[Summer, 12th, 513AV]
The sun crept out of the clouds, throwing its blanket of warmth across the docks of Avanthal in a matter of seconds. People who were laying around on their break, using the cool shade as their cover, quickly left to find comfort somewhere else. Glass of cold water in hand, Veizor sat high on some stacked boxes. He swung his legs back and forth in between sips. Remembering as a youngin' when he swung his feet on high chairs, nostalgia hit. The feeling of being a small child was missed, the lack of stress and worries was a blessing he had forgotten as a wee lad. The cold, salty sea breeze rolled over the wooden planks and clear water, waving back and forth like a courtesy greeting. Veizor had known the northern sea and the wastes all his life, the whalers and boating crews have known him for a long time. One of the older men in Avanthal, Jorsten Coolwater, started coming in with his fishing vessel. The shouts and hearty laughs could be heard for a hundred couple feet from the shore line. Metal clanking, levers being pulled, rope and sails being set where they need to be, all in preparation for boarding.
Tying a quick knot in a piece of rope, peering across the sea then onwards to the dock as he stood up straight on the front deck, Jorsten squinted a bit. The sun strained his weary eyes, wrinkles like rock crevices, in between his eyebrows and iris. He raised his right hand above his head horizontally, providing cover from the sun rays. The bones creaked, the joints on his elbow, shoulder, even fingers felt a bit stiff and slow compared to even yesterday it seemed like. Still considered built for an oldie, Jorsten had the respect and physical ability to still command a fine vessel on the seas. He had a strong sense of honor, of duty to help the city of Avanthal until his bones crumbled in dust. Knowing Veizor since a child, he picked him out of the crowd quickly once the boat came into the docks. Before getting into a friendly shouting match full of jester insults and laughs with a worker on the docks that he most likely knew since the lad was born, Jorsten yelled directly at Veizor.
"Lookin' like your bored mate! Get some depth to your skinny staff build! Come help!" he berated at Veizor, who simply smiled, shaking his head left and right before hopping off his wooden perch. He had loved this man for as long as he could remember, but he never was a step behind in the insult contests. "Well, stay alive long enough for me to get there old man!" he yelled right back, jogging leisurely to the boat. It was a large, white fishing ship that had a frost hawk design across the side. It looked alive, the artist doing one of the most fascinating jobs on it. From what Veizor can remember, he has not once heard from Jorsten complaining about getting it re-done. It gave a sense of intimidation, as if it scared the water too much for it to wash off the splendid work. The rest of the boat was pretty good condition, wear and tear in the wood work and other expected locations. It was a fine vessel, the pride of his old friend.
He walked up the ramp and was caught off-guard from a slap in the back of head by one of the crew members. Laughing, he knew most of the crew men, having either been baby-sitted by them or having dealt with them in some way in Coolwater business. The holds all were a tight-knit family, each doing their part to keep each other sane so that they could help the other holds, help Avanthal. Indulging in minor chatter with the men, telling of their own stories and updates on their own families. Most of them were well, thankfully.
"So Veizor! How's the ladies mate?" some of them questioned at the same time, voices mashing together in harmonic chaos. They all sneered and laughed, some leaning closer in for an answer.
"Ahhh, please! All I do is sculpt scenes men!" he answered back, embarrassment coating his words. It wasn't usual he was asked about his own personal life, albeit he had been away from the group for a while.
"Stooooop lying!" they all said together, now in a more song format. "As much as you mess with ice, speech that is so refined, you attract the hearts of many who want a good time!" The men song, laughing once more and slapping each others backs. They were all respectable singers in their own right, so it wasn't uncommon for them to break into song during work or during a break.
"Well I mean--," he began speaking before being cut off by Jorsten barging into the circle, his own hoarse laugh joining in. "Haha! Leave the lad alone! We all know he hasn't even seen a horse's underside, much less that of a grown woman!" Jorsten joked, stomping all over Veizor's love life and sexual adventures. Although in truth, was very minimal beyond the average kiss. But, it was rather hard for him to think of a witty remark to the truth. Accepting his shame quickly, he embraced Jorsten with a bearhug that was well-received and returned twice as hard.
Breathless in the end, Veizor's hair was rustled with large wrinkled hands. It felt good to be in his element, rather more vulgar than the decorum he displayed whilst performing out in the tavern or inns. He was a regular man, boy, at heart. He really did fall in love with the whimsical word play and poetic rhetoric that did justice to his own persona, but it was time to lay back and enjoy the rowdy roots of where he came from : The sea.
"Enough standing around though! Lets get this cargo off, then prepare for the next departure! We filled it up to the max, so we are going to need some help with your magic so we can get home for supper!" he said, always worrying about his own stomach then anything else. The other men agreed, uniting under his rally of hunger, "Yes! Our stomachs won't feed ourselves, so we need to be home for our wives or they'll give us hell!" They sung once more. Veizor had to admit, he was definitely hungry too. With a quick nod of the head, he thought of something he considered almost brilliant at the time.
"Give me a moment, I'mma need time to think. In the mean time, bring down as many boxes down as we can, it'll take only a while," he confirmed with much confidence, putting his brain to work. His imagination was flowing, never-ending creativity sparking off into thunderstorms and hurricanes, ideas spinning around like whirlwinds.
