23rd of Winter, 513 A.V.
Docks
Each day owned itself. One days doesn't effect another, it's just the people that drag the past into the present. Lucky for Gale, the sailor didn't quit his job like he was beginning to consider. The job wasn't any easier, for Cave still pushed him around and everyone else just continued to laugh in his face, but he had to take it one day at a time. Cave's pranks were petty (or not), but he couldn't let that define his entire relationship with his job. He had to keep it positive, right? As miserable as it was to have to clean the deck on all fours with an old brush named Jeff, there were upsides to it. Bird, the lookout, is actually starting to put what he knew of Vani to good use. Suppose that was an upside. Kutless was always says things as if it was positive, even if what he was saying wasn't so. Crate, the 'crate master', was the same way, though not quite as outgoing as the captain. Tin, the cook, was always handing out advice. Tin was the quietest one in the crew, but he was definitely the nicest one and never hesitates to lend a hand. All of those were positives.
The biggest thing though that came to Gale's mind was the meals. As sad as it is to say, the food was horrible. However, Tin always made it look and smell at least decent, which always made Gale assume he was a great cook. Only if he had... real food to serve. But that wasn't the point. The point was, no matter what they were doing, as long as it was either breakfast, lunch, or dinner, they all grabbed their barrel which they claimed as their seats and sat down in a circle and ate whatever Tin handed them without a complaint. The conversations were hardy and light in mood, and it appeared that all negative associations with one person on the crew just melted away. Cave, the second mate, was even the one to sit next to him sometimes, despite hating his guts at any other time in the day. Kutless always told an exaggerated stories of his first days at sea, which the rest of the crew could recite themselves with pinpoint accuracy. Bird, who was typically bitter and angry all the time, actually laughs at Crate's jokes. It was like a big family really.
But once meal time was over, that atmosphere generally slips away and things were back to normal. But it always felt better to work when you leave off on a good note.
Considering that breakfast was just served and these were the first hours of today's set of chores, Gale headed off The Bringer in a good mood. With a bucket in hand, and... Jeff in the other, he headed towards the water to fill up the pale so he could get started on cleaning off the deck. He slipped his shoes off on their ship, for he didn't want to have them soaked like they were his first day. So he walked along the sandy shore with bare feet, which he didn't mind for the sand felt nice gliding under his feet and toes.
The man took no time reaching the shore and taking a few paces into the water. He dipped the bucket in, pulling it out. He took a moment to dump some of the sea water out so the bucket wasn't filled to the brim. But once that was done, he started to make his way back to the shore, for the water didn't feel like water at all. More like ic- cough cough-
No, no, not again.
Gale felt the all familiar sting and buzz in his throat as his lungs forced him to hack and cough. It was as if they still hadn't forgiven him for almost drowning. Pfft. He brought his arm up to his mouth in attempts to muffle or at least cover up the random, dry coughing fit. It was a vicious thing, making the emaciated looking man heave and bend over. He almost looked like he either was choking on something or!... He was about to puke. But neither of those things were true, and Gale certainly didn't cough up anything he had for breakfast. Nevertheless, it was an odd sight to see, and the blonde hoped that the passerbys were too distracted with themselves and their friends to notice.
Docks
Each day owned itself. One days doesn't effect another, it's just the people that drag the past into the present. Lucky for Gale, the sailor didn't quit his job like he was beginning to consider. The job wasn't any easier, for Cave still pushed him around and everyone else just continued to laugh in his face, but he had to take it one day at a time. Cave's pranks were petty (or not), but he couldn't let that define his entire relationship with his job. He had to keep it positive, right? As miserable as it was to have to clean the deck on all fours with an old brush named Jeff, there were upsides to it. Bird, the lookout, is actually starting to put what he knew of Vani to good use. Suppose that was an upside. Kutless was always says things as if it was positive, even if what he was saying wasn't so. Crate, the 'crate master', was the same way, though not quite as outgoing as the captain. Tin, the cook, was always handing out advice. Tin was the quietest one in the crew, but he was definitely the nicest one and never hesitates to lend a hand. All of those were positives.
The biggest thing though that came to Gale's mind was the meals. As sad as it is to say, the food was horrible. However, Tin always made it look and smell at least decent, which always made Gale assume he was a great cook. Only if he had... real food to serve. But that wasn't the point. The point was, no matter what they were doing, as long as it was either breakfast, lunch, or dinner, they all grabbed their barrel which they claimed as their seats and sat down in a circle and ate whatever Tin handed them without a complaint. The conversations were hardy and light in mood, and it appeared that all negative associations with one person on the crew just melted away. Cave, the second mate, was even the one to sit next to him sometimes, despite hating his guts at any other time in the day. Kutless always told an exaggerated stories of his first days at sea, which the rest of the crew could recite themselves with pinpoint accuracy. Bird, who was typically bitter and angry all the time, actually laughs at Crate's jokes. It was like a big family really.
But once meal time was over, that atmosphere generally slips away and things were back to normal. But it always felt better to work when you leave off on a good note.
Considering that breakfast was just served and these were the first hours of today's set of chores, Gale headed off The Bringer in a good mood. With a bucket in hand, and... Jeff in the other, he headed towards the water to fill up the pale so he could get started on cleaning off the deck. He slipped his shoes off on their ship, for he didn't want to have them soaked like they were his first day. So he walked along the sandy shore with bare feet, which he didn't mind for the sand felt nice gliding under his feet and toes.
The man took no time reaching the shore and taking a few paces into the water. He dipped the bucket in, pulling it out. He took a moment to dump some of the sea water out so the bucket wasn't filled to the brim. But once that was done, he started to make his way back to the shore, for the water didn't feel like water at all. More like ic- cough cough-
No, no, not again.
Gale felt the all familiar sting and buzz in his throat as his lungs forced him to hack and cough. It was as if they still hadn't forgiven him for almost drowning. Pfft. He brought his arm up to his mouth in attempts to muffle or at least cover up the random, dry coughing fit. It was a vicious thing, making the emaciated looking man heave and bend over. He almost looked like he either was choking on something or!... He was about to puke. But neither of those things were true, and Gale certainly didn't cough up anything he had for breakfast. Nevertheless, it was an odd sight to see, and the blonde hoped that the passerbys were too distracted with themselves and their friends to notice.
