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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Rohka on September 3rd, 2017, 1:13 am

20th of Fall, 517 AV
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“Gods, he’s such a cutie, isn’t he?”

Jorlin smiled as he glided on, pressing the long pole against the wooden platform.

“So it’s a ‘he’ now?” The ravosalaman looked down into the water, and sure enough, the little paper duck was still following him.

“His name’s Bloop. And yes. He doesn’t have to be a he. He’ll tell me if he wants to be a she.” She grinned, wiggling in her seat. “Isn’t he cuuuute, Jor?” she drawled, staring at him with wide eyes. The man was at least 30, and definitely (most likely?) married, but his angled features were too pretty to stop herself from… well, being herself. The tiny snake snuggled into the nook of her collarbone.

“Oi vey,” Jorlin shook his head, smiling inwardly at the woman’s attachment to the magical creature. Her long black hair fell to her side as she tilted her head to give the snake more room to explore. “I’ll have my kids name mine. It doesn’t seem like I can get rid of it.”

Jorlin had already tried ripping it up into shreds and throwing it over the roof of a shack. It flew back as an eagle. He says he’ll try lighting it on fire when he gets home.
Last edited by Rohka on September 5th, 2017, 5:10 am, edited 1 time in total.
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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Syresshvassydir on September 3rd, 2017, 2:07 am

Sydir’s breathing came in sharp, ragged gasps as he pumped his legs, willing them to propel him faster through the streets and back alleys of Ravok. Running was not something Sydir did out of habit, but today he was late. Very late. He was expected on the lakeshore with Jati and Kati, the brutal human women that called themselves Sydir’s mistresses. That was a title Sydir was unaccustomed to, despite the matriarchal nature of his species. Nevertheless, the iron band around his neck gave proof to their claims, and he had already learned the penalty for displeasing them. Being late was a very quick way to displease the sisters. And Sydir had been late to this session nearly half a petching bell ago! So despite the burning in his lungs, the constrictor Dhani continued to run, though at this point it was beginning to feel as though he was going in circles. ”Why do all human buildings have to look so similar,” he thought in disgust.

“Petching mo-” the rest of that thought was cut off as Sydir, having succumbed to distraction, managed to run directly off one of the abrupt ledges dropping into the canal system. Attempting to turn in mid-air, Sydir realized too late that, despite being smaller and significantly faster, this human body simply couldn’t compare to his serpent or Dhani form in terms of flexibility. His turn only succeeded in making sure he landed on his back. Mentally, the Dhani braced himself for the splash and shock of ice-cold lake water. But the splash never came. Instead, by some strange twist of luck, Sydir found himself toppling into a passing ravosala, occupied by a ravosalaman and his passenger. The very same passenger on top of whom Sydir, all two-hundred and fifty pounds of him, had managed to land square.

“What the petch?! Rhsyol’s balls! First giant birds dropping shapeshifting magic papers, and now this! What’s this city coming to?” Exclaimed the ravosalaman, continuing under his breath something about the increased number of ‘petching foreigners.’ For his part, Sydir struggled mightily to attain a more dignified position in the small boat. But each of his movements seemed to rock the boat even more, eliciting stern exclamations from the ravosalaman. The constrictor Dhani ignored him, remaining resolute and silent as he managed to get his limbs, one by one, within the confines of the ravosala. Then, and only then, did Sydir turn to eye up the other passenger.
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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Rohka on September 3rd, 2017, 3:16 am

When Rohka is fascinated with something, she barely pays attention to anything else. Her dark eyes were fixed on little Bloop as he slid his way down her outstretched arm. Did it feel warm? Or was she imagining it? Bloop circled round and around, pretending to hiss at the world every so often.

“Little Bloop, climb up up up,” she sung quietly, ascending a scale, taking the melody of a nursery rhyme she’d heard as a child. She took her finger and guided the little snake across her forearm. “Little Bloop, run down down down,” she guided him back down as she descended the scale. Roh barely heard whatever was running up along the ledges behind her - she was far too entranced.

The young sybil began to bring Bloop back up to her shoulder when a shadow came up beside her. There was no room to duck or escape, it was too late. Rohka let out what could only be the scream of a bobcat in a tin can; so high-pitched and screechy, yet contained in volume, cut off by the mass of muscle that collapsed on top of her.

