Spring, day 83 521 AV
It was loud. At least, louder than it had been, the scurrying of those aboard the Veronica bringing the sleeping passenger to a hazy awareness. With lingering nausea of the voyage still at the back of her throat, she swallowed hastily, cheeks ashen as she glanced through the rails where she was situated. The weather-beaten wood of the corner she'd curled into had become familiar, comfortable now that she was somewhat accustomed to the ever-present sway. Even the swells, breaking over top of another and white foam cresting, brought an odd sense of peace to her, of rightness.
She scoffed as she pulled the hood of her cloak tight, throat scratching and bile racing forth. No, she didn't like the boat one bit. Wasn't sure she liked the suffocating heat that surrounded her either, but the wind that carried the beast carving through the sea subdued the humidity, and the air was different. Briny and lush rather than dirt or grass or horseflesh. She welcomed it until she was leaning over the railing once more, her thoughts only on what would happen if she fell.
It took time to make peace with her stomach, swishing a sip of water in her mouth and spitting it overboard to remove the taint. When she was sure she wouldn't hurl whatever might have been in her stomach, she turned to face the crew and passengers, noting with renewed interest that some were leaning over the side, their fingers and bodies pointed avidly towards the land. She didn't rush to their side, having staked her claim on the left side of the ship- she still didn't know port from starboard and hadn't asked for clarification- preferring to stare with open shock.
Waves broke over miles of sandy beach where the trees bristled, dark and menacing as though guarding something precious from the present watchful brown eyes. Where in the plains, all was visible that wanted to be seen, the grass yielding to the wind in its own dance of waves. The jungle before her was fearsome, something to be wary of, forbidding in the way of newcomers and their flighty tendencies. She stewed in her regret as she curled onto the deck once more, wondering why she'd done this. Riverfall could have been enough, right? It was flourishing, she could have kept Sasha close to her, could have started over, with a new life, or even returned home when she'd been ready. She frowned, eyes screwing shut and palms pressing heavily into them. No, she thought, I wanted to see the world, wasn't it? Begged the Gods for it. Oh how she'd begged them the night before her marriage and dreamed of it when she could no longer ride for the child growing in her belly.
And just when she'd accepted her fate, they'd agreed to let her go free. The toll had been far too heavy. She wished the stories her father had told her as a child had been less fanciful, that they had warned more than entertained.
It took longer than before to shove the wayward thoughts to the back of her mind where she would lock them away forever if given the choice. By the time she opened her eyes, the ship was surrounded by the forest, pushing through the inlet to meet with the dock where she would finally be free. The sun was hot overhead, her cloak only protecting her from burning if nothing else, and she gathered her meager belongings. She escaped as soon as the board dropped, her sea legs bandy as she walked with some confidence over the planks that led to shore, rising, and falling with a gentleness that surprised her, until she hit the sand.
She frowned as she stumbled and fell to her knees, stomach dropping with the sand as it seemed to move with the ocean. Would she never be free of it? For the rest of her life, would she rise and fall with no relief? She sat back onto her heals to contemplate her suffering, grimacing as she reflected on her own cowardice.
wc: 678