Crashing Waves and New Journies

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 90, 511 AV BEGINNING OF SEA JOURNEY SEQUEL TO A Traveler, Moving with the Wind II FOUND HERE

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 91, 511 AV They had been on the ship for a single day, the vessel's prow cutting through the water easily. Two of the three sails were unfurled almost fully, straining against the wind. A man hung from the rigging, fiddling with the tight ropes. She squinted at his silhouette, wondering what view was like from so high. Or, even, if the sailor was frightened. "First, I catch you sleeping on the job, and now daydreaming?" Sutir leaned against the railing, and Reshimi sat up, flicking water off her hand. "I was on break," she prodded his memory. "And you?" "Finished! I don't waste time." As novices aboard a ship, the passengers had been given the duty of cleaning the decks of salt. The sea air could easily ruin the expensive wood of the vessel, and it was their job to keep the deck presentable. But it was a mundane task, boring beyond belief and degrading besides. "Go on, finish! I will be at the stern." The sailors poked fun at Reshimi, talking behind her back in quick Shiber. The woman kept stiff shoulders and a high head, listening as carefully as possible. One or two of the men, as well as the captain, were very cordial and spoke almost perfect Common. They taught her a few words, here and there, about the ship and its workings. She absorbed the terminology with vigor, her Abaylan-worthy memory impressing the Benshiran men. It would be a lie to say she felt no pride. She threw the grisly brush into the bucket, lifting it by its handle. She did her best not to spill; the soapy water would be used again and again, until so incredibly dirty, it did more harm than good. She dumped it down a drain, specifically for the purpose of preserving. The deck was littered with coils of rope, barrels, both empty and filled, and fishing nets. There was even a long cannon, sitting imposingly to the side, its nose just hanging off the deck edge. The weapon hinted at the dangers of the sea, and part of Reshimi hoped never to see it used. Ten sailors ran the ship. The passengers were introduced the previous night, and though Reshimi could not recall each's names, she remembered their jobs: Captain, Sailing Master, Boatswain, Carpenter, Gunner, Rigger, and four Mates, or common sailors. In addition, there were four passengers: Reshimi, Sutir, Loardbel, and a happy scholar by the name Amar. Reshimi mounted the stairs to the aft of the ship, or the back of the vessel. The secondary deck housed both the steering wheel as well as the mizzenmast, the shortest mast on the three-masted ship. Below them were the captain's quarters and kitchen; below that, she knew was storage and more sleeping arangements. Her hammock was situated in the bow of the ship, and as the only woman aboard, she received her own room. It even had a porthole, or window, that blocked the seaspray with a wooden door. Amar, busy as always, scribbled in a small booklet while leaning against the railing. She glanced over, curious, and he looked up with a smile. The man was young and bright, with dancing blue eyes and brown hair perpetually covered by some strange cap. He hosted a strange accent, one that Reshimi could not place. "Hello, Reshimi," he stumbled over the greeting, as if forcefully recalling her name. "Hello." He closed his book, and the woman grimaced. Amar wanted to talk. Even in so short a time, she discovered talking with him boring. He always managed to, somehow, drag the conversation to scholarly topics. "I love the sea breeze, don't you?" "Yes, I have never been on a boat before." His eyebrows rose. "Oh, truly? Not even a small fishing boat?" For someone so smart, he failed to overlook that her people, the Chaktawe, lived primarily in the desert. "No." "Well, then, you must be learning a lot!" "I suppose." He words hit too close to the truth, but she refused to give him the pleasure. He would not be stopped. "Have you ever read An Account of the Circumnavigation of Mizahar? By Wright?" "No." Her curt answer quieted him, and suddenly she regretted it. "I, ah, cannot read," she admitted, lips pressed together. Reshimi kept her eyes on the horizon, gentle waves a mix of dark depths and white reflections. Amar was silent for a long moment. "I apologize, I did not realize." He paused. "You know, this trip is said to take two weeks. Would you like me to teach you a few words?" His offer hung in the air as she considered. "How will you?" she questioned, hesitant. What if he taught her incorrect things? Or asked for payment? "I have a few books with me, and I can show you the alphabet. In Common, of course." "Yes, I would very much like you to show me." A smile exploded on his childish features, and Reshimi returned the grin slowly.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 91, 511 AV Sutir sauntered up to the idly chatting pair. "The deck looks great." She rolled her black eyes at his sarcasm, "Thanks." "Were you working on the deck, too?" Amar asked Sutir. He nodded. "And you?" "Helping with the maps. The Sailing Master's room has so many, of many of the coasts. It's amazing, really." "I would like to see these maps." Her people did not have a written language, and never did they create maps. Any directions were hastily scribbled in the sand. "Really?" Sutir sounded incredulous. "Why not stay up here. We can climb the rigging!" She looked up. "You know how?" He grinned knowing he won her attention from the scholar. "Can we look at the maps later?" she asked Amar. "Sure, I'm not going up there. Then we can work on your letters." They bade farewell, the man and woman scampering to the base of the mainmast, the tallest on this ship. Ropes were laced every which way, connecting the sail to the edge of the boat and frame. "What is this