Roh’s half-stretched arm twisted beneath the weight - she felt the crack instantly, yet heard the sound a fraction of a tick later. Energy surged through her as she bashed the mass with her other arm. She flailed to get it off her, but it was no use. The thing was massive and she was stuck until it moved itself off of her. The form shifted its weight and moved itself slowly, painfully, over and off of her, rolling and rocking the boat in the process. Rohka felt dizzy yet alert as she struggled to gain her bearing, pushing herself up at the waist with her arms, then wincing at the dull, almost frozen pain in her right one, falling back on her back.

Her head turned to her side to take in the sight of her good fortune. He seemed to be a man, with hair almost as long as her own, and brilliant green eyes that pierced and glimmered in the daylight. He didn’t seem normal. Not like your average Ravokian. Roh watched him as he moved, his form oddly large and barrel-like. It was only then, when the immediacy of her danger had passed through her mind, did she begin to cry.

She lay on her back as tears flowed down her cheeks. She turned back to look up at the sky and closed her eyes, now almost completely unable to move her right arm, the pain flaring with even the slightest movement.

Rohka turned back to look at him, her eyes starting to redden, trying to control her tears. “Whyyyy…”, she cried, softly. “What did I do to you…”

It wasn’t clear who she was talking to - the man who fell, or Rhysol himself, for putting her through this pain.

Jorlin’s face was stone clear as he floated off to the side and tied the ravosala to the nearest ledge. “She’s hurt. We need to get help. Don’t you watch where you’re going, shykehead?” He snapped at the man.
Last edited by Rohka on October 12th, 2017, 12:32 am, edited 2 times in total.
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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Syresshvassydir on September 4th, 2017, 6:40 am

Sydir’s emerald eyes regarded the small woman before him with a mixture of dismissal and disdain. Laying on her back as she was, the Dhani had ample opportunity to observe the leanness of her build, though something about her right arm seemed...wrong, appearing to be twisted into the wrong direction. Sydir frowned. He didn’t know much about human physiology, despite having access to the human body any time he wanted for the past four years. However, from that limited experience, and the way the woman was taking great pains not to move the damaged limb, Sydir surmised that arm was likely broken. ”Like mine will be if I’m any later than I already am,” the large constrictor thought in irritation. One would think that over a century of life would have taught Sydir patience in the face of adversity, but little could be further from the truth. And even if the Dhani had possessed the patience of Gnora, the same was certainly not true of Jati and Kati, who were most likely brainstorming the worst possible way to punish his tardiness at this very moment.

Then, as if she were intentionally trying to torture Sydir, the injured woman let out a small, pitiful wail, turning back to regard him with eyes that were already beginning to swell and redden with tears. Such a uniquely human thing, crying. Sydir felt the mild irritation blossom into a warm wave of anger. ”Sstop that,” he barked, his voice deep but crisp, a sibilant hiss mixed in with his broken Common. Before Sydir could respond further, the ravosalaman was already snapping at him, causing the large Dhani to turn his cold emerald gaze onto the other human. The anger in Sydir’s chest began to burn from a subdued red towards white-hot. In Falyndar, this man would have been killed a thousand times over in a thousand different ways before he’d made it so much as a mile through the jungle. Weak and useless, just like every other filthy petching ape in this hell of a city!

Sydir’s first instinct was to drive his powerful fist as far into the ravosalaman’s pasty face as it would go. Hopefully through the other side. And in Zinrah, he would have wasted no time at all in following through with that base impulse. But Ravok played by a different set of rules. Humans’ rules, few of which made much sense to the constrictor, though he knew he was bound by them regardless. Instead, Sydir clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white and veins became visible along the length of his tawny forearms. For his part, the navigator of canals paid little heed to the coiled, angry mass of muscle in his boat, focusing instead on expertly tying the boat off to the ledge nearest them. Immediately, Sydir stood, gathering his leather cape about him as he stepped onto the ledge with barely a glance or a word to the humans. He had more important things to take care of.

“Oy! Slave! You deaf?”

