Speech | 35th of Winter, 515 AV | Thoughts
Naia preferred to work at night, or early evening, as was the case.
People were merrier, surprisingly quieter, and Syna’s harsh sun gave way to the cool glow Leth. The stars were out, too, burning brightly across the dimming night sky. It made her miss the sea, not the closed bay of the docks or sheltered coasts, but boundless, wide, open oceans. When she was a child the isolation of the Northern Oceans was terrifying, and she dreamed of a day when she was in the Suvan Sea, when one Svefra could not travel for too long without meeting a sister. Things changed.
She halted her descend of The Mischeif’s riggings, and let her sights search the sky for constellations in the cooler winter breeze. She only knew of one that she had not rattled off some random name herself, but her memory was thin. It was one belonging to the northern stars, from her strained thoughts. Was something seen in winter, or spring? Was it the marker for North or South? Her tongue wet her lips as her gaze fell Northwards, the early evening meant that a sliver of Syna’s light was still brightening the skies, and though she was falling fast, the difficulty in the viewing of the stars was enough to make the woman impatient for night.
All the major work of the day was done, she reasoned, and she was the last sailor to remain on the nets, and so she hung, waiting, watching as more and more shapes and lights came into view overhead, and as the dock to her flank too began to lighten and liven with its night patrons. Soon enough she could see shapes within the million planets and stars that dotted the skies, her sights running over crooked lines, uneven rings, and a crude collection she was sure herself as child would have insisted was the form of an Otani.
“Liar Naia,” sung a voice, unmistakably not Klaus, just another deckhand eager to insert himself into a joke he has no right belonging to, “Are we secure?” The Svefra didn’t dignify the man with a verbal response, and instead continued the short venture down, a brisk nod in the man’s general direction when she finally hit deck. She didn’t recognise him, he couldn’t be anyone important. Though, she still considered herself to be new.
So she brushed her shoulders and rubbed her raw hands, taking stock of her new callouses, making every effort to obviously ignore the fellow until he left, a lazy stroll then having the woman as she wound her way into the much cleaner, more pristine parts of the ship’s upper decks. It was one of her better days, she thought. Her hair wasn’t in the worst shape, she sported none of Syna’s red fury, and soon found herself quite confident enough to approach a much better dressed, almost scholarly sailor, or so she deduced from his back, the man standing stiff by a lantern with his nose in a map that was not of any city she had ever seen.
Was it rude to intrude upon a man who huddled over a map by candlelight? Probably. He sat in a common area of an empty deck, however, and therefore, such was fair game. “What chart is that?” The rising of the man’s eyebrows, and the severe crease that then furrowed his brow told her that she’d perhaps crossed a line with her words. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she tried to keep her voice smooth, quite awfully failing to imitate the smooth manners of some of the Alvad born deckhands.
She invited herself for a closer look, just close enough to cause discomfort, too far to read the fine lettering, and saw that the lines that she’d mistaken for streets and roads instead linked spots and dots, and many more were lines that seemed to… mark the three dimensional shape? Was it perhaps a map that marked the topography? Her mouth hung open as her hazed mine tripped over the information, knowing quite well her internal little guess was quite utterly wrong, and thanking Zulrav her thoughts did not leap from her mouth.
“It’s a star chart,” the man’s words were slow and weighted, and it was quite obvious that he spoke readily down to her. Compulsions to let out little white lies to fumble others were something she long decided couldn’t help, and so she ran with them.
“Of course it is,” she frowned. She’d studied astronomy as child, brushed up upon it only briefly since then, but she knew enough to act as though the it was the man who misunderstood her question. “When? Now” she hummed, a short glance to the sky above, “Winter, spring? The stars change in accordance to season, do they not?”
The Svefra was surprised to see the bitter look of the man melt to something more welcoming, and although it meant that conversation would soon be more forthright, her pride received no bolster, other than that drawn from a successful little lie told. “Not just season, but they also vary somewhat by location. But no, no, it seems as though they’re a rough sketch of stars in mid summer, noted in the city of Riverfall,” he gleamed, but no apology came, and Naia felt somewhat validated in her immorality, though taking note of the correction that was given to her. Her pod seemed to have always remained in a comparatively localized area, it would make sense no one bothered to tell her that sometimes travelling great distance could bring new stars, or shift the ones seen. Still, a rather vital little concept remained unmentioned - why did they shift, travel across the night sky as they did?
The sailor willingly departed with the parchment piece, then, and Naia let out a hum. It was an older piece, and holding it towards the lamp showed that some lines were much more faded than others, some of varying colours, and the Svefra supposed that it would make sense that the composition of the piece could spanned years. If one failed to complete mapping it before the stars changed too drastically, it would follow that a year would need to come and pass before it may be completed, “You didn’t make this?”
“No, no,” the man was almost too quick to answer, and soon he gestured to a faded signature, “A most serendipitous purchase.”
Interest was lost in a heartbeat, for a chart of no immediate use was not worth dwelling on. “Seems so,” the Svefra was quick to return the piece, and give the man a vague nod and wave goodnight, hesitating on the steps to a lower deck as she considered her nightly plans.
