorian, an island with surprisingly little beach, and Rynmere too, which made up for it. Rharne, he didn't really count on that list, since he'd never seen much of the city itself, so he couldn't really tell how much coastline it had to offer. He'd arrived by boat, so there had to be some of it. Now he was on Scalvoris... sitting on yet another beach, staring out across another ocean. If he didn't know any better, he'd think U'frek was to blame. Just the thought of an Immortal involving themselves in him - again - was enough to bring a small, fleeting smile to his face as he remembered Ziell walking through the streets of Andaris, tripping up poor children with ice powers.

Greyhide, his rescued wolf, was away, scouting up and down the coast, doing whatever business he needed to do. Jasper the otter lay down next to Nir'wei, digging through the crisp sand in search of goodies and still damp from his earlier swim. Malice stood further back, grazing lazily on the tough tufts of grass that made the coarse sand its home. All in all, they must have looked like a right bunch of misfits and more than enough to attract attention, but with the twin dark-red suns of Saun still kissing the horizon, most were still asleep in their huts... and with heat enough to waver in the air, even on the beaches where cooling breezes should have carried on the ocean waves, anyone silly enough to be awake at this time should be keeping to the damp, sheltered indoors.

It meant he could hog all the peaceful quiet to himself. The only things that broke it were the occasional waves crashing up into the shore, splashing his bare feet, washing away the sand that clung to his soles. No pestering. No distractions. Even now that he was cured, some still pestered him with questions, thoughts. He was sure it'd be an ongoing problem. Even though Faith held all the documentation, all the research papers and all the results and methodologies, they still wanted to ask him. Even though he'd been unconscious through the entire procedure, they still tried to ask him about what happened! They wanted personality tests, they wanted to know intimate details 'in case something went wrong', as if anything could be done about it now.

It didn't matter. Inhale. Exhale. He breathed deeply from the crisp salty air, trying not to choke on the heat, and imagined a soft white flowerbud opening slowly, one petal at a time. As the last petal opened, the next along slowly changed to blue. Carrying around again, each petal changing one at a time, it went to red, then yellow, then green, over and over until they'd gone through nearly every colour in the spectrum. Granted, it was a longer version of meditation than many others used, but it did the job well enough. Besides... meditation, to him at least, wasn't some stupid instantaneous matter. It was deep thought and relaxation; inward thought and self-realisation. Deeper understanding of self.

"You're a cheater, though." Archailist, the little translucent spirit-squirrel resting on his left knee, didn't break his meditative sequence, but did split Nir'weis attention in two ways. Something that he was glad he had meditation for; with it, he could put up with Archailist when he tried to disrupt his meditation. "If you ever want a deeper understanding of yourself, all you need to do is talk to me." Even when pointedly not looking at Archailist, he knew that the spirit was smiling in a way no mortal squirrel could smile. "I am you, after all. Some could even call me a more permanent you."

"More annoying, too." Jasper looked up, and Nir'wei absently reached down to stroke between the otter's rounded ears. "Not you." Archailist snorted contemptuously, and Nir'wei felt a hidden pang of satisfaction when a spike of jealousy shot through their bond.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash had, for almost the entirety of his life, seen nothing but the ocean—he’d grown up by it in Ne’Haer, worked for it by building ships with his father, sailed on it in The Muse, lived off of it, survived its storms, and seen it from nearly every city he’d visited over the past eight arcs. Scalvoris was the farthest he’d ever traveled, and when he thought about just how far away he really was from Ne’Haer, from home, the Orm’del seemed infinite and vast even though he’d obviously crossed it, alone, already. While not at all a morning person, the tall Biqaj working and playing late into the hours deemed early during any other season but Saun, he had plans for part of the beach to prepare for the next trial’s festivities. Supposedly, the whole sky would be filled with rainbow clouds, and while the horizon certainly didn’t seem to be making those promises from where he stood, already hot and still bleary-eyed on the deck of his sloop, the weather in Scalvoris was nothing if not unpredictable.

It was tempting to wake Kali’rial and drag her on a walk with him, to rouse her lovely sleeping self and hold her hand while they walked where the sea met the sand. But he didn’t. It was fairly early yet, too early, judging by how the suns hung low on the horizon, though they never dipped below it, and he simply wanted to find a spot to build a little shelter and make preparations for the gathering he planned for tomorrow. Supposedly, the island celebrated by dancing and music, two things the Biqaj could get behind, two things he was good at, two things he made his living by. So he did his best to scribble a note—he felt obligated these trials to make sure the dark-haired huntress knew where he was off to if they weren’t going together—and leave word that he was scouting the shoreline for the location that struck his sensibilities as the right one.

Leaping over the gunnel and onto the dock, Pash wandered past all that had become familiar as the daily goings-on of Scalvoris Harbor—dockhands who’d come to know him over the past season or so, merchants from elsewhere who didn’t have a clue—and made his way to the beach, barefoot and humming the tune to some old shanty his grandfather used to sing.

Once his feet hit the hot sand, he quieted, picking a direction along the shore he knew to have just a little less foot traffic than the opposite. Walking in the surf, cold Scalvoris harbor sea up to his ankles, he walked slowly, lagoon blue gaze not on the water but on the beach, the tide so low already under the glare of the two suns that he figured it would be easy to find a nice spot for a pavilion and a party.

