"...Ear-leigh in the morn'in"

The gang of sailors and pirates sang and chanted a merry tune, an ironic one that they all knew the humor of in their situation. Weeks out at sea, moving from the Indies back up to good old Great Britain. Old was a rather key word when it came to what most considered their home, and old was the word in their minds when they saw the port town they were approaching.

It was a town that they had stopped at a small handful of times, but Captain Lancaster had decided that it was worth their time to make a stop here and enjoy solid land for a bit before going further up north. It was promised to be a short stop, but something about the captain's words made it seem like they'd be on the land a little longer than expected. Something was wrong, but nobody would say what it was.

Especially not to Ryland. The poor boy couldn't catch a break. Even more than ten years to the ship, very few on the ship treated him with the respect that came with someone with that much experience. It didn't bother Ryland too much. He did his work, the crew appreciated him enough, and sometimes he took another loaf of bread or two from their rations without much consequence.

They had some merchandise to drop off to the town, among other things. After a clash with another ship, The Black Corsair needed a little repairing. It wasn't much dangerous damage, but just enough to be concerning if they got into another scrap.

"Alright, lads. Get the goods ready. Once we drop off our load and get the gold, I don't care what you do with yourselves, just don't die." It was their glorious captain Lancaster barking the orders as they neared the port. Ryland was already on it, barely able to hear her commands from below deck as he made sure that everything was right and ready for hauling. Ryland vaguely remembered the merchant Captain Lancaster talked with during the previous stops at the port town, but mostly by face than reputation. Hopefully it was the same person with the same rates.

She was met with a cheering of "aye" from her crew, and with little space between them and the dock, they lowered their sails and set out the gangplank.

Sidney Lancaster stomped on the ground just above Ryland. She knew he was there, and he knew that she knew he was there. The commands didn't need to be said to him. This was routine business for him, and he was already on top of what he needed to do. Shortly afterwards, the rest of the crew came down and started picking up the supplies that Ryland was directing them to. Some grunted, scoffed, or didn't say anything to him, but they all listened at least somewhat. If he figured right, Captain Lancaster was already on the docks looking for their merchant, looking for that sweet deal.

When the last of the goods were picked up by Ryland himself, he took himself above deck and starting moving the goods onto the port, unloading them and waiting further instruction.

The waves crashed against the rocky cliffs down below, lapping against the stone with a steady and comforting pace. It was a low tide, the sea exposed her treasurers to a treasure hunter who seemed to dance upon the rocks with a uncanny ease. Her copper hair flew about wildly in the wind, unbound and free. Dressed in a faded slip dress the young woman made her way across familial ground. The oysters she sought were ones carrying precious pearls. She had laid them aside in a small grotto, cared for them lovingly and patiently. She did not remember how long it had been, time seemed to pass either to quickly to comprehend or to slow to bear.

The young woman was pleasantly surprised to find that most of the oysters were carrying beautifully formed rounded pearls. After she harvested a small sachet full of the ivory gems she laid the shells back to rest, thanking them silently. This small amount would help her through the rougher months of the year. After making her way back to shore, she retrieved her basket off freshly caught oysters and continued on her way. She took her time, strolling on the sandy beach, absorbed in her own thoughts.

In the distance a ship was resting at the docks. She could vaguely make out a crew of sailors hauling cargo from the ship onto shore. It peaked her curiously. The sleepy town wasn´t a much used resting spot and usually skipped past by any sensible sea crew. The pearl diver wondered what could have drawn them here. She would find out soon. Instead of going right back to town she decided to make her way to the docks to catch a glimpse of the trades which were undoubtedly taking place. She knew the routines and habits of the town like the back of her hand.

To prove her point the towns one and only merchant Faflon, who doubled as the drunk inn keeper had dressed in his finest clothes. Which to be fair wasn´t all that impressive, as he was trying to close a deal with the captain of the ship. Faflon was as bad a merchant as he was a inn keeper. He couldn´t stay away from the drinks and as a merchant he spent coin he didn´t have. Living at the inn at first had been temporary, but it could now be argued that she was a permanent resident. Sadly this also meant she was dragged into his messes at regular occasion. The same was going to happen right......now

Faflon realized he was talking big, with nothing to show for himself. This captain was proving to be one tough customer, he was only purchasing wares and not actually selling anything. For one because he didn´t have anything of worth to sell. He wracked his hung over brain to come up with some kind of solution. It came to him in the shape of the ever so mysteriously enchanting resident at his inn, the pearl diver with the copper hair.

"Mira, come greet our new guests!" Faflon called out loudly in order to carry his voice through the winds.

Mira frowned, she was content watching from the sidelines and had not planned of going any closer to the scene. Against her better judgment she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and crossed the distance to her tenant. After she arrived Faflon at once took her aside to speak in hushed whispers. Mira simply sighed, failing to feel neither anger or surprise at his request. She handed him the sachet of pearls wordlessly and continued to watch the exchange taking place.

"Quaint," Lancaster said to herself, making it unclear if she was talking about the newly introduced woman or the little town itself.

