Closed The Star to Every Wandering Bark (Sahreni & Subira)

[Sahreni]

Perhaps it was the khnor's atmosphere that put Subira at ease, the familiar turf—or familiar surf perhaps—but there was suddenly a flavor of humor breeching the South Wind noble's hastily reconstructed exterior. Despite her earlier outburst, she was proving to be more competent and well about herself than Sahreni would have first guessed. Something of an unpolished diamond, possibly. He could work with that. Sahreni chuckled when Subira preemptively wrote off any compliment to her appearances in comparison to the khnor's design. At the gangplank with her mother, it had occurred to him then to pay polite praise toward their collective beauty, but he had quickly dismissed the notion once the situation became disassembled by Subira's frankness. He selected a different route. The idea was to impress his potential betrothed, not send her eyes rolling with unoriginal poetry. No one was impressed by obligatory remarks. Sahreni suspected she would be better won by honesty and wit. He had to prove that he was different from other men, and not because he was a mongrel. Upon being asked to stand beside her, Sahreni slowly acquiesced, coming to her at his own pace. "Your father has done fine work," he observed, still absorbing the make of the ship as he stepped across the deck. "And I wouldn't be so small-minded as to draw uncreative comparisons between you and your ship, but I have noticed that no piece of you looks out of place, standing here on the deck." Subira suggested the idea of hastily taking the ship on a tour of the bay, inspiring Sahreni to raise his eyebrow. He already knew she had steak of rebellion in her, but evidently not all of her spirit was appalling or rude. "Too right," he replied, smiling again in a show of mild embarrassment. He probably would know more about the type of wood the ship was made from than its operation. That would have to change, and quickly, if everything went to plan. Sahreni wondered if Sitra would loan him a South sailor to go over the basics with him. It wouldn't help his image if Subira had to be the one to educate him. To Sahreni's surprise, Subira eventually came up with personal questions about him. He considered the query for a moment, studying her features for signs of genuine interest, before his eyes drifted downward again. "A bit," he answered vaguely, folding his single pair of arms. "Tell me truly, are you actually curious about my trade, or are you asking because it's polite? I have very different answers, depending. I entertain no illusions of appearing impressive or interesting to a noble of good breeding, such as yourself. And I've no taste for disingenuous small talk." His eyes returned to her, accompanied by a sly smile. "I've already said that my injuries are forgotten and it was the truth. You needn't feign interest in a bastard like me, Subira of the South Winds." He gave her title the same flourish she had given his. "I understand your mother did not prepare you for this meeting. Even I think that sounds just a bit cruel." Sahreni turned to examine the rest of the boat. "I do find your passion for this vessel fascinating. If it took years for you to become a navigator, your experience onboard ships like these must be vast and staggering."

[Subira]

