A simple sentence, with the whole world behind it.
Gideon hated sitting still, above all things, and refused to sit down. The blond elf paced back and forth on that coast, beside himself with a mixture of anger, frustration, and a learned sense of helplessness. He looked between his brother, and the broken remains of their ship with a sense of defeat, and perhaps some agitation at himself for being such a bloody awful sailor. He was more suited for steering carts, not ships on water.
But he had to be ready. What happened in Lothering was still flashing before his eyes, and full gory detail. It made the injustices done back in the allienage seem like quaint bits of bad luck, and the brothers just barely escaped with their lives. While escape was sweet, it didn't stope the screams of their employers from ringing in his ears...
"Are we even remotely close a city?" he repeated, craning his head over the large rocks in a vein hope to see past the mountain. "Damn it all, why couldn't we have at least crashed near Kirkwall?"
The pouting routine was not working today, despite Anaise's best efforts. The elf could only pout, her lower lip pertruding just past her face as she stared up at her disappointed teacher.
"My actions bring me shame, Master Illen," she said, twirling her aburn hair around her finger. "Can't I just...try again?
Master Ilen looked back at what was supposed to be a crafted bow, before looking at the daughter of the former crafts master. He could only lift up a suspicious eyebrow at her puppy like expression, and at the piece of work that should have been a piece of cake, especially for her. There was a glint behind her eye, one that she tried to hide by lowering her eyelashes down.
"Are you going to actually try, or fail again?" Ilen asked, giving her a narrow-eyed stare. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing at all!" The lady insisted, putting a hand to her chest. "Master Ilen, I'm offended."