[Flashback] Where the Grass Meets the Sea (Nel Sayo)

[Vanator]

Vanator watched in amusement as the curious black-clad woman scaled the dune and disappeared. The sand seemed to intensify the suns heat, and the seawater that had evaporated from his brow was now replaced by beads of sweat, which he wiped away with his bare forearm. He turned is attention back to the spikey -haired brother, who introduced himself and the girl with the same welcoming grin. Syon was a likable fellow, Vanator ceded, even if the Drykas knew next to nothing about him. The Ankal's son was no neophyte though, both Nel and Syon were armed with strange blades, and he really had no Zura, who nickered as if he read Van's mind. Leaving the battle ax hanging from his horse, Vanator rested his palm on the hand ax thrust through his belt and with a subtle smile accompanied Syon up the dune, the untethered Strider trailing behind.The Drykas looked over as the sun-burnished seaman posed his question , evoking a soft chuckle from the horseman. "We typically stay well inland. The sea has nothing we need, the grasslands provide us with everything." It was a very Drykas answer. In fact, the sea had been a subject of lazy conversations with Tamar as they lay in the grass and stared and the deep blue sky. The couple would try to imagine what it was like, an endless expanse of water as vast as the Sea of Grass. Vanator would vow to take Tamar to see the ocean one day. They would pass the time making elaborate plans to travel to the coast and see it for themselves. It was a dream that never came to fruition. "I have never seen the sea, but, you could say I made the journey to keep a promise." Vanator's eyes lowered to the sand for a moment, the smile fallen for just a breath before the damp tangle-haired head raised again to the watch the crest of the dune with anticipation. "Did you and your sister come from that......boat out there? " The horseman gestured with a short wave towards the strange vessel offshore.

[Nel Sayo]

"Aye, that's our home. Nelly wanted to see the Sea of Grass, so we put to shore for the night. We'll swim out to meet 'em in the morning."

Nel liked new places and things; Sy was relatively happy with the sea and his corner of the ship, but he indulged her. As maddening as she could be, he'd learned that it was always easier to let her have the little things, so that when he actually put his foot down, she had very little to complain about.

The golden-haired sailor led Vanator up and over the dunes, and the sight that awaited him hardly warranted the hand ax the Drykas wore on his belt. A little camp had been pitched right where the sand bled into the grass: a tent and a small fire, blankets strewn over the pebbled earth. Nel was kneeling before a flat stone set upon two bigger stones, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she worked a narrow, thin knife through a large fish carcass, trying to get all the bones out.

"Flat side down," Sy called, wobbling his hand from side to side as if that illustrated a specific point. Maybe to his sister, it did.

She just rolled her eyes hugely, and pointed the knife at him.

"You wanna do it?" she asked.

"No, you're better at it than I am," he laughed.

"Shut up or I'll de-bone you," she muttered, nose crinkling. But she went back to her work, shifting to sit cross-legged before the make-shift counter, and directed her voice towards their guest instead of her brother. "I hope you like fish, it's all we got. I mean, you'll like it even if you don't, because I'm a great cook."

Syon made a tiny noise.

"I'm a great cook," the girl insisted, again. "And -- do you sing? Sy brought his fiddle."

"You swore you'd practice," Syon reminded her, as he settled to a seat on one of the blankets. He gestured for Vanator to join them, and grabbed up a sack that clanked with the movement. After a moment of digging around, he produced an unmarked bottle.

"I will practice," Nel sighed. "After dinner."

[Vanator]

Vanator glanced again at the wooden sailing ship rolling gently on the water. The concept of sea travel escaped him. Living in a solid structure was a strange enough idea, but to dwell in one that was suspended on top of an endless body of water, driven about by the wind and out of sight of land made him shudder. The Drykas followed his host down into the small camp, relieved to find only Nel filleting dinner. There was a sense of comfort with the pair. Though their clothes, weapons and even accent were foreign, Their teasing banter was no different than exchanges he had with Kavala and Akela before they left. That familiarity, and the fact that he was almost certain now that Nel was, in fact, a Konti eased his mind and sparked his curiosity. Vanator gave the girl a broad grin. "We don't get fish much, and never from the sea." At Nel's question about his singing talent, the grasslander simply emitted a sharp barking laugh. As Zura lingered at the edge of the grass, nipping at the tall shoots, Vanator joined Syon on the blanket, sitting cross-legged and resting his elbows on his knees. He watched Nel work the knife through the fish, studying the young woman. The horseman had always thought sailors were rugged men. But Syon's sister was slight and delicate. Her fine, sharp features and alabaster complexion seemed more fitting to a fairytale, or Mura, than a hard life at sea. But Nel's vibrant blue gaze could not conceal the mischief of her roguish spirit. The seafarers certainly weren't bashful, so Vanator began to pose the myriad of questions that their chance meeting had evoked. He shifted his gaze from Nel to the gregarious man next to him. "Where did you come from, I mean originally, and how did you get here?"

