Summer 21 525 AV
The sea did not care for Ayosel.
The salt water was harsh on her skin and hair; it made her eyes sting something fierce when it sprayed over the railing.
The boat swayed in dizzying patterns with enough frequency to make her hungry stomach churn; the salted fare her human companions survived on did nothing to settle her belly nor sate her appetite.
The rare storm was enough for panic; Ayosel could swim but she knew the great salt sea would swallow her whole if she fell overboard.
The sea did not care for Ayosel.
She paid lip service to it regardless. The sea is the domain of Laviku, her mother had once told her as she dipped her snakelings into the still pool of her home grotto, We owe him our gratitude for fathering our foremothers as much as we owe Makutsi for showing us the way.
Ayosel didn’t know Laviku like she knew Makutsi. She’d never seen the salt sea before leaving Falyndar and didn’t think she’d be upon it again when she finally arrived in Lhavit. She didn’t know him in the same way she didn’t know her father; he was a faceless shape in the darkened depths, lost but in the memory of the Dhani who came before her. Proof that Laviku existed was all around her, though; Ayosel would be a fool to turn up her nose and doom herself by pretending she wasn’t at the mercy of unfeeling sea and the things that swam within.
No, the sea didn’t care for Ayosel… but the jungle on the horizon? It didn’t care for her either, of course, but where the sea fell short of her expectations and love, the jungle flowered in unfeeling beauty and danger. The green glint of it in the distance set her heart racing. She could pretend it settled her churning stomach, cured her eyes of their ache, soothed her lingering nerves from the inclement weather a tenday past.
Somewhere out there was her nest. Somewhere further there was a city of hateful savages. This beautiful, precious green gemstone was home and she was glad for the news that they’d soon make landfall.
There was a charming aspect of travel by boat that Ayosel remembered only when docking: offboarding. The rush of gathering one’s belongings with every other passenger doing the same, the clamour of cargo being moved around, the strange chorus of sounds outside the hull — it should be unforgettable. The Dhani strove not to hiss as she was jostled, her excited nerves baring their teeth at the idea of touching ground again, and her hands clutched her bag close as if she feared dropping it and losing all the parts of her that she was able to carry out of Lhavit.
“Calm, girl,” someone chortled - a man she hadn’t the compassion to share conversation with more than a handful of times beyond a simple greeting on this voyage. She’d found him crass and braggish, with a leering grin she’d not wanted to have in her bunk. Ayosel might get lonely but she wouldn’t get desperate.
For his kindness, the Dhani rolled her eyes and huffed a charmless laugh, her nerves abated just a little bit by the familiar exchange. That he’d used a tone someone might have used on a horse was lost on her; Ayosel had never met a horse to speak to.
“I’m just happy to leave,” she told him. “This boat is too small.”
There were more things to do; a docking, a final exchange of coin to the weatherworn captain for not sinking the ship ( not that he would, she’d been promised by the man who sold her on this boat, Svefra know these seas like a friend ). He’d earned her respect and trust, though she hoped never to be on a boat again. If she couldn’t walk, Ayosel hoped to swim. The last thing was to disembark, and she did so gratefully.
The next best thing about making landfall was the meeting of new people; already a few faces had gathered at the docks to speak with the captain’s first mate. Ayosel hoisted her pack up on her shoulder and shuffled into line behind another of the new arrivals who weren’t part of the crew. She might have stood out among them, a tall woman with severe features smudged with sweat and saltwater, tanned ( or burnt ) by sun exposure, the only woman of six passengers.
After all this travel, Ayosel was patient in waiting to speak to someone. Her only desire was to make something of herself, to grow roots, to be at home.
The sea did not care for Ayosel.
The salt water was harsh on her skin and hair; it made her eyes sting something fierce when it sprayed over the railing.
The boat swayed in dizzying patterns with enough frequency to make her hungry stomach churn; the salted fare her human companions survived on did nothing to settle her belly nor sate her appetite.
The rare storm was enough for panic; Ayosel could swim but she knew the great salt sea would swallow her whole if she fell overboard.
The sea did not care for Ayosel.
She paid lip service to it regardless. The sea is the domain of Laviku, her mother had once told her as she dipped her snakelings into the still pool of her home grotto, We owe him our gratitude for fathering our foremothers as much as we owe Makutsi for showing us the way.
Ayosel didn’t know Laviku like she knew Makutsi. She’d never seen the salt sea before leaving Falyndar and didn’t think she’d be upon it again when she finally arrived in Lhavit. She didn’t know him in the same way she didn’t know her father; he was a faceless shape in the darkened depths, lost but in the memory of the Dhani who came before her. Proof that Laviku existed was all around her, though; Ayosel would be a fool to turn up her nose and doom herself by pretending she wasn’t at the mercy of unfeeling sea and the things that swam within.
No, the sea didn’t care for Ayosel… but the jungle on the horizon? It didn’t care for her either, of course, but where the sea fell short of her expectations and love, the jungle flowered in unfeeling beauty and danger. The green glint of it in the distance set her heart racing. She could pretend it settled her churning stomach, cured her eyes of their ache, soothed her lingering nerves from the inclement weather a tenday past.
Somewhere out there was her nest. Somewhere further there was a city of hateful savages. This beautiful, precious green gemstone was home and she was glad for the news that they’d soon make landfall.
— — — — —
There was a charming aspect of travel by boat that Ayosel remembered only when docking: offboarding. The rush of gathering one’s belongings with every other passenger doing the same, the clamour of cargo being moved around, the strange chorus of sounds outside the hull — it should be unforgettable. The Dhani strove not to hiss as she was jostled, her excited nerves baring their teeth at the idea of touching ground again, and her hands clutched her bag close as if she feared dropping it and losing all the parts of her that she was able to carry out of Lhavit.
“Calm, girl,” someone chortled - a man she hadn’t the compassion to share conversation with more than a handful of times beyond a simple greeting on this voyage. She’d found him crass and braggish, with a leering grin she’d not wanted to have in her bunk. Ayosel might get lonely but she wouldn’t get desperate.
For his kindness, the Dhani rolled her eyes and huffed a charmless laugh, her nerves abated just a little bit by the familiar exchange. That he’d used a tone someone might have used on a horse was lost on her; Ayosel had never met a horse to speak to.
“I’m just happy to leave,” she told him. “This boat is too small.”
There were more things to do; a docking, a final exchange of coin to the weatherworn captain for not sinking the ship ( not that he would, she’d been promised by the man who sold her on this boat, Svefra know these seas like a friend ). He’d earned her respect and trust, though she hoped never to be on a boat again. If she couldn’t walk, Ayosel hoped to swim. The last thing was to disembark, and she did so gratefully.
The next best thing about making landfall was the meeting of new people; already a few faces had gathered at the docks to speak with the captain’s first mate. Ayosel hoisted her pack up on her shoulder and shuffled into line behind another of the new arrivals who weren’t part of the crew. She might have stood out among them, a tall woman with severe features smudged with sweat and saltwater, tanned ( or burnt ) by sun exposure, the only woman of six passengers.
After all this travel, Ayosel was patient in waiting to speak to someone. Her only desire was to make something of herself, to grow roots, to be at home.
