Speech | 62nd Spring, 508 AV | Thoughts
The Icebreaker had since floated further South since its last contact with a sister pod- the fun and games and tales regaled enough to prompt Lia Mila to act on the chatter of glory of the White Isle, after the beauty of Abura had been realised. It was far and few between that came the visits to Mura, and though the pod had docked far out and entered the city a number of times before- the few number of visitors allowed in each ferry, and apparent past problems with several of the younger, red blooded men and women and the beautiful Konti women of residence, meant it was rarely anyone other the past Lia and few lucky Svefra brothers and sisters that made the journey.
Although the greater number of pod members liked to think it was Mila's own kindness and love of the White Isle that the decision was made for a near week long stay over, the reality was that of trade. The close affiliation of their divine father Laviku to the Konti meant that there was little trade in the likes of fish and other marine resources, thus eliminating the greater trade that the Whitewater pod was often able to provide.
But the time thus spent south of Ravok meant that stops at the city of Nyka were far more common, and those to Sunberth and Abura - although rare even so – put the pod in a position where there was finally something to offer and barter, and to validate their presence in the city more than that of the mere stocking of few fresh supplies.
Naia’s own excitement was palpable, its welling so far in her gut it was near nausea, the young Svefra beaming with thrill and wonder as she hung on the Lia’s every word and command with less than her usual snide remark. It would have been different if it weren’t a sister race, she thought, the frustration of speaking with those unenlightened folk, whose appreciation for the majesty of the sea was not near enough for her own seaborn and bred taste, not yet small enough to be outweighed by her own curious drive.
The ship was slow in its venture to the docks of the Mura, the looming presence of the Lia telling all and any that there was a time to relax and idle by, and admire the shimmering waters- but they were a son of land if they thought that such could done before she’d acquitted them of work and labour for the day. It didn’t stop the murmurings, however, or the short glances to the glory of the palace like building the rose in the distance, or the beauty of the intricate boats that floated merrily back and forth about the place. “You ever been there?” Naia whispered, feigning hard labour as she fiddled with the knot that fastened one of the least damaging anchors to the railing of the ship.
“’Course,” the brother spat, clearing his throat and straightening his clothing, before standing tall to receive one of the fastening ropes as the crew prepared to slow their speed to the drift of a sea slug. “I’m no child,” he continued, more than happy to point out the grand variance in their age, though Naia herself thought the dig was uncalled for, and she near considered decking the older brother of hers when a whistle came from top end.
Naia found her body jolting at the high pitched sound, not a glance spared to ensure that it was indeed Lia Mila – for it always was – and hurry on with her work at trying to untie the anchor free. A small moment of trepid suffering and a brother soon intervened, unhooking the bane of her existence with little more than a single sweeping motion.
‘I could have done that.’
“Fold the sails!” the Lia boomed, her voice like thunder, blonde hair wild in the strong sea breeze, tone carrying as much authority in her first years as Lia as the prior had in a decade of sweat and blood and fierce dedication. Her commands were met with salutes and cheers of acknowledgment, the men and women quick to work as they sprawled the small ship. A moment passed, and the crew worked like clockwork, Naia perhaps a touch too keen as she stood ready and waiting for the call of the Lia to act on her task. “Lower the anchor!” The command set a shiver through her, and she’d have likely thrown the cast iron anchor out too far had she not such struggle lifting it in the first place.
The lowering of the anchor and the further slowing of the vessel left many a man and woman sighing of cool relief, though Naia herself, with her contributions to the work quite minimal in all respects, was quite quick in her seeking of further docking ropes – more than aware of the fact that it was Mila’s law that none will leave the Icebreaker if she’s not wholly secure. “Here,” she huffed, handing a sister her ropes with as much of an innocent look as she could manage, chest near heaving of pure excitement as she barrelled back and forth about the place, quite obviously pushing her laid back kin to be quick about their work.
It was soon enough that the Lia took her by the arm and planted her in place beside her, ‘tsking’ lightly as the young girl was given a cool glare, before turning to the head of the ship to retake the wheel. “Easy,” whether the words were to herself or the ship, Naia wasn’t sure in the slightest, though she let her mind not dwell on the eccentricities of Whitewater’s Lia, and lent herself to once more learning the process that was coming into dock.
Each man and woman had their own set task and job within the pod, some fastened ropes and others untied them. There was at times a slight variation to routine, sometimes it was a sister who dropped the ramps to the wooden weir, others she switched with a brother and instead took his task of ensuring that the sails were secure. However, Naia’s pod knew not to take actions foolhardy when the slightest slip could sink a ship; in a pod that was so accustomed to seas so rough and temperatures so cold, decades of trial and error had found that they thrived in a place where fluidity was not always the best- in cyclonic winds, and tidal waves, each and every brother and sister had to know their place and purpose.
