All the Fishes of the Sea (OPEN)

[Amadeus Telrunya]

32 Fall 511 Swing, cast. Amadeus was fishing. One might find it odd that he was fishing at midnight, but that was Amadeus' favorite time of the day, so naturally that's when he fished. This was the first time he had ever fished, since he grew up on the street and not on the lake. However, since he had a little more free time now, and lived so close to the ocean, he had bought a rod from the little Chorada who owned the fishing shop and stowed it away for just such an occasion. Swing, cast. Amadeus wasn't after fish, in fact, the chances of his catching one were admittedly very small at this time of night, he was after rest and relaxation. This time, when the docks were still and the streets quiet, was his time; the time when he could sit still and think about the events of the day, or nothing at all; the time when he could be free from the hustling life of a street thief, and everything that came with it. Amadeus was a petty thief by circumstance, not choice. In his soul he was a philosopher and magician; a scholar with an immense appetite for knowledge, and a need for relaxation and meditation, which he found, by fishing at midnight. Swing, cast. Tonight was a clear, cool night. Fall was already here, but it wasn't too cold, even the wind across the ocean was mild, and the freezing temperatures of winter seemed far away. The stars were bright, and Amadeus imagined they were lighting his view, although that was actually due the enormous looking moon, which was glowing as if white-hot. Swing, cast Amadeus heaved a great sigh. At times like this, he felt lonely and cut off from the rest of the world, at the same time privileged; at the head of a great procession of wanderers through the world. He felt as if on the edge of a mirror, about to enter a world of unseen wonders, of endless learning, if he could only find the right way. Swing, cast

[Warden Thrice]

The bay was an essentially empty place. As long as one kept to the basic middle of the water and managed to avoid the odd crate dropping here and there, they wouldn’t run into anything. And dropping crates were rather easy to detect, as sound traveled much better in water than in air, and due to the fact that of all the things that could fall into the water, a crate was the noisiest. The only things louder than a dropping crate was two dropping crates. Eorar had spent a good number of days in the bay, acquainting himself with the area, and had, on this particular location, stayed a bit too long. He could see fine in regular water after dark, but he had forgotten just how dirty the docks were. He was somewhere very near the boardwalks, but he needed to narrow it down a bit more before he could find his way home. Plop. Eorar looked around to see what had made such a noise, and saw a worm. No, not a worm… something else. Wait, it was a worm, on something else. Wait, no, that was a piece of trash. No… what was it? Swimming closer, the charoda poked the strange metal hook, then tugged. Almost immediately it swam away. He followed it, but it soon left the water. Sighing in disappointment, he turned to swim away. Plop. It was back. Grinning, he found it again and circled a few times. He watched it for a few moments more, then tugged again. It swam away, and left the water again. Plop. Making a fishy equivalent of a giggle, he returned and tugged again, waited, found it, tugged, over and over again. Each time he tugged, it would return. It was delightful. He wondered if tiredness was making him sillier than he should be. After about three minutes, he didn’t just tug. Instead, he wrapped his hands around the line and gave a firm but gentle yank, once, twice, then three times, and held on to try and keep it from swimming away again.

[Amadeus Telrunya]

Amadeus snapped out of his reverie, or rather, was snapped out of it by the odd behavior of his line. Instead of coming out easily after a nibble or two, the line had stuck on something and refused to come back. Amadeus growled and jerked the line a few times. To his great surprise, the line was jerked back three times. Amadeus was rather nonplussed. What fish, in the name of Yahal, grabs a fishing line and pulls on it? It wasn't like a fish trying to get away, whatever it was had intentionally and deliberately yanked on the line. He decided to reel this strange creature in. He stood up and pulled hard on the line, but it was pretty much useless, as the creature seemed determined to hold onto the line until the end of the world. Swearing softly, he set his feet and yanked for all he was worth. There is a theory in Mizahar that a force enacted on an object is equal and opposite to the resulting reaction. Amadeus proved the theory admirably, and thrown off balance, fell of the dock he had been standing on, straight down into the water. He managed to keep his head and hold his breath, and the water was not deep, but he couldn't see anything due to the profusion of bubbles resulting from his plunge. As the water cleared, he saw an indistinct figure ahead of him. It appeared to be close to where his line had been, and he swam a bit closer to take a look. It had the basic appearance of a human, but with odd fishy details...

[Warden Thrice]

Eorar screeched as the hook bit into his hand. He thrashed and swam backwards, and it dragged deeper. It started to go back again and pulled him with it. Screaming, he grabbed the line with his good hand and pulled. There was a break, and then the line heaved backwards, ripping out of Eorar’s right hand and into his left. He was close to the dock now, too close. Desperate, he spurted forward and clamped the line in his mouth and swam back with all of his might. The line snapped, and after a few moments Eorar let the line fall. He pulled his hands close to his chest, though even that made searing pain stab them. The water around him was alive with dancing swirls of blood, though, frankly, the morbid beauty was lost on him. Splash. Someone fell into the bay, and Eorar was struck by a sense of déjà vu. It was human, and the charoda knew enough about humans to know that it would need air in a matter of seconds. As logic returned, Eorar suddenly realized what kind of situation he was in. He needed to get out of the water. He needed to get out of the water now. “Out,” he said. His voice, usually strong, was trembling. “Out. Now.” He kicked his feet, weaving jerkily towards the boardwalk. He wrapped one arm gently around a post and heaved upwards, wrapping his other arm around a post and rolling onto the pier. He cursed in Char and curled around his hands, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out.