The sun crept out of the clouds, throwing its blanket of warmth across the docks of Avanthal in a matter of seconds. People who were laying around on their break, using the cool shade as their cover, quickly left to find comfort somewhere else. Glass of cold water in hand, Veizor sat high on some stacked boxes. He swung his legs back and forth in between sips. Remembering as a youngin' when he swung his feet on high chairs, nostalgia hit. The feeling of being a small child was missed, the lack of stress and worries was a blessing he had forgotten as a wee lad. The cold, salty sea breeze rolled over the wooden planks and clear water, waving back and forth like a courtesy greeting. Veizor had known the northern sea and the wastes all his life, the whalers and boating crews have known him for a long time. One of the older men in Avanthal, Jorsten Coolwater, started coming in with his fishing vessel. The shouts and hearty laughs could be heard for a hundred couple feet from the shore line. Metal clanking, levers being pulled, rope and sails being set where they need to be, all in preparation for boarding.
Tying a quick knot in a piece of rope, peering across the sea then onwards to the dock as he stood up straight on the front deck, Jorsten squinted a bit. The sun strained his weary eyes, wrinkles like rock crevices, in between his eyebrows and iris. He raised his right hand above his head horizontally, providing cover from the sun rays. The bones creaked, the joints on his elbow, shoulder, even fingers felt a bit stiff and slow compared to even yesterday it seemed like. Still considered built for an oldie, Jorsten had the respect and physical ability to still command a fine vessel on the seas. He had a strong sense of honor, of duty to help the city of Avanthal until his bones crumbled in dust. Knowing Veizor since a child, he picked him out of the crowd quickly once the boat came into the docks. Before getting into a friendly shouting match full of jester insults and laughs with a worker on the docks that he most likely knew since the lad was born, Jorsten yelled directly at Veizor.
"Lookin' like your bored mate! Get some depth to your skinny staff build! Come help!" he berated at Veizor, who simply smiled, shaking his head left and right before hopping off his wooden perch. He had loved this man for as long as he could remember, but he never was a step behind in the insult contests. "Well, stay alive long enough for me to get there old man!" he yelled right back, jogging leisurely to the boat. It was a large, white fishing ship that had a frost hawk design across the side. It looked alive, the artist doing one of the most fascinating jobs on it. From what Veizor can remember, he has not once heard from Jorsten complaining about getting it re-done. It gave a sense of intimidation, as if it scared the water too much for it to wash off the splendid work. The rest of the boat was pretty good condition, wear and tear in the wood work and other expected locations. It was a fine vessel, the pride of his old friend.
He walked up the ramp and was caught off-guard from a slap in the back of head by one of the crew members. Laughing, he knew most of the crew men, having either been baby-sitted by them or having dealt with them in some way in Coolwater business. The holds all were a tight-knit family, each doing their part to keep each other sane so that they could help the other holds, help Avanthal. Indulging in minor chatter with the men, telling of their own stories and updates on their own families. Most of them were well, thankfully.
"So Veizor! How's the ladies mate?" some of them questioned at the same time, voices mashing together in harmonic chaos. They all sneered and laughed, some leaning closer in for an answer.
"Ahhh, please! All I do is sculpt scenes men!" he answered back, embarrassment coating his words. It wasn't usual he was asked about his own personal life, albeit he had been away from the group for a while.
"Stooooop lying!" they all said together, now in a more song format. "As much as you mess with ice, speech that is so refined, you attract the hearts of many who want a good time!" The men song, laughing once more and slapping each others backs. They were all respectable singers in their own right, so it wasn't uncommon for them to break into song during work or during a break.
"Well I mean--," he began speaking before being cut off by Jorsten barging into the circle, his own hoarse laugh joining in. "Haha! Leave the lad alone! We all know he hasn't even seen a horse's underside, much less that of a grown woman!" Jorsten joked, stomping all over Veizor's love life and sexual adventures. Although in truth, was very minimal beyond the average kiss. But, it was rather hard for him to think of a witty remark to the truth. Accepting his shame quickly, he embraced Jorsten with a bearhug that was well-received and returned twice as hard.
Breathless in the end, Veizor's hair was rustled with large wrinkled hands. It felt good to be in his element, rather more vulgar than the decorum he displayed whilst performing out in the tavern or inns. He was a regular man, boy, at heart. He really did fall in love with the whimsical word play and poetic rhetoric that did justice to his own persona, but it was time to lay back and enjoy the rowdy roots of where he came from : The sea.
"Enough standing around though! Lets get this cargo off, then prepare for the next departure! We filled it up to the max, so we are going to need some help with your magic so we can get home for supper!" he said, always worrying about his own stomach then anything else. The other men agreed, uniting under his rally of hunger, "Yes! Our stomachs won't feed ourselves, so we need to be home for our wives or they'll give us hell!" They sung once more. Veizor had to admit, he was definitely hungry too. With a quick nod of the head, he thought of something he considered almost brilliant at the time.
"Give me a moment, I'mma need time to think. In the mean time, bring down as many boxes down as we can, it'll take only a while," he confirmed with much confidence, putting his brain to work. His imagination was flowing, never-ending creativity sparking off into thunderstorms and hurricanes, ideas spinning around like whirlwinds.