"It's not about that!" Rohaan's sharp tone warped into an uncharacteristic, high whimper by the end of the sentence and he clamped his mouth shut, opting to throw the lime he'd sucked dry blindly across the little galley, too. It bounced off the vent of the stove with a soft plunk. "Wheel could eat a storm and I could burn every last one of them myself!" This, too, seemed just a little out of character for the boy. He never enjoyed strangers, and when they had shore leave, Rohaan often stuck close to Berlin in taverns and spoke to no one besides the crew. Even when Hana came aboard, he'd been surly and distant from her, but he'd never been violent. Now, every inch of him looked like he was capable and willing of backing up that threat. The boy was trembling slightly, his limbs pulled closer to his body like a hermit crab pulling protectively into his shell. In one moment, he was explosive and harsh. In another instant, he was withdrawn, and shifted back and forth between the two juxtaposed emotions as quickly as he could change the shape of his body. Evidently, he did not fully know how to feel at the moment.

Rohaan tried, but he couldn't hold back all of the tears that welled up in his lapis lazuli eyes. A few escaped, and he wiped them away with force. "Berlin's a traitor..." he sniffed, not meeting Pieter's eyes. "He knew who they were. He knew! And he says to 'em to stay and have lunch!" He continued shouting, though in his native tongue, and at a speed that might have vexed even Berlin. Whatever he was saying, it was evident by the intermittent snarls and extra emphasis on a few words that he was giving their guests topside some serious and vile names.

Rohaan quieted, out of breath. In his heart of hearts, some part of him understood what Berlin had told him about individuals, despite belonging to a group, being separate and different from said group. Rohaan's friendship with each member of the crew was testament to that. And he never would have bothered with the blood oath if he hadn't on some level recognized that Kaga Met and his crew were not responsible for the damage done to him, and sought him no harm. But right now there was just anger and a fear that had little to do with Kaga Met, or Yawar, or Millie specifically. He didn't want to be in his natural shape at the moment, and his soul yearned for his favorite dragon form. That form would keep him safe. With that form, he could protect himself and his home. But the galley was too small for such a creature as a cyradan, and shifting in there would either do damage to himself, the ship, or both. Instead he just vibrated with an anger he didn't know how to direct as he sat curled on top of a barrel, trying to sort out whether or not he wanted comfort, solitude, or destruction.

__

Uban blinked in momentary surprise as Hana's slender arms coiled around him, but after only a brief stagger at the sudden shift of balance, he chuckled and returned the hug heartily. The man smiled devilishly as she looked up at him with a wily expression. "I was hoping you'd say something like that," he said with a wicked, roguish glint in his green eyes.

Uban had the look of a naughty child about to do great and very entertaining mischief. Hana's knowledge of runes and magic opened up a whole new world of possibilities for Uban and the exploration of his magical ability, and he felt giddy at the thought of really letting loose with everything he had. It was...freeing, in a way. There were few rules of decorum to fret over on the open ocean, and he had quickly warmed up to the idea of boisterously being himself instead of adhering to small-hamlet expectations and traditions. But it had taken him a longer time to be comfortable with showing his magical power so openly and casually. When he'd first joined the crew, he'd been a little self-conscious about it, and Berlin had to actively encourage him to practice with it. To be able to explore it even further than he thought possible, and to let loose with it without reservation or hesitation was immensely liberating in a way that would be difficult to express to a younger version of himself.

Uban held a small, delicate arc between his pointer and middle finger, admiring for a moment the soft blue line.

This was way more fun than farming.

Pieter had turned to prepare the rest of the meal, small potatoes boiled in water that would be chopped in half and served with butter, a treat for anyone on board long enough, as he spoke to Rohaan. Whenever he wanted to have a serious conversation, he preferred to have something to do with his hands. When the boy cried out he stopped and focused on him. “Lad, what’re you talking about? Berlin’s many things, but traitor he ain’t.” His understanding of Rohaans language was poor, but he could pick out a few words and knew Berlin’s name. He paused, removed the potatoes from the boiling water, and spoke plainly to the boy curled up on the barrel. “I could use your help mashing the potatoes for dinner.” It wasn’t the original plan, but there’d be satisfaction in turning potatoes into mush. He made a wry face to himself as he took out the butter- oh well, these slavers ought to have enough goodies they could help themselves to.

