Flashback Ship And Chips

[Vanari]

Spring, Day 34, 507 AV Standing alone at the stern, Vanari closed her eyes as a salty breeze rushed past her, breathing in as much of the sea as she could. Partly because of the incredible exhilaration at finally leaving for distant shores, and partly because she knew this would be her last peaceful moment of her seaward journey. The sky overhead was fresh and blue, perfectly clear without a blemish to be seen for leagues and leagues around. Gulls soared noisily overhead, and for once the girl did not mind their incessant chatter. This is what freedom tasted like, and she was going to savor every moment of it. To all those she had left behind at home, she was Vee--the eldest of Voria's well-known legacy, the quiet one, the obedient one. Vee, who was occasionally eccentric and ill-mannered but always worked her hardest at her craft, who was avoided by most of the other boys because of her abnormal height for her kind. Vee, the one who could always be counted on to do the right thing, to bear her responsibilities as a good daughter should, to go above and beyond the call of duty for the well being of her kin. Vee, the one who stayed home and never, ever did anything crazy. Well, to the ice with them. Now she was Ari--the tall, pretty boy with a nice smile and outrageous tales thrilling enough to hook any swarthy, veteran sailor. Ari, the mysterious, the close-booked, the soon to be vagrant. An adventurer with a past no one really knew, and no one really cared to question. He might look a bit young, but he's as hardy as they come and never afraid to pitch in with a strong, capable hand. Where Vee was anchored to a doomed life of stale marriage and endless winter, Ari was free as the gulls shrieking above. Her spirits soared so high in that moment she could have shrieked herself, but knew better than to draw unnecessary attention to her already less-than-manly guise. No longer expected to be a certain thing or do anything one certain way, or confined to paths carved only by those who had preceded her, forcing her to stress day after day how to outdo her own ancestors. No longer finding the need each morning as she woke to battle a perennial war with the elements themselves; how blissful it was to wake up to warm, merry Syna, to wear loose tunics and trousers, to burst from her door without it getting jammed in half her height's worth of snow. And, most importantly of all, no longer would she be categorized as boring, forgettable, or nice. Gods, how she hated being called that last one. No, she was a new person now. A new me, Vanari echoed inside her own head, marveling at the ease with which she could now believe this. Back in that dingy old boarding room she had stayed in near the docks, the young Vantha had taken a pair of shears and resolutely chopped off most of her long, traditional braid. She barely felt a thing as the meticulously plaited braid thunked onto the dusty floorboards. If anything, she swore she felt lighter for it, as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She had to trim her own hair to the best of her ability to make it look less ugly and conspicuous, but in the end the girl was more than pleased. It didn't matter if she wasn't beautiful--she would likely never be that--but what did matter was that she had chosen to look this way. Unhampered by ancient traditions, released from the unrelenting pressure of prying eyes and judgmental faces she had known all her life. No more being afraid of whispers behind her back, or not being able to attract a suitable husband, or worrying she would never live up to her mother's standards. This was her one and only shot at glory, and she was going to let nothing stand in her way of grabbing it by the reins and riding it till she could ride no more. She was going to be-- The ship had been in motion for some time, and she'd been holding in the nausea for half a bell now. Then it lurched forward, rolling over a particularly large wave. Vanari ran to the rails, leaned over, and upended her breakfast into the Suvan Sea. Morwen, how she wished she had any sea legs at all.

[Vanari]