Subira's mouth fell open with faint astonishment when the half-breed coolly answered her questions with another question, his directness at once startling and wondrously refreshing to the sometimes too-guileless South. Privately, she thought that quite a few true-born nobles could stand to emulate the half-breed's candor. The gods knew, the West Wind's scions often seemed like all airs and no substance, and their insistence on making even idle small talk into an art form caused actually conversing with them to feel too much like an exhausting chess match or an interminable dance, rather than an exchange of gifts. By contrast, Sahreni's succinct simplicity took her off-guard, in an unexpected yet disturbingly pleasant fashion. For a moment, Subira simply stood there with lips half-parted and eyebrows quizzically raised. Finally, she recovered herself and turned her gaze fully toward Sahreni, rewarding his directness with her own. "I have been training in the art of navigation since I was eight years old," she responded, choosing to reply to his last remarks first. "I was rather a late bloomer, I'm afraid. My apprenticeship lasted twelve years. As for my experiences on ships like this…" The shadow crossed her face again and a note of melancholy entered her low voice. "My experience is rich, no doubt, but not vast enough, at least not for me. There are so many lands I haven't seen, so many voyages I've yet to make." With an effort, she shook her head, causing the pearls woven in her hair to click against each other and catch the light, and took a deep breath. Gradually, the weight of memory slipped off her shoulders. She smiled again, and her hands extended forward, palms up, into the suggestion of an upward crescent in reference to the formal gesture that accompanied the traditional Eypharian greeting, 'May you be able to balance glory.' "But then, that's not so surprising, is it? After all, we Eypharians…I mean, we who live in Ahnatep always seek to excel, to surpass what others have done before. And glory and excellence are not the flowers of an idle springtime, but the…" She fumbled momentarily again, this time for an appropriate agricultural metaphor to complete her statement. "The fruits of a lifetime of hard work and perseverance." Her eyes narrowed. "Speaking of fruits and flowers…" Lifting her chin haughtily, Subira addressed the half-breed with renewed energy. "I can assure you, I do not feign anything. It's a waste of time, and foolish besides. If I had no interest in hearing the answer, I would not ask the question. Enough people already ramble about uninteresting matters uninvited." What a relief to be able to speak plainly about these things to another noble! Well, another individual of noble standing, anyway. Reflexively, she glanced again toward his shoulders, which, though pleasingly broad, cried out for an additional pair of arms or two. Subira's gaze sharpened as she looked again to his elegant, angular profile. "So, yes, I am interested in your trade and in your position in your house. I would like to know if you are as passionate about the, err, the soil you till, I suppose, as I am about this vessel. I would like to know what about you makes you worthy of m…of marriage to another noble house." Her voice took on a note of wryness as she added, "I am sure you must have fortitude enough to endure some more honesty between us."

[Sahreni]

The agricultural metaphor was well received, pulling at the corners of Sahreni's mouth. He listened quietly as she spoke, appreciating the weight of her philosophy. Subira had enlisted for an actual conversation. This was a good start. Sahreni had to wonder how many other suitors she had been introduced to, and how, despite being full-blooded Eypharians, they had failed. "Endure it?" Sahreni laughed, slackening his arms and letting them hang at his sides. He felt the lacquered box tucked into his sash, and thoughtfully laid a hand over its shape. "My dear, I welcome it. If we're to be betrothed, let me come to know the true Subira and not a mask designed for strangers." After passing her a warm, honest look, he stepped away from the ship's mast and drifted toward the stairs from the top of the khnor's cabin. What makes you worthy of marriage to another house. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that string of words. Sahreni should have expected to hear them from Subira, but they still gave him pause. He'd have to consider the answer, as it would have to be different from the one he gave his family. Before descending back to the main deck, he turned back to face the South Winds noble. He seemed to hesitate, reluctant, as if it was difficult to draw on his own personal life. "My part of the West Winds family specializes in brewing and the production of beers for Ahnatep. We also tend crops of barley, wheat, and hops as part of the process. As for me, personally, I'm assigned different responsibilities and oversee all of it in its various stages. Ah." Sahreni laughed again in spite of himself, looking down and rubbing his chin. "It's not exactly the exciting life on the high seas—unless you include the nights we perform taste tests on new draughts." The halfblood straightened, turning to observe the docks where Sitra and Meripe were waiting. The mirth in his features was replaced with something deeper and contemplative, but no less sincere. "But it's duty. If there is one thing I'm passionate about, it's that." The wooden box was drawn from his sash, held in both of his hands. He smoothed his thumb over the black surface of the polished wood, catching his reflection as well as the glare of the sun. "My unique situation requires me to stay rather… flexible, in what I do." The khnor, for example, was paid for on Sahreni's behalf when he knew next to nothing about sailing or foreign trade. If Subira agreed to marry him, the course his life would turn on the rim of a miza. Sahreni the sailor, gods have mercy. "I'm aware that my place within the noble houses is precarious, but I do belong here, Subira. And I will go to great lengths to prove it. Whatever that requires." Sahreni lowered the box and turned his attention to Subira. "To you, especially. This khnor represents what our lives could be, should you accept the proposal. Subira the unyielding spirit, and Sahreni, marked with unerring perseverance. I have never sailed. To be quite honest, I find the idea a little frightening. "Yet, while true Eypharian noblemen are born to guaranteed privilege, I have had to take and defend every inch of the ground I stand on. And you, you've lived your life resisting compromise. I would like to see what the ocean thinks it could throw at the two of us." He offered his hand to Subira, gesturing toward the stairs. "Come with me to the bow. I'd like to show you what I've brought for you."