Sydir froze in place at the ravosala driver’s words. Closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, the Dhani did his best to force the rage down before he turned back towards the ravosala, glaring molten green daggers at the male human. “Heard fine. No care.” Sydir spoke in a clear, measured tone, though the tension in his voice gave evidence to the simmering cauldron of anger inside. The ravosalaman scoffed. “Well, you’d best start caring if you don’t want me to report this! You’d best hope she’s not a citizen, or you’re petched.” For his part, Sydir rolled his eyes and leaned back down towards the human woman. Taking the arm closest to the ledge in his large hands, the Dhani hauled her unceremoniously out of the ravosala and onto the ledge.

Sydir took another long moment to rake the woman up and down, eyes gleaming like jade jewelry with Syna’s reflection off the canal. He pointed at her right arm, which hung limp and twisted at her side. “Arm hurt,” he said, stating the obvious. “Not legss. You walk?”
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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Rohka on September 5th, 2017, 5:41 am

Rohka sat on the ledge, wiping the tears off her face with her good hand. She just needed to know where the petching Healing Hand was; she couldn’t care about anything else. Well. She could. And she knew she should. Especially since she had no idea what this would cost her. And no idea how long it would take to heal. And no idea how it would impact her work. And goodness, the way this beast of a man responded to her, Rhysol have mercy…

The young sybil looked up into the deviant eyes that had asked her to walk. She struggled to keep her voice steady despite the pain, knowing that the only way she could get through this was with his cooperation. She willed herself to play the dynamic required of a citizen. There could be no room for niceties until she got what she needed.

“Slave,” she began, her tone incapable of hiding the bit of forgiveness. She was pretty sure he hadn’t broken her arm on purpose. “Do listen, if you care for your life. As a citizen, I can get this fixed at the Healing Hand,” she paused, inhaling sharply at the sudden surge of pain, while slightly smirking at what she’d said - the name of the medical centre was apt for her circumstance. Roh didn't think about how the smirk would come across to the slave.

“Come with me if you wish for me to refrain from reporting you to the City Guard. Jor witnessed your insolence, and frankly, it’s a poor reflection of your master. Who owns you?” She asked, sternly. This formal mannerism was new for her, and she strongly hoped that the slave wouldn’t see through her facade and would simply respect her status as a citizen. She’s never been a master so she has no real idea of how they treat their slaves, but she’s grown up around enough of them to know that they need to be obedient. Plus, there was no way she’d pay for this out of her own pocket. Rohka needed him to obey and follow her in case the medics asked for mizas. He broke her arm. It’s now his master’s responsibility. The end.

“Lady, we’ll leave for the Healing Hand right away,” Jorlin stated, stopping the slave from responding. As the ravosalaman pointed to a plaza about a step and a hop away, Rohka glanced at Little Bloop moving about on her lap. The creature had obviously managed to survive the ordeal.

“Over there’s the Market. Do you want me to get you anything to ease the pain?”

“Goodness, yes please,” she begged, her eyes pleading.

“Alright, you two stay right here. I’ll be back soon.”
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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Syresshvassydir on September 5th, 2017, 8:47 pm

Sydir met the young woman’s gaze with a casual stare that wandered from her dark eyes down towards her injured right arm, now swollen and turning a nasty shade of black and purple around the break. The Dhani witnessed firsthand the change in the woman’s demeanor from injured, mewling prey to that of a seasoned predator, with her occasional grimaces of pain the only evidence of weakness. His emerald eyes wandered back to her dark brown, where he held her stare, unblinking for a few long ticks before she finally spoke. “Slave,” she barked, her voice authoritative, her good arm outstretched and eyes expectant. Sydir grimaced, then reached down to haul the small woman up by her left shoulder. “Easier grip, no hurt other arm,” came his explanation for the rough handling, though with a distinctly dispatched tone. Once she was back on her feet, the woman continued, in a voice that mixed anger and condescension.

After her final question, Sydir felt his anger flare up again, flashing fire through his emerald eyes. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, the ravosalaman interjected himself once more into the conversation, pointing the way towards the markets before leaving to get something for the woman. Sydir wondered, “Is he no citizen himself, the way he does her beck and call? Or are these humans more like Dhani than I thought? Or maybe he just wants to bed her later, humans are strange animals.” The large constrictor gave a shrug of his shoulders, and turned back to the little woman before him. “I belong to Kati and Jati. Lionessesss of Ssylirasss,” he spoke in his sibilant Common, anger welling back up at the names of the fraternal twins that called themselves his masters. He’d been subject to no small amount of cruelty and brutality in the season since he’d been purchased by the sisters, and only just now was he being given chances to inflict the same to other slaves in the Pit.