People were merrier, surprisingly quieter, and Syna’s harsh sun gave way to the cool glow Leth. The stars were out, too, burning brightly across the dimming night sky. It made her miss the sea, not the closed bay of the docks or sheltered coasts, but boundless, wide, open oceans. When she was a child the isolation of the Northern Oceans was terrifying, and she dreamed of a day when she was in the Suvan Sea, when one Svefra could not travel for too long without meeting a sister. Things changed.
She halted her descend of The Mischeif’s riggings, and let her sights search the sky for constellations in the cooler winter breeze. She only knew of one that she had not rattled off some random name herself, but her memory was thin. It was one belonging to the northern stars, from her strained thoughts. Was something seen in winter, or spring? Was it the marker for North or South? Her tongue wet her lips as her gaze fell Northwards, the early evening meant that a sliver of Syna’s light was still brightening the skies, and though she was falling fast, the difficulty in the viewing of the stars was enough to make the woman impatient for night.
All the major work of the day was done, she reasoned, and she was the last sailor to remain on the nets, and so she hung, waiting, watching as more and more shapes and lights came into view overhead, and as the dock to her flank too began to lighten and liven with its night patrons. Soon enough she could see shapes within the million planets and stars that dotted the skies, her sights running over crooked lines, uneven rings, and a crude collection she was sure herself as child would have insisted was the form of an Otani.
“Liar Naia,” sung a voice, unmistakably not Klaus, just another deckhand eager to insert himself into a joke he has no right belonging to, “Are we secure?” The Svefra didn’t dignify the man with a verbal response, and instead continued the short venture down, a brisk nod in the man’s general direction when she finally hit deck. She didn’t recognise him, he couldn’t be anyone important. Though, she still considered herself to be new.
So she brushed her shoulders and rubbed her raw hands, taking stock of her new callouses, making every effort to obviously ignore the fellow until he left, a lazy stroll then having the woman as she wound her way into the much cleaner, more pristine parts of the ship’s upper decks. It was one of her better days, she thought. Her hair wasn’t in the worst shape, she sported none of Syna’s red fury, and soon found herself quite confident enough to approach a much better dressed, almost scholarly sailor, or so she deduced from his back, the man standing stiff by a lantern with his nose in a map that was not of any city she had ever seen.
Was it rude to intrude upon a man who huddled over a map by candlelight? Probably. He sat in a common area of an empty deck, however, and therefore, such was fair game. “What chart is that?” The rising of the man’s eyebrows, and the severe crease that then furrowed his brow told her that she’d perhaps crossed a line with her words. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she tried to keep her voice smooth, quite awfully failing to imitate the smooth manners of some of the Alvad born deckhands.
She invited herself for a closer look, just close enough to cause discomfort, too far to read the fine lettering, and saw that the lines that she’d mistaken for streets and roads instead linked spots and dots, and many more were lines that seemed to… mark the three dimensional shape? Was it perhaps a map that marked the topography? Her mouth hung open as her hazed mine tripped over the information, knowing quite well her internal little guess was quite utterly wrong, and thanking Zulrav her thoughts did not leap from her mouth.
“It’s a star chart,” the man’s words were slow and weighted, and it was quite obvious that he spoke readily down to her. Compulsions to let out little white lies to fumble others were something she long decided couldn’t help, and so she ran with them.
“Of course it is,” she frowned. She’d studied astronomy as child, brushed up upon it only briefly since then, but she knew enough to act as though the it was the man who misunderstood her question. “When? Now” she hummed, a short glance to the sky above, “Winter, spring? The stars change in accordance to season, do they not?”
The Svefra was surprised to see the bitter look of the man melt to something more welcoming, and although it meant that conversation would soon be more forthright, her pride received no bolster, other than that drawn from a successful little lie told. “Not just season, but they also vary somewhat by location. But no, no, it seems as though they’re a rough sketch of stars in mid summer, noted in the city of Riverfall,” he gleamed, but no apology came, and Naia felt somewhat validated in her immorality, though taking note of the correction that was given to her. Her pod seemed to have always remained in a comparatively localized area, it would make sense no one bothered to tell her that sometimes travelling great distance could bring new stars, or shift the ones seen. Still, a rather vital little concept remained unmentioned - why did they shift, travel across the night sky as they did?
The sailor willingly departed with the parchment piece, then, and Naia let out a hum. It was an older piece, and holding it towards the lamp showed that some lines were much more faded than others, some of varying colours, and the Svefra supposed that it would make sense that the composition of the piece could spanned years. If one failed to complete mapping it before the stars changed too drastically, it would follow that a year would need to come and pass before it may be completed, “You didn’t make this?”
“No, no,” the man was almost too quick to answer, and soon he gestured to a faded signature, “A most serendipitous purchase.”
Interest was lost in a heartbeat, for a chart of no immediate use was not worth dwelling on. “Seems so,” the Svefra was quick to return the piece, and give the man a vague nod and wave goodnight, hesitating on the steps to a lower deck as she considered her nightly plans.