Sidney Lancaster prided herself on being just as brash and bloody as any other pirate on the seas, but also made her fame by sometimes showing what could only be called a nicer side. For now, she'd be respectable. She could get a lot out of Faflon if she kept talking him up. He was already taking most of her wares.

From behind, she could feel a set of eyes on them. It was Ry, a young man a few years younger than herself, and the boy of the ship. He knew the Black Corsair almost as well as she did, but his attempts at trying to gain respect and authority seemed half-assed, like he almost wanted to stay on the sidelines, watching.

Well, no time like the present.

"Ryland, get over here." She commanded with a sway of her head. The young man jumped and rushed to her side.

Ryland wasn't quite sure what was going on, this wasn't normal business. The woman who Faflon the merchant had invited over was beautiful and mysterious. She held a face that seemed distantly familiar. "Yes, captain?"

"Oversee the rest of this trade. I'm going to use our new coin on some well-earned drinks." Her order was casual, almost careless, but the edge in her voice remained. "Simple enough for you, eh? I trust you can make us some more money from Fafland by the end of the day." She finished with a wry smile, laughing to herself before walking up. She didn't even bother listening to Ryland accept the orders. She knew he'd do it. He was a faithful dog.

Ryland looked back at the merchant and the woman almost expectantly, like they were trying to offer something up to him. "We have a little more blasting powder on the ship. Could sell it to you." What could they possibly gain from buying gunpowder? This was a sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere. Nobody was going to come by looking for powder. Rylan mentally hit himself in the face for such a suggestion.

"Wait, I got it!" He said almost excitedly as an idea came to him. "I've got some figures, wooden, that you might be able to sell. I've got a ton, being on the seas day and night." They didn't have as much use as gunpowder, but little figures like that would be something Faflon could pawn off to someone else, and get Ryland's works circulating. Hopefully it'd mean that he could sell them himself on day for much more than whatever the merchant would be willing to give to him.

It would be safe to say Faflon was unimpressed by the amateur woodcarvings of the sailor. His choices as a merchant may have been questionable at times but he knew when to cut his losses. He did not appreciate the captain the misuse of his name by the captain. What would become of his reputation overseas if the woman could not even pronounce his name?

The merchant made no effort to hide the disinterest clearly showing on his face and heard in his tone voice.
"Mira dear, I'll let you decide if they are worth something, you have an eye for such rattletraps and trinkets."
With that Faflon turned his back to them, his expensive robes flapping in the wind. He made his way back to the village feeling worse with every step he took, realizing he had yet again created more losses. The prospect of earning some coin at the inn eased some of his worry.

Faflon had managed to once again put her in a compromising situation. Mira went out of her way to avoid unnecessary social interactions with strangers or even acquaintances for that matter. The constantly present gloom that hovered over her like a dark cloud made everything seem like a mountain to be climbed, tiresome and inescapable.

There was something about this sailor and his charming wood carvings however which stirred her heart. He was passionate about his creations and it made her feel the same. Ironically that was the best skill a merchant could possess, one Faflon did not have by any means. Mira held her shawl close to her to keep it from blowing away, as it was fluttering in the wind dangerously. She approached the sailor, grateful she did not have to introduce herself and admired his woodwork from up close. In her many years she'd seen plenty of them and they were beautiful in an unpracticed way. There were some novice mistakes along with some skillfully crafted details at the same time. It made each of them unique.

The young woman seemed to be lost in the details of the small statues, forgetting momentarily she was in the company of someone else. Then suddenly as if she was waking from a dream, she asked him one question.

"Did you make one of the sea maidens?"

Mira looked into his eyes, capturing them with her own. It was a strangely specific question she felt the urge to ask.

A short trip back to the boat and Ryland had fetched a small handful of the numerous figures he had carved while out at sea. With a mix of the rocking waves, nudging elbows, and his own simply adept level of skill, he managed to put fine detail in many parts of each carving, but left a little to be desired in other areas. So many of these little wooden figures were laying around the ship that Ry could barely keep track of them. Nobody really payed them any mind as they were stuffed in corners and hidden in little nooks and crannies.

He offered her one or two to look over, watching her as she insepcted them. His question caught him a little off guard, but he racked his brain enough to fish out an answer for her. The sea maidens is what she asked about, women who were confined to the waters by some accounts, free from the chains of being bound to land by others.

"Yeah, I have one or two." He replied calmly. He was intrigued by this myth of maidens, and made one whenever he believed he had spotted one out during his voyages. Nobody believed that he actually had witnessed a mermaid, and he wasn't too sure himself, but he gave himself the benefit of the doubt in the possibility of their existence. Surely they were just quite rare and preferred their solitude.

"I can show you, if you want. I'll just need another moment to head back to the ship."

"No need, I will follow you there" Mira replied calmly.

She began to move towards the docks, glancing over her shoulder once, to make sure he would be leading the way. So his name was Ryland....
It was foreign enough she could tell he wasn't from this town or the next, but it was not so specific she could determine where the sailor was born. Chances were he was born on a ship, so that would make the sea his birthplace, like it had been hers many years ago.