[Subira]

"To the bow, eh?" Subira couldn't help chuckling with mingled amusement and approval at Sahreni's invitation forward. "And you say you have never sailed before! My little sister still can't tell stem from stern on a ship, sometimes." After a moment of hesitation, she placed one hand lightly in his and let him guide her down the cabin steps toward the front of the ship. Her cheeks were pink as she gazed uncertainly at their joined hands, partly from the stinging sea breeze and partly from the influence of Sahreni's fine speech. Strange as it was to admit, a part of Subira was pleased, even charmed, by the clarity with which he saw her. An unyielding spirit, resisting compromise, he'd called her. Even his gestures were straightforward. He had offered Subira his hand like a comrade, a sailor reaching out to assist his fellow without pretense, instead of sticking out an elbow for her to take or placing a hand on the small of her back. She liked that. To be sure, it was the words that she was charmed by, of course, not the man. It was his manner of speaking that she liked, clear-cut and direct, yet capable of creating vivid pictures in her mind. The man was comely enough, but he was still a half-breed. Subira wouldn't possibly like anyone like that. Of course not. How comforting it was to have logic on her side. Of course, his very naturalness could be yet another mask, a very skillful mask indeed to hide his true nature. Relative silence fell between them as she pondered this unsettling possibility, filled only with the flapping of the sail, the measured rhythm of their sandals upon the deck, and the murmurous lapping of the water against the sides of the khnor. "You are the bravest of suitors," Subira concluded finally, "to speak of fear before the woman you must impress. And perhaps the wisest, to highlight your greatest deficiency instead of hiding it and transform it into a great strength, instead." She, at least, wore no mask while saying this, for his speech had indeed struck her with a new idea. As a half-breed born into a noble household, he would have to be flexible, as he'd said, and perceptive to win any favor at all. Consequently, he had discerned Subira's preference for honesty and plain speaking and thus turned this dreadful formal occasion into a rather agreeable conversation. Not to mention that just a moment ago, she had very nearly asked him, "What makes you worthy of me?", instead of "What makes you worthy of marriage?" Somehow, Sahreni had sensed her unasked question and answered it more cleverly than she could have predicted. The very thing that made Sahreni so unappealing to her at first sight may well be what made him appeal to her now. Not that Subira actually found him appealing. Oh, no. "If we are to be betrothed," she added, with the faintest note of warning in her voice and a gesture cautioning against over-hastiness, "and that is still a long way away, you need not be a sailor yourself to prove your worth. The sea flows not in your blood, and your blood need not flow into the sea. Your beer would bring much value in trade." Subira left it at that, not wanting to think, let alone speak, more on the subject of betrothal or marriage. She was only here as a favor to her mother, she reminded herself. Sahreni had proved quick-witted and pleasing to listen to and converse with, but the thought of anything more left her highly uncomfortable. They reached the bow of the ship and stood side by side at the curving rail, overlooking the shimmering white and gold harbor that fringed the placid turquoise waters of the bay. As the salt wind scoured back her hair, Subira felt almost sorry that Sahreni hadn't agreed to take the khnor for a quick sail as she had laughingly suggested. She sighed quietly and turned to face him, pulling her hand free of his. "So," she said, looking curiously at the lacquered box. "What have you brought? What is it that you offer to me?" It was a question with many depths, but her hands were still. Truly, she merely wanted to know what gift he had been so carefully carrying in that box all this time.