Vanari backed away from the rails on wobbily knees. It was always like this any time she tried to travel by ship--the few times she had been on the sea as a child were filled with memories of relentless nausea and watching whatever she tried to put into her stomach end up floating away on salty waters, one way or the other. She wiped her mouth against her sleeve and groaned. How was she supposed to survive an exodus more than a few days long? "No sea legs at all, eh child?" The girl whipped her head around, embarrassed that someone had witnessed her moment of weakness. As she caught sight of the speaker, however her initial feelings of resentment transformed into ones of surprise and awe. For, standing a good three or four heads taller than her and covered head to toe in glossy fur was none other than a full fledged Jamoura, complete with a peculiar, dappled sort of pattern on its coat--evidence most likely that he or she had recently changed it to better match the environment. The Jamoura chuckled at her reaction. The sound was deep, so deep it seemed to resonate through the Vantha's nausea-wracked body. "Don't worry, I am used to it. My name is Lera, pleased to meet you. May I ask what your name is, and from whence you hail?" It took a moment for Vanari to collect her thoughts, but she managed to clear her throat and answer, "I, um...my name is Ari, and I come from the wintry lands of Avanthal. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lera. What brings you aboard this--" Vanari squeezed her eyes shut as the ship lurched once more, swallowed, and then continued, "--aboard this fine vessel." She tried to smile, but she imagined the resulting effect was less than pleasant, and that her entire face must be some ghastly shade of nauseated green. Lera laughed in the strange way of her kind, the image paired with the rumbling sound at once familiar and alien. When the Jamoura spoke, she did so slowly and carefully, each word imbued with meaning and conviction that Vanari suspected humans often rushed past in their haste to reach the end of a sentence. "I have few friends on my journeys, and I see that you suffer. Perhaps we can come to some kind of accord, should I teach you how to fight the sickness. What say you?" This was probably the last thing the Vantha expected, but she was in no position to pick and choose. She was starting to feel deathly ill and knew it would only get worse. So, what use was there in deliberating? "If you can cure me of this wretched sickness, then you can count me as a friend for life."

[Vanari]

Lera gave another one of her low, rumbling laughs. "Good, shall we get started right away?" Vanari nodded, careful not to bob her head too hard for fear of incurring another bout of nausea. The Jamoura's leathery lips stretched into what she could only assume to be a smile. "Wait for me here, I need to retrieve some items. While I am gone, try to sit down and clear your mind." Before she could ask any questions, Lera turned and loped away. Vanari sighed, then did as she was told, sitting down with her legs crossed and trying her best not to think too much about the situation as a whole. For a moment, she wondered where someone of Lera's size even stayed aboard the ship--did she sleep on the decks, or had she really attempted to squeeze into one of the tiny cabins. She was lost in the midst of such curiosities when Lera's distinct footsteps could be heard thumping their way back to where the girl sat. When the Jamoura finally came into view, Vanari saw that she was holding two ordinary cushions and a plain looking box. "Here, please sit on one of these." The girl accepted on of the cushions and placed it under her. She had to admit, it was infinitely nicer to sit on something softer than the wooden planks. "And eat one of these. Your empty stomach will distract you soon." Intrigued, Vanari looked inside the box and saw it was filled with what looked like flat, fried pieces of bread. "I call them 'chips', as they remind me in color and texture of chips of wood. Please, do try one. They are quite good." The girl smiled politely, took a chip out of the box, and bit gingerly into it. Her eyes widened--it was good! Her earlier convictions of them being fried were wrong; they seemed to have been dried instead, though what exactly she was eating she still had no idea. Well, if it didn't kill her by nightfall, she figured she ought to be more or less alright. "Thank you, it is indeed quite good," she smiled in earnest, her accent still noticeable but vastly improved over the years. "What, may I ask, exactly is it made of?" Lera shrugged, the roll of her massive shoulders meant to be a gesture of uncertainty but appearing much more intimidating than intended. "I do not know what to call it in the common tongue. It is something our kind enjoy, though it is not usually prepared in such a manner." The Jamoura encouraged Vanari to take a second piece, then set the box aside as she settled onto her own cushion, which was considerably bigger and wider. "Now, we may begin. First, we will meditate. Seasickness is mostly in the mind; we shall drive it out through peaceful reflection. Follow my lead." Having given up on prying more answers out of Lera, the girl did as instructed. She breathed in deep along with the Jamoura, exhaled slowly, the closed her eyes. "You must come to understand that you are not sick. You merely think you are. In order to do this, you must cleanse your mind of fear and doubt. Picture something white, and focus on it, letting it expand in your mind's eye." Vanari immediately pictured the snowscape of her home, imagining an endless stretch of ice and snow rolling out for leagues and leagues all around. Sometimes, trees or rocks or houses tried to plant themselves within the whiteness, but she banished them systematically, until only snow was left. It was difficult at first, but slowly she managed to grasp the hang of it, loosening the reigns on her thoughts and allowing herself to relax in a sea of calm.

