Open Talking To Myself Is Not A Sign Of Madness

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Syka is a new settlement of primarily humans on the east coast of Falyndar opposite of Riverfall on The Suvan Sea. [Syka Codex]

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Talking To Myself Is Not A Sign Of Madness

Postby Alyria Riptide on August 10th, 2016, 9:38 pm

Morning, 83rd Day of Summer, 516 AV

Silence.

That's the first thing most people said they noticed when they dove into the ocean after the entry splashes faded. A deep, heavy, foreboding silence that was so quiet it was loud. Deafening. It could induce panic in people who weren't accustomed to it, a feeling no one sitting on the ocean floor should experience. Yet, to those who visited the depths often, the ocean was far from silent. It was rife with whale songs, dolphin clicks, swashing and crashing of thick ocean waves and rushing of deep coastal currents. Some would call it ethereal, submerged in blue and surrounded by the song of the seas.

Then there was the light. Something about how muted sunlight filtered through the ocean, was almost mesmerising and magical. It broke through the depths in streaks and rays that rippled along any surface they touched with a strange net-like effect. Sometimes little particles of sand, or tiny plankton, would stream through these ripples and shimmer like motes of dust caught in an eerily slow breeze. Peaceful, some might call it. Beautiful even.

Between the rays and ripples, deafening silence and bustling Sea songs, in the deeper waters off the shoreline of Syka, a fisher woman moved slowly across the ocean floor in the shimmering, rippled ocean sun rays and the faint whoosh and crash of waves on the surface overhead. She moved along rocks and reef with both hands and feet, occasionally stopping to poke the sand with a toe where it dimpled slightly. A little puff of fine white grain and a quick flick of her foot would produce a small hard shelled mollusk. Dutifully, the fisher woman would collect the creature and pop it in a small fishing net tied into a temporary bag. Around her, the ocean lived. Beautiful rocky reefs housed fish and sea life of various kinds, not to mention the occasional reef shark swimming languidly by - both watching the woman and she watching it. Neither experienced fear of the other, but the woman knew it better to keep a shark in sight. It was the one you didn't see that was the one to fear.

A shadow covered the rays and ripples, leaving a slightly oval shape on the ocean floor. The fisher woman looked up at the shape, and with a gentle ease pushed off the floor, dropping a heavy rock from her free hand as she went. Her long legs kicked with a firm stroke, bare feet pushing her up through the water. Occasionally she would release a few bubbles of air through dusky pink lips, which tickled their way up her face and danced to the surface. Water pulled gently on her thick blonde locks, haphazardly styled with half dreads and carved beads, brushing her shoulderblades as she moved ever up. It was getting close to the end of the day, not quite sunset time but not far off. The light filtering through the water became less muted as she rose towards the oval shape that had cast the shadow. It skimmed like whispered promises across her bare tanned shoulders and arms, and as she finally broke the surface it glinted off the piercings that decorated her nose and ears. With a slight gasp, the young woman drank in the life giving air around her, taking a moment to catch her breath and still her heart. Diving was both a thrill and a pleasure, yet she was no full blood Svefra and no gnosis mark adorned her mixed blood skin, so it was also a skill she was continuing to grow and develop. Her body needed to adapt to the pressure and lack of air, slowly she would build her resilience, but for now it was enough.

Reaching out with long over head strokes, the woman swam towards the shape that had cast the shadow. It was a small casinor, or maybe a large canoe. Either way, it wasn't anything pretty or special. Warn wood, some slightly rough and splintery, with a drawn sail that if opened would reveal many poorly stitched tears. At the stern of the boat was a small alcove, with a heshen cloth covering the opening that lead to a short rickety ladder. At the end of this was the inner hull of the boat, in which there was a small bed and basket of personal belongings. Another basket contained cleaned shells of abalone and oysters, ready to be traded or sold. Finally, a rounded barrel contained some food stuffs. Crusty bread, waxed cheese, dried fish and possibly a nearly empty bottle of fermented fruit cider.

The young blonde reached the hull of the boat, reaching up to grab onto the anchor rope and climb onto the deck. She stood for a moment, squeezing the sea water out of her hair, dressed in a band style heshen top and brown jodhpurs.

"Welcome home Alyria! How did your fishing fare?" She said softly in a mocking tone. Striding across the deck, she dragged a bright purple scarf from the moor ropes on the port side and tied her hair back away from her face with a makeshift headband.

"Oh thanks Alyria! Yeah it was ok. Nothing special." The young mixed blood replied to herself, before sitting down near the bow to open her makeshift string bag and pour out the contents.

"Let's see what we have here." She mumbled to herself, as she began to sort through the catch.
Last edited by Alyria Riptide on September 16th, 2016, 4:06 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Talking To Myself Is Not A Sign Of Madness

Postby Mateo Tidesong on August 11th, 2016, 3:20 pm

Mateo had been scouting around some of the coves between Solitude Isle and Treasure Point for good foraging locations all day, searching for meadows of seagrass in the shallow waters, fields where pen mollusks could grow in sustainable numbers and huge sizes. The weaver’s grandmother had taught him how to harvest their fibrous secretions without killing the creatures, unlike many who also sought to spin golden sea silk, and so he wanted to find a few groups of the mollusks to keep track of and come back to on a regular basis.