[Sahreni]

As Sahreni led Subira down the steps, he was glad she could not see him swallow. Stem and stern? He had never heard the terms. He had serendipity to thank for knowing what he already did. A sly smile went back to her. If he had a few extra arms, he would have performed a smug gesture to indicate that he had his devices. *** "Port and starboard!" A young girl's voice cut through yellowed stalks of wheat, carried by a dry autumn breeze. Sahreni straightened, his neatly groomed and colorfully decorated form rising above the feathered crown of the field. He spotted the tiny frame of a ten-year-old frolicking toward him, half swallowed by the height of the drying crop. The shadow of a guard trailed some distance behind her. "What?" "You have to know this for when you meet the sailor lady tomorrow." She arrived and smiled at him proudly. "I've been reading!" He smirked at his half-sister, then knelt again, returning to his inspection. This was the "greenest" side of the crop, and it had to be assessed before harvest. "That's very sweet, Hasina, but I'm a little preoccupied at the moment." "On a ship, port is left and starboard is right. I think. Or the other way around." "Mhm." Sahreni turned his head and gave her a chiding, but affectionate look. "Go home, Sicpw. You're ruining your dress." "Fine. We'll talk later." She plucked the head from a stalk of wheat, then proceeded to pull at the fibers as she began to return to the guard assigned to watch her. Before she drifted out of earshot, she gave him one last shout. "And the bow is the front!" *** Subira's verbal evaluation of Sahreni's wisdom and bravery brought candid smiles out of the halfblood. Compliments would have been better received with fashionable modesty, and an undermode to suggest that recognition was unnecessary, but that was a two handed gesture and both of his were still occupied. Besides, these were compliments from a woman he was trying to charm. Sahreni decided he was allowed his satisfaction. "Fear is best recognized for what it is," he remarked, considering the risk he had taken in admitting his apprehensions to her. There was a fine difference between confidence and arrogance, and there was a time and place for both. "Though it has never kept me from rising to face a challenge." The truth was that this betrothal was designed with the purpose of keeping Sahreni away from the Villa of the West Winds. He would become a sailor; that was the idea. It was the kindest thing his family could do for him to preserve their reputation, short of removing him from the House altogether. He could be spending months away at sea and abroad in foreign places, and still be a West Wind. Aware of the harsh truths, Sahreni had understood this bargain and its benefits to every party, and accepted it with a certain amount of solemnity. It was the best way he could benefit his House and please his father's wife with his absence. Even if she could never be won over, let every other West sing his praises at her. The moment had arrived, and now Sahreni stood facing Subira of the South Winds at the bow of a ship purchased for the both of them. He felt like a man at a podium at the head of a crowded room, expected to give a grand speech. Subira's eyes on him might as well have been a dozen pairs of waiting eyes. She really was lovely, with the sun shining on her. When Meripe told him this woman was nearing her thirties, Sahreni had prepared himself for compromise, but the South Winds must have known how to protect themselves against the scalding sun and the salty air. She was no girl, and there was a chronic impatience in her golden eyes, but she still clung to the carefree spirit of youth. Sahreni had lucked out. He would like to see her, he thought, with her hair let down. Sahreni held the box again between both hands. It was time to deliver his final address. "I can only assume you've been through this process before. I know it's customary for these occasions to give you jewelry or scented oils. I thought, you must have quite the collection." She was likely wearing half of it. Sahreni looked down at the box, smiling almost sheepishly. "The last thing I want to do is give you something that will end up in a drawer of lovely but equally forgettable gifts. I refuse to be forgettable, Subira." The lid of the lacquered box was lifted, revealing an interior lined with red silk. Lying inside was not a necklace or a bottle of perfume; it was a folded spyglass. It was crafted mostly from polished wood and brass, smooth and shining much like its container, but with lacquer that highlighted the grain. Near each lens, the shaft was decorated by two rings of metal that bordered a third ring, furnished from mother-of-pearl. This was a gift for a South Wind, after all. "If you do refuse me," he said to her, offering the box and its contents for her to take, "at least you could get some use out of this." He was a pragmatist, through and through. And she would have to think of him whenever she used it to spy at the distance. The very item held meaning in its utility, being a tool to get a better look at what lied ahead. "And if you accept, well, there will be plenty of time to give you more orthodox things like necklaces and oils." The words had been loosed, and Sahreni felt something like an archer waiting to see whether his arrow would strike the target. The pressure was especially steep. If he failed here, he doubted the West Winds would be able to find another noblewoman to pair him up with. The embarrassment he would suffer would echo back to his father. "In these past few moments, you've proven to be remarkably unique. It pains me to think I could lose the chance to get to know you better." OOCSorry for longish post! The little flashback makes it look longer than it seems. I'll try to do shorter ones in future threads. xD

