Sunsets Keep No Secrets [Nira'lia]

[Pash'nar]

Timestamp: 76 Spring 512, Evening Location: The Suvan Sea With a stroke of Ionu's luck still lingering over their heads, the travelers had somehow managed to wrangle an old friend of Pash'nar's to agree to the dangerous journey across the Suvan to Alvadas with their palivar for the sake of a single horse. It cost Pash his freedom in a way, for he volunteered to scout in his small, rickety old casinor and keep the look out for monsters, wreckage, or worse. The Svefran family on the palivar had gladly opened their lives to the three travelers for the trip, letting them choose where to sleep (it wasn't like Pash's bachelor boat left much room for too many guests), where to eat, and where to spend their time as long as the women all agreed to assist in the chores and tasks it took to keep a larger ship running—oh, and to look out for themselves. After the evening meal of fresh fish and dried fruits and whatever else Kyena Tidewatcher whipped together in mysterious deliciousness, it was time to choose positions for the night. Sunset was still a few bells away, but Pash'nar was more than content to slip away to his ship to scout alone if he could get away with it. In the past few days, he'd mostly managed to keep his mortal seeming separate from his evening glory, if only by slinking off to scout alone while his charges spent their nights on the palivar. He was grateful for his friends who said nothing, though it wasn't out of keeping secrets so much as knowing them by heart. He assumed tonight would be the same. Licking the last of the fish and spicy sauce from his fingers loudly as they lounged on the deck in the last golden light of the afternoon, the tattooed sailor wiped his hands on his pants and stood. A trio of laughing children chased each other, barefoot and hardly clothed, wrestling and wasting time on the deck after their meal. "A'ight. I'm off t'keep an eye out for the night." He nodded his head, hooking a thumb over his inked shoulder in the direction of his ship tied to the parivel at a safe distance, the sails of which bobbed with the choppy waves. "Have a good rest, then, eh?" He winked and began to turn, hoping if he made his escape fast enough, no one would request to come scout with him tonight.

[Nira'lia]

It was the first time in Nira'lia's life that she was aboard a ship. While some people disliked having such an unfamiliar experience, Nira'lia actually felt good about it. She spent most of her time leaning over the boat's side and watching the water splash against it. Nira'lia couldn't help but smile widely... after all, she was konti... she was a daughter of the sea. While she did her share of errands, she still preferred just watching the sea. She heard that the Suvan sea was dangerous because of the storm, and they were lucky that they had come across the adventurous and daring Svefra people that willed to cross it. If not, they would probably have had to wait weeks before they could find transport to Alvadas. Currently, they were just finishing up supper. To Nira’lia, the Svefra family they were with were fantastic. The meals that they served were simple but good, and it was a nice change from what was in the city of Syliras. They didn't have much food aboard either, but the Tidewatchers were great with creating good meals from the little that they had. Nira'lia looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was soon to set. In the horizon, an orange and red hue was starting to form in the clouds, signalling that night would soon come. She stared up at the sky, then at the sea, wondering if the water would soon reflect the bright colors. The konti raised her head when the man named Pash'nar spoke. He owned the smaller ship that was tied to the one they were currently on, and he seemed to be talking about returning to it. Did he say... he was going to keep an eye out for the night? Did that mean he was going to retreat to his ship to be on watch? 'Strange, why doesn't he simply be an look out from here?' That just sounded... lonely. Nira'lia was still chewing on food, and she couldn't respond quickly enough. Before she knew it, the Svefra man was already leaving for his ship. In a hurry, the konti gulped down what was in her mouth, thanked her hosts for the wonderful meal, and rushed after Pash'nar. There he was -- she found his retreating back. "Wait, wait! I'll keep you company!" she called out. Nira’lia quickened her pace to catch up with him. In her haste, she had failed to take better notice of her surroundings. Suddenly, and with a gasp, her foot caught on some ropes and she clumsily came tumbling at him.