——-

Hana felt lightheaded as she looked at Uban. Since she’d gotten on board the Borealis it felt like she’d been thrown into the air and hadn’t had a chance to touch the ground. Maybe it was time to learn to fly. “Uban… Thank you.” His kindness towards her had helped her adjust to this new reality, and she felt comfortable being herself around him. Impishly, she concentrated and traced the same grounding rune that she used on the bullets with her finger in the air, and with a zwoosh, the little arc of lightning diverted and leapt to Hana’s forefinger. Gasping slightly she looked into his eyes, lit up by the crackle of lightning connecting them. Carried along by her newfound freedom she coyly asked, “So, how often do you do this with other girls?” Her smile faltered when she realized what she’d said and Oh seven virtues she just fucking said that

It dawned suddenly on Rohaan that Pieter didn't know. He supposed that was possible, though he often held the belief that the adults in his life always seemed to know what was going on. Mostly, that held true. He thought Pieter knew where Kaga Met came from but...evidently he didn't. Feeling a bit less like the whole world was ganging up on him and the people he loved were betraying him, he lost a little of his venom. Only a little; he was still visibly upset, but upon that realization, he looked a little less like he was going to torch the ship. Did everyone else know, or just Berlin? It didn't matter, he was still furious at Berlin for letting this happen. He knew allies in the coming battle would be a good thing but...well, he was still mad.

Unsure of what else to do with himself, he got up and took the pot of potatoes and a fork and began angrily stabbing at them, and only used the back of the tines to mash the potatoes as an afterthought. He was quiet for a while, then, softly, "They're..." It was hard to even say it and he felt the words stick in his throat. "They're from Bariz." His lip trembled a little. "For all I know, I could be the last living Vokurian of Ikheda island because of Barizians and Berlin--" he clamped his mouth shut and his lips twisted in an attempt to keep them from quivering. Unsuccessfully. Suddenly, he finally determined that what he wanted at the moment was consolation, so he buried his face into Pieter's stomach, his wiry arms curling around him and his little fists balling up handfuls of his shirt and apron.

"I'm so mad," he said into Pieter's shirt. It was not often that Rohaan actually verbally expressed what he was feeling. Usually, it just sort of came out in his body language or mood rather than in actual words. He did not say he was scared, though that was obvious enough. "It's like he doesn't even care..." he choked. He couldn't decide which was worse: the discomfort of having these strangers in his home, or Berlin's betrayal. His trust in the man ran deep, and on some level he knew inherently that Berlin would do nothing to willingly harm him, and he probably had some good reason for doing this in the first place. But it still hurt. And he still had pervasive thoughts of a dark and overpacked ship's hold filled with children he knew by name.

---

Uban smiled. "Of course. You're one us, now, and we--oooh!" The little thread of electricity buzzing between his fingers diverted suddenly, spanning now to one of Hana's fingers. Uban stared, mouth open, utterly surprised that such a thing was even possible. she had once used the rune to hold electricity he'd generated in her own hands, but it had never spanned between the two of them. For as long as he'd known about his power, the forces of lightning had belonged to him and to the sky alone. It was momentarily jarring to have that power be suddenly divided. But he did not look offended. Instead, his eyes, turning from green to gold before Hana's own eyes, widened and his lips spread in a grin. "You can do that..?" His mind whirled with possibilities.

"So, how often do you do this with other girls?"

Uban's eyes glinted and his eyebrows lifted a little. "Actually, it's my first time..." he said playfully and with unabashed innuendo. After all, he was at heart forever the witty and often bawdy bard. It was then that Uban became aware of...something. At first, he wasn't sure what it was, but he could definitely sense some change in the familiar electric thrum. His smile faded a little bit and his golden eyes changed from jovial to curious as he studied her intently. He felt...something else in addition to the steady current he knew so well. Something new. Something rhythmic. A pulsating--no! A pulse.

"I..." he chuckled very softly, disbelievingly, as if he'd just seen the beauty of the Northern Lights for the first time. "I can feel your heartbeat," he said finally, softly. "It sends out a tiny pulse..." A whirl of exhilaration flooded him; he found it strangely intoxicating and...intimate.

Uban blinked, breaking the connection. If he looked embarrassed, it was only for a brief flash. "Whoa..." He ran a hand over his curly hair and there was an audible crack from the static. "That was incredible! I wonder how far we could stretch it? We oughtta get you a ring or a tattoo or something so I can just pass it to you like a ball!" He generated a small little ball in one hand and passed it behind his back, as if juggling, to his other hand before letting it dissipate with a small pop.

Pieter held the trembling boy silently as he processed Rohaan’s revelation. He’d figured that the crew of the Swift were from the Southern continent, but would never have guessed they were Barizian. They’d have their reason for hunting the slavers, and Pieter was fascinated to hear their story. The words of the turtle, warning about the bloody eel.. The path they were taking was leading to one place, and he was worried they’d need all the help they could get to see it through.

Looking down at Rohaan, he could only start to guess at the pain and fear he was reliving. The time Rohaan’d spent with them wasn’t an ordinary way to raise a child, but he’d still made progress. There was a sinking feeling in his gut as he thought about the possibility of him reverting to his previous self, so shortly after the horrors he’d been put through at the hands of the slavers.

