Completed [Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

An unlikely pair wax philosophical.

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Montaine on April 15th, 2012, 10:10 pm

Montaine’s eyes widened once more as a new fear gripped him. He was a bad pirate! Of course he was! One would simply have to look at those terrible tattooes to see that! That one there that curled so serpentine was obviously from some evil Dhani ritual that he’d undertaken to get initiated into a cult of dark wizards so he could more easily paralyze his prey. And that one, the one that looked kind of like a shark if you squinted and turned you head to one side and covered up the bottom bit with your hand, was so obviously from when he’d killed an Akvatari maiden with a horde of evil soldiers and felt the need to celebrate!

And now he was going to eat him! He was going to cook him in a big pot and it didn’t matter how he tasted because he would just stuff him full of seaweed and salt like the man at the stall had done and hide the bland flavour! There was no way he’d get out of this, no way, he was going to be eaten and that was that.

Just look at those teeth. Those were the teeth of a cannibal and no mistake.

What about his Da? He’d just go missing, into the stomach of some horrible, mean, stinking pirate and Da’d never even know it! Then his poor Da’d have to live all alone in this city that wasn’t even his home and without mother and without him. All his life he was afraid of upsetting his Da with his sickness, all his life he was afraid that his illness would make him too weak, and he would die just like mother. There must be something he could do, some way out of this terrible, terrible situation!

Monty clutched his little clay cup tightly in his hand. He thought back to his father’s tales of fearsome buccaneers and realised something. In all those stories of scallywags and brigands they always threatened each other first. This pirate, this man, didn’t even have a sword drawn! Well, he could talk with the best of them!

Montaine scowled and puffed up his chest, ‘Yeah? Well-well maybe I’m a-hungerin’ too, ‘cause I’m such a scrawny land rat, and-and I think you’re all talk, Mister Pirate, ‘cause my Da’s a real warrior and I-we eat dirty pirates like you for dinner!’ The boy took a step towards the sailor and jabbed an accusing finger in his direction, ‘So you just try and eat me!’

The young boy stood in the alleyway, his mother’s defiance shining in his father’s steel blue eyes, daring the man to make good on his threats.
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Pash'nar on April 16th, 2012, 8:08 pm

Pash'nar let the boy's words hang in the humid, unmoving alley air for more chimes than were really necessary, amused. He stood with his back to the sun and the alley opening he appeared from, feeling the sweat run in cool rivulets between his shoulder blades, over the elaborate manta ray tattoo from a former life he could only barely grasp at the memories of like the elusive tide, hidden by the dark fabric of his open vest, only to stall uselessly against the curve of his spine.

He sniffed, thumbing his nose and squinting thoughtfully at the wheezy boy in the silence. At least the little petch had spunk. It was often missing in these times.

The dark-haired navigator cracked the purposeful quiet with another loud, carefree sort of laugh, stepping toward the boy with his voice hushed and sly,

"A'right, kid. It looks like we've reached a stalemate, hmm? We can't both be eatin' each other at the same time an' get very far, so we'll have to meet in the middle with somethin' else. I can't share where I hide my treasure, but maybe I can find some other secrets you're after. Hmm? Whaddaya say?"

He gurgled a bit, summoning all the moisture his mouth could produce after his misadventure by foot through the docks and the marketplace. With a disgusting flourish, he spit into the calloused palm of his right hand and offered it to Montaine with a scoundrel's invitation creased deeply into his Svefran features as if he was offering some fantastical entrance to a society only few could partake in,

"Let's call a truce." He cocked an eyebrow.