[Pash'nar]

Oh gods, really? The tattooed sailor turned at Nira'lia's words to raise his hands in casual objection, though he might have been laughing, "Nah, it's fine. I don't—" Then there was a Konti flying towards him as the ship lurched with the waves. He rolled with the motion to catch her, though her landing was still a little rough against the false Svefra. Wiry, he was hardly a soft body to land against, but it was better than the deck. He kept his footing—just barely—calloused hands resting on the woman's shoulders to steady her, "Petch," he hissed with a hint of impatience, coarse laughter fading, "Are y'sure you'd be alright in my lil'boat? She gets knocked 'round by the waves even more than this one." There was a reluctance in his voice, his tone dragged over a sandbar as if he didn't entirely want to give the woman permission to accompany him. Sure, she'd paid him coin. Sure, she'd find out soon enough that not all things were as they seemed, but Pash'nar actually enjoyed the game of faces he got to play, even though he always loathed the questions and the curiosities afterward. Over a century of questions, and he hardly had the answers to too many of them for himself. "I can't catch ya if I gotta steer." Sun-worn creases lengthened at the edge of his tide pool eyes as he smiled slowly, blue-black inked hands pulling away from the Konti's shoulders to lace fingers behind his head as he swayed with the next big wave—they were picking up as evening approached. A wind whipped through the parivel's sails with loud crackles of stiffened fabric. The dark-haired navigator's wind-swept expression turned surly, half-joking, half taunting, "Ah, but I forget. You're a fish, so I ain't gotta worry, right?" His eyes slid from the pale woman to glance at the sun as it tipped toward the horizon, but he kept his taunting expression nonetheless. Nira'lia would just have to assume all the risks, though he hoped he could do the same. His hands weren't the only calloused parts of himself.

[Nira'lia]

Thud. Nira'lia felt hands on her shoulder in an effort to steady her. Startled, and involuntarily, images which she couldn't not describe appeared before her. The only way she even knew they were images was because it was her Konti gift working, and she knew what happened when it did. Strong feelings of happiness enveloped her, and that was all that she could really understand. The images, the sounds... the memory before her -- she couldn't describe or understand it with just her mortal mind. The man was talking to her, but she couldn't really understand what he was saying. Nira'lia could hear words about a boat and being knocked over, but she couldn't really piece the phrases together. She stared up at him blankly, confused. "Huh?" she replied, totally lost. It wasn't the first time that Nira'lia had experienced such a memory. The first time had been years ago, back in Zeltiva, and the man was -- "An ethaefal!" she exclaimed, grinning widely. It all made so much sense now! Looking at him now, one would never have guessed. He looked like the average Svefra, with his tattoos and sea-bound features. "No wonder you're trying to get out of here as quickly as you can! You don't want us to see your other form, do you?" Nira'lia couldn't help but look at him with amazement, her eyes twinkling with happiness. The last time she had come into contact with another ethaefal’s skin, it had taken her hours to figure out what she had "experienced". She had to rack her mind to realize that the ethaefals had fallen from the Ukalas, and that piece of memory that they lent to her had been from that time. "I... I'm a konti, not a fish. And I'm fine, I just wasn't paying attention," she huffed at him. "I'll keep you company! I won't tell the others your secret, I promise." The konti smiled at him. She was now particularly interested in seeing what his other form would look like. Nira'lia stepped away from him and leaned over the boat to peek at his casinor. Then, she looked back at him and pointed at the smaller ship. "Shall we?"

[Pash'nar]