Kneeling so he was eye to eye with Rohaan, he said, “It’s because we want to stop the slavers that Berlin decided we’d work with Kaga-met and his crew. They’re monsters that need to be put down. And I don’t know where the remainder of the Vokurians from your island are, but I’ll promise you that we’ll make sure no one else is taken.”

——-

Hana flexed her hand as the shock of Uban’s lightning left her arm full of pins and needles. Relieved at the slow return of feeling, she was sure that anything larger would have left lasting damage. She relaxed listening to Uban’s playful banter. She’d kept to herself during her travels, and was relearning what it meant to share laughter with someone. She admired the smooth curve of his jaw under his full beard. He fell silent, and she looked up at his golden eyes, locked on hers.

Hana’s breath caught in her throat as he softly spoke, “I… I can feel your heartbeat.” His broad face, normally creased into a cheery smile, was gentle and filled with reverent wonder.” Before she could speak, he had leaned suddenly back and he was laughing again.

Shaking her head quickly, she exhaled, and started to explain more magic to

“Unfortunately, a tattoo would be dangerous, if a hostile mage knew about them they could exploit them, putting me in danger. A ring is possible, but that’s what my staff is for,” she gestured at the wooden staff at her feet, it was slightly shorter than her and partially carved with runes, while much of the wood was still bare, “A mage is only as good as their tools, and a fully fledged weather mage has a staff carved with the runes they need, letting them accomplish their work quickly.”

She looked at her staff, turning it in her hands. It had a few runes, mostly for water and simple changes in temperature, elementary building blocks of a weather mage. Had she stayed in school longer, her staff would have had more runes carved into it, giving her greater mastery of the elements she sought to conquer.
“Of course, a ring or another piece of jewelry works perfectly well, and has the benefit of being portable, easily hidden, and lets you use it a moments notice. I know that the weapons of the Elbish Expeditionary Corps are enchanted, and lets them cast their spells in the heat of battle.”

Rambling about magic to Uban felt safe, and let her ignore what she really wanted to talk about, which was asking him what her heartbeat felt like.

Rohaan's eyes, bloodshot from the tears, had veins of pale silver where there would have been red in anyone else's. Likewise, instead of his cheeks flushing red, his olive skin seemed to pale a little, gaining a barely perceptible milky quality. It was distinct from the paleness of illness, or of desperately clenched fists. Humans often found it counterintuitive and in their early days together, Berlin had frequently missed cues he likely would not have missed in a red blooded face. Those were usually the days he got bitten or scratched.

Though the nature of his physiology was undoubtedly and sometimes uncomfortably not quite human, his expression certainly was human enough. The wet streaked cheeks, the trembling lip, the sniffling, and his iron grip on Pieter's arm as though he feared the man would float away if he let him go, all painted the picture of an ordinary human boy, if not in body then in soul.

Those azurite eyes looked up into Pieter's with a seriousness that did not match his age. "Even you?" He'd finally given voice to the fear that had been gnawing at him. Though his first thought had immediately been they've come back to take me, that thought at least he was able to reason away. But the possibility that they could kill or capture his chosen family? That fear still troubled his little heart. He had gathered that Barizians were after magic achieved through blood. And magical blood had to be at least perceived as being better for the task whether it truly was or not. Rohaan guessed that if these rats knew the crew was primarily magical, they might be in even greater danger. "Promise me you won't let them take you, too." And then, he considered a moment and his face screwed up with a black hate as he added, "Then promise me they'll fucking burn."

---

"Exploit them?" Uban blinked, wondering if he could be exploited in a similar way. But then, he was not a rune, nor did he have one, so maybe it wasn't possible? Though he was curious, he wasn't troubled. "Fascinating! I never knew any of this stuff was even possible. So as you learn more, you collect runes on your staff?" His eyes drifted down to the staff, studying it with a new perspective. Instead of seeing the bare wood and few runes and considering them rudimentary, he simply saw a person whom he thought incredibly talented, and a whole staff full of potential for more. It almost didn't seem possible. He'd forgotten about their guests entirely, and his lute sat propped up against the gunnel; Hana had his full attention. Consciously, he thought learning about magic was interesting and enjoyed hearing her talk about it. Subconsciously, he was too stricken by the electric connection he shared with her to think about anything else but her. He was too stricken by her.

Uban pointed to one of the runes. "What's this one for?" As an experiment, he extended his senses towards it but felt nothing beyond his own being. Evidently it had nothing to do with lightning, and absently he wondered what it would be like to touch other elements the way he could touch lightning.