[Nel Sayo]

A quiet pop! as Syon yanked the cork out of the bottle. It was common practice, amongst pirates at least, to take the first swig from the bottle just to prove it's good, and so he did. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he offered it to Vanator and then sat back, letting Nel take control of the conversation.

Because she would anyway, no doubt.

"No singing, then," Nel determined, when Vanator just laughed at the question. Her eyes lifted from the fish to shoot him a sparkling glance, and she grinned. "That's okay, Sy plays the fiddle so he doesn't deafen everyone with his voice."

The sailor rolled his eyes, but kept his peace, as though to spite her.

Nel started spitting the fish. The process was a little tricky, so her eyes remained focused on her fingers, though she answered Vanator after a beat of silence, when she realized Syon wasn't going to.

"Oh, well -- I don't know," she said, with a shrug.

"I came from Sylira," Sy offered, smiling faintly when Nel sort of struggled to find something to say that would answer the question, without answering it at all.

She crinkled her nose and decided to add, "We're from everywhere. We've been everywhere, almost, and we go everywhere. Everywhere with a coastline, anyway. We were in Zeltiva, for a little."

"Nyka, before that."

She nodded. "And then Claridon, and now we're on our way to Riverfall."

"We'll pass by Syliras and then hit Alvadas on our way back to open water," Sy said thoughtfully.

"Eventually," Nel took over again, pausing in her work with the fish. She smiled and looked up, across the dinner preparations, to Vanator. "We'll go to other continents. I hear there's a whole island out there that's covered in giant butterflies."

"And one covered in snakes."

"We can skip the snakes, that's basically Falyndar anyway. But -- listen, no. And some places have blue sand, and there are skies that have two moons, and trees that grow boots instead of fruits, and the monsters--"

Sy grinned; the monsters were Nel's favorites.

"--with gnashing teeth and big bug eyes, some of 'em, and then others are pretty til you get up close. We'll get there, I can't wait to see it all."

"Some day," Sy chuckled, shrugging to the Drykas as if to say: she's got a great imagination. "How's the fish coming?"

"Don't get your hose in a twist, it's about to be cooking." She got up and picked up the skewered fish, sliding it into place above the fire. "There. Just a little bit."

Wiping her hands on her thighs, she plopped down to a seat across from the two of them, close enough to the fire so she could turn the spit from time to time, and focused her oft-flighty attention on Vanator.

"What kinda monsters you got in the Sea of Grass, then?"

[Vanator]

The Drykas accepted Syon's bottle with some reticence, tilting the opening towards him and testing the liquid inside with a subtle whiff. His head drew back involuntarily as the strong smell of alcohol assailed his nostrils. Vanator was used to mead and ales. This was a bit stronger than that. Unwilling to offend his hosts, Van raised the bottle to his lips and took a couple swallows. The liquid burned his throat and evoked a short, barking cough, which the horseman tried unsuccessfully to conceal. His Strider nickered, shaking her long mane as if amused. Vanator passed the bottle back to Syon, concealing last one internal hack. His eyes followed the two seafarers as they spoke of their travels. Some of the destinations were familiar, like Syliras and Calridon. The others he was not sure about. Nel made their life seem quite an adventure, and to the land-bound grasslander, he imagined it that way. His eyes followed the white woman as she plopped down in front of himself and her brother. When she asked about grassland monsters, he paused. "Glassbeaks. They are eight feet tall and can outrun even a Strider." Backlash snorted indignantly. "Their beaks and talons are a clear as glass and as sharp as razors." Vanator curled his hands into claws. His face sobered, his tone dropped. He looked down at his hands. "Then there are the Zith." His face shifted, his mouth curling into a snarl. "They are not animals, and they are not men. They are demons that kill and destroy without discretion. Winged creatures that snatch our people away to serve as food or pleasure. They are fit for nothing but to be killed." It had not even been a year since they killed Tamar. He paused, realizing his thoughts had strayed from his hosts. He lifted his head and showed a small smile to Nel and Syon. "And of course, all kinds of nasty animals too." He picked a long blade of grass from the sand and fiddled with it.