Ah, good—there was already some driftwood up toward the grass line, pieces of old shipwrecks and abandoned projects.

He wanted to find somewhere flat, even, but still within view of Scalvtown, so he knew he didn’t need to wander too far up the beach. It was so quiet this early in the morning, Pash considered, and briefly wondered if he’d been missing out for arcs. The seabirds were getting their breakfast, a few little crabs darted into the foam, and the heat of the day that already shimmered in the air was occasionally abated by a refreshing breeze. The stillness felt good, refreshing, and while it was his intention to look for the perfect place, the seafaring minstrel found himself looking within.

Ymiden had been a whirlwind of adventure and feelings, and not all of those feelings had even been his own. Some things had gotten out of hand, and much of that had been his own fault, considering how he tended to let things happen, to go with the flow so to speak. His hedonistic lack of personal discipline had finally caught up with him, and he’d already admitted first to himself and also out loud, that he was in need of a change, of growth, of a new course to chart, internally speaking. Still glazing over the beach, Pash thumbed through the strands of his own tapestry, the now-familiar and brightly-colored weave of his emotional threads, shifting and changing like the suns’ light sparkled off the sea. Despite being his own feelings, the wash of it all could sometimes threaten to be overwhelming, the Empath a creature who felt deeply and who had an insatiable appetite for the feelings of others.

This undertow-like sensation of his own tangle was perhaps where the breakdown was, where he let everything slip away from his own unpracticed sense of control. He knew that in order to master his spark, his magic, he would have to master his whole self—

Ah, there it was! The perfect place.

Pash blinked, magically untangling himself from his own tapestry.

Someone was already sitting there, near the surf, but the curve of the dunes and the level sand would do quite nicely. A horse grazed nearby on the dunes, the awkward land mammal seeming to enjoy the tougher stalks of green that clung stubbornly to the sand. The man sat with an otter—the Biqaj recognizing the marine creature with the beginnings of a warm smile—and his general appearance hinted at his race only because Pash had found himself familiar with one Sev’ryn in particular,

“G’mornin’ an’ well met.” The seafaring minstrel was nothing if not cheerful, waving with a grin as he slowed to a stop in his walk, curling toes into wet sand while the washing of cold water dragged some of it away around his feet, “Y’ picked a nice spot ‘o beach, it seems. Hope I’m no’ interruptin’—”

His tide pool gaze drifted back down to the otter because it was cute, then back to the man in front of him. Other than a stray fisherman or two, Pash hadn’t expected anyone else to be on the beach at this break, but this was definitely the spot he’d have to come back to. There was even some driftwood to leave a mark so he’d find it again.

“—’s early yet an’ I was jus’ walkin’.” His last words were both a statement and an implied question, in a way, for the other man wasn’t walking, but he was out on the beach for a reason … maybe.

[Nir'wei]

With no other distractions - no other beach-goers, no more inconvenient truths from his squirrel-spirit and no more searing headaches to pound through his skull like tiny pointed hammers - he could hear the heavy crunching of footsteps from a decent distance. Gods, how he'd missed having a clear head. Almost without thinking, his left hand started to reach up, to touch the invisible scar that hid it all. Hid a brush with slow, agonising, inevitable death. The thought suddenly spiked straight through the middle of his trance, bursting it into tiny motes in his mind's eye, and he cursed softly while the intruder was still outside hearing range. Even in its absence, it continued to plague him, that... filth, that had existed for so long within him. An unseen parasite festering in the deepest, most sacred parts of his body; it sent shivers down his spine and destroyed whatever feeble chances he'd had left to restore the trance.

Still, he refused to turn until the stranger greeted him. He could, at the very least, exude the appearance of calmness, even if deep inside he could only feel frustration, irritation and various other generally abrasive thoughts. "Well met." He raised a hand and ducked his head in greeting, even as little cogs in his head started spinning. He'd heard that accent before, somewhere, perhaps. One didn't forget something so... unique. Perhaps it was just his imagination. "Fine day to walk, on a fine beach like this... a little early, if you don't mind me saying so, but I suppose we've all got our reasons for it, don't we." He weaved his words just so; creating a double-meaning at the end, answering for himself and questioning back at the newcomer. He hoped the little self-satisfied smile working its way up his cheeks didn't give away the game, but after barely a few trills, he ruined it himself anyway.

"Hah, don't mind me. Just... mmm, sitting in a nice place, thinking nice things." For a moment, he thought to ask the stranger if he wished to join - it was a nice view of the ocean, after all, and the sand here was soft yet grippy - but just considering trying to sink back down into his trance was enough to draw those thoughts straight back out again. He had no intention of failing twice in one day, and he would; once it'd been shattered by something like that, it didn't come back easily. He'd need time to forget how lucky he was to still be alive right now, for the existential crisis to fade to a dull ache in the pit of his stomach, instead of at the back of his head. Almost like a pointy rock in the heel of his shoe, if he wore shoes. "Or, perhaps not so nice," he added absently after a moment. He'd not noticed how his eyes had glazed over for a few moments, staring directly through Pash.