Thinking about the fights brought Sydir’s mind back to training, which in turn returned his thoughts to Kati and Jati, who were surely at this moment conspiring to ambush him as soon as he stepped onto the lakeshore. He grimaced, and gave voice to his hurry. “Musst we wait for boat man? I am very late, lots of trouble.” As he waited and listened to her reply, a small movement on the woman’s shoulder caught Sydir’s eye. A small snake, made entirely of folded, animated paper, poked its head out of her straight brown hair. Intrigued, Sydir reached out with one large hand first to stroke the paper snake’s chin, then to gently lift as the little thing slithered up onto his arm eagerly. Sydir held the small paper snake up to meet his bright emerald stare. “What are you?” the Dhani asked, this time in his native snake-tongue, though slightly garbled by his human form’s mouth.
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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Loken on September 18th, 2017, 6:35 am

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20th of Fall, 517 AV

Standing on the edge of one of Ravoks many plazas, Loken let his gaze linger across the scurrying populous traversing the walkway along the opposite plazas. In between himself and them, various Ravosalamen piloted their small craft through the canals. His expression was thoughtful, keenly focused on anyone who drew the ire of his scrutiny.

As usual, he wore his personal black leather armor that seemed to match the dress uniform required of a Cherry. Despite being focused on watching people in the distance, Loken carried himself with the gravitas of a stern Ano Cult. As people walked passed him, he kept a clean upright posture, and kept his hand firmly rested on the hilt of his short sword.

He was about to step away from the edge when a Ravosalaman waved frantically to catch his attention, he gestured with a small nod of acknowledgment towards the seafarer as he watched the Ravosalaman dock his boat to the ledge in front of him. "Do you require assistance?" He mused aloud, awaiting the mans response.

Jorlin just waved for Loken to get into the vehicle. "Yes, yes. A slave injured a civilian. She..." Loken lifted a hand to cut the man off, simply stepping into the boat upon hearing about the incident. He only cut the man off because he didn't want any ideas or opinions put into his mind before he had the chance to see things for himself. "Please take me to the slave and injured party. If you are a witness, I'll have questions for you upon arrival." With that said, he sat down and waited to be transported.

Along the ride, Jorlin seemed to be in a hurry to get Loken where he needed to be. But along the way, the Cultist couldn't help but notice the mans eyes wandering over to him in an obvious manner. "You seem like a man who wants to ask a question?" He spoke absently as he stared at the boatman. "What do you call that thing hanging off your back?"

The question caused Loken to shift his shoulders to adjust the weapon harness on his back that held his tiger hook sword. It wasn't a common weapon, so heard the question often enough. "A hook sword." It was an answer that promptly ended their small talk dude to the curt way he responded. Several chimes passed before the Ravosalaman spoke up again. "There they are."

Loken lifted a hand to adjust the 'Cherry' red skullcap helm he wore, then stood up as the boat pulled up next to the canals edge. Upon stepping on land he took stock of everyone around. A woman, a male with a collar, a boatman, and a scattering of spectators. "Will all involved please show me their citizenship papers."

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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Rohka on September 20th, 2017, 9:58 pm

The slave spoke the names of his owners while stretching his 'S’s longer than any normal person would. He was an angry man, that much was clear, with his infernal stares and responses. And apparently impatient, too.

What made him so late in the first place? Rohka cocked a brow and spoke hastily through her pain, “Yes, we’re going to wait for him. I really don’t care that you’re late, honestly. You’ll take that up with your, uh-agh,” she paused, wincing again at the pangs in her arm, trying to remember what it was that the beast of a man called his masters. “Your Lionesses,” she said it with a hint of a smirk. She’d never heard of them, but she liked their title.

“I’ll help explain what happened, if you’re so concerned,” she added, realizing that if what the slave said was true, then she wouldn’t want to be blamed for making him late.

“What’s your name, anyway, Slave? I’d prefer to call you by it.” Rohka wanted to remember who she would claim responsible for the treatment needed. Also, she figured she would make a bit of small talk to avoid paying attention to the incredibly dumb injury. She found that the more she looked at it, the wilder her emotions spun. Roh couldn’t help it—she looked down for a tick and her mind boiled.