[Nel Sayo]

Syon turned his face into his arm so that he wasn't laughing outright at Vanator's reaction to the home-brewed grog. Before he hurt himself, Sy reached over and pilfered the bottle back with a wink and a grin, as though to assure the Drykas that he'd fulfilled the requirements of hospitality, and not to burn away his windpipe just for the sake of pride. Tucking the bottle away before Nel could make grabby-hands at it, Syon sat back once more to listen to Vanator's tales of the wilderness populating the Sea of Grass.

Nel sat rivetted by Van's description of Glassbeaks. She'd heard of them before, but he spoke of them like he'd actually seen them, and that was the best of all. You could always tell when someone was talking about a thing they'd seen, or even a thing they thought they'd seen, and something they just hoped never to see, or lied about seeing, or wasn't even sure was real. Nel liked real monsters and fake monsters equally, for bedtime story purposes, but it was always more exciting when someone had actually encountered the monster they described. Nel couldn't help watching Van's fingers curl into the vicious claws of the Glassbeak. She could almost see it.

Syon stiffened when Vanator mentioned the Zith.

He shot a glance at his sister, who's face had fallen so fast it was like Van had reached over and wiped all her happiness away. But the grief that filled her eyes wasn't her own -- it was Van's. The sharp spike of his pain had struck through the Konti girl as sure as a rapier through cloth, and in the pale blue wells of her eyes when they met his, he would find nothing but empathy. Nothing but shared pain.

Sy got to his feet sharply, accidentally knocking the bottle of grog so that it toppled and splashed, lashing a spill of rum-disaster across the fire and the cooking fish.

The hiss and spit of the flame snapped Nel out of her daze and she bounced quickly to her feet, scrambling around to lift the fish out of the flames before it could burn.

"Sy!" she squeaked. "Be more petching careful!"

"Sorry," the sailor muttered, sinking back down to his seat, quite as though he hadn't caused a near disaster at all. "Thought I had to pee. False alarm."

[Vanator]

Momentarily lost in his own pain and melancholy, the memories of his loss still fresh and sharp, like a dagger in his gut, Vanator did not at first notice the seafarer's reactions. But when his eyes lifted to settle on Nel's startling blue irises, the girl's mischief and bawdiness were replaced by warmth and sympathy, as if somehow she knew exactly how he felt. Van held Nel's gaze for a breath, taking a moment of solace from her empathetic gaze. He absent mindedly mumble something about animals and tried to smile. Syon's well-timed accident served to rouse Van's attention and the Drykas' eyes darted from Nel to the hissing fire. The Ankal's son suspected the spilled rum was some sort of ploy, Van having struck upon something that had significance to the siblings. Something Syon felt best left between them. Vanator hoped the loss of a significant amount of the liquor would mean he would not have to suffer anymore of the burning booze. The ruckus settling down, Van's gaze fell again to Nel. He wanted to know for sure if she was Konti, but would not dare ask. All signs pointed to the fact. He glanced sidelong, trying to catch a glimpse of scales on the bit of exposed skin at her neck. It was then that he noticed an awkward silence had fallen over the camp. The horsemen detected the immediate need to change the subject. With a none-too-subtle clearing of the throat, Vanator piped up. "So, how do you make a living, do you trade, or do you make stuff to sell on that big boat out there?" His thumb jabbed to towards the dune, hiding the sea from view. The only thing he knew was that they used big ships to transport goods. He also knew that some folks used the big ships to attack and steal from other big ships.

[Nel Sayo]

Syon had made no attempt to be subtle in his diversion. If his concern had been what kind of danger the Drykas might pose, he would have been much smoother about the whole thing, but that wasn't what had motivated the display. Whether Vanator caught on or not, Sy didn't care, his main priority had been to distract his sister from whatever grief she might have been channeling from their guest. He didn't want her to get sick again, and grief – in particular, of all emotions – could effect her not unlike a terrible disease, rotting her from the inside out if left too long uninterrupted. Fortunately, Nel's attention span was short enough that she'd already left Van's mourning aside in favor of profound annoyance with her brother.