Standing and brushing some of the clinging granules away from his trousers, he looked Pash up and down while pushing his hands into his pockets. Gods, he remembered when he had a body like that. Before he'd stopped eating, or walking, or generally doing anything besides lying in a bed and feeling sorry for himself. He'd never been a muscular man, but he'd at least shown enough muscle to prove he could handle himself. Now he looked and felt like a malnourished child; he'd never quite managed to get back into the swing of his old lifestyle, he was still used to feeding off plates filled by other people. Somewhere amongst his possessions was a bow with two seasons worth of dust sat on it. His skin had turned pale from all his time indoors, a sickly colour for anyone, but even worse for him, when he'd once proudly shown off a healthy glow. Now he thought about untying the shirt from around his waist and wrapping it back over his naked chest.

"Mind if I join you?" He knew how sudden the request must seem. "A walk sounds like a good thing to clear the mind. Better than sitting; even if there is a nice spot of beach to sit in." A small smile graced the corners of his mouth as he turned without waiting for an answer and started walking in roughly the same direction as the Pash, before calling over his shoulder, "Perhaps on the way, you can tell me what brings someone walking down a beach at a time like this... am I not the only one who needs a clear head?" Jasper snuffled the ground and wandered off towards the crashing waves; Malice snorted and looked up, gave a few last reluctant bites at the tufts of hard grass, and then trotted towards them both, taking up the space on the other side of Nir'wei. A well-worn saddle was slung over his back, along with stuffed saddlebags. "You can tell ol' Nir'wei. He doesn't spill secrets, if you don't."

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash was well aware of what lived inside his person—he’d asked for the Spark of Empathy, begged for it, waited impatiently for Ari’nne to decide he was somehow worthy enough for her to impart upon him a piece of the magic that made her who she was—and yet a few arcs later, could he say that he co-existed with the powerful entity that now twisted his very existence into something new, something other? Was he the master or the mastered? Did he need to be either? Was there something else entirely he should become? He fervently, desperately, believed there was a current he could sail that didn’t lead to the obliteration of his person so much as an enlightenment of personhood in which the Spark was the lantern that lit the way instead of the fire that consumed him. He wasn’t sure, but he did know that he should be spending more time figuring it all out, that the longer he let his sails luff in the wind, the further off course from who he wanted to be he’d find himself helplessly drifting.

He must have interrupted, the tall Biqaj realized without shame so much as chagrin, aware that his somewhat insatiable curiosity often meant he was either in someone’s personal space or invading their personal thoughts, their feelings really. The other man smiled, however, and Pash’s lagoon blue eyes warmed toward a brilliant emerald with the greeting, “Aye, well, it’s a bit early, but who can tell, honestly, with th’ suns refusin’ t’ let th’ stars come out ’n play?”

The seafaring musician smirked at his own words, already missing the night sky only a handful of days into Saun.

The salty bard wasn’t one to refuse company of any kind, if one were to be honest, and while he chose not to comment on whether his own thoughts had been nice or not so nice, he understood the sentiment. Pash wasn’t comparing their physical persons, even when the other man stood—was he a bit pale to be out in the coming Saun morning? Did he look a bit underfed? Perhaps. But who was he to judge someone whose story had yet to be told to him personally? No one.

“Join me? Aye, I don’ mind—you’ve already got a few friends, eh?” The tall Biqaj tilted his sea-bleached head in the direction of the other man’s horse, having already noticed the otter before the happy creature pattered off toward the water, “This is a fine spot o’ beach, ‘f I do say so. An’ I’ve been told there’s merits t’ sittin’ still an’ contemplatin’—or meditatin’—but it’s damn hard t’ sit still.”

Pash laughed, self-depreciatingly admitting he wasn’t good at either,

“Nir’wei—that your name? Ry’tsam! Nice t’ meet you. I’m Pash, jus’ so y’ don’ have t’ call me ‘That Biqaj’ ‘r ‘Hey you.’ An’ if I’ve got secrets, they’re no’ worth keepin’ anyway.” He didn’t think so, at least. Even magic didn’t feel so intimidating sometimes, though he’d come to understand that being an Empath wasn’t quite the best thing to tell a Sev’ryn, as Kali had already informed him of the kind of unpleasant opinion he’d garner from her kind, “I could always use a clearer head, aye. I’ve had a bit o’ cargo on m’ mind lately, but to-trial, I’m no’ dealin’ with that bilge water. I’m jus’ lookin’ for a spot for th’ celebration tomorrow. There’s supposed t’ be rainbow skies. Scalvoris be a strange place, I tell you, an’ folks ‘re gonna be dancin’ an’ celebratin’. It’s m’ plan t’ set up a lil’ spot o’ shade an’ play some music.”

If he was good at nothing else, it was talking. He didn’t walk swiftly, preferring to meander with his toes still in the cold surf and leading them further up the beach, looking to the other man as he spoke with a smile.

“I wander this beach often ‘nough. I live on m’ sloop an’ it’s moored at th’ docks, after all. An’ yourself?” Pash was observant, sensitive, and his interest in mortality had led him to have a keen sense of someone out of place. Nir’wei felt as though he had a bit of cargo of his own, though the seafaring minstrel couldn’t fathom what or why so much as feel its weight in the too warm air between them as they walked, “You’re jus’ passin’ through, I’m gonna guess. Aye?”