I hear about letters?" "He will teach me how to read and write, on this trip." "Don't get too smart, now!" They circled the mainmast like prey, both apprehensive about climbing with no experience and no permission. "A-ho!" a voice from above yelled out, and a wiry man landed lightly on the wooden deck. The Rigger rolled a rope around his forearm, eying the strangers. "Are you lookin' tuh climb up?" he drawled, throwing the coil to the side and scratching his short beard. "We want to go up," the woman spoke for the both of them. The man seemed to be constantly moving, either shifting his eyes, fiddling his fingers, or bouncing in place. "Ever climb before?" She shook her head; Sutir gave a non-committal nod. "Right, let me show ya." He placed one foot on a peg, gripping a rope. "Step like this." He did so, muscles bulging as he pulled himself upward. "Now, you gotta keep tight grip, hand over hand, use toes." He looked at their feet. "Might want 'ta take off those shoes, sir." Sutir slipped off his sandals; Reshimi had been barefoot, unable to tie her feet up. "Now, if ya have to, use the space between yer toes. Don't break 'em now." He grinned, showing uneven teeth. "A broken toe feels like a curse!" The Rigger moved up, floating ten feet in the air. "Now, let the missus come up." Reshimi moved to the beam, bracing her feet and lifting. "Good good, now reach there." She looked around, gripping a random rope. It was rough under her hands and feet, and the sharp bristles poke her palms. The soles of her feet, at least, were callused enough to be safe. Soon, she was balanced precariously on the netting, swaying in the wind. "Now, came the instructive voice of the sailor. He maneuvered himself easily, coming near her. Reshimi watched, jealous of his skill. She could barely move, and when she did, the woman was fearful of falling into the ocean. "Hand, foot, hand, foot, and you go right up!" She looked up; the ropes streching in front of her extended like a weak ladder, and she pushed away her trepidation and climbed slowly. A few times her foot slipped, and her heart pounded heavily in her chest, but after so many chimes, she reached a horizontal pole. The Rigger was with her the entire journey, effectively ignoring Sutir down below. "Now, haul yerself up here. We're going to the lookout basket. Some call it the carajo." He shrugged. "I call it sick'ning." He helped her up, and she held the ropes until her knuckles paled. The ground was so far, and the ocean even further. Reshimi refused too look down, instead focusing on the destination. The whole thing swayed - moving with the ocean, being pushed by the wind. She felt like the air wanted to rip her off, toss her away. It was a humbling experience, being at the mercy of the ocean and gravity, and the woman breathed a sigh of relief when she fell into the basket. The Rigger hopped next to her. "Wasn' so bad?" She glared. "Stand up, take a look out there." She stood, hair whipping. The view was beautiful. "Wow ... " To one side, the ocean stretched indefinitely blue and smooth. The land, pale sand, mimmicked the waves in rippling dunes. Far ahead was an island, rocky and with few trees dotting its surface. She soaked in the hot sun, the light breeze, the sights, the sounds of birds, the smell of salt, and the feel, oh, the feel, of the ocean throbbing under her, the great breath of current and of air. It was beautiful.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Spring, Day 91, 511 AV Later that evening, Reshimi's head was bent over a large map. Amar pointed to a dot on the map. "This is Yahebah, and we're about here. Remember that island?" She nodded, recalling the hazy land floating in the water. "That's here. And we're going all the way over there." "My people's maps were never as careful as these." "There are no landmarks at sea. You have to be careful. Let me show you a closer one of Ahnatep." He placed another, equally large, piece of paper onto the wooden table. She pushed the curling edges down absentminded. "And these lines, streets?" Circles and lines overlapped each other in a dizzying array; she could only imagine what walking the streets was like. "Mm-hm. We'll be entering the port, here, and this area is known for inns. But that's long from now." "And this?" she asked, tapping a box. "The map key. It's in Shiva. Do you know it?" "Some," she said. Reshimi stood, rolling her neck. They had been hunched over the paperwork for at least an hour. "Can we do writing?" "Not in here, in case the ink spills. We'll go on the deck." He gathered up blank sheets of parchment and spiky quills. Reshimi gingerly picked a glass container of black ink and followed him outside. They situated themselves on barrells, the slanting sun throwing its remaining light into the world. A sailor, whistling a hearty tune, began to light lamps along the ship's length. "Normally," he said, "you have to sharpen the quill, but that's already been done. Hold the quill like this." He demonstrated and Reshimi copied clumsily. Feathers were for decoration, not writing! "Dip like this, and write like this." He swooped the feather's edge along the paper, making a clean mark. "'A'," he said. "B, C ... You try." "Okay," she said. With shaking hands, the woman copied his letters. "What are these for?" He stared at her, incredulous. "You can't spell," he said. "Well, each word has letters, and each letter has a sound. Mix the letters, get different sounds. So, different words." "Would 'ship' and 'lip' be close?" Her teacher grinned. "Yes! They have the same endings," he said. "Let's keep going." They went on through the night, well after night had descended and her eyes ached from strain. But the woman found joy in squiggling on the paper, and could not stop herself from making rows of S's on one sheet. Bedtime came, and Reshimi fell asleep with the ghost of a smile. [occ]Reshimi's writing skills[/ooc]