“Go find more kindling,” she grumbled at him, as she got to her feet to check on the fish.

Sy, rolling his eyes hugely, shrugged to the Drykas and got to his feet as well, removing himself for the time being. Later, as Nel got older, she would wonder why he'd been so comfortable leaving her relatively alone with the Drykas, and he would never really give her an answer. Later still, after Syon was long dead, Nel would finally understand. The vicious over-protective streak her brother had adapted as she grew to womanhood did not direct itself at the grief-stricken horselord, largely because one so entrenched in the recent death of a loved one rarely cared to force him or herself onto someone else.

The death of Vanator's wife, therefore, had saved him from the irrational wrath of Nel's big brother.

After the sailor had disappeared into some of the high grass to hunt up some more kindling, Nel flopped back down opposite Van, arms slung comfortably across her knees.

“We're pirates,” she told him, quite frankly, and grinned. “We don't make anything, we just take it. I know that's kind of terrible, but there are a lot worse ways to make a living, you know? Anyway, sorry about Sy. He can be weird sometimes. How do you make a living? I bet it's got something to do with horses.”

She made a face: ewugh, horses, and pointed to the axe on his belt.

“You know how to use that thing, or is it mainly for chopping down trees?”

[Vanator]

Vanator settled his attention on Nel after Syon departed to meet his sister's demand for firewood. It was apparent that Sy did so not out of obeisance to her, but merely to maintain the peace around the fire. The woman's confession of their rather larcenous occupation caught Vanator off guard. He knew very little about those who plied the seas, but he had heard of pirates. Bloody jackals of the seas that killed a pillaged and did all manner of evil to their victims. Nel and Syon seemed as far from those murderous corsairs as a Strider was from a donkey. Perhaps what he heard was not the entire truth. Luckily, Nel did not pause, freeing Vanator from having to offer any kind of reply. The girl was wonderfully curious, and surely must know a great many things, if she proved as inquisitive about every place they had visited. The Drykas pondered Nel's question. "Well, we, as a pavilion, that is my extended family, do many things. My father is the Ankal, or the leader of our pavilion. As his son, I will be the next Ankal. So I perform some duties related to governing the family. I am also a Webber. " Van stopped, he was sure there would be questions about that, but he picked up again. He would explain later if Nel asked. "I do some hunting, though I am not very good at it. And sometimes I lead parties to intercept intruders." Then he glanced down at the hand ax thrust through his belt. "Yes, this is an ax for fighting. But my primary weapon is that." Van pointed to the two-handed battle ax hanging from Zura's yvas. "Most of my people use spears and swords. Because I had to focus on other skills, I was taught to use the ax, it takes less time to learn." Since Nel had brought up the topic of arms, the horseman's eyes glanced down to the long, thin weapon scabbarded at Nel's side. "I have never seen a sword such as that. What is it?"

[Nel Sayo]

Oh yes -- Nel had many questions.

They went in this order:

"So does that make you a prince? What's a webber? Like webbed feet or like a spider? I've never been hunting -- what do you hunt?" From such questions, various and sundry remarks threaded, interconnecting and sometimes just frayed out on their own, as in, "I knew a guy who fought with an axe, he was huge! You're not as huge. He loved that thing -- Cap'n tied it to his feet when he tossed him overboard. Anyway--"

She shot him a beaming smile when he asked about the rapier, and all but bounced up to her feet. A flicker of firelight kissed the blade as she drew it, in one smooth motion, free of its scabbard, brandishing it so that he could better see it. Long, elegant, and sharp.

"This is a rapier," she said, giving it a swish and a flick. "It's light -- because I'm not very big. But it'll kill someone sure as your axe will. Sy taught me to fight for speed, not strength."

She turned it in her hand and offered the hilt to him to take, if he wanted to. It might have been hard to imagine her using such a weapon, but the previous slice and snap of the thing, and how she turned it with just a twist of her wrist, these indicated that she at least knew how to use it, even if she was a somewhat unlikely instigator of violence. Though...Sy would have said she was an expert at instigating violence -- it was just that often she ended up in the middle of it with no discernible means of escape.

"I bet I could take you and your axe," she decided, grinning down at the Drykas.