It was almost an intra-pod tradition of finding one’s place within Whitewater, the harshness one’s upbringing meaning that many were the kind to take to a certain task and learn and master it for dear life, be it navigating the crew through treacherous currents, or being strong and sturdy enough not to fall overboard in the fastening of sails during times of high winds. Naia was soon to find her place- and when she did, it was the pod tattoo that she would be rewarded, the true sign of belonging to the Whitewater Pod, the journey of learning and self-discovery in which prompts many to choose to either pave their own path or fight with family they’d been born to. Should Naia prove to join a sister pod or begin the path to creating her own, the Whitewater pod would once more be open to seeking another young brother or sister.
Words and whispers knocked the Svefra from her thoughts, one of the older women, though no near Lia Mila’s own age, telling others of how long they need to remain docked before their entrance may be assured, and the dampening of Naia’s spirits came fast and hard- all thoughts on pod tradition slipping away as she lamented her apparently far more looming loss.
A groan escaped her lips, and she took seat and rested her head on the railing of the ship, thinking that it’d be bells on end before she’d finally see the glory of the White Isle- to see what those who love the sea such as she have done on land. A light smack on the back of her head left her both bothered and annoyed, drawing her breath as she prepared to grumble at whichever brother or sister it was that had crossed her in a foul mood, catfish caught her tongue the moment her eyes met the Lia’s. “Come, you wish to see the city, no?” the words came out as a challenge, as all that Mila did often would, and it was soon enough that Naia and the larger portion of the crew were marched up towards a building that the Svefra herself could quite easily mistake for some place for the divine – though, her own experience with such splendours were incredibly limited.
Being one of the shorter of her race as was – though she herself liked to think a growth spurt was soon coming – and having those around her equally eager as she, it was nothing more than the backs of brothers and sisters she saw, and the murmurings of the Lia and some other woman. Naia’s sights soon enough took the sky, gaze flitting across the fine make of the room above, and was quick to place bets as to which of her podmates could hit the roof should they run and jump.
Chimes felt like bells and she entertained her own childish thoughts, and the sudden cease of conversation between the Lia and the other near startled her, the sudden chatter that engulfed her podmates taken her much farther by surprise, and it was soon enough that Naia’s feet picked up as she followed suit of those before her- catching such a short, bewildered, glance at the woman whom Mila spot that she was neat caught dead in her tracks.
What was soon the reception was then some corridor, out one door and into the next, outside and around a corner- then it soon turned to a grand gate before Syna's light once more shone directly over her. She was finally in Mura, the city itself. "Brothers and Sisters," the Lia warned, voice raised high enough that those who'd chosen to venture could all hear. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do."
Although the greater number of pod members liked to think it was Mila's own kindness and love of the White Isle that the decision was made for a near week long stay over, the reality was that of trade. The close affiliation of their divine father Laviku to the Konti meant that there was little trade in the likes of fish and other marine resources, thus eliminating the greater trade that the Whitewater pod was often able to provide.
But the time thus spent south of Ravok meant that stops at the city of Nyka were far more common, and those to Sunberth and Abura - although rare even so – put the pod in a position where there was finally something to offer and barter, and to validate their presence in the city more than that of the mere stocking of few fresh supplies.
Naia’s own excitement was palpable, its welling so far in her gut it was near nausea, the young Svefra beaming with thrill and wonder as she hung on the Lia’s every word and command with less than her usual snide remark. It would have been different if it weren’t a sister race, she thought, the frustration of speaking with those unenlightened folk, whose appreciation for the majesty of the sea was not near enough for her own seaborn and bred taste, not yet small enough to be outweighed by her own curious drive.
The ship was slow in its venture to the docks of the Mura, the looming presence of the Lia telling all and any that there was a time to relax and idle by, and admire the shimmering waters- but they were a son of land if they thought that such could done before she’d acquitted them of work and labour for the day. It didn’t stop the murmurings, however, or the short glances to the glory of the palace like building the rose in the distance, or the beauty of the intricate boats that floated merrily back and forth about the place. “You ever been there?” Naia whispered, feigning hard labour as she fiddled with the knot that fastened one of the least damaging anchors to the railing of the ship.
“’Course,” the brother spat, clearing his throat and straightening his clothing, before standing tall to receive one of the fastening ropes as the crew prepared to slow their speed to the drift of a sea slug. “I’m no child,” he continued, more than happy to point out the grand variance in their age, though Naia herself thought the dig was uncalled for, and she near considered decking the older brother of hers when a whistle came from top end.
Naia found her body jolting at the high pitched sound, not a glance spared to ensure that it was indeed Lia Mila – for it always was – and hurry on with her work at trying to untie the anchor free. A small moment of trepid suffering and a brother soon intervened, unhooking the bane of her existence with little more than a single sweeping motion.