He wasn't much of a pirate in the mythical sense, but he surely had the swagger to pretend.
Last edited by Pash'nar on April 16th, 2012, 10:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Montaine on April 16th, 2012, 9:04 pm

Montaine eyed the outstretched hand with distrust, his quivering index finger still extended. Maybe it was a trick. The palm glistened wet. His father’s stories always told of pirates with honour, with a code of nobility that even the evilest, most treacherous fiend would never dare to cross. Maybe it wasn’t a trick. Maybe this was part of the pirates’ code; a pact bound by blood, well…spit. He still couldn’t tell if this man was a good pirate or a bad one yet, but, the lad reasoned to himself, it didn’t really matter, so long as he followed the pirates’ code. Which he did, he was a pirate, after all.

He wouldn’t tell him about his treasure, which was a disappointment sure. On the other hand he wouldn’t eat him either, and that was definitely a plus, oh yes certainly. And it was fortunate too, that Montaine himself would not have to carry out his threat, because as small as this pirate was compared to his Da, Monty was admittedly even smaller, and probably couldn’t even finish the man’s spittle-covered hand. Not that he’d want to. That would have been disgusting.

So, what could this dashing rogue of the sea offer him if not tales of his treasures? He supposed that to any other boy or girl that would be all the worth a pirate would possess, but he knew better. An isolated life, always under his father’s gaze, seeing little but the view from his window day in day out, these were the things that Monty had seen, these were the stories he had to tell. The same story. Day in, day out. The same tale. But a pirate? A pirate had seen the oceans, a pirate had seen the world. Sure, this pirate was tight-lipped about his treasures of monetary value, but the adventures he had had, the things he had witnessed, the stories he could tell, would tell, they were infinitely more valuable to the little sickly shut-in. And here was a pirate, willing to tell him all.

Well, almost all.

Monty lowered his finger and his scowl flashed into a grin. He hawked up as much saliva from the very depths of his throat as he could in one drawn out, fairly unpleasant, movement and deposited the result on his palm. He grasped the man’s hand with a wet squish and shook it, or had it shaken as the case was, the adult being a fair bit stronger, and with that the sailor and the child sealed their pact.

‘Agreed!’
Last edited by Montaine on April 30th, 2012, 11:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Pash'nar on April 17th, 2012, 12:24 am

It took all of the self-control the inked man could muster not to wince at both the sound and the sensation of their mucuous-laden palms coming together (though it wasn't like he hadn't held worse even in this lifetime, especially during his brief re-introduction to the world as it was by fishermen). He put on his fiercest grin and shook firmly—perhaps a bit too firmly for such a boy—

"Arrr!" Pash theatrically rolled his R's in his best pirate form of agreement, releasing Montaine's hand to discreetly wipe his own somewhere on the back of his pants, "It's a truce then, an' a good one too if I do say so myself."

He might have winked. Or a bit of perspiration stung his sea-water eyes. It was hard to tell which.

The navigator shifted slightly, glancing out the alley to squint against the sun, noting the crowds were surging now, making their fish purchases and moving onto the rest of the markets who had probably all set up their wares by now. He then hooked a thumb at his bare chest, worn smooth by the sea instead of by the passing of time, riddled here and there with a smattering of decent scars, though he had no idea if any of them were the mark that brought his last breath a whole other lifetime ago. As he turned back around toward the small boy he'd just made his fictitious pact with, he introduced himself without additional flourish,

"It's Pash'nar." He announced, doubting the small human would recognize the obscure cluster of stars near the westernmost edge of the hemisphere—just a small, pale ringlet that appeared most clearly at moonset or new moon nights,

"Do you have a name or are we goin' to have to give you one?"
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Montaine on April 17th, 2012, 2:19 pm

The boy wiped his hand off on the grubby end of his shirt and grinned, ‘Pash’nar’s a good name, and you need a good name if’n you’re going to strike fear into the hearts of common folk, that’s what me Da says,’ he scratched his neck with his now dry hand, ‘My name’s Montaine Redsun, named for me grandda on me mother’s side,’ he paused, ‘But me Da calls me Monty,’

The boy quickly silenced himself. This man was a pirate, he had better things to do than hear him witter on, no doubt. No, he had to ask something, learn something. His Da’s stories were all well and good to fill the time in the evenings and lull him off to sleep but it was a rare thing to have such an opportunity as this. Pash’nar, for that was his name, it had disappointed him at first and struck him as not quite piratical enough, he should have been named Captain Dreadtooth, or Evilbeard, but then he thought about it and reasoned that Pash’nar was delightfully understated. It had just the perfect amount of exotic tinge without going into the territory of the unpronounceable. Pash’nar, a good name indeed for a pirate, was the greatest opportunity that the boy had to learn about the outside world first hand.