[Vanari]

"Good," came Lera's resonant voice. "Now, we must relax our bodies, limb by limb, muscle by muscle. Let us start with the face and the neck. In peaceful silence, Vanari followed the Jamoura's instructions. First, let her jaw hang all the way, her eyelids loosen to fall naturally over her eyes, her mouth to completely relax. Then, she let her head sway a little from side to side, making sure her neck was loose as well. Next, came the shoulders. This was the most dramatic difference--the girl hadn't even been remotely aware of how much tension was trapped in that area. Her bodily noticeably relaxed as she forced herself to stop squeezing her shoulders together. Once that was achieved, her arms came after. Then her hands, fingers, spine, legs, feet, and even toes. It was an extremely slow and meticulous process, but it effectively put her in a relaxed and trancelike mode. Focusing on her body also forced her to exist solely in the present, and to think of little else besides getting her muscles to fall into the natural, inactive states. "With our bodies at rest, we can open ourselves to peace and goodwill. Allow both to seep into your skin and your bones, to travel all the way to your mind." By now, their physical journey was well underway, the ship rocking and swaying which ever way the seas deemed fit. But, their psychological journey had only just begun, and it was all that the Vantha cared for in that moment. For the first time in her life, her mind thought absolutely nothing of the lurching of the ship, and her body remained free of its usual nauseating reactions to the sea's rolling motions. "Just allow your mind to be, to exist, to expand along with all that we are connected to. In ourselves, we each carry a piece of the universe, of truth, of life, of all things past, present, and future." Vanari felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into the trance, becoming less and less concerned with her physical circumstances until all that was left was the vastness within which her mind dwelled. In this moment of utter stillness and serenity, she felt something strange happen to her awareness. It was like it was drifting closer and closer to something so profound, so absolute it would change her very beliefs, all her views on life and truth, with a mere, momentary touch. Sometimes, when she was younger and sat by herself in the barren snowscape of Taldera, she would feel something similar. There was something so infinite and yet undeniable definite about the largeness and perfection of nature. If she sat there long enough, she could swear her mind would begin to expand, and that she would come ever nearer to what she could only describe as true enlightenment.

[Vanari]

But, as always, that infinite realm of absolutes and all-knowledge remained just outside of her grasp. She could almost--almost--touch it, and then just like that it would vanish, replaced instead with the loud, obnoxious shouting of their grizzly bear of a captain. "ALL HANDS ON DECK!" Vanari's eyes burst open as swarthy sailors of all shapes and sizes surged forward from every door, hatch, and corner of the ship. Some even dropped from above, swinging down by ropes or scrambling down the mast like agile squirrels. The few passengers onboard also emerged, though more slowly, whispering amongst themselves as to what could be going on. Captain Crabbe paced back and forth at the bow, muttering angry curses to seemingly no one. Vanari and Lera shared a confused look, then unraveled themselves from their meditative states, stretching out their limbs and pushing the cushions to the side along with the box of chips. "What do you think is wrong?" the girl whispered as they edged nearer to the assembled crew, unsure if they were privy to the captain's news. Lera shrugged her impressive shoulders again. "I have not the faintest clue. Let us go closer and see what is happening." Together, they inched nearer, their ears straining against the sound of waves crashing against the hull and wind blowing through the sails. No longer plagued incessantly by seasickness, Vanari was for the first time since stepping aboard the ship able to appreciate its majesty. She had picked the sturdiest ship she could find for her first real journey across the Suvan Sea, and hadn't counted on it being quite so beautiful to behold. Her favorite part of the ship was a little monkey someone had attached to the mast; it was eccentric and not likely practical, but it added a touch of whimsical humor not oft found aboard large vessels. That, and it was so lovingly carved--Vanari pictured in her head how the artist must have spent his or her days working, sitting in some briny nook with a knife and block, whittling the time away as they dreamed of warm, dry things. "Oy, you there!" Vanari blinked rapidly, then turned to look around her. Captain Crabbe was pointing straight at her, but somehow her mind fought against acknowledging the attention, scrambling to put two and two together. "M-me? Sir?" "Aye, you lad. What did you say your name was?" The Vantha gulped. "Um, Ari, sir." Captain Crabbe stuck his pipe in his mouth, sucked deep, and squinted ambiguously at Vanari. "Well, here's the situation, laddie. Some petchin' , lowborn scum of an idiot--" He slid his squinty-eyed gaze sideways, and one of the sailors cowered beneath it. "--forgot to buy us our obligatory barrel 'o rum while we were at port. And that puts us in a right, sour mood, don't it, boys?" The rest of the sailors growled, and for half a tick Vanari was sure that poor fellow who was supposedly responsible would get thrown off the ship right then and there. "Fortunately for said lowborn scum of an idiot, I have me an emergency chest 'o whiskey, which I think ought to suit the occasion just fine." The crew burst in enthusiastic, and Captain Crabbe waved his pipe around irritably to quiet them down. "However, seein' as how this won't be a short sort of journey, we have too much time and too little whiskey. So, for our first night, I say we have us a little bit of entertainment. And if I remember correctly, you said somethin' about telling the best petchin' stories anyone within ten leagues has ever heard." The Captain leered at Vanari, as did the rest of the crew. There was a low murmur that rose from everyone aboard, the sound a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and even incredulity. Suddenly, she began to regret having coached herself prior to arrangement to do whatever necessary to secure her place on the ship. "So, laddie, hows about provin' you aren't just a waste of time and space aboard my ship?"

