Yon and Pom sat upon the salt-smoothed deck of the Coral Star contentedly. Neither needed to say much, they had known each other for so long that they had talked about almost everything. Yon was sweating under the heavy glare of the sun, his bandana dark with sweat. He let his mind wander to his family up north, somewhere in the viciously deadly Gut. Methodically scraping the grime of the day to day workings aboard the Coral Star from under his fingernails with the fine edge of his carving knife, he finally spoke up. [color=#00BFFF]“Ya know, I had a mind to take up fishing finally. I done spent a fair coin on a decently sized net for the Star.” He spoke lightly, fishing for conversation.
“Had a few casts with it, brought up more salty weeds than fish though.” Yon finished, smiling to himself. He had learned how to fish, obviously, as a Svefra but had usually used one of Della’s old lines, never being interested in the much less skillful netting. But now that he was alone and expected to fend for himself he thought he might need a more efficient manner of gathering his main food source.
“Aye? How big be the net? If this old salt’s memory serves, there be one or two reef spots not a knot from ‘ere.” Pom said, perking up. It was in the kelvic’s blood to fish, both the sailor and the seagull in him. He took a long, rotten toothed pull from his pipe and offered it to Yon. Yon hesitated a moment, but a little buzz couldn’t hurt, so he took a wary pull as well. After the second one he only coughed a bit and quickly rubbed a dirty hand across his eyes, leaving a shining smear that glistened in the sunlight.
“Tis big enough, though whilst thinking of certain reefs down yonder, I think perhaps not too large. You are keen on a little voyage to test our luck, Pomgran Icidus?” Yon began to grow excited, it had been months since last he sailed with Pom, having the Coral Star mended and sailing again. A faint regret at not selling any of his wears creased his sea-smoothed face into a bronzed frown. But there was always tomorrow to sell. Who knows where Pom would be this time tomorrow.
“Aye, it’s high time we remind these fish why they fear our deadly throw, eh?” Pom said, hoisting himself off the deck laboriously. He groaned, frowning in pain, and stretched his back out. After cracking a few dusty joints and letting loose another plume of smoke from his lungs, the old kelvic looked around expectantly.
“Ya need some cushioned stool or something, Guppy. This deck be a tad too unforgivin’ to me backside.”Yon raised an eyebrow at the old sailor. Pomgran Icidus growing soft? Perhaps he was just getting old.
“No ya just slowly dying, Pom. Don’t fret though, happens to the best of us.” Before Pom could form a witty retort Yon spat out a sarcastic order.
“Hoist sail, ya lazy bottom-feeder.” Pom looked at Yon with condescending surprise.
“Ya giving orders now, eh Gup’?” Yon threw the old sailor the now unknotted end of a bit of rigging. He smiled to himself as he turned his back on Pom and began to weigh anchor. He and the kelvic had been swapping pranks and sharp jibes since they realized they were fast friends, as many a man of many a culture tend to do.
“My ship, my orders to be given, master Icidus. Now won’t you be a good deckhand and hoist the mainsail?” “Oh-ho, indeed I’ll hoist your mainsail… oh I’ll hoist it.” Pom laughed and began pulling the rope deftly. Once the anchor was pulled and the sail, a creamy white sheet standing proud against the Suvan scape, was unfurled and left flapping restlessly in the wind Yon took his place beside the rudder and Pom stood at the bow, watching for reef or sandbars. Once the wind caught and Yon found his intended direction was indeed windward he left the pull against his balance as Coral Star began to dance her way across the waves. That was the best damn feeling in the world, Yon thought in a deep state of relaxation. Sweet, sweet freedom beckoned like a lusty temptress as he and Pom left the clutter of the Flotilla behind to sail open waters.
*** 1 Hour Later ***
“Ho! Reef to the starboard. Be keen on the rudder, Gup’.” Pom was silhouetted against a foreground of salty Suvan spray, throwing an arm up to protect his face as he yelled back to Yon. For his part, Yon was gripping the rudder with an iron fist and doing Lia Della justice in his navigation of this treacherous reef. His back was sore and his blue eyes stung with spray and salt. This was what they lived for. Despite his aches and pains, Yon was aglow with happiness.
“Aye, how far to the spot then, Pom?” He asked quickly before clamping his mouth shut tight as another bout of Suvan Sea shattered itself against his lean form. Coral Star cut through the water like some timber knife, leaving a foamy wake far behind them.
“Not but a few minutes, best be readying the net, eh Captain?” Pom mocked him good-naturedly with the begrudged title.