[Amadeus Telrunya]

Amadeus swam slowly towards the creature, which appeared to be in pain. With an inward gasp, he realized that it was bleeding. He popped up to the surface and gulped a quick breath, then plunged under again. The creature was swimming swiftly toward the dock, and had reached it before Amadeus could react. He followed suit, swimming over to the wharf and pulling himself slowly up onto it with a great splashing. Naturally, he was soaked to the skin, and his cloak and other clothing either clung uncomfortably or sagged heavily with water. The wind, which had seemed so benign earlier, caught the soaking clothes and chilled him to the bone. Shivering, he approached the figure that had clambered onto the dock a few minutes before. It was a chorada, like the fish-shop keeper, and it appeared to have been injured in the hands. Amadeus heard the chorada exlaim or swear in the Char tongue, which he had never attempted to learn, and he tried to keep his voice from trembling and his teeth from rattling as he murmured an apology. "Look, I'm really sorry about that, okay?" he said. "I didn't realize what my line was snagged on, otherwise I wouldn't have pulled so hard." He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then added a trifle defensively, "You shouldn't have grabbed it like that."

[Warden Thrice]

Eorar shot the man a seething glare and held it, but it slowly began to soften. Sighing, he looked back into the water. “Don’t fish or swim. Blood there. Sharks come. Wait for tomorrow.” He hissed as he hauled himself to his feet. This would cause problems for a season or so. He looked at the human with a gaze that was slightly resentful, but no longer angry. “Spare cloth?” If he could bind up the wounds he’d be able to take care of it on his own, though his swimming would be greatly impeded if he was to avoid opening them and attracting predators.

[Amadeus Telrunya]

Amadeus flinched at the chorada's responding glare, deserved as it may be. Thankfully, he noticed the creature's expression softening, and he said in the distinctive chorada voice, “Don’t fish or swim. Blood there. Sharks come. Wait for tomorrow.” "Yes, right," said Amadeus quickly. "I won't. And... yeah." He was a bit flustered, embarrassed, and ashamed. "Er...yes." He faltered at the creature's gaze, which, although not outright hostile, was piercing nonetheless. “Spare cloth?” The other asked. "Oh!" Amadeus suddenly noticed the blood dripping from the other's hands and rummaged through his soggy pockets quickly for a piece of cloth. Finding none, he spluttered sympathetically for a moment, then resolutely caught up his knife and half-ripped, half-cut a long piece of his dripping cloak. "There. That should do the trick." He took the wet strip and handed it to the chorada. It was a bit thicker than bandage linen, but hopefully would pass. He paused uncertainly. "Do you... think you'll need a doctor or something? How deep are the wounds?" Amadeus forgot his own dripping, aching, body in the concern for the other creature's.

[Warden Thrice]

Eorar took it gingerly, using the back of his hands to wring it of water and carefully wrapping it around the wounds. When he finished he just held them close to his chest, rocking slightly. It was a moment or two before he looked at the human again. “Thank you,” he said, as if he had forgotten that Amadeus had injured him or didn’t think it mattered. “Thank you.” “Do you… think you’ll need a doctor or something? How deep are the wounds?” Eorar shook his head. “I am healer. Can take care of it.” As if to illustrate the fact, he began to wipe the blood and water from his arms and hands onto his pants, and it was then that he seemed to take notice of where the cloth had come from. “Your cloak,” he said, frowning in concern. “…I am sorry.”

[Fiera]

Despite her best efforts, she could not fall asleep. She tossed and turned, tried every possible position, breathed deeply, breathed shallowly … but nothing would help. Finally, Fiera opened her eyes, frustrated. She found that it didn’t make much of a difference, on a night so dark. She lay still for a moment, unsuccessfully trying to focus on something in the dark tent, and then sat up. Donning her travel worn cloak, Fiera exited the tent. She judged it was almost midnight by the moon, which was at its peak in the sky. She plodded silently towards the docks. Fiera skirted the main part of the city, for she wished to remain as inconspicuous as possible, for her own safety. Travelling alone around Zeltiva ought to bring plunderers and murderers out of their hidey-holes, she thought. Fiera wasn’t exactly the innocent one either. She had, during her travels, found that thievery was a quick way to get a few Mizas. Fiera wasn’t proud of herself, but within a year of beginning her traves, she had soon learned to effectively steal. She was always planning, planning to settle down, learn a craft and get a job. And that’s what had brought her to Zeltiva. Soon enough, she reached the wooden floorboards of the docks. A heavy silence had settled on the normally bustling location; apart from the regular lapping of the water against the wooden columns that held up the piers, nothing could be heard. Fiera stopped to ensure that nothing was amiss and continued down one of the larger piers. In the darkness, she could not see the end of the pier but soon enough she heard scuffling and soft, indistinct voices. As she approached, she saw two figures; one was human but the other…. was bright blue, with webbed extremities and glistening, dark eyes. He seemed to be nursing his hands in a manner that suggested an injury. Fiera was used to the unusual, but this was almost out of her comfort zone. Almost, but not completely; Fiera’s curiosity was, as always, overpowering. She had never before seen anyone from this race before. Fiera coughed lightly, as if to make her presence known and, although it was probably a bad idea, introduced herself. “Hello, my name is Fiera. I was passing by, and couldn’t help noticing that you seem injured…” She trailed of, preferring to disregard awkward timing of her arrival, “also, forgive me for my curiosity; you are Charoda, are you not?”