[Subira]

OOCI don't mind long posts at all! I thought the flashback was a great touch, and adorable too. Don't let worries about length curtail your inspiration, at least not around me. "Oh, it's marvelous!" The happy cry burst forth from Subira's lips of its own volition, too buoyant with spontaneity and genuine surprise to be weighed down by any concern for the proprieties. Awe and appreciation softened her voice as she exclaimed, "This is better than any jewelry in the world. Is it really for me?" She pressed two hands to her mouth in a futile attempt to contain her excitement over the beautifully crafted, folded spyglass nestled within the box between Sahreni's hands. Fixed eagerly upon the elegant implement, her eyes shone with an unabashed avidity that would have set her mother to groaning, had Sitra been able to see her daughter's expression from afar. Having expected some useless traditional gift of jewelry or perfume that she would scarcely ever wear, Subira was doubly delighted to receive instead a practical and unconventional present that she could certainly put to good use. With a swift, sudden gesture, Subira's lower hands darted forward and plucked the spyglass from its box in one fell swoop, her fingers curling around it and cradling it protectively. The spyglass was heavier than it looked. She turned it over and over in her hands, tapping her fingernails against the polished wood, lifting it so that the sunlight wakened all the glimmering iridescence within the mother-of-pearl ring. Laughing aloud, she extended the spyglass to its full length and pointed it toward the docks. Peering through the lens, Subira shifted from side to side until she located her mother and Meripe. Both women wore expressions of ageless, impassive patience, as though they could wait forever. Only then did Subira lower the spyglass and turn sheepishly back toward Sahreni. "I seem to have accepted your gift," she observed dryly, her tone at odds with the soft, contented smile peeking out between her fingers. In a simple, wordless gesture of thankfulness, Subira lowered her upper hands from her face and folded them together at her chest, over her heart. Then she briefly inclined her head so that her lips touched the tips of her fingers. She performed the gesture with solemn, deliberate grace, though her lowermost hands, engaged with the spyglass, did not join in the gesture by echoing the pose of the upper hands. "You honor me with your choice of gift," she murmured, raising her face to his again. "Usually, only the captains are fortunate enough to carry one of these. And even then, most of them are not as fine as this. If I make another voyage again, all my shipmates will be green with envy over my having my very own spyglass." Her eyes glowed more warmly than they had all day. "I can assure you, your gift will not languish in a drawer of forgotten things. And your thoughtfulness and generosity will not be soon forgotten either." Subira did wrinkle her nose at his comment about how "remarkably unique" she was, though, and how much he wanted to get to know her. She didn't like those sorts of personal compliments. Besides, she hadn't said anything remarkable or unique in the last few minutes -- had she? -- and so she suspected Sahreni's words must have been rehearsed and pre-planned. They felt flat and uninspired compared to the lovely uniqueness of his gift. Ah, well. A few fancy words couldn't possibly spoil her mood now. "It is, perhaps, one of the best gifts I have ever received," she concluded. "A pity that I can only offer you this in return." She touched the fingers of both right hands to her forehead, one hand above each eyebrow. "I know you have said your injuries are forgotten, Sahreni of the West Winds," she said, quoting the words he had used to excuse her startled outburst when they were first introduced, "but please let me offer some balm to spread upon any wounds I may have inflicted. At the docks, I confess, I apologized for the sake of my mother, to whom I have caused no end of despair. Now, I would like to apologize for your sake. "Sahreni of the West Winds, please accept my humble apology for my terrible and unfair words when we first met. I was wrong to have judged you by a glance." Subira bowed her head forward, her fingers still pressed against her temples, her lower left hand still tightly clasping the precious spyglass. The gesture of humility came hard to the proud South, but there was sincerity in it. "I see now that you have a noble's heart and a noble's ambition." Few people had ever elicited a graceful, formal gesture out of Subira before, and even fewer received one unasked. Though it doubtless didn't carry nearly as high a price as Sahreni's spyglass, still it cost her something to swallow her pride before a half-breed noble. A hint of humor crept into her voice as she added, "And though you do come from the lowest branches of the West Winds tree, well, I dare say it is the lowest branches that bear the most fruit."