Yon beckoned Pom to come take the rudder. After the old man had hands firmly grasping the thick wooden handle, Yon let his free. He clenched and unclenched his fists before shaking the stiffness from his fingers. Rubbing his hands together he leapt the stairs to the second deck in one. Slipping past the sparse living area he had, including a small bed, table, sea chest, and a short bench beside the battered table, Yon reached his pitifully sparse cargo hold. Searching for a few moments in it’s shadowy recesses Yon anxiously hunted the fishing net he had so recently purchased.
Hefting the heavy net over his shoulder, Yon huffed his was back topside. Pom was still steering Coral Star true, as was to be expected. “We’re nearly there, Gup’. But I’ve seen some splashes hereabouts that look suspiciously like fish.” Pom said conspiratorially, nodding at the waters around the Star.
Yon didn’t respond. He was busy knotting a bit of rope and tying the netting’s edge to the rail loops set every few feet along his ship. Groaning with effort, muscles strained as Yon winced and threw the netting overboard. The weighted edge of the net would sink low and the floaters would keep the opposing edge at the surface, or near it. Yon slumped against the rail and reached for one of the rustled loops, catching his breath.
Tiring business, fishing was. The linen of his shirt clung damply to his chest and stomach, curtesy of the sea. Wet footsteps sounded as he made his way to the bow. His mind was full of images of the net coming up full to the brim with tuna, or mackerel. If Avanthal furs don’t sell, maybe fish will. After all Svefrans are always looking for an excuse to hold a feast. Feeling hollow and worn as an old piece of leather, Yon kept his gaze down at the water. In these parts it was important to watch for high reef.
“Steady as she goes, Pom. There be water someplace back there, if your throat be parched.” Yon said helpfully, indicating a tackle box filled with odds and ends he commonly used topside. He caught Pom’s eye and they both smiled simultaneously as they felt a pull on their port side. Fish in the netting.
Yon had them leave the reef area before setting about the strenuous task of hoisting the net aboard. After doing to the waters calmed and he was able to let Coral Star drift along serenely as he and Pom wrestled with the net. It took them the better part of half an hour and a fair few calluses to hoist their catch aboard. After their work was done Yon stood with hands clasped behind his head, rasping for air and Pom hunched over his knees, face red.
There was much flopping and grey, slimy flesh wriggling coming from within the net. Mackarel by the looks of them. Then Yon’s heart fightingly skipped a beat as his weary eyes set upon something greenish-brown. A sea turtle! Surely a bad omen to hoist within his net the very pardisa of his pod! He quickly set about pulling the netting into an orderly fashion. Yon became angry at the lethargic way his body moved, after his mind had been so suddenly jolted by the turtle. Pom eventually joined in and seeing the turtle, muttered.
“Ruddy Svefra and their superstitious ways.” He rolled grey eyes skyward, as if sharing a joke with the gods.
“Don’t mock me my beliefs, shapeshifter. You’ll be lucky I didn’t toss the whole lot back.” Yon retorted quickly. He had just managed to find the nearest edge to the turtle and was now trying to navigate his way to it.
“No, no ‘course not. You ain’t near prosperous enough to be that superstitious.” Pom said slyly. He hid a grin by bending over the nearest fish and untangling the net from it’s fins.
Yon felt the smooth ridged edge of the turtle shel as the beast tried vainly to stroke it’s way through the air and out of his grasp. It’s beak-like mouth gaped open in what Yon could only presume was fear. Yon pressed his forehead against the beast’s shell gently, willing himself to feel the life within it. She was young and not yet fully grown, since she was about five hands wide. But give her a few years and she would become as wide as three men side by side.
“Swim free, me friend. Perhaps you will forgive me for pulling you from your home.” He whispered next to the green head of the scared animal. Then he cast her into the sea as gently as he could manage from the rail of his casinor.
“Right, well on your way to a proper fisherman, Gup’. But if you throw that damn net back in with intent to test your skills again, I’ll gut you right here on your own blooming ship.” Pom said, pointing an arthritic, cracked and scarred finger at his Yon.
Yon stared at him a moment. He could not contemplate another cast today. The sun was nearing the edge of the horizon and they were both aching with weariness. Despite the less than full catch, Yon was pleased with his quick aptitude at the net.
“No more’s for us. Turn rudder for the Flotilla and a nice relaxing dinner is my mind.” Yon breathed as he pushed the rudder away from himself. He pulled the jib rigging and the thick beam swung, tacking Coral Star to the wind. The tangy sea wind brought new life into yon as he felt it tickle his bare skin. The sudden breeze kissed his cheeks and danced through his scarf and hair merrily.
[/color]