[Vanari]

The girl's eyes darted from captain to sailors to passengers to Lera then back to captain. They wanted her to perform? Here? Now? She tried to stay calm, struggled to keep her tongue smooth, but the words that tumbled from her mouth were both pitiful and graceless. "M-me? Right now?" "Aye, you, right now," Captain Crabbe growled, his one good eye glaring at her with undisguised disapproval. "Don't be wastin' our time stuttterin', boy. Ya can, or ya can't. Take yer pick laddie." Vanari gave herself five whole ticks to feel genuinely, mind-numbingly afraid. A shuddering breath escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. Five, four, three, two, one. She opened them again, but this time they were gleaming with a bright, mischievous green, and the wayward grin splitting her face in two all but welcomed the magnitude of the Captain's challenge. "Alright, you asked for it," she shrugged, then leaped without warning onto a nearby crate, sweeping one hand over her newfound audience in a grand, theatric gesture. "Come and gather, then, friends and salty sailors, for a tale unfit for gentle ears and feeble minds." She may not have had the luxury of a proper stage, nor the benefits of preparation and practice, but at the very least she could take advantage of the element of surprise. Even without heavy curtains and a motionless floor, she could still hook her audience with a single line. "Somewhere drifting out on the briny seas is a woman, soaked to the bone, her long, dark hair fanning out like a funeral shroud around her. She clutches onto the only part of her vessel she had managed to hold onto--the lifeless body of her first mate, who had dived in only moments before to save her from being dragged under the waves." There were a few snide remarks on the competence of a woman as captain, but Captain Crabbe silenced the dissenting sailors with glaring ease. The rest, however, were properly hooked, eagerly anticipating how the story would unravel. "Her foot had gotten caught in the chaos, you see, and the barrel of fish was pulling her down fast. And then he was there, splashing beside her, diving down to reach the barrel and rope. He used every last breath to free her, before his lungs could drink only water and he could do more except sink. The Captain had dragged him up with her, tried desperately to save him, but to no avail. He was gone, and she was alone, floating aimlessly on open waters as she watched her ship, her life, sink to the bottom of the Suvan Sea." There was a moment of terrible silence as sailors and Captain alike felt their eyes grow warm, imagining what life would like without their home, their livelihoods. "On and on she drifted...for chimes, then for bells, then finally for days until she swore she could hold herself afloat no longer. That's when she saw it! The telltale shape and color of sand, of shore! She screamed with a mighty effort and kicked her feet, pushing both her and her first mate towards shore. Tears streamed and mixed with salty waters, her hand clutched painfully to the shirt of her truest friend and companion. And, just when she thought she could kick no more, she found herself and the corpse of her first mate pushed onto sweet, sweet sand. She wept harder and, with sheer effort only will can fuel, dragged them both out of the water onto shore. There she lay for what felt like eternity, until she could finally find strength to carry on once more."