[Sahreni]

Wow. She really liked it. Sahreni could only watch her with a bewildered smile as she took the spyglass and immediately tested it out. It may have been bad manners for Subira to act so girlish over a trinket, but his own sense of pride couldn't help but swell. He had hoped for a positive reception, but he wasn't prepared for his gift to go over this well. While Subira was preoccupied with her excitement, Sahreni quietly reminded himself not to become overconfident. He'd set the bar, now. She would expect more of the same. He would have to play things carefully for a while if he wanted her to stay impressed with him. "I'm so very pleased you like it." Subira's enthusiasm was contagious. Sahreni was nearly laughing. Sahreni's remark about Subira's unique personality didn't seem to go over the way he'd anticipated, judging by the lack of appreciation in her features. He noted this for later, but chose not to make matters worse by revisiting what had already been said. It was a common mistake to follow a compulsion to prove oneself by correcting trivial mistakes. "The gesture is appreciated." Sahreni found it difficult to maintain eye contact as she apologized. It was well deserved, he knew, and Subira must have had to swallow her pride for his sake, but he would have preferred her outburst forgotten. No matter what the reason, he didn't like his disadvantage to be highlighted by others. "It's very kind of you to say so, thank you." He punctuated the statement with a light, but gracious bow. He'd receive far worse and made do without an apology, but Sahreni understood Subira's need to make reparations. However, even if she could be won over, she would be hearing her own words from others if the general public started seeing them together. That was his greatest hurdle. The box was closed and set aside, freeing Sahreni's hands. An Eypharian almost always had a few hands free, but the halfblood was feeling especially human in the past few chimes. Subira was rather adept with High Arumenic. Sahreni could only hope she was pleased enough with him to overlook his inadequacy. Folding his arms behind his back, Sahreni turned to look at the length of the ship from its bow. He tried to imagine how it would look without being surrounded by the comforts of the harbor, without the image of the desert and the city in the distance. Just water on all sides. Complete isolation. "I have to say, I would love to take the ship out whenever it's ready. Of course I would need to learn a few things first." He looked up at the flapping sail, observing the tangle of ropes along the length and width. Sahreni had very little idea of what he was looking at. How did it even operate? Gods forbid he be assigned to one of the oars. Sahreni turned back to Subira, relaxing his arms so he could feather his hair with one hand. "The West Winds harvest celebration is happening in five days. Have you ever been?" He smiled, arching a brow as he turned his head and returned to examining the khnor. "It's a fun romp, with plenty of food and entertainment. I'd be pleased if you'd attend with me. How do you feel about horses?" Hopefully, she wasn't afraid of them.

[Subira]