[Nir'wei]

Looking back towards the rising ball of red flame with a hand shielding his eyes from the glare, he paused to study the horizon. "It's not too hard, if you know the ways to tell." Granted though, there'd be a fair few who'd be in for a shot when Vhalar rolled around and they realised that they'd subtly been sleeping through the day and going about their business at night, without noticing the difference. Saun played tricks on the mind. "Become aware of your internal body clock. Feel and map the bits and breaks as they pass, and you won't even need to see the sun to know what time it is." That's what his grandfather had told him, many arcs ago. Only after he said it did he realise that the man was smiling; he'd accidentally turned a joke into something rather serious, and he laughed sheepishly at himself, rubbing the back of his head and tangling some of his long hair between his fingers. "It takes a lot of concentration, so I hear... and a long time to tune your mind to the necessary sensitivity. Something I don't think I'll ever get to, but hey, one can dream. You can tell because the second sun isn't a direct mirror and doesn't follow the same pattern in the sky as the first."

As they turned and started their walk, he reached out and rested a hand against the horse's side. "I don't know if I can call this one a friend. He's called Malice... because he hates me." The horse didn't show any recognition of their conversation, but Nir'wei knew if he dared try to do anything more than rest a hand on Malice, he'd lose the hand first, and whatever else not long after. "That little one splashing about is Jasper. And the one approaching us now is Greyhide." The grey-furred wolf trotted out into the open a few moments before Nir'wei announced his presence, casually emerging from a small crest to the north with spots of blood matting the fur around his muzzle. Funny to think that only a few days ago, the wolf would have jumped for anyone standing within ten feet of his person. Now he almost completely ignored the newcomer as he trotted past them both and headed down for the shallow ocean stretch alongside to join the otter already splashing through the rolling waves gleefully. "I like having friends. They keep me entertained."

Though his attention didn't linger for long on his pets. Especially not at Pash's words. "There are a lot of merits to meditating... but you don't need to sit still to do it. I've heard of people who can only do it when they're sprinting at full speed. Doesn't matter what you do, what matters is whether you're comfortable and relaxed while you do it. It's finding that... that state of mind is what opens everything else up, not the position you're in." Listening and nodding to Pash's explanations, he chuckled. "The first step to getting a clearer head is clearing the bilge water. Otherwise it seeps into deeper places and ends up damaging the wood. I thought a cehara isẹu would know that, of all things." His grin nearly stretched ear-to-ear. "Ahhh, I jest, of course. But it's true. It's easy to calm your mind, think everything through, work out what needs to be done and bring up plenty of justification for why, explanations for how, all of this nonsense. Going through with it all is another matter entirely. But if it isn't done, it just festers and grows. Then you'll never have a clear mind."

Asked if he was passing through made him pause. "As I said. Easy to think. Harder to do. I haven't really decided what I'll be doing here... or for how long." He raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Guess I'm free to do as I please for now. Go and do as I feel. Maybe I'll go somewhere, don't know where... do some things, don't know what. Perhaps I'll go and see this celebration I heard about from some Biqaj, listen to some music. Boo if it's bad." A mischievous twinkle in his eye refused to admit whether he was joking or not. "Ha, to be honest, I don't really have a place to live myself, either. I've got most of what I need right here," he motioned with his hand and patted one of the saddlebags, "and the rest I go without, if I can't make it. Saying that, there's this... uhm, this farm, I'm supposed to be visiting in a few days that might have some spare space for me to lounge in. Gonna take a look at it, and who knows. Supposed to be near Cally's Restaurant, y'know." A restaurant owned by Faith. He'd always thought she'd be running a hospital or something. "For now I drop and sleep wherever there's enough room."

[Pash Raj'oriq]

"Well, ’t helps t’ be outside a bit, aye." Pash may have been making a comment that was both a teasing jab that hid a question about the other man’s condition, for he hadn’t missed the Sev’ryn’s appearance. Perhaps if he didn’t already know one rather closely, he wouldn’t have given anything a second thought, but he did and Nir’wei was a bit on the pale side, as if he’d spent too much time indoors. Not on purpose, by the looks of things, though the tall Biqaj wasn’t about to pry,"I’ve got a pretty decent internal clock after arcs o’ sailin’ but I’m jus’ no’ a morning’ person, I s’pose."

He laughed. Necessity at sea was often far more a dictator of his schedule than personal preference, and even though he was up late more trials than not playing music in town, he was perhaps more of a morning person than he used to be. Saun’s constant daylight was somewhat confusing to the senses, but no more than Cylus. It was just a matter of hanging onto the cycle of your internal clock instead of getting lost under the two suns.

Lagoon blue eyes washed over to the horse and the seafaring musician couldn’t help but smirk at the land mammal’s name as well as the Sev’ryn’s introduction to the animal. Even though Kali also had a horse and the creature wasn’t at all disagreeable or unkind, he just didn’t trust them. He’d ridden the thing into the Sweetvine Woods and survived, it was true, but that didn’t mean he ever needed to ride one again. They seemed so unpredictable and strange—to have a Sev’ryn say his own companion hated him made Pash curious as to the general personalities of horses, "So, y’ don’ ride him? I don’ blame you." What was the point of keeping a horse around if it didn’t like you, though? Pash cast the creature a wary glance before chuckling, "Well, if ’t makes y’ feel better, I’m no’ really a friend o’ horses. So you’re in strange company right now, trapped between him an’ me."