The sailor had spoken of Myrians, had he really seen them? Fought them? How far had he been, what cities had he seen? Maybe he’d been to the Alvadas of the drunks’ song, and seen the ambassador’s cursed daughter. Maybe he’d wrestled with Dhani pirate kings and taken the snake’s fangs as a prize?

‘Have you sailed a long way? I’ve never even left Zeltiva, not since I was a little baby anyway, what’s it like out there? Is it full of adventures and fights and scary beasts? Please tell me, I don’t never get to go anywhere exciting,’
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Pash'nar on April 17th, 2012, 3:21 pm

The dark-haired navigator listened to the boy ramble about his name, arching an eyebrow at the mention of Montaine's Da. While he managed to keep his wind-swept expression even, it felt as though someone had dropped an anchor in his chest. Surely a young human of his constitution wasn't alone on the streets. He seemed well-fed enough, well-dressed enough, well-mannered enough. Mostly. He hadn't the hardiness or feral look of an urchin.

That meant only one thing: the boy's parents had to be somewhere.

Petch.

Pash'nar sucked a long, humid breath in through his teeth, weighing his chances of running. He'd never have to see this Monty again. Even as many times a season as he came to port in Zeltiva—how often did he see the same faces unless he sought them out?

His calloused hands twitched, finding a safe haven by docking themselves at his belt. Nah, running wasn't worth it. Unless this boy's Da was a Myrian—which by the lean looks of his young spawn, he wasn't—Pash could surely survive any trouble he may find himself in should he be caught encouraging delinquency in the youth.

Besides, had anyone ever admired him before? As in, in the daylight? Sure, every sunset found him clothed once again in the trappings of moonlit immortality, which always received quite a bit of attention, warranted or not. From awe to distrust, he'd seen the spectrum of reactions over and over and over again, city to city, ship to ship. But as a Svefra? And a swarthy, sea worn one? Well, of course there'd been some wenches who'd been impressed enough. Or some fresh cabin boys needing some advice. Or even a few every day folk he could possibly call friends. However, Pash had spent the past several centuries under the sun as just another piece of sea-tossed flotsam. How many land-lovers trusted a Svefra? How many sailors trusted each other when there wasn't a squall to survive?

Yet, here was this boy asking him questions with a sparkle in his eyes that was unlike anything Pash had ever seen. Children were strange, but this one wasn't so bad.

He sighed, something hard in his heart softening.

Just a little.

"Oooooh aye, I've sailed quite a long way indeed." The older man finally spoke in blatant honesty, having spent at least a hundred years near the ocean by now, "I'm from here, though. Matthews Bay, t'be exact—d'you know where that is?" At least, that's where he washed ashore after falling from grace. He'd never called here home before. It tasted sour on his tongue, but he kept the bitterness off his tanned face, "But in my sea-farin' days, I've been all across the Suvan Sea an' even further'n that."

A hand strayed from its mooring at his waist and he cocked his head in the direction of the street, earrings catching the sunlight, "Say, if you really want to hear a tale, let's at least find some grub an'a seat to go with it. It ain't every day I get to rest my sea-legs, y'know."
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Montaine on April 17th, 2012, 4:14 pm

The young lad’s stomach growled at the mention of food. Besides the taster he had received from his father at the market stall, all the boy had eaten that day had been an unsatisfyingly meagre and rather tasteless meal in the morning, resembling an unappetising slop. There hadn’t been much of it either, it wasn’t that his father was too poor to afford a sizeable breakfast, though that would certainly have been a factor as the man was by no means wealthy, but rather that all through his childhood Montaine had often had difficulty keeping some meals down.