Unconscious of Sahreni's lowered gaze or his discomfiture, Subira almost immediately felt a little more relaxed and at peace with herself after making her apology. She saw only his bow and heard his concise, gracious acceptance, and dimly she sensed that her slate had been wiped clean -- or at least cleaner -- where the half-breed was concerned. At least she had proven that she could return a courteous gesture with courtesy of her own, so that no one could call her inferior to a half-Eypharian in this regard. She relaxed even further as Sahreni turned to appraise the ship again and his appreciation for it seemed to grow. Her spirits bobbed like the whitecaps in the harbor. The look of faint consternation on his face as he studied the rigging and the sails made her grin. "I suspect I have much to relearn myself," she replied frankly. "I haven't been out on the water in years. You're right, though, this ship deserves to taste seawater. Perhaps one of the South Winds tutors can refresh us both on ship management. And perhaps help pull together up a crew while they're at it." Her teeth flashed white as she chuckled, "Perhaps one of these days, you can even sail up to Zeltiva and spend a season or two at the College of Navigation. We Souths all have to study for about a year up there as children. Of course, experience teaches us best, but I did learn a fair amount from those stuffy old professors." Still ensconced in the fine glow of her rising spirits, it took Subira a moment to follow the half-breed's abrupt change of subject to the Harvest of the West Winds. Her mind still dwelt on the thought of this khnor being newly launched, the image of its sharp prow carving gently through turquoise waters, and the memory of the voyage to the northern port city of Zeltiva. With a great effort, Subira tugged her attention back to landward issues and what Sahreni was saying about the harvest celebrations. "Oh, yes, I'm definitely attending," she began distractedly. "I love betting on the races…" Then the second part of what Sahreni was saying came clear to her, and she stiffened and gaped at him, her words dying on her lips. Did he just ask her to attend the harvest with him? Was he…serious about this courtship business? It was one thing to please their mothers or older female relations by taking a stroll along the deck of a ship and exchanging a few pleasantries with each other. It was another to show up in public at one of the more playful, youthful celebrations of the year upon the arm of a half-breed Eypharian, for all the unmarried nobles and Gilded to see. That would be akin to a full general announcement that they were courting or had been shoved together by the families. Would the others all sneer at her? Would they think she was lowering herself simply by being near Sahreni? Subira's brows knit together irritably at this train of thought. Everyone had been sneering at her for years already, calling her a spinster, old maid, never-to-be-wed. A few more whispers wouldn't matter. For that matter, coming on the arm of an Eypharian didn't really matter to her either. For all that she knew in her bones the superiority of the Eypharian race over all others, the man that Subira admired most had only two arms, covered in delicate spiderwebs of scars. Yet, with those mere two arms, the human man named Andrick had saved her friend's life last winter and fought off a shark while armed withonly a dagger. He had courage, steadfastness, heroism, all the qualities Subira respected in a man. She would proudly appear on his arm at a celebration without batting an eyelash. Sahreni wasn't Andrick, though. But if it didn't matter what other people thought or how many arms he had… "Sure, I'll go with you," Subira told him, keeping her tone deliberately informal and casual. "You've been good company, so I'm sure you'll make the horse races even more entertaining than usual. At least, from what I've seen, I can trust you to talk about more than just paper and ink, unlike my last potential suitor. And maybe you can slip me a wee word or two about the good horses or riders to place bets on this year, too!" Subira grinned carelessly at him. It would be a risk, yes, attending such a large celebration with him. But that was what she enjoyed about the idea. Perhaps courtship and marriage could be somewhat of an adventure too. She just had no idea how much of a risk, or an adventure, it could be.

[Sahreni]