[Vanari]

Vanari moved to a different crate now, as though shifting between sea and land, and her audience's eyes followed with rapt attention. "She buried her first mate the next day, unable to do more than lift a few sticks and light a fire that night. It was an eerie and strange sort of place, with leaves as big as her head and air so sticky she could almost taste it. The captain was lucky. All around her seemed to be things she could eat--plants, fruits, mushrooms. She was cautious one, though, and watched closely what the animals around her chose to eat and what they tended to avoid. Most of these creatures were far too bizarre to her foreign eyes for her to even begin to guess how to trap one, so instead she bided her time, observed them with an intensity lent only by the lowest depths desperation." The girl bent to pick up a stray apple that had rolled across the deck, then turned it this way and that as though perplexed by what it might be. "The first fruit the captain saw being eaten was red as an apple, but round as an orange. Some strange, hairless beast had been munching on them, aiming only for the fruit and none of the leaves. So, once the creature had one, she snuck forth and plucked a few for herself. Already dancing on the brink of her sanity from starvation, she bit into it without much hesitance." Vanari took a large bite out of the apple, which was a bit mealy but she managed to chew it as though it was the tastiest thing she had ever eaten in her whole life. Once she swallowed the mealy apple bits, her face lit up with wonder. "Oh, how glorious did it taste! It was the juiciest, sweetest, most succulent thing she had ever bitten into. The fruit's liquids trickled down her chin, and she found herself weeping. There were tears of joy, of wonderment, and of sorrow for all that she had lost. The captain allowed herself this one moment of weakness, then she dried her eyes, ate the rest of the fruit, and harvested a few more to take back to her makeshift camp. Before long, she grew more and more comfortable traversing the strange island. Since she had nothing but time, she did much exploring, learning which plants to pick from, which to avoid, and what types of creatures tolerated her presence. Her eyes grew wilder, her hair more tangled, her clothes more tattered. Within a season, she could easily be mistaken for a savage inhabiting the island. And, well, for all intents and purposes, she might as well have been."

[Vanari]

Vanari was sitting down on the crates now, her chin propped on her hand, the half eaten apple resting steadily in her other. She took on a stern gaze and looked out onto the sea, melding subtly into the role of the captain-turned-savage. "Every morning, she would look out from the shore, hoping against hope that some speck could be seen out on the horizon. A ship-shaped speck, to be specific. There never was one and she grew rather wearing of the anticipation, but it had become a habit now, and so every day when the sun rose she would emerge from her makeshift home and stare out into the empty seas. She would have lost all sense of time, had she not decided from the very first day to mark a tree with each passing day. When she built better shelters, she would transfer the marks to a closer tree, and eventually when she discovered the cave she decided to make more permanent marks on the stony walls. It was in the midst of her marking a new day, the chalky stone scritch-scratching away against the cave walls, when she heard a strange sound. No, wait, many sounds. Like...voices...from the back of the cave!" Vanari leaped down from the crates, earning a gasp of shock from some of the audience, who backed away to make space as she crouched low and circled around the heap of boxes, as though following something only she could hear. The half-bitten apple lay somewhere on the planks, forgotten. "Was there someone there? Were there perhaps other inhabitants of the island, or--gods be good--other...survivors? The captain didn't even stop to consider danger or black magics afoot. She had been alone for so long, so hopeless in her situation, that she would have given anything, anything at all, for some sign that she was not wholly doomed. She picked up a stick, dipped it impatiently into her recently built fire, and walked towards the hushed whispers beckoning her from the inky darkness of the cave's unexplored depths. They taunted her, teased her, close enough to hear but always too far to make out exactly what they were saying. Her slow walk quickened to a more desperate scramble as she picked her way over rocks and crevices. Several times she almost slid on loose stones but she caught herself each time, scolding herself angrily for wasting time and giving the voices a chance to travel further away. On and on she went, paying no heed to how far behind she had left any semblance of direction or landmarks, should she decide at any point she would want to turn around. The former captain pressed on like a madwoman, her eyes feverish, her throat dry from all the panting and exertion she was putting herself through. The stick, being no proper torch, was only half as long as it was before. Soon, she would be without light. In the dark. Alone. Somehow, such thoughts drove her so far past her loneliness induced desperation that she forgot all caution completely. She dashed forward, leaping over rocks and gaps, stumbling forward as though she was being chased. As though her life depended on it. The stick in her hand alternated between flaring and faltering as air rushed by, growing dangerously close to its death. Any moment now, it was going to either sputter out of existence or burn so low it would scorch her flesh. And then she fell. She landed with a cry of pain on her knees and hands, her torch clacking down on the rocks and dying completely. It was there that the woman wept. She had no more options. No more energy. No more will. She was alone so deep in the caves it made her afraid even to think about it, surrounded by darkness, with no food or water. And that's when the voices burst to life beside her."