The pale woman stared at him while the palivar rose and fell and creaked, sails crackling and snapping in the wind. As he pulled his tattooed hands away from keeping her steady, Nira'lia beamed and exclaimed his race to the waves. Tide pool eyes hardened into sea glass for a heartbeat or two and the false Svefra's heart sank into his stomach like heavy cargo strewn overboard in a storm. Petch. Just as the Konti was swearing secrecy, Pash'nar raised calloused hands in casual dismissal, laughing as if the woman was making a joke, "I kept you from knockin' your brainbox, you know." His tone was deadpan, though his eyes were not, "Are you sure you just ain't confused? How would you know what I am an' what I ain't, anyway?" Watery gaze washed over her skin, her scales, and the sun-etched lines of his face deepened into a pained expression. Something of his—the only thing he claimed to himself—was taken without his permission, without any conscious effort. She didn't ask. She just knew. What else did she know that he didn't? Did something else of himself slip through his skin, something not even he knew or remembered? "Keep that t'yourself, true or not." He quipped, tangibly uncomfortable despite her smile. He didn't return the kindness, turning from her without another word to leap from the bilge rail of the parivel onto the deck of his moored casinor as they both rocked with the waves. He let a silence pass between them for a while, not turning around, as if he might have changed his mind about her insistence to come with him while he kept watch through the night. Shoulders rose and fell, and though his wind-swept features hardly brightened into any hint of kindness, he reluctantly turned and offered a hand, "C'mon then, but I ain't sure what kinda company you're used to keepin'." The gap between ships was a bit of a jump, and Pash held onto the rope of his mainsail as he reached for the Konti, "Besides, you've got gills, right? An' scales? Just like a fish. You're gonna have to try harder'n'that to convince me otherwise." His tone was joking at least, but inside, he was so very cautious. His secrets were his own to share. He supposed he still had a few she couldn't take without his permission.

[Nira'lia]

The konti gazed at him with concerned eyes. She bit her lip and said nothing about the pained expression on Pash'nar's face. This was exactly the reason she didn't like using her konti gift when it was unnecessary -- most people never deemed it nice when someone looked at precious moments in their memories. It was their memories... the secrets were their own, and who was Nira'lia to know about them? She watched him jump from the palivar unto his casinor. Nira'lia looked between the decks and saw that while a seasoned sailor like the svefra could make the leap between the boats, she couldn't say the same about herself. She was not oblivious to her abilities -- she was much frailer than most people, and actions that needed even just a hint of athleticism were often lost on her. The boats rocked with the waves, and Nira’lia knew the danger of doing something recklessly. Nira'lia was a daughter of the sea, but that didn't mean she wanted to fall into it at a time like this. She felt dejected that the man didn't seem to want her there, and she was almost about to walk away when he turned around to help her, even though he seemed to not want to. Nira'lia's face quickly lightened up. She was a transparent person, and the expression of joy said everything it needed to. The konti heaved herself unto the palivar's rail and reached for his calloused hand without hesitation. Holding unto his hand tightly, she used it to keep a balance on herself as she jumped unto his deck. She landed flat on her feet, even if she had expected to fall right on her knees. His steady grip had helped her do so. Nira'lia let go of his hand and flashed him a thankful smile. "I've got gills, I've got scales, but I'm not a fish!" she told him adamantly as she stepped away from him. "Besides, the ethaefal have horns, don't they? Does that make you a goat?" Nira'lia looked up at the sky and wondered if he would be changing forms soon. She frowned as she remembered what had happened just a few moments earlier. In the spur of the moment, she had forgotten that knowing his secret was not something he had taken lightly. Now that she remembered that, she regretted her comment about the horns. "We konti each have a gift that is unique to each one of us," she suddenly started to give him an explanation, even if he didn't ask for one. "Some can sense the truth, some can read the environment... for me, when I touch someone, I get a glimpse of their most joyful memory. That's how I knew." She didn't usually tell others about her gift, but she thought it was just polite to do so at this point. Also, she knew his secret; it wouldn't hurt to tell him one of hers.

[Pash'nar]