Otters and wolves the seafaring musician knew, though he didn’t make pets of them. They were fun to watch, that much he could agree with; the two animals seemed to enjoy the beach about as much as he did. It was difficult to keep most animals aboard a sea vessel when away from shore for ten-trials at a time, so while he was sure most of them were interesting enough, he was better off keeping a few plants around, "I’ve got a lemon tree—Ellis—on m’ sloop. An’ a little moss plant, moss from Moseke herself. Other ’n that, I guess I’m no’ much ‘f an animal person. I’m a … people person."

Pash grinned then, not at all self-deprecating in his admission. It was who he was, after all. He listened, though, to the other man talk about meditation with obvious interest, mostly because the Sev’ryn’s admission that one didn’t have to just sit still and be quiet. That was a freeing thought, honestly, for he’d often just assumed that was what meditation was for—being quiet, being still. And Pash wasn’t at all good at either of those things. Instead, the idea that one could find a meditative state while in motion or while doing just about anything so long as you reached that desired state of mind. Perhaps the seafaring musician had found his own ways to do that without even knowing to label it as meditation, and that both chagrined and amused him,

"Well, aye, I get that," while his Xanthean was very limited to terms of endearment and words more suited for, well, private, intimate usage, he caught the drift of what Nir’wei was saying with a nod of his head, "It’s true, though, jus’ like an untreated wound, a tangled up mind does tend t’ fester. Been there b’fore in m’ time—feelin’s an’ thoughts both, though m’haps I’m a bit more keen on th’ feelin’s than most." The Empath knew about such things, though perhaps often suffered more from issues of self-control and discipline than willingness or effort. He could be accused of living by the same wind he sailed by, but the desire to tuck his jib and pick a course had begun to tame the frayed edges of his hedonistic tendencies.

"O’ aye, I’m puttin’ on a lil’ something’ t’morrow here on th’ beach—" Pash opened his mouth to comment more about the rainbow skies that were supposed to appear tomorrow, about the dancing and the get togethers that were supposed to be happening all along the beach—his own little contribution included—but the Sev’ryn continued to speak and mentioned Cally’s and Faith.

Idalos was smaller than it seemed. Or, at least Scalvoris was.

"—Faith, eh? Aye, th’ farm for Cally’s is outside o’ town. I work for th’ restaurant, for her, playin’ music for rich folks to dine to, so I know her." To say that he knew of her and Padraig as acquaintances was perhaps a drastic understatement after all that had happened in Ymiden, but it was, for the sake of not completely running the ship of their conversation aground into the Scalvoris mountains or the Immortal’s Tongue, enough of a comment to make, "I live on m’ sloop, an’ so no’ havin’ jus’ one place t’ set down is somethin’ I understand. For now, I pay th’ harbormaster for a bit o’ dock, but it’s no’ m’ home. Th’ Orm’del is, even if I was born in Ne’Haer. Bein’ free t’ go an’ do ’s I please is sorta somethin’ I’ve come t’ take for granted—I’ve been travelin’ as a musician all ‘bout Idalos for almost nine arcs now. So, aye, it’s easy t’ think an’ harder t’ do sometimes. I didn’t plan on stickin’ ‘round here for almost three seasons … but things happen. An’ I’m alright with th’ way th’ wind’s blowin’ ‘round here."

The tall Biqaj’s grin was wistful—he enjoyed working at Cally’s and while he couldn’t say he’d enjoyed all of his misadventures about the island, there was one in adventure particular he had no complaints about. Whether his expression somewhat gave away that his reason for lingering was more a person than the place itself was somewhat mysterious and open for interpretation, though his lagoon blue gaze shifted to a somewhat brighter, warmer hue with his words,

"Faith’s always ready t’ hand someone a job ‘round here who needs one, an’ th’ work’s good. Th’ people here are mostly nice—now that th’ pirates be off somewhere—an’ Scalvoris’ an interestin’ place, though perhaps more n’ a little dangerous at times. No harm in hangin’ ‘bout an’ seein’ what y’ can see—y’ never know what—‘r who—will catch your interest—Are y’ from Desnind, then? Bein’ Sev’ryn? Scalvoris be a bit far from th’ southern continent, so y’ must’ve been travelin’ for quite sometime, eh?"

[Nir'wei]

Pash was right about that. Just thinking about those clean, smooth walls of the Rharne Adunih Outpost was enough to make him feel claustrophobic all over again. Now he had the whole world to enjoy, and he intended to make the most of it, however long he had to enjoy it. He breathed deeply through his nose, tasting that fresh outdoor air... and coughed into the back of his hand almost immediately, nearly choking. Fresh air was one thing this was not; all he could smell was salt and spray. He never normally travelled so close to the shore, not willingly really, and the few times he'd been on boats he'd not lasted very well besides.

"Don't know how you can manage out there," he grumbled wrinkling his nose and clearing his airways again with a few polite coughs into his fist. "Oceans are worse than deserts. Nothing to drink and nothing worth eating. At least in a desert, a man's got something solid under his feet." He shook his head quickly and suppressed a shiver. Oceans weren't natural, in his opinion. Too much water in one place. Rivers and streams, hell, even lakes and such were perfectly acceptable, but when he was out in the middle of them, he needed to at least be able to see one stretch of coast. Or be able to touch the bottom. Even boats weren't reliable. At least with a wagon, when you got off it, you didn't drown... and you would have to get off it, because when something went wrong, you needed to be able to go out and fetch some extra wood to make your repairs.