His father assured him he was, improving and the boy certainly kept more down than he brought back up these days, but his portions were still small so as not to upset his stomach. However, the mention of grub had rekindled his appetite and the noise it made proved it. He nodded rapidly at the suggestion and the two creatures of very different worlds, one so old and one so young, left the alleyway and began to stroll down the promenade.

Monty gave little thought to his father’s current location, or how he had reacted to his son’s seeming disappearance, enraptured as he was with the sailor by his side. As it so happened, the boy’s father was running hell for leather in the opposite direction in a frantic bid to contact the authorities and employ them in the search for his child. The commotion that had passed right up the length of the market caused by the sly seafarer had led the boy’s father to assume that it was this event that caused the loss of Montaine to the crowd.

The lad turned to his companion as he tried to keep up, and a thought struck him, ‘What was that you said back there? You said “petching”, I heard a man say that before but Da wouldn’t tell me what it meant,’

He remembered the affronted look on his Da’s face when the man had said it. He’d been a young lad, barely over twice of Monty’s age, and had dropped a box he’d been carrying on his toe. Monty had asked later what the word was and his father’s face had flushed red. These were the sort of things he could learn out in the real world, the secret words that could make his Da turn red! He looked wide-eyed and expectant at the sailor.
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Pash'nar on April 17th, 2012, 8:36 pm

Pash'nar steered the two of them through the crowds of the fish market and past much of the farmer's market area, still keeping at least one eye scanning the crowds for any sign of his angry brute of a friend (or worse, an angry parent). Technically, this was not kidnapping. He had no idea if the boy had living parents. That hadn't yet come up in conversation. He wasn't a slaver. He wasn't hiring any fresh sailors. He was just … uh … walking to breakfast with a boy in his shadow.

Yes.

That was it.

As good an explanation as any at this point.

The navigator wove through the streets of the Zeltiva harbor with practiced ease—each alley and bump in the road memorized over time and frequency of his sea-faring visitations. He took a side street and then another, leading the pair toward a tiny little dive where the lager wasn't always lukewarm and the eggs were less likely to be runny without asking for special treatment.

He had to pause, though, for a moment in their little journey to laugh at Montaine's question. He shook his head, topknot flailing, and reached a calloused hand up to rub uncomfortably at the tattoo of a moon and a compass inked on the back of his neck,

"Petch, eh? Ah, well…" Pash had to think about that one. It had so many uses, "It means … uh. Let's see if I can't illustrate it for ya—" He bit his lip and pretended to be in deep thought,

"Your cap'n gets mad at'cha for calculatin' the windspeed wrong even though it's the damned first mate's fault. What d'you do? You tell 'im to petch off. You find yourself some expensive loot, so you tell your mates it's petching amazing. You've gotta nice lil' tavern wench winkin' at'cha so you take 'er upstairs to pe—"

Maybe he was carrying this explanation a little too far.

The dark-haired Svefra smirked slyly, letting his words trail off with a chuckle. Thank the gods the rickety old door to their destination appeared in time, though the establishment didn't seem to bother with a sign. Pash hefted the door open and held it, ushering the little human in with a wave of his other hand, quickly changing the subject to matters of personal concern,

"In ya go, Monty. Jus' don't smile too much in'ere, okay? Showin' your teeth too much around somma these animals's ne'er a safe thing to do."
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Montaine on April 17th, 2012, 9:47 pm