[Reshimi]

Season of the Summer, Day 1, 511 AV That night, the Benshiran captain had ordered the anchor dropped. Reshimi watched as a slew of sailors lifted the heavy metal thing and dropped it over the side of the boat. It hit the water with a large splash, stopping the boat quickly. "It's the new Season," the captain said when Reshimi questioned him. Midnight approached, and the woman watched the land in anticipation. She was perched, along with Sutir and the Rigger, in the watcher's nest at the highest part of the ship. Suddenly, a pinpoint of light expanded on the horizon. A beautful, deep yellow, the spectacle reminded the woman of the sun. She smiled as, only a few minutes later, the light was sucked back into itself. The night sky was dark, ordinary, once more. "Welcome to the Season of the Summer!" she said.

[Reshimi]

Season of the Summer, Day 4, 511 AV A half week had passed, and Reshimi had taken a liking to the scholar. "So, tell me about your family at home," he said. "I have a brother ... " A lump caught in her throat ; she found it difficult to swallow. "And a sister." Why was that so difficult to say? Amar looked up when she jumped to her feet. "I have to go," she said and rushed to her room. Her stomach clenched; she clutched her shaking hands over her abdomen. What was she doing? The woman sank to the floor of her cabin, forehead resting on her bent knees. Her breath was ragged and her eyes squeezed shut. Shelliah, Shelliah! She choked out a sob. No! the woman yelled at herself, digging her fingers into her ankle. This was the second time an attack overcame her, and Reshimi had promised herself never again. She bit her tongue, forcing thoughts of the ship and her new friends into her mind. Reshimi missed the ceremonial burial. What kind of sister was she? A, B, C, D, E ... She remembered sitting by the fire, roasting strips of meat together, only a few short months ago. E, F, G! "H, I, J, K," Reshimi said, as if speech would cure her pain. "L, M." The woman repeated the alphabet continuously until she calmed herself, pasted on a smile and whipped away her tears, and emerged onto the deck once more.

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