They were further south than they'd ever been in a Summer.
Perhaps a little higher than in line with Ravok, Naia figured. They'd usually hold off until Autumn to come to such a region, when it was too inhospitable for life and work to carry on in comfort in their usual northern waters.
The breeze was warm and the sun hot, several of the older Svefra already boasting cracked and weathered skin. "Naia, Naia," sung a voice, before sweaty hands eclipsed her vision, the culprit tugging Naia backwards and almost falling the plucky young Svefra from her perch. “Guess who?”
“Mi-la,” She bit back, drawing out the syllables something fierce, removing the hands with a grin before she pulled herself forward, straightening her clothes and debating which could be discarded as sweat of her own broke on her neck. “Reason?” She asked, straight and to the point as she always was.
“Firstly,” Mila continued, drumming her hands on the wood either side of Naia’s thighs. “You can get off of the water barrel.”
“Why?”
There was a laughed mixed with a sigh, a lilt of frustration poisoning the sweetness of her tone. The heat was taking its toll on everyone, it seemed. “Because we are need of water in the kitchens, and they’ve been up here too long.”
Naia kept her gaze on the horizon, Syna not nearly at her Zenith, but already wishing for dusk to hit, when Zulrav’s zephyrs were cooler and the light of the moon softer. “There are other barrels,” she threw an absent gesture towards the two stormwater drums, recently capped and filled from the last rains.
“Seger wants you.”
“Why?”
The woman had enough, then, and took Naia by the waist and yanked her off, giggles erupting from the two and Naia writhed playfully in her grasp. “You say you wish to learn, and when we have time and space to teach you are stubborn and difficult,” Mila laughed, lowering her blood daughter to the ground with a graceful thud, “Now, off with you. Just you today.” The look she gave was of mock disgust. "You don't want to practice with those boys."
“When Laviku gives me the will,” she said, making no effort to pull herself up from her sprawled position on the floor, at least not until Mila made play and joke as she acted as though she was fully prepared to trod on the youngster should she not move. “Our Lord father has bestowed upon me the energy to act,” She rung out, hand to her heart and grin wicked, rolling to the side as she cleared the way for Mila to carry on with her duties.
“Mila, don’t waste your breath,” The words came from a new source, thick in accent and coarse for a woman, Lia Talassa making her way by with her usual swagger and crooked grin, “Let Naia learn the hard way what happens to those that get in the way on a ship. I’m sure a lesson that comes with pain will ingrain quicker in that skull of hers.”
Perhaps a little higher than in line with Ravok, Naia figured. They'd usually hold off until Autumn to come to such a region, when it was too inhospitable for life and work to carry on in comfort in their usual northern waters.
The breeze was warm and the sun hot, several of the older Svefra already boasting cracked and weathered skin. "Naia, Naia," sung a voice, before sweaty hands eclipsed her vision, the culprit tugging Naia backwards and almost falling the plucky young Svefra from her perch. “Guess who?”
“Mi-la,” She bit back, drawing out the syllables something fierce, removing the hands with a grin before she pulled herself forward, straightening her clothes and debating which could be discarded as sweat of her own broke on her neck. “Reason?” She asked, straight and to the point as she always was.
“Firstly,” Mila continued, drumming her hands on the wood either side of Naia’s thighs. “You can get off of the water barrel.”
“Why?”
There was a laughed mixed with a sigh, a lilt of frustration poisoning the sweetness of her tone. The heat was taking its toll on everyone, it seemed. “Because we are need of water in the kitchens, and they’ve been up here too long.”
Naia kept her gaze on the horizon, Syna not nearly at her Zenith, but already wishing for dusk to hit, when Zulrav’s zephyrs were cooler and the light of the moon softer. “There are other barrels,” she threw an absent gesture towards the two stormwater drums, recently capped and filled from the last rains.
“Seger wants you.”
“Why?”
The woman had enough, then, and took Naia by the waist and yanked her off, giggles erupting from the two and Naia writhed playfully in her grasp. “You say you wish to learn, and when we have time and space to teach you are stubborn and difficult,” Mila laughed, lowering her blood daughter to the ground with a graceful thud, “Now, off with you. Just you today.” The look she gave was of mock disgust. "You don't want to practice with those boys."
“When Laviku gives me the will,” she said, making no effort to pull herself up from her sprawled position on the floor, at least not until Mila made play and joke as she acted as though she was fully prepared to trod on the youngster should she not move. “Our Lord father has bestowed upon me the energy to act,” She rung out, hand to her heart and grin wicked, rolling to the side as she cleared the way for Mila to carry on with her duties.
“Mila, don’t waste your breath,” The words came from a new source, thick in accent and coarse for a woman, Lia Talassa making her way by with her usual swagger and crooked grin, “Let Naia learn the hard way what happens to those that get in the way on a ship. I’m sure a lesson that comes with pain will ingrain quicker in that skull of hers.”