His insides still stung a little as if he'd swallowed too much seawater, the echo of the Konti's discovery ringing in his ears. Still, he lifted her lightly onto the deck of his ship with an inked and callosed hand, watching the rush of the sea in the gap between ships instead of looking in her eyes. His windswept features were pulled into a scowl, tide pool eyes reflecting the storm that raged in his chest. Petching Konti. Petching gift. Wiley little sea imps, those pretty women. Once Nira'lia was steady, the tattooed sailor looked up at her wanly. She was smiling. Was she apologetic or just cheerful all the time? He couldn't tell. "You ain't able to control it? So you don't steal from folks on purpose?" Pash'nar's thoughts raced a little, still terrified of what she could have possibly seen to clue her into his identity so quickly and so precisely. Had she seen what he couldn't? What he wouldn't remember? How was that ever fair … or even possible? He sighed, broad shoulders slouching, "If you can call what you've seen o'me joyful, then I ain't sure what you looked at. S'been a long time since such'a'word could be declared as belongin' to me. You must have some sorta magic that let's you see what I can't. Or won't." He chose not to elaborate on the depths of his lack of vision for his own existence. The dark-haired navigator—false Svefra by seeming but seemingly Svefra by heart—set about unmooring his ship from the palaver by wordlessly untying the tow rope from his starboard wench and unfurling his two sails. He worked in silence, not bothering to address Nira'lia for quite sometime, and not expecting her to help. Was it punishment for the unwelcome intrusion? Anger at her retaliation? Something else? It was hard to tell. He didn't bother to explain. Once disconnected from the larger vessel, the tattooed sailor kicked off his sandals and wandered to the stern, one bare foot curling toes over the rudder and the opposite hand reaching for the main sail's taut line. He leaned, catching just a breath of wind, and began to pull his casinor away for the night, "I've been called worse." He finally spoke up, dragging his eyes from the sea to the Konti, watching her fair, lithe form find a place aboard his home, "But, it's fine. I can't keep all my cards up my sleeve for th'whole game, can I?" He smirked, sore but willing to smooth ruffled feathers over with coarse humor. He'd been called much worse, but here on the sea, it was hard to hide truths when there was never anywhere to run. "Syna will hide her face soon, an' you'll see th'petchin' shell of what joy you think you saw." His words were heavy—an anchor still dragging what used to be instead of a ship let loose on the current of what was. Chewing his bottom lip with too perfect teeth for a few chimes, Pash'nar watched the sky begin to light itself on fire as Syna began to close her course for the horizon. He let silence once again pass between himself and the Konti, sorting out their conversation and coming up with a blank understanding of how it all happened, "How d'you know me? As in, my kind."

[Nira'lia]

For a split second an expression of hurt spread on Nira'lia's face. He regarded her gift as 'stealing'. He wasn't the first one to regard it as such, though. "Well, no, it's involuntary," she said simply. The konti listened as he talked about himself. When he said it had been a while since he experienced anything jofyul, Nira'lia felt nothing but sadness for him. What kind of life was he living now that he would speak that way? Nira'lia stayed still and watched him work upon his vessel. He did the task with ease and strong movements which made her think he had been doing this for some time now. Pash'nar didn't seem to be one of many words, or perhaps they had not started off right. Nira'lia didn't know, but she wanted to patch things up. The girl was never one to like being on another's bad terms. She walked to a nearby crate and sat on it, her eyes still focused on him as she gave him a smile. He spoke with such a cynical air, one that caused her to force the smile that was giving him. Nira'lia looked up at the sky -- night was coming. "I've met a few of your kind," she said simply. "A few years back, I became good friends with one, and that's where I first saw... uhm, experienced, the joy of the Ukalas. Since my gift gave me a similar experience from you, I just put the pieces together. Does that make sense? " Nira'lia seemed to be deep in thought. She swung her feet back and forth as she stared at the horizon with a puzzled look. The konti was shaken out of her reverie when, for a second, the casinor rocked sideways violently, causing her to clutch the crate. Blinking, and concentrating on keeping her balance, she looked back at Pash'nar. "To be honest though, you seem to be much angrier at your situation than he was," she mused out loudly. It was a bold statement, but she wanted it out there. "I understand though... being yanked out of the Ukalas would probably do that. But is your life as a half-Svefra really that bad? How long has it been since you came down to the ground...?"

[Pash'nar]