He’d finally decided to come and explore the area near Syka after hearing a few descriptions of its climate and stories of its curiosities while trading bolts of freshly woven cloth in Riverfall for supplies in the late spring. Now that the dark-haired weaver had experienced the place, it had the mystery of a properly kept secret and the attractiveness of an underdressed dance partner on a fire lit beach. The warm, shallow water also had plenty of sandy, grassy areas perfect for byssus mollusks, and that had some profitable promises. He was so familiar with the creatures that tuning out the constant buzz of abundant ocean life that teemed around him to search for them specifically wasn't so difficult, basking lazily in Syna’s glaring heat and closing his eyes to concentrate on the extra senses granted by Laviku’s gift. After drifting for a while and deciding on a decent census, Mateo saw the seagrass meadows had begun to give way to reef and stone, taking that as a sign it was time to head back.

Nylo, as was his usual, had been more interested in chasing schools of shiny fish through the clear water than offering any assistance, but as the afternoon waned, both their thoughts had turned to food. And eating it.

So, Mateo stood and stretched, feeling the current like another faint pulse in his ears, a dull tug of movement and direction. He reached for the ties of his mainsail, guiding the comfortable weight of its boom to one side to back the sail with the breeze and pick up a bit more speed than just drifting gently with the movement of the waves against his casinor’s orange-painted hull. The weaver was just about to tighten the sail and shift his weight when he caught sight of the other boat off his bow.

Squinting, he wondered if it was a fisherman’s boat or a salvager, aware that there were treasures around Syka both edible and not. The thought of either were interesting enough and so Mateo tugged his sails tight and shifted the tiller toward the boat instead of back toward the northern shore of the Maw near the Bungaloes where he'd been anchoring most evenings.

The small boat had looked abandoned from a distance—in need of a little paint and care, sails tucked away—and had it not been this far from the small settlement, Mateo wouldn't have given the thing a second thought, but as he drew closer, he could feel the tug of human life above the hum of sea life. There was a woman aboard, still dripping and fresh from the sea, taking stock of what was either a catch or a find.

Letting rope slip through his fingers to slack his sails and slow his casinor before standing, he thought he heard her talking but couldn't see anyone else on board. He couldn't feel anyone else either, but, well, it wasn't his place to judge. He'd been alone at sea before. Clearly, someone was in need of some conversation,

“Hello!” The dark-haired weaver shouted in Common as cheerfully as possible not to startle the stranger, making sure to put on a smile and offer a wave if he was noticed, “Good afternoon!”
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Talking To Myself Is Not A Sign Of Madness

Postby Alyria Riptide on August 12th, 2016, 1:06 pm

Alyria's long fingers brushed over the small pile of sea fare tipped on the deck before her with one hand, whilst the other reached over with fingers extended as far as they could go to hook a small wooden pail from near the railing of the bow. As soon as she made contact, the young woman snatched it to her with a slight slosh of seawater. Picking up each of her bounty one at a time, her keen slate eyes inspected them for quality. A large mollusk, closed firm and tight she plopped straight into the bucket of water. Another one, not quite as large she pushed to the side. Three large abalone and four clams were her main catch of the day, whilst a smaller clutch of about six scallops and an edible sea cucumber were shaping up to be her evening meal. It was however, the decent sized crustacean that tickled her fancy. A medium sized rock lobster, brilliant blue with green stripes all tangled in her makeshift bag. She laughed as she untraveled the underwater insectiod.

"Ha! Look at the claws on you!" She exclaimed, carefully holding the disgruntled crustacean by the thorax and avoiding the large crushing claws that waved about in the light summer sea breeze.

Suddenly a voice sounded off starboard, sounding surprisingly close. Alyria looked up sharply to see a mast and sails. She jumped to her feet, rock lobster still in hand, and walked to the worn railing. There was a man, about her age, with dark curled hair and sea blue eyes, standing on the deck of a modest and well kept casinor. The blonde took in the inky markings along the mans left side and down to his wrist, noting the way the waves in the tattoos seemed alive. Svefra, he was her people. Well, half of her people. And he was smiling and waving. It was contagious.

Turning her friendliest smile at the stranger, Alyria waved with the rock lobster.

"Hello!" She called out warmly, gesturing to the casinor with her lobster.

"Fine ship you have there. Quiet sail too, I didn't hear you approach."
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Talking To Myself Is Not A Sign Of Madness

Postby Mateo Tidesong on August 25th, 2016, 4:52 am

The casinor’s motion had slowed to a gentle drift, Mateo working carefully to take the wind out of his sails. He wasn’t entirely as swift as he wanted to be, padding barefoot along the sun-warmed wood of his transportation and home—his attentions briefly distracted by the waving of potential food or the kindly returned smile of the woman—and so her compliment was perhaps too soon. The thunk of hulls bumping and the protest of scraping wood attested to the Svefra’s lack of expertise as a sailor, but the collision was hardly forceful enough to cause anyone to loose footing so much as for the weaver to instead lose a little face.

Well, so much for that.