Monty nodded and affected a mock scowl, attempting to cultivate an air of a wise old salt, experienced in the ways and the world of his nautical friend. He added a little snarl under his breath for effect, the persona one put forth in these environments, to these sorts of people, was everything after all. He was that little bit closer to being a true adventurer, sure he could never really be an explorer, or a pirate, but he could at least pretend, and he knew piratey words now. Petch. Petch. Petching petchy petch. He’d tell his Da later when they met up again at-

Perhaps that thought would have alerted the boy to the truth of his father’s predicament had it been allowed to continue, but his mind was instead set violently off course and left reeling as the atmosphere of the building in which he found himself washed over his senses. A fiddler stood atop a small platform set up in the far corner and was playing a particularly rapid rendition of a song to which the small audience of three seemed to know few of the words. The little rabble gathered at that end of the room occasionally yelled out half-lines and bizarre non sequiturs that couldn’t possibly all have fitted into the same lyrics.

Along most of the remaining wall stood the bar. Tending to the drinks stood a bulky man of such a size that he had to duck to avoid a low hanging beam whenever he moved from end of the bar to the other. He was currently in low, whispered conversation with a shifty fellow in the sort of attire generally to be found only on academic scholars from up at the university. In the far corner three figures gathered round a table, playing with dice.

Montaine sniffed, he could still detect the piscine aroma of Zeltiva, but overlaid, and overpowered, by a new odour, a largely unfamiliar one. Alcohol. The boy screwed up his face in disgust but then, remembering his fraudulent old salt persona, resumed his scowling. The barman nodded at Pash’nar, the academic looking at him briefly over his shoulder, before they returned to their conversation.

This was brilliant. Even if his Da never let him out of his sight again, even if he was never allowed out of the house again, this was worth it. Every hour he’d spent alone, staring out the window at the people in the street as the sun sailed overhead, waiting for his father to come home from work, imagining, this was worth it. Petch yeah.
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[Flashback] The Sailor and the Child [Pash|Montaine]

Postby Pash'nar on April 18th, 2012, 3:09 am

The man let a hand lined and traced with blue-black ink thoughtlessly stray to the back of Montaine's head briefly, pointing him in the direction of an empty table and two stools. The floor was sticky, squeaky, and slick in different places; and yet at the same time, everything seemed salty: the air, the people, possibly the food. The touch lingered—just so for that moment—before Pash lifted it away in familiar, cordial greeting to the giant of a barkeep.

Well, at least it was hopefully some form of hello—two calloused fingers wagging over his dark-haired head.

"This'll do." He smirked almost playfully, glancing down at the gauged and greasy wooden circle of a tabletop before turning to make sure the boy had a leg up into the seat, "Up ya go there, lad."

The Svefra pretended not to notice the lengthy glances from the few patrons who were actually paying attention to their entrance. He sniffed, thumbing his nose thoughtfully as he finished washing over the thin crowd with his cerulean gaze. There were no other children present, though a few gathered by the music were obviously still quite young—barely out of the nest cabin boys and runaways. The rest were mostly fishermen and a few merchants, perhaps with a smattering of other more opportunist sailors like himself.

He settled into his own rickety stool, sort of melting into the seat as if relaxing for the first time in days. Pash finally let a smile return to his wind-swept features, tilting his head back at Montaine with a jingle of sea glass,

"So, what'cha got a hankerin' for as a tale with your brekkie—"

The end of his question was interrupted by two large, frothy mugs clinking onto the table without an ounce of grace. The woman who all but spilled the beer onto the odd pair startled a bit at the human boy, only to flash a sly grin. She had a gap between her teeth that a miza might have fit through, and her expression was one of practiced invitation even if her tone of voice sounded a little less than thrilled to be working this morning,

"So, booooys, what c'n I feed'ja t'day, hmmm?" She leaned in a bit, reaching up without invitation to ruffle Montaine's hair, though her gaze was obviously focused on Pash'nar,

"Two toads in a hole otta be a fine start this mornin'." The navigator flashed a grin back as if the two were sharing an additional conversation, "Sound good, Monty?"
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