Pash'nar guided his casinor a fair distance from the palivar, finally catching his own slip of wind and current. He didn't answer any of Nira'lia's questions until he was satisfied of his scouting position, settling himself into his seat at the stern, bare feet on the rudder while his hands rested idly on the main sail rope that stretched taut against the strong evening breeze. The colors of sunset began to intensify, darkening the blue-black lines that decorated his arms. He sighed, knowing his truer seeming would gleam forth soon enough. He watched the Konti adjust to the lighter boat—it was certainly tossed more by the waves, jumping and skipping. A cautious smile creased his sea-worn features, "Oh aye, it ain't like I'm not happy." He exhaled through his teeth chidingly, confident he'd enjoyed himself plenty as of late, though perhaps not in the same philosophical sense so much as the physical, "I didn't mean it that way, lass. There's a diff'rent sense of joy, I s'pose, when I think of where I came from than where I'm at now." The Ukalas was worlds apart from here, literally and figuratively. Life as a celestial did not compare to being trapped in flesh. How did one explain that to someone who didn't know the difference? Where do you begin? "Angry? Aye. I'm here by mistake." His easy, roguish smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared, "Over a century an' I ain't s'posed t'be here. Am I s'posed to just smile 'bout that? No." The gods were obviously fickle, selfish, and unconcerned that he was even stuck here. If Leth really cared, he would have long-since been rescued. Right? "My life has it's benefits, aye. I ain't gonna say it doesn't." He snickered, refraining from naming the ones he enjoyed, "But if this is all I'm left to, when I didn't ask for any of't, then I've some right to be petchin' disappointed. I ain't good at bein' content, s'true." Did he want to be angry forever? No. Did it feel better than fixing things? Most of the time, yes. Not always. Not lately. "I don't keep as much company with Svefra as I could. I outlive them. I outlive much of what I touch. What's the point, then?" He'd outlived the family of fishermen who took him in as their own in Saint Matthews Bay. He'd outlived a few he'd loved deeply. He'd outlived more than a handful of Svefra he'd known and cared for. He would outlive Sariana. He would outlive that wheezy little kid from Zeltiva. Nira'lia, as a Konti, may have been one of the few exceptions with her lifespan. It wasn't that he didn't crave companionship—the Svefra in him lived deeply for it—but that he tired of watching pieces of himself that he'd so freely given die as well. "I washed a shore a man, not a child. An' I don't age but I count th'seasons as everyone else does. I ain't a Svefra, but I ain't celestial. D'you expect me to find some comfort in this?" That was it. The crux of his suffering in broken Common and stormy cerulean gaze. He genuinely wanted to know her answer. Did she understand? Could she? She'd only seen where he'd come from in visions—incomplete and overwhelming. He didn't remember specifics. He was trapped in a body that was only his half the time, and someone else's the other half. Someone else's with memories of the life they'd lived (and died). This was, especially in the beginning, overwhelming for the ethaefal. "Leth left me here. If he wanted me, he'd have fixed things by now." Over time, he found ways to dull his pain that may not have brought the right kind of healing. They worked for him, but like a candle burning at both ends, it was obvious his choices were more self-destructive than edifying. It was true, he'd tired of some of those things, but finding the will to avoid them, to change course once stuck in the stream of current, did not come easily to Pash'nar.

[Nira'lia]

Nira'lia didn't even want to pretend that she could relate with him in any way. He was not happy with the fact that he was here on the ground with all the other mortals, and like she had said, she understood that. "Yes, you do have a point," said Nira'lia with a light smile. "I'm so sorry you have to be stuck here with all the rest of us!" teased the konti. She said nothing more because she couldn't find the right words to say. His problem was beyond her, and she had no words of cheer that she could give him. She listened to him, her eyes fully focused on him. Nira'lia took his words in seriously. Pash'nar seemed to be musing into much deeper thoughts, something which she had not expected. He spoke about outliving others. She was a young konti, but that she could relate to. "In term of a konti's lifespan, I'm quite young... but I do understand what you mean, outliving everyone else and not seeing the point. The only thing I can gather from you is that you're lonely though," she said with a huge grin. Nira'lia seemed to be throwing her bold conclusions at him, even though she didn't know if any of them were right on track. She was not one to judge, but sometimes it was interesting to read between the lines. The konti gave him a painful look. Did he... feel detest for Leth? Nira'lia was not familiar with Leth, with what he could do or what he was like. "I don't know Leth, but I do know that the Gods all have their reasons. It may not be what you want to hear right now, but I do believe that things happen for a reason," she said simply. Nira'lia was optimistic to a fault, something which certainly annoyed most people. She paused as she continued to stare at this man before her. "In the mean time, why don't you take this whole predicament as a blessing? You've got centuries before you, and a body which doesn't age! You have all the time to travel, to discover new things and to see fantastic sights," she said enthusiastically. Her words were directed at herself as well. This was how she viewed her race's longevity.