‘I could have done that.’
“Fold the sails!” the Lia boomed, her voice like thunder, blonde hair wild in the strong sea breeze, tone carrying as much authority in her first years as Lia as the prior had in a decade of sweat and blood and fierce dedication. Her commands were met with salutes and cheers of acknowledgment, the men and women quick to work as they sprawled the small ship. A moment passed, and the crew worked like clockwork, Naia perhaps a touch too keen as she stood ready and waiting for the call of the Lia to act on her task. “Lower the anchor!” The command set a shiver through her, and she’d have likely thrown the cast iron anchor out too far had she not such struggle lifting it in the first place.
The lowering of the anchor and the further slowing of the vessel left many a man and woman sighing of cool relief, though Naia herself, with her contributions to the work quite minimal in all respects, was quite quick in her seeking of further docking ropes – more than aware of the fact that it was Mila’s law that none will leave the Icebreaker if she’s not wholly secure. “Here,” she huffed, handing a sister her ropes with as much of an innocent look as she could manage, chest near heaving of pure excitement as she barrelled back and forth about the place, quite obviously pushing her laid back kin to be quick about their work.
It was soon enough that the Lia took her by the arm and planted her in place beside her, ‘tsking’ lightly as the young girl was given a cool glare, before turning to the head of the ship to retake the wheel. “Easy,” whether the words were to herself or the ship, Naia wasn’t sure in the slightest, though she let her mind not dwell on the eccentricities of Whitewater’s Lia, and lent herself to once more learning the process that was coming into dock.
Each man and woman had their own set task and job within the pod, some fastened ropes and others untied them. There was at times a slight variation to routine, sometimes it was a sister who dropped the ramps to the wooden weir, others she switched with a brother and instead took his task of ensuring that the sails were secure. However, Naia’s pod knew not to take actions foolhardy when the slightest slip could sink a ship; in a pod that was so accustomed to seas so rough and temperatures so cold, decades of trial and error had found that they thrived in a place where fluidity was not always the best- in cyclonic winds, and tidal waves, each and every brother and sister had to know their place and purpose.
It was almost an intra-pod tradition of finding one’s place within Whitewater, the harshness one’s upbringing meaning that many were the kind to take to a certain task and learn and master it for dear life, be it navigating the crew through treacherous currents, or being strong and sturdy enough not to fall overboard in the fastening of sails during times of high winds. Naia was soon to find her place- and when she did, it was the pod tattoo that she would be rewarded, the true sign of belonging to the Whitewater Pod, the journey of learning and self-discovery in which prompts many to choose to either pave their own path or fight with family they’d been born to. Should Naia prove to join a sister pod or begin the path to creating her own, the Whitewater pod would once more be open to seeking another young brother or sister.
Words and whispers knocked the Svefra from her thoughts, one of the older women, though no near Lia Mila’s own age, telling others of how long they need to remain docked before their entrance may be assured, and the dampening of Naia’s spirits came fast and hard- all thoughts on pod tradition slipping away as she lamented her apparently far more looming loss.
A groan escaped her lips, and she took seat and rested her head on the railing of the ship, thinking that it’d be bells on end before she’d finally see the glory of the White Isle- to see what those who love the sea such as she have done on land. A light smack on the back of her head left her both bothered and annoyed, drawing her breath as she prepared to grumble at whichever brother or sister it was that had crossed her in a foul mood, catfish caught her tongue the moment her eyes met the Lia’s. “Come, you wish to see the city, no?” the words came out as a challenge, as all that Mila did often would, and it was soon enough that Naia and the larger portion of the crew were marched up towards a building that the Svefra herself could quite easily mistake for some place for the divine – though, her own experience with such splendours were incredibly limited.
Being one of the shorter of her race as was – though she herself liked to think a growth spurt was soon coming – and having those around her equally eager as she, it was nothing more than the backs of brothers and sisters she saw, and the murmurings of the Lia and some other woman. Naia’s sights soon enough took the sky, gaze flitting across the fine make of the room above, and was quick to place bets as to which of her podmates could hit the roof should they run and jump.
Chimes felt like bells and she entertained her own childish thoughts, and the sudden cease of conversation between the Lia and the other near startled her, the sudden chatter that engulfed her podmates taken her much farther by surprise, and it was soon enough that Naia’s feet picked up as she followed suit of those before her- catching such a short, bewildered, glance at the woman whom Mila spot that she was neat caught dead in her tracks.
What was soon the reception was then some corridor, out one door and into the next, outside and around a corner- then it soon turned to a grand gate before Syna's light once more shone directly over her. She was finally in Mura, the city itself. "Brothers and Sisters," the Lia warned, voice raised high enough that those who'd chosen to venture could all hear. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do."