“You really don’t look human, y’know,” Roh spat with spite. “You’re not from here, are you? What are you even, some kind of savage?” She tried to grin, hoping her remark would be taken simply as banter. Rohka knew her limits. Or at least, she thought she did. The woman had a penchant for talking, and she knew it had gotten her in trouble on more than one occasion. There was no way she would try to push the man past a point of fury; she didn’t need any more of her limbs broken.

Rohka watched as he listened and picked up her little paper friend, speaking to it in a language she couldn’t understand. Oh, he’s definitely not from here, she thought bitterly. “His name’s Bloop,” she said, once again shifting her attention to talking instead of thinking about her arm. “He’s cute, right?” Roh really couldn’t get over how adorable the magical little creature was, as it slithered and pretended to hiss in the man’s hands.

It wasn’t long after the man answered that Jorlin came back to them with a city guard in tow. Rohka had never really needed a city guard up until this point, so she began to get nervous. The dark-haired guard asked for her citizenship papers and she quickly opened the flap of her shoulder bag with her good hand, shuffling the things inside.

She began to speak rapidly as she searched, “Ah great, a city guard! I’ve got them here.” Roh snatched the papers and held them out. “I’d just like to report that this man,” she turned to whom she was accusing, “fell onto me while I was in the ravosala and I believe my arm is broken now, because it hurts really bad,” she frowned, letting tears well up in her eyes. “Could you help me get to the Healing Hand please? I don’t know how much this will cost me and it’s his fault,” she hissed, her annoyance clear. “So I really need either him or his masters to explain this to the healers, in case they ask me for anything.”

Jorlin came up behind her while she spoke and put a folded piece of parchment into her hand after she gave away her citizenship papers. When Roh was done explaining her situation to the guard, he whispered quickly in her ear.

“It’s some Float from the Market. Sniff it, and you’ll forget the pain.” Roh raised her brows as he stepped back and listened attentively to the conversation that followed.
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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Loken on November 8th, 2017, 11:57 am

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Loken retrieved the woman’s Citizenship papers when she held them out. He slowly started to read them over as he simultaneously listened to the woman's statement about what had transpired. “Birth name, Rohka Calico.” Loken tilted his head to one side as he mused over her last name; his thoughts half amused by the fact that Jolin thought he was being sneaky considering that the Guardsman had just moments ago taken stock of his proximity to Rohka.

But given that he was reading, he ignored that as he thought about her last name. When he helped scout out the areas south of the Southern Trading Post, he first started at the river leading away from Calico’s Lumber. He didn’t spend much time around the business, but knew enough to link the woman to that place.

He then gingerly stepped close to Rohka as he noticed Jorlin stop whispering something to the woman, then opened up her pack to return her citizenship papers. The Cherry chose to do it for Rohka given that her arm was obviously injured in some way. Afterwords, his eyes drifted towards the Dhani. “You. You are not to speak or move from that spot until spoken too.” He spoke out clearly in a commanding tone. He was not someone who put up with stupidity, and since he had no reason by law to allow the slave a chance to speak.

Loken then made a sharp whistling sound that caught the attention of two other members of the City Guard, who were also wearing cherry skullcaps. Upon spotting the guard who wanted their attention, the other two jogged over to Loken.

“This slave was responsible for injuring this woman. As property, I need you both to talk to it and get in touch with its master. I’m sure they will want to know that their reputations have be besmirched. I’ll escort the young woman to the Healing Hand.” As he left the two other members of the guard to deal with the slave, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Rohka.

"What did Jorlin just whisper to you? You can tell me all about it on the way to the Healing Hand. " He gestured towards the boat for the woman to move towards it. His comment sparked the boatman to get in the boat to prepare it for take off. Loken got on right after him as he held out a hand to help Rohka onto it.