Mateo’s expression didn’t falter, instead waning a little chagrined, though now he was at least bobbing alongside the woman’s casinor and still having a better day than the clearly annoyed lobster. Making the assumption that the woman spoke Fratava simply because of her appearance and mannerisms, he didn’t bother with Common, hands moving in compliment to his native tongue, “Ah, sorry! Excuse any chipping of paint.”

Nylo, mostly amused that his friend had chosen a greeting over food and also perhaps aware that this woman did not share the same kinship granted by a mark from Laviku, took a lazy peek at the surface before slipping under the hull of the Wisely Woven and chasing after fish for himself. The Svefra was just content to see a friendly face, Syna's light sparkling off her piercings as well as the clear waters, and he was simply not one to pass much judgement onto strangers, especially strangers with food,

“I haven’t seen anyone else out this far,” the dark-haired weaver admitted, having mostly interacted with settlers around Syka proper when not spending his time scouting seagrass and exploring. He let his lagoon blue gaze sweep briefly over the woman’s casinor before wandering over her person, quite convinced he’d have noticed her in town had she been there, “but perhaps we just missed each other earlier.”

He finished tying his last line, nodding with a bounce of black curls in the direction of the creature in her hands, “That’s a nice find. There’s probably a few more hiding around here, too, if not some other delicious things hiding in the seagrass a little drift in the direction I came from. Are you out here fishing for yourself or the settlement? Oh—I’m sorry—again—”

The Svefra paused, his curiosities getting the better of him, and ran a hand through his hair as if it was somehow going to make the difference in his presentability at the moment, shirtless and sweaty in the summer sun, “I’m Mateo by the way, Mateo Tidesong. I’ve been anchoring around Syka for the season.”
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Talking To Myself Is Not A Sign Of Madness

Postby Alyria Riptide on September 13th, 2016, 9:55 pm

Alyria cringed a little at the sound of wood against wood, not a forceful hit - barely enough to rock the ship - but hers was a ramshackle old girl and prone to bursting a seam in the best of conditions. Still, it was good to see a Svefra face among a sea of strangers.

Well, not that he wasn't a stranger too, just that he wasn't as strange.

She chuckled a little at his apology, gratefully expressed in Fratava. The language of home. Moving closer to the rail as if to inspect the damage, the young blonde raised an arched eyebrow.

"You've probably put more on than you've chipped off. The old girl was due for a spruce up." In her hand, the desperate lobster flopped his giant claw around in an attempt to get free.
There was a shadow in the water, a ripple, and briefly the fisher woman saw a dolphin peak it's eye briefly at her, before languidly swimming away again. The girl glanced around for the rest of its pod, before turning her eyes back to the dark-haired man and giving him the brunt of her grin, noticing his eyes scanning her ship and her person. Hopefully she presented a little better than the rickety casinor.

"Oh aye, there's been no one else, not to my knowledge. Your the first I've seen in a fair while..." She trailed off, her grin falling into a slightly wry smile. It wasn't the time to launch into pitiful conversation about the fact she was positively stuck here. Besides, Syka was a sort of pretty nice place to be stuck.

Her smile widened again as the man started to talk fishing, only to cut himself short with an apology and an introduction. Glancing at the angry crustacean, she tipped it at the man before tossing it in her water bucket. Lobsters didn't do exceptionally well out of water for too long, and she wanted him fresh for dinner.

"Well met, Mateo Tidesong. I'm Alyria..Riptide." She hesitated a moment, it was one thing to present herself as Riptide to strangers. Mateo was svefra, there was a good chance he actually knew Riptides. Too late now. Putting on her most winsome smile, the young woman leaned against the railing on crossed arms.

"I feel like we must have only just missed each other in a stroke of unfortunate circumstances then! I've been anchored for the past oh...moon? It's been weeks at the least. Not even a half season though." Pushing up on her hands, she nodded.

"Aye, a good deal in the sand and rocks below too. I swam out, maybe aways from where you came from, and found that big blue fellow you saw. Some sharks too, aye. Cheeky ones with an eye for following fisherman. They know the shark you don't see is the shark that eats." Chuckling, she crossed her arms across her chest and glanced over his ship proper. Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as it rose higher in the morning sky, the angle just enough to catch the ocean waves and bounce into her eyes. It was a fine ship by her standards. Well kept and looked after. It meant something to him. Her slate eyes took in his shirtless figure, noting that his ship wasn't the only well kept thing in her line of sight. Smiling to herself, the blonde continued.

"Fishing for the settlement, for myself. Making a living as it were. Admittedly when I docked I hadn't expected Syka to be so..." She pursed her lips and looked at the coast, before raising her eyebrows.

"So new." Pausing only a moment, Alyria turned her eyes back to Mateo and tilted her chin at his ship.

"What of you Mateo, what brings you to anchor for the season in such a quiet little place? Last I recall, strapping young men such as yourself tend to dock for all the wrong reasons." She laughed, hardly able to call him young against herself. They appeared to be similar in age. Still, she was curious. He didn't have the appearance of a vagabond or a scoundrel, and to what she could tell there wasn't a Pod that he'd travelled in with.
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