Finders, Keepers. (Naama)

[Phoenix]

Timestamp: Eighty-Fifth of Summer, 512 AV
Where: Somewhere on the Shore, where the Suvan and Unforgiving meet.
Who: Naama, Closed.

"Turn into the wind, boy! INTO THE WIND!" The command was ripped from the woman's mouth before it had even reached her own ears. Rayla pulled hard on the rope connected to the sail, trying desperately to hoist it to full capacity as the wind began to pick up.

Her son, however, had no idea what was going on. Though, like most Sfevra, he was raised on the water, Graven preferred to lounge on the deck and read, spending hours weaving up and down the sands collecting shells. Most of his pod thought him simple... and perhaps they weren't wrong.

Leaning out over the edge of the rail and looking down into the deep, dark blue depths of the sea, Graven reached out a small, thin arm in order to trail his fingertips in the water. A childish giggle erupted from the teenagers lips, his eyes tracking each ripple of water in the wake of his hand. Seeing her son the way he was, Rayla grunted and concentrated on pulling the sail to full mast herself. Their Casinor wasn't the biggest or fanciest of their pod, but it was still difficult to handle along. Especially with the rising winds already whipping the sail back and forth. They should have done this hours ago, when the air was dead and still.

Out of the corner of his eye, Graven saw his mother's struggle and bounded to his feet. Bad timing had him landing on the deck as the bow hit the crest of a wavy, surging upwards and then quickly falling into the void left by the passing wave. Expecting the deck to be there, and then finding it not, sent the simple young boy tumbling end over end. It only took a few rolls before he was crashing into his mothers legs.. Just as she got the sail to full.

In the same instant, the wind took them, whipping the boat around as the wheel spun out of control. Graven had also forgotten to lock the tiller in place. In a tangle of limbs, it was impossible for the two Sfevra to separate themselves let alone get to the wheel in time. The wind had taken them.

Dusk found the Casinor floating just off shore in some uncharted and barely frequented shore of the Unforgiving, it's hull dancing dangerously close to a wicked section of reef. There was no one moving on board.

[Naama]

"If you're goin' t'be stealin' shyke from people at least try and be inconspicous about it, ya little monkey." "Squirt. Not monkey, and I wasn't stealin' I was just borrowing." "Borrowin' for an indefinite amount of time? Hm, that'd be a right good excuse for the guards. 'I was just borrowin', sir, I didn't know it wasn't allowed.' Bullshyke, Squirt. Stop gettin' seen." The dusky woman and her child companion stepped through the overgrowth and out onto the sandy shore drenched in the darkened hue of the encroaching night. They might have been out of breath if they hadn't lost their bandit pursuers in the maze of the wilds, where camouflage was nearly second nature to a creature of the harsh jungles of falyndar. Squirt scratched his rat's nest for hair and yawned, "Can we rest now? I think we lost 'em for good." Naama glanced behind her, extending her fingers out for a splash of vibrations, all of which would likely be generated from the wildlife rather than their pursuers, but even the waves muddled her senses. She dropped her hands in defeat. "Go find some sticks, will ya? We need to start a fire before the cold gets us." Squirt grumbled something inaudibly and lumbered off. Naama sat against the rough bark of a tree and rummaged through her rucksack for flint. Barely five chimes passed before the high-pitched call of the boy was carried along the wind. The halfbreed stood and scrutinized the length of the shore, noting Squirt's flailing arms against the horizon. What the petch does he want now? "You better not have found a dead body, Squirt," She growled, heaving herself up to investigate. "What is---" "There, look, it's a boat!" And he was right. A svefra's ship was sitting forlornly several meters away. Naama quirked a brow and placed both hands around her lips, "Hey! Is anyone there?" Silence. The waves lapped at the hull of the ship and rocked it back and forth, but there was no audible feedback; no clamor of footsteps nor any voices in that instant. The halfbreed waded closer, gesturing for Squirt to stay where he was. It took a chime for her to reach the casinor, but when she did, she hastily climbed aboard. Nothing was ever accomplished being craven.

[Phoenix]

As if a trap had been sprung, the moment Naama pulled herself onto the deck, a broken chunk of shell when whistling by her head, the sharp sting on her cheek not registering until a few moments later. The throw had been a lucky one, slicing that dusky, tattooed face open from the bridge of her nose to the curve of her jaw. It bled only slightly and was far from life threatening, and yet there was a whoop of success from the stern.

"Got'cha! Hahaha...aaaaahahaha!" The laughter was weak and breathy and didn't sound like it was getting any closer. Graven lay where he had been thrown, the upper half of his torso sprawled on deck while his waist and legs dangled in the water; the area surrounding the boy was a dark red, stained by the blood from some unseen wound. It was only a matter of time until some predator caught the scent.

"Now gerrof my boat." Another weak throw sent a piece of coral clattering to Naama's feet, pale blue eyes narrowed as the Svefra boy glared at this strange halfbreed. "I didn't invite you on. Go'way! This's my boat now..." The third throw was even weaker than the last, those blue eyes clouding slightly as the young boys Syna-kissed skin began to taken on an ashen hue. He didn't have long.

[Naama]

The pirate had seen many horrendous things in her lifetime: men with faces torn clean off, bones skewered through flesh, streets filled with blood... some of them had even been perpetrated by her. But seeing children suffer was something she could not condone. It always reminded her of what she lost, the daughter that would never grow old, never know love, whose life was viciously wrenched from her by the demon she hoped to slaughter one day. So although she might have cursed audibly at the flinching pain that exploded across her cheek, the sight of the boy stilled her tongue. She approached without so much as a hesitation, kneeling down to meet his gaze. "You've a strong arm for someone in your state," She mused, her tone hardly holding anything other than a gentle quip. "This is yer boat, you say?" She looked around, scrutinizing the deck. "Who was with you then, some bandits? Or are you a thief, boy? What kind of shyke did you get into to end up like this." She didn't intend to sound so harsh, but she was prone to hide her grief when it was bubbling beneath her facade. A Myrian showed no fear, no sliver of weakness, and Naama was a prime example.

[Phoenix]

A lopsided smile broke the glower that had masked the little boys face, the compliment setting his face aglow were formally there was only the shadow of death. "Ya, s'my boat. M'mom's boat." He paused, gasping for air, winded from only those few words. He was not long for this world.

"It was a storm... I think. I don'know. Been here too long. Was there a storm..?" With eyelashes fluttering closed the Svefra boy gave a deep sigh, the muscles of his arms relaxing a bit and causing him to slide further into the water. The close proximity of the Myrian didn't seem to bother him any, in fact turning his face to look up at Naama when he did manage to open his eyes once more.

"It hurts. Make it stop.. I want my mommy." Another sigh from deep within his chest and the boy's head fell with a thunk onto the deck.