As the ship grew closer Mira began to feel a feeling of uneasiness she hadn't felt in a long time. The wood was aged and touched by the sea, hints of green could be found here and there, mostly on the bottom of the ship. Sea algae and clumps of seaweed swayed in the water below. The young woman took a deep breath before stepping on board. Many of her older memories were vague recollections, probably to protect her from going mad. Her forgetfulness was her savior, but it made the feeling of unease difficult to fathom. It was like a fog clouding her mind.

Mira was curious to see his depiction of the sea maidens. It would the first time in almost a century she would once again see them. She waited for Ryland to find her wooden sisters, watching the sea from the edge of the deck quietly.

"Oh," Though somewhat surprised by her desire to follow him onto the ship, he didn't tell her no. "Well, follow me."

Ryland stepped onto the gangplank and welcomed himself back aboard the ship. None of the crew paid either of them any attention walking up onto the ship. Business as normal. The crew knew better than to hassle women, especially when the captain's dog was the one leading said woman around the boat. He'd inform her, then she'd have the hide of anyone who harassed a woman.

The woman, Mira, he believed he overheard her name, stationed herself on the railing of the ship, looking out onto the seas with an expression he couldn't quite pin down. She seemed fine right there, so he dove into the lower decks to find what he was looking for. All around in the nooks and crannies of the ship lay his wooden figures, but the maidens were somewhat of a treasure to him. Those were the ones he had hidden away from prying eyes.

A quick jump back up onto the main deck of the ship and Ryland presented Mira with two figures. To say that there was a significant jump and quality would be somewhat of an understatement. While the ones he gave to her before were the product of idle work and the need to keep busy, these two could really be called works.Ryland put days worth of time and effort into each one, and his dedication to the craft showed. They still carried a few amateur mistakes, but the fine detail Mira had spotted in the others was much more common and balanced through the figures.

The maidens of the seas, with the body of the woman and a tail like a fish to travel across their domain with ease. His work couldn't properly transcribe their beauty into wood, but they were far from shoddy. Their tails curled back up at the end, their long, flowing hair covered essentials, and faces touched with detail to try and express their beauty properly.

He gave her a minute to look them over. The crew, noticing this exchange, smirked and chortled, but said nothing to either of them. "So..." He looked at her nervously. "How are they? Worth anything?" He truly hoped they were. If not, he'd need to keep at it, make them better until they were perfect. Hopefully, hopefully, they met her standards.

Mira was overcome with a sudden and overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. The sight of the wood carvings struck a cord deep within her. Their tragic beauty filling her with a sense of wistfulness. An involuntary tear ran down her cheek. She was touched, to be reunited in a sense. The cold drop of water tickled on her cheek and she brushed it away, momentarily at a loss for words. The young woman carefully took one of the carvings into her hands, holding it close to her heart. She drew in a shaky breath and looked at Ryland.

"They are a work of true art, you should be proud." Her voice cracked in the end, revealing she was moved beyond words by his creations.

The fact that Ryland doubted his own talents made Mira suspect he was not much appreciated on board of this ship. Perhaps as a crew member but not as an artist. She also knew the town well enough to conclude his wood carvings would not sell well. Not because they weren't worth anything, but because most folks barely had any spare coin to spend, whatever they had left they used for drink.

"I would like to buy one if you are ready to part with them" She said, still holding one of the wood carvings. She held it with such gentleness you'd think it was made of glass. Mira retrieved a sachet of large pearls she'd kept hidden from Faflon. If she had learned anything in the time she'd spent with him it was the fact that he only ever took things. She let a few precious pearls roll from the sachet onto her palm. It was the right of the artist to determine a price.

"This is the only currency I have." Mira had blessed these pearls under the moonlight, to protect the ones at sea from troubling storms.
"They are lucky pearls, they'll protect you"

His mouth opened only slightly. Rylad had his eyes focused on the woman, staring intently at her to see what she thought of the figures. She took one, examined it, and let a tear fall. He moved barely an inch closer. Something about them got to her. It was in the way she talked about the Maidens, with such quiet reverence. His mouth went fully agape at her proclaiming his skill and work. He let out a shudder of a breath. Nobody had complimented his carvings to such a level before.

Then she offered to buy them. Not talk to that greasy man about buying them, but taking them for herself. "It's all yours if you want it." He said back to her, eager to sell it off to her. He cherished his own work, as an artist should, but this was a sign to him that he had done something right.

From her pocket she produced a small bag, and in it lay pearls. Dazzling and stark, the little pearls seemed to be made with perfection in mind. It was all she had, she said. He would have preferred money, but a simple barter would work just as well. He lifted a hand and took only a few of the pearls she offered him. No more than three or four pearls were taken from her hand and left to sit in his palm. It would be rude of him to take it all, and the size and beauty would be sure to hold some worth of their own.

But...

She said they were lucky. Ryland knew better than to question the cosmic forces. If they were lucky, he would believe them to be so. His eyes left her, scanning the boat again for prying eyes. Nobody paid them much attention, but Ryland would have to hold the pearls close. He was meant to bring the ship, his captain, money, not pawn off his works for personal gain. The pearls were slipped into a pocket and Ryland pushed his hands forward, still looking around the ship.

"The carving is yours. I hope you enjoy it, and if you want anything made, just ask, ok?"