[Vanari]

Vanari jumped back as if startled, clutching at her ears and grimacing in pain. "They were so loud, too loud! What were they saying? She could barely make out the words. They sounded something like...more...no, door? Door...sleep...keep! Door keep...walking... She opened her eyes again and slowly uncovered her ears. There was nothing but silence, and darkness. All she could hear was the heaviness of her own breathing. No more whispers, no more voices. Shakily, the captain got to her feet, wondering what in the seven hells would a door be doing in the middle of a petching cave. But, even without the intrusion of the strange voices, it wasn't as though she had much of a choice. So, on she walked, stumbling now and then but for the most part making better progress than she initially believed possible without so much as a hint of light. It was rather maddening, traveling like that for what seemed to be an endless series of bells. She had no sense of direction or danger, and most infuriatingly of all of progress Ocassionally she would bump into a solid expanse of stone she could only assume was a wall, but otherwise she had little to nothing in way of landmarks or guidance. She stunned her toe once. It was painful and made her curse, but it also made her feel more alive because of her anger and frustration. So, she heartily thanked the rock she could not see that had so generously reinvigorated her, and then pressed on, ever determined not to give up and give in. The face of her first mate continued floating into view, and after a few more of these consecutive hallucinations she took them to be real. The captain spoke to him as though he was alive and well, telling him of her hardships and triumphs on the island, laughing every now and then at things he would have said, jokes he would have made. And then, as sudden as Syna's rays breaking through a terrible storm, she found herself awash in bright light and her feet splashing in cool water. She fell down on her knees and drank greedily, having never remembered feeling so thirsty in her life. She must have been walking for at least seven or eight bells to be so parched. She looked up, blinded at first by the intense whiteness of the light, but gradually it grew to be bearable. Blinking, the captain could see it was some kind of natural opening in the cave, though it was much too high to climb through without a rope or ladder. She looked around frantically, searching for some way to reach the opening.

[Vanari]

The Vantha paced around the crates, looking up now and then in consternation, chewing her lips as she seemed to be wracking her brains for a way to reach her only exit to freedom. "The pale light of Syna's morning rays cast an ethereal sort of glow to the cavern. Drops of water covered the various stones that protruded in odd, pointy shapes up towards the ceiling and down towards the pool. Even in her delirious state, the captain couldn't help but take the time to appreciate its beauty, evn if it very well may be her eventual tomb and shrine. Such thoughts drove away the last of her distractions. She sucked in a breath and began climbing up one side of the cavern at random, wiping her hands every now and then to rid them of the dewy water that coated every surface of the stones. Once, she almost slipped, her hand struggling to find purchase on a particularly small and slick rock. But she acted quick and switched to a neighboring protrusion instead, pushing against it instead trying to grab it. Her fast reaction saved her from a dangerous fall, but it also forced her to admit there was no other way up beyond where she currently stood. Sighing, she carefully picked her way back down, sliding the last few feet when the rocks became too slick and her hands too weak. The captain looked up and around her forlornly; what other options were left to her? And then, for a second time that day, fate surprised her. A voice called from overhead, quickly followed by a length of rope tumbling down from the gap in the ceiling. It hit her right in the face, startling her so bad she forgot to yell in pain. The captain looked at the rope in her hands. Not bothering to question her luck, she pulled it around her waist, made a secure knot that came easily to any sailor as seasoned as she, and gave the length a good tug. Someone above shouted again, and this time a dozen voices answered. Together, the pulled and pulled, lifting her bit by bit from the cold, wet stones. It was a slow goodbye, but she wished happy riddance to the cavern falling slowly away from her feet, until only light surrounded her and the cavern walls impropsned her no more. She looked up, and there he was. Her first mate.