Sahreni's smile couldn't have been more pleased. All afternoon, he had been taking calculated risks, putting a knife in Subira's hand and resting it against his heart and hoping she would see fit not to run him through. All his life, he had been wearing warm smiles, practicing noble etiquette, telling sly jokes, and charming the guests of the West Winds Villa. It had all been training for moments like these: pivotal circumstances on which he stacked his hopes and the hopes of his House like a fragile house of cards. One wrong move would send it all tumbling down. By some miracle, Subira had accepted Sahreni's invitation to come with him to the Harvest Celebration. She slowly removed the point of her blade from his chest, and he could breathe again. The candid smile he wore was out of both flattery and relief. "Absolutely," he agreed, making a mental note to check on who else would be attending the festival. Some of his cousins might actually know how to ride. "I'll try to procure a decent horse for you, and then hopefully you'll be doing more than gambling." Sahreni's smile turned sharp and teasing. By tradition, as his guest, Subira would be his rider. "Don't worry. Everyone's an amateur. That's the fun of it." Presumably, if Subira was an adept sailor, she had never been on the back of a horse. That was the case for many nobles, who usually filled their lives with tamer pursuits and social thrills, rather than assigning themselves as travelers across the barren deserts of Eyktol. Of course, there were plenty of exceptions, especially among those who managed their own trades. But Sahreni hoped most of them would be long married and therefore not participating. Being an amateur rider on the back of a galloping horse was of course absolutely dangerous, but Subira didn't seem like a stranger to peril. Rather, her older age and long history aboard shallow ships tossed around during storms might make her bolder. "We'll have all morning and the afternoon to size up the competition." Sahreni rather liked the idea of measuring the other guests while they picked apples in the orchard, guessing at who was still unmarried and who would be competing. During the afternoon meal, they could slip themselves into friendly conversation and slyly draw hints out of their demeanor. Sahreni rested one hand on the hilt of his scimitar to steady the weapon as he turned to grip the railing—the bulkhead?—with his other. His eyes followed a small vessel gliding through the bay toward the ocean, boarded with crew and crates. Someone was yelling orders, and pieces of his voice drifted on the air towards them. It was captivating to watch—this was the mechanism behind the foreign trade that sustained the city. "My family occasionally holds a midnight dinner, one of our fond traditions. There will be one the night before the celebration. It's exclusive to West Wind nobles and just a few guests. I could invite you as mine." They were wonderfully tame and quiet gatherings, where conversation was less a game and more for relaxation and solidifying bonds. Sahreni was not always invited, especially when his father's wife Iseret was in attendance. If he brought a guest, however, Sehebre and Meripe would no doubt make sure he was expected. Sahreni allowed himself a small smile, knowing he was fortunate to have them. As if answering a Mindspoken cue, Sahreni heard his grandmother call his name. He tried not to look relieved. This meeting was going well, but Ovek would only work in the halfblood's favor for so long. Better to stop while he was ahead. He turned fully to Subira. "Time to leave, I'm afraid. Hejdi Meripe does not like to be kept waiting long." Contrasting to his earlier gesture, he took a step forward and offered to let Subira take his arm. "I will walk you back down the gangplank, unless you'd prefer to stay aboard." The box meant for carrying the spyglass was left abandoned on one of the khnor's oar benches. It was always meant to be a part of the gift. Sahreni had enjoyed the symmetry of having two precious things accompanied by a beautiful vessel. OOCSorry for the wait. This reply was a bit of a stumper! But I think it's a good place to end the thread.

[Colombina]

Meripe and Sitra waited in an impromptu sitting area, balancing on light stools provided by mindful slaves. After Sitra had made adequate apologies, they braided charmed conversation and commentary together. Cooled mint tea was brought in narrow glasses, allowing them a polite excuse to say nothing in spans. While her daughter and the West Wind were still making a pavane around the ship, Sitra stopped sipping her tea to watch them. She dared believe it was going well. Oh Subira, believe in the potential I see. Her daughter deserved more than a bastard no matter what the other houses thought, but the boon this one brought was unlike any other suitor. Subira had desired a ship and the sea more than a proper husband, and now she would get her wish. "He is very gracious, Meripe," Sitra began, "But what is his temperament?" Meripe caught the apprehensive look in the East Winder's once lethal gaze. Sitra had been a waiting tiger in her youth, it was impossible to forget the furor around her courtship. Meripe answered after adequate pause. "Accommodating. He does what is asked of him, and he does it with grace and intelligence." Sitra's tone became a bit more aggressive. "I see that, but what of his personality?" "Reserved," Meripe said gently, proving herself the more courteous of the two, "He treats servants well, keeps from dalliances and shows affection to his much younger half-sister." "A model of a fine noble," Sitra said, but the splay of her hands implied both admiration and fulfilled expectation. What else was he to be? Between Subira and Sahreni, the bastard would have been the better politician. "Look there Sitra," Meripe made a gesture that could imply nothing or a guide to the eyes. "She seems pleased by his gift. It was one he chose himself. The West Wind blood is strong enough to overcome much." Sitra smiled and hoped. The elder women stood when the couple descended the short gangplank. Subira who seemed fine moments prior, was shedding color with every step. Sitra bristled at the change, but Meripe consoled her. "If he is clever, he has invited her to both the horse race and a midnight dinner," a sphinx smile, "You would recall both of those and how daunting they might seem." Sitra laughed despite the look on her daughter's face, "She and I choose different places for our fear." A Sitra of decades prior flashed in her feline eyes, "I never quailed." Sitra faced the pair and began the small ceremonies of departure. "I thank the West Winds for their visit and for showing the courtesy for which they are known." "And I praise the South Winds for the artistry shown this vessel," Meripe answered. "Good harvests." "Fine winds." And Ovek's blessing on them, thought both.