"Hmm? Nah, can't ride him. Hah, can't ride anything in all honesty. Not something I've ever mastered all too well." He'd ridden a Volareon once, with extremely limited success, but he didn't feel like mentioning that at the moment. "Doesn't matter, though. I don't have to be a friend of horses. I'm a friend of everything... and Malice here, well he just about fits into that category." Though the horse had never shown any particular affection towards Nir'wei, nor had he decided to wander off in the night and never return, even when Nir'wei had forgotten to tether the animal down. Obviously he had to be doing something right. "Used to be, he pulled a wagon full of my stuff that I slept in. Had to abandon that when I crossed over to come here though. Now he just carries my stuff in his bags, like a pack mule," he chuckled.

He tapped Malice's flank one last time and let his hand fall again, stuffed back into the pockets of his trousers. "Don't have to be an animal person to do good by them... and most of the time, you do good by them, they do good by you." He could think of more than a few ways that it could benefit a sailor, but he didn't mention any specifically - he didn't want to seem to be leading him on, or something. "I got myself a few friends as well, though none I bring with me. They all have a way of showing up at the most unusual of times, though. And the most unexpected places. Don't they?" An answering cheesy grin spread over his face when he glanced over at Pash.

"It's why you've got to take care of them. If you already know what comes from a tangled mind then you should know to untangle it sooner." He didn't need anything more than deep introspection to line up all his emotions and thoughts, and work out how to untangle them accordingly. "Everything happens so much easier when you settle it all. Create a pattern. Organise the web." There were plenty of words for doing the same thing, he was sure, but they all had the same result, so he didn't really care for what name they gave it.

He was about to slip into more detail, but the offhanded mention of Faith's farm brought more than its weight in gold in return. "Really?" He couldn't mask the surprise in his tone as he looked over Pash a second time. "Well I'll be damned, ha." As he continued to talk, it really did seem like a small world. "Not far off from me, then. Go where you go, do what you do, although I suppose I'm a little more limited to you, what with being pretty much trapped to the land instead of having a boat to go out into the sea with." Not that he was complaining, he wouldn't take a boat of his own if someone paid him to take it off their hands. "Yep. All the way from Desnind, heh. Came up here for... well, adventure." If answering the call of his spirit familiar was to be called adventure. "Was in Rynmere for the longest time, training Jacadons and Volareons. Y'know, the dragon-things."

[Pash Raj'oriq]

"Y’ can drink th’ sea water if y’ have salt buoys on board. Those plants turn salt water into fresh—they’re a Biqaj lil’ secret." Pash smiled wanly, his baritone conspiratory and coy, listening to the Sev’ryn decry the watery landscape he called his home with an amused expression creased into his sea-worn features, "An’ there’s plenty worth eatin' in th’ sea—all manner o’ fish an’ plants. Y’ jus’ don’ know what you’re missin’ ’s all."

His grin broadened a bit, "An’ I’ve got a sloop under m’ feet—worn wood I built m’self with m’ father back in Ne’Haer. Th’ waves hold ‘er up an’ it’s home t’ me. I could say th’ same ‘bout forests—filled with undergrowth that tangles your feet an’ trees that hide th’ suns’ light an’ all manner o’ creatures that ‘re no less hungry than a shark, wantin’ t’ eat you …"

Pash turned the tables on the other man with his own opinions about life on land, but it was clear he was just out to have a bit of fun. Truth be told, he hadn’t met a landscape that wasn’t at least marginally interesting, despite every new place he’d visited thus far on Scalvoris having a go at his life in one way or another: the Immortal’s Tongue and Lisirra’s Plague-Bearers; the Scalroth Jungle and its vile creatures; the Sweetwine Woods and its oh-deer; the Scalvoris mountains and everything there from the cold to the inhabitants. Nowhere was safe; even the Orm’del was dangerous. He’d never been to a desert and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see it—a place without water … now that sounded like an aberration if nothing else was.

"Can’t ride him? Even I’ve been on a horse. Once." The seafaring musician laughed then, hooking a calloused thumb against the bare skin of his chest, chiding Nir’wei with a coy wink, "Didn’t like it. Don’ want t’ do it again, but I have. It weren’t mine, th’ horse, but belongs t’ my—"

He paused. His what? His who? He and Kali’rial just were, never having bothered to create a definition of themselves other than being in a relationship, other than admitting their feelings for each other. Right now, they were just following the current, no destination in mind.

Was there? Perhaps the seafaring musician knew the course more than he was willing to admit. For now, however, he was content just to sail.

Pash chewed the inside of his cheek in the obvious moment of silence he’d created. This was a discussion for a different time and, frankly, for a different person. Tucking thoughts away, he continued as if he hadn’t just created a few trills of awkwardness,

"—m’ lover’s." That was that. He hadn’t really said anything out loud about the dark-haired huntress to anyone who didn’t already know, so even though the salty bard didn’t usually stumble over any words (ever), this was just enough of a change in his life that it felt strange on his tongue, "An’ honestly, I don’ dislike animals. They can be great companions, though I live on a sloop an’ find keepin' ‘em a bit ‘f a challenge. Small creatures, I s’pose, ‘r at least ones that can swim like your otter friend."