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A Fondness for Snakes

Postby Rohka on November 14th, 2017, 10:18 pm

Rohka exhaled slowly as the guard spoke her last name. She didn’t give it out lightly, preferring to be associated purely by her own merits—the very few merits that were built during the five years spent in the city proper. The sibyl couldn’t tell if he recognized her background; he seemed to ponder, but showed almost no emotion before stepping up to her, replacing her papers in her pack ever so gently, and addressing the slave in the manner of authority. Her face softened at the recognition of his aiding gesture and she stayed in silent pain while he instructed the other guards to take care of the creature. It took her a moment to notice that they’d all had red paint on their skullcaps—these were cherries that she was dealing with. Recruits gaining experience. The thought was interrupted when Little Bloop pounced off the arm of the man and stuck to her own before the cherries dragged him away to ‘speak’ in private.

“Heyyy little one, did that dumdum hurt you?” She whispered gently, unmoving. The snake shook its head and made its way up her arm and into the crook of her neck. It didn’t take long for the armoured man to question her next, his eyes looking at her far more suspiciously than she’d expected. Jorlin was clearly standing right by them, the cherry could’ve asked him instead; why was she being interrogated about an inconspicuous whisper? Roh quickly let it go in her mind and gladly lifted the hand that held the parchment. She had nothing to hide.

“Well, he gave me some Float, he said it would ease the pain,” the sibyl began to unfold the sheet with her fingers and held it up to her face. Jorlin had already gotten into the boat—he’d shut his eyes and held in a groan, then lifted his pole, staring straight at the guard should he intend to question him. “So I just sniff it, right?” Rohka didn’t wait for an answer. She brought the powder up to her nose and took a deep breath.

“Shyke,” Jorlin murmured. His hand had gone to the side of his head, brows raised and awkwardly smiling, seemingly entertained. “You have to get in Rohka, quickly, before it starts working.” She looked at him quizzically before taking the guard’s extended hand, carefully easing herself back inside the boat.

It took effect instantly. The sibyl’s heart began to race as her body got warmer, then colder, then warmer again, the cycling of heat moving in tandem with the feeling of her body lifting and expanding, slowly losing the ability to locate the edge of her body. From the outside, Rohka would purely seem to stand there, as if in shock, her eyes widening then closing, her shoulders relaxing, and a smile creeping up the corners of her lips.

“Oh, Jor,” she hummed, eyes still closed, feeling something bubbling between her ears. “This is fun.” Rohka opened her eyes, suddenly washed over with a pleasant wave of weightlessness, the ache in her arm reduced to a dulled, suspended sensation. She couldn’t quite locate the pain anymore, but she knew it was there, she knew it existed. It didn’t feel like an entity anymore. The sibyl still held the piece of parchment between her fingers—she watched herself lift her hand as if it required no effort, as if it was being moved by someone else, when she knew that she had to be in control of her own arm. Did her arm exist if she couldn’t feel it? Roh shook off the thought and handed the parchment over to the guard, should he choose to take it. Otherwise, she would keep it in her hand while she sat through the ride to the Healing Hand.

Rohka knew she was sitting down. She knew the boat was starting to move. She could see it happening—she saw herself reaching down to aid herself onto her seat, she saw Jorlin pushing the boat off the platform, she watched the water move behind them. Nevertheless, her body had ceased to feel solid. It was like she’d turned into air, or a cloud, or a ghost! That thought frightened her. Rohka hastily spat out a question,

“Hey, you two can see me still, right? Can I—“ she reached out to poke the Cherry’s arm. “Did that work?” Rohka was grinning. She felt incredibly light, both in body and spirit. She poked the leather again, looking up into the cherry’s eyes this time. He was far older than her, with a darkened gaze that reflected her own. She was grateful for his support on the short journey, but wasn’t in the mind frame to express it. Instead, she glanced at the lines of his face, noticing that he was trimmed, clean, and neat; unlike Jorlin, with his messy, medium beard of blondness. Still grinning, she spoke with an air of assumed friendliness. “What’s your name, Cherry?”

She stressed the ‘your’ with purpose. She wanted a reaction—she wanted to know if he knew her family. Jorlin heard her and knew the intent at once. He recognized the last name as soon as the guard had uttered it. The boatman’s aunt was the wife of one of the Calicos, and he’d heard the usual about their line of work and their productive reputation. He knew they were preparing for a few projects soon—Bethel, his aunt, had been excited about new recipes to try out on the workers at the lakeshore. He kept silent, however, sticking to the job he was meant to do.

Before long, they would reach the Healing Hand, where their ride would be complete and where Rohka could finally be fixed. She really needed to get back to work.
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