He rolled his sea-built shoulders in a shrug, obviously agreeing with Nir’wei’s opinions on respecting life, whether animal or person. Treating either well generally got you well treated in return, unless the animal was actually a monster and just wanted to eat you. Then, well, then you were screwed. Some people weren’t much better. The other man’s point about friends showing up in unexpected moments prompted another chuckle and a wry sort of grin in return, finding the statement true and appropriate indeed,

"Aye, that’s th’ truth."

Pash understood a seafaring life wasn’t for everyone—his heritage was the sea, being Biqaj, and he'd answered that strange pull in his silvered veins like the tide, finding the waves and the storms and the endless blue landscape everything he'd wanted and then some ... although, he was still a social creature and found his way ashore all sorts of places over all his arcs of traveling and playing music and traveling again. He wasn’t up for spending his life hunting in a forest, however, no matter how much Kali enjoyed such things,

"So far, lookin’ for adventure here has mostly led t’ fightin' dangerous things, but I’m still alive, so I guess I can’t complain." He almost giggled in a childish sort of way, despite all the difficulties of all the strange things that had, indeed, happened on Scalvoris since his arrival in Ashan, "Did your adventure include findin' a familiar?"

His question was pure curiosity, the limitations of his knowledge of the Sev’ryn culture as dictated to him by the only other Sevir he knew,

"I’ve heard once ‘r twice that’s a big part o’ th’ journeyin' itch for your kind, t’ find th’ missin’ piece o’ your souls. I’m sure it’s quite th’ adventure in itself, t’ be honest." Pash’s words were admiring, not critical, more so perhaps because he was more than just a little biased. He had no idea what Jacadons or Volareons were in anything but by name, having never seen one himself, "So, y’ jus’ trained ‘em but didn’t ride ‘em either? I s’pose you’re pretty good at what y’ do since none o’ those dragon-things have eaten you yet. They sound a bit dangerous. You’re pretty good with th’ animals an' such, then, I'm guessin'—"

The seafaring musician teased with the same smile, glancing at the horse again and still aware there were other animals around near the water,

"—an’ I like t’ pretend I’m a’right with music an' with people. Most o’ th’ time, anyway."

[Nir'wei]

He still shook his head. From the grin, he could assume this was supposed to be some well-kept Biqaj secret, and while he was very grateful for it, he knew as well as anyone that it was rather wasted on him. "Be that as it may, I don't think I'll be doing much of it in the near future, if I can." Perhaps flying would be different; he'd heard about those new things, they called it a Flutterbus. At least when you were over ground, you could land at any time if you needed anything, just had to worry about not landing too... suddenly; and when you flew over the ocean, well, if you fell off, that just meant a brief swim before you got back on again. "I'll tell you what though, if it ever happens and we're going the same way, I'll join you. Or at the very least, you can hook me up with a salt buoy for my boat."

He really wasn't versed in boat types. "Sloop, huh?" he repeated as though it meant anything. Ne'haer, he'd heard of. "Mean to be going back there some time... got something I need to see to, down there." That was supposedly the place his father had gone to, before he disappeared from the world. "Tell you what. I'll do you a trade. I ever go near water, you hook me up with a salt buoy and all this other stuff to help me... and the next time you're around in a jungle or whatever, I'll hook you up with a good heavy hunting knife." Pulling open a flap on one of Malice's packs, he drew the leather-bound curved blade and dragged out a good few inches of steel, heavy in the hand. "This'll cut through the undergrowth like nothing, and anything else down there, if you give it practice." He wasn't particularly well-versed in its combat usefulness, but its utilitarianism was a damn godsend.

He fixed Pash with a flat stare, even through his sudden pause. "Didn't say I haven't tried. I mean I haven't, but I didn't say I didn't." He twisted his mouth and struggled to stop a sigh. "I dunno. So far I've only really lived on islands," he muttered, mentally removing Rharne from his list since he'd done anything but live there, "and with the relatively short distances to travel, I've never really needed to put in the trials on the back of a horse to make that much of a difference." He gave another shrug. "And if I did, I'd just get another wagon. It can hold a heck of a lot more than Malice's saddlebags can, I can sleep in it at night instead of on the floor... and it's damn comfier than sitting on his back will ever be, even if I become the greatest horse-rider in the land," he laughed in a bark.

Once he'd stopped the light chuckles bubbling through his chest, he threw a glance back towards Greyhide and Jasper. The little otter seemed about done with his playing, although he'd managed to swim a good deal up the shoreline, which was made even more impressive by the crashing waves that he'd had to fight to make it there. He might be small, but the otter was a damn good swimmer, and growing stronger every day. Greyhide meanwhile was busy shaking the last of the salt-water off his pelt and trotted down the damp sand, letting the waves wash over his paws on his way back towards the strolling pair. "You could always get an otter yourself. Or a bird." That gave him some thought. "You could even get a big one, and it'll spend most of its time in the air anyway, catching fish and occasionally bringing one back for you, if you treat it right. It can make a nest inside your sloop. Hah, why not give it a shot?"

Stopping to crouch down and give Greyhide a good scratch behind the ears, he kept his eyes on the wolf when answering his next question. Familiars were... a touchy subject. He could feel Archailist needling in the back of his head, waiting for the opportunity to come out and stop him mid-sentence. "I went on a journey, mm'hm. A spirit-quest, the same as we all take, sooner or later. It was a long one, admittedly. At times, frustrating. It's not an easy thing, but it's something you stick to, because you know that at the end of it, it'll be worth it. More than anything else." He nodded quietly to himself, and he knew that Archailist was nodding as well. "It's not something to talk about now, though. It's... well. A little more private." He felt rather bad refusing to talk, but it just didn't feel like something he should be mentioning to anyone, especially those outside of the cycle. "But it's what brought me to Rynmere. Never riding them, gods no - Jacadon form a bond with their rider for life, and they'd never let anyone else ride them. I did my fair share of work, and I'll do my fair share here as well, if I get the chance." He rolled his shoulders. "Who knows, I might find myself a few flying mounts and see if I really can ride them." Doubtful, but a man could dream!

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“Sailin’s no’ for everyone, an’ that’s fine.” Pash chuckled, willing to admit that he wasn’t any more interested in flying as Nir’wei was sailing. He understood that some people got sea sick, that some people found the vast expanse of the sea intimidating and alien, that some people found boats uncomfortable. He also knew his own fears, having explored, catalogued, and seen each thread of them in his tangle of emotions, aware of how they wove together to make him who he was but how they did not have to define him, “Flyin’s no’ for everyone, either, I’d venture t’ say.”

“Salt buoy’s may have some use off a sloop, too, now that we’re talkin’ ‘bout ‘em. Anyone livin’ closer t’ th’ ocean than t’ a river ‘r a lake can surely make use of salt water an’ a buoy t’ get fresh water for drinkin’ an’ cookin’ an’ such instead.” Pash rolled his inked shoulders in a shrug, making note to perhaps share with Faith about the plants his people used to keep from running out of potable water on long sea voyages. Perhaps there were those on Scalvoris who already knew of their existence, but it seemed as though it was something Biqaj kept to themselves for the most part, much like shipwrecks and good trade routes.

Birds were alright. Animals weren’t so bad. Pash had grown up in a city, he’d grown up around a few dogs and a handful of cats between family members. Perhaps someone around the shipyard had even had a bird. He’d just never felt like much of an animal person. The thought of large birds reminded him of enormowls,

“There’s some pretty big birds ‘round here in Scalvoris—enormowls. Th’ Elements ride ‘em, mostly.” Some hirelings of undead did, too, but the tall Biqaj didn’t feel the need to elaborate on all that had happened in Ymiden.


The seafaring musician agreed that most important things weren’t easy, in fact, none of the important things over the past several seasons had been painless, let alone simple. He thought of all the trials of the past few seasons: the difficult struggles, the strange places, the danger. Calloused fingers strayed to the scar under his ribs as if it itched, reminded that his silver blood was somewhere up on the mountains of Scalvoris, frozen forever in the snow and ice in a place he had no interest going back to,

“S’ fine no’ t’ tell me what y’ don’ want to,” Pash could hear the hints of discomfort in the other man’s tone, though Nir’wei wasn’t rude about his privacy so much as culturally adamant. He wasn’t about to push the subject as there wasn’t anything he felt like he really needed to know. The tall Biqaj had already struggled enough with the cultural differences between himself and the Sev’ryn who he loved, and so he was more than content to let the other Sevir have his way. Did he have concerns? A few, but he felt all of his questions were perhaps too personal or, if nothing else, to obviously biased about a particular huntress, that they weren’t worth asking.

He wondered just how much finding one’s familiar changed you. It seemed as though Nir’wei still wanted and enjoyed conversation with others, and he still enjoyed companionship … at least of the animal kind. These things were somewhat encouraging without the need for words to Pash, who worried that when the day came that Kali’rial and her familiar were reunited, he would no longer be a necessary part of her life.

It was an honest fear, but one he felt too personal to ask some Sevir he’d just met on the beach to-trial,

“I’ll admit, racin' against somethin’ that flies when there’s a good wind, out in th’ harbor, would be somewhat interestin’—” Growing up in a shipyard, around boats of all sizes, once Pash had become a competent enough sailor had often found him out on the sea or on Lake Rea, pushing the limits of various boats under all kinds of wind and weather conditions. It was both fun and dangerous, and it had gotten himself and his cousin in plenty of trouble on more than one occasion. He was curious if there’d even be a contest at all, should a flying creature be tasked with racing a ship in the sea, “—I wonder what’s faster—a sloop ‘r a jacadon? When y’ learn t’ fly one, we should find out. Until then, though, I should head back t' m' sloop. I've probably been gone long 'nough. It were nice t' meet y' though, as a walk on th' beach is better with someone t' talk to. I'll keep your words in mind 'bout meditation, an' maybe we'll see each other 'round Cally's, eh?”

With a grin and a wave, Pash turned and followed his footsteps back along the beach, past the spot he'd marked in his mind for tomorrow's rainbow skies and back toward The Muse to see whether or not Kali'rial was awake and waiting. A bit of breakfast felt in order by now.