An icy coldness gripped Pieter, “I promise you that none of us will be taken by the slavers, and I promise that the ones we hunt will perish.” The smell of harsh brine filled the air as he spoke, overwhelming the scent of cooking food. The Salt had chosen to take note of his promise, and Pieter shuddered at the thought of what would come, regardless of what happened.

The smell faded from the room, and Pieter straightened roughly, smiling weakly at the boy before turning away. He packed his pipe with small, cautious movements and only faced Rohaan after it was lit, the smoke making the priest’s eyes water, “Well, the fish is ready. I’ll bring it up, stay with the potatoes for a minute more, if you’d like you can have a nip of the rum just don’t tell the Cap’n.” Lifting the platter with the fish, he left the galley with the pipe clenched between his teeth working up and down as the muscles in his neck jumped.

——-

Hana nodded excitedly, a half dozen ideas tumbling in front of themselves as she talked with him, each one starting to spill from her mouth before he asked his next question, overturning the whole cart and replacing them with new lines of thought. The one constant was a desperate, needy feeling of keeping him next to her, and a giddiness as they kept talking.

When he pointed at her staff, a fresh jumble of emotions welled through her; pride for her craft, shame for leaving the Academy, and of course, the reassurance that any mage feels when looking at their tools.

She looked at the rune Uban touched, three sets of downward sweeping lines through a central vertical line and a horizontal line across the top. She traced her own hand along it, her fingernail lightly scratching the dark wood. A small smile quirked her lips and she said, “It’s the rune for goats. It helps me connect with goats in particular and farm animals in general, but I can also call on it for help with digestion, and ah well,” she withdrew her hand and put it back in her lap, “Goats are known for their fertility.”

——-

Wheel and Millie stood up, looking each other in the eye. Wheel spoke softly, but his words carried across the deck, “If what you say is true, then we have unfinished business in Vyrm, don’t we?” Millie tapped her foot on the deck, her heavy spear held casually, “My business is here, and so it’ll stay until I pay off my debts.”

Both turned and faced the stairwell before Pieter’s head came up, carrying the platter of fish. “Supper’s ready!” He called almost cheerfully.

Pieter spoke and the room filled with a salty odor that made Rohaan instantly thirsty. For a split second, he tried to place the source of such a drastic scent change, but he stopped as one of his other senses burst into focus. Rohaan was a creature born of magic and with magic running through his very blood. Unlike Berlin or Uban, who were humans who carried a form of unpredictable arcane energy called free magic, the magic in Rohaan had been passed down to him through hundreds of years of ancestors. It was a part of him. And like any other creature born of magic, he had the ability to sense it. So as he watched Pieter swear an oath of safety and revenge to him, his expression changed rapidly. His nose wrinkled from the salt smell, which mixed with a distinct hot metal scent that only he was aware of. And then a look like he'd eaten something with a strange texture as he began to feel the change in the air. His mouth opened a little as he stared up at Pieter. As far as he knew, Pieter was not capable of magic like Berlin or Hana. Had that changed? He knew Pieter was a priest but he really did not have any real idea of what a priest was. Vokurians did not have them. He needed to ask him sometime. But he neither saw nor felt anything more.

Regardless of where the sudden influx of magical energy came from, Rohaan did feel a sense of security after Pieter left him. He was still in a turbulent mood, and still had old fears to wrestle with. But like listening to a storm from inside a sturdy house, they felt just one step further away. Oaths of safety and vengeance had been given both in blood and in magic (apparently) and Rohaan felt at least somewhat satisfied with that. He found a nearby bottle of rum and took a swig, flinching a little as rum was usually given to him diluted. But he liked the way the burn made his mouth feel full of fire, like a dragon. There was some comfort in that. The boy wiped his face clear of any remaining streaks of tears and took in a shaky breath. He was older now, and he would not be taken by surprise in the middle of the night, not again. This time, he'd come for them instead. Rohaan took one more drink of the rum, set it aside, and grabbed the potatoes.

He appeared on deck only a few minutes after Pieter, once again wearing his adult form. Though he was not thinking specifically about it, the fact that the Barizian slavers had only taken children, not adults, subconsciously played into his decision to hold the modified form in front of the strangers. Berlin met him and held out his hands for the pot of mashed potatoes. He spoke in Vokurian.

"You sorted, Lad?"
Rohaan's upper lip twitched. His anger towards Berlin had yet to cool completely.
"You don't have to make small talk with them. But I don't want to see any fangs at the table, ya year?"
Rohaan did not speak. This was familiar grounds for both of them.
Berlin nodded softly. "Right. See Uban about a mug of wine. It will do you some good." This was a peace offering; Rohaan was rarely ever given undiluted wine. But if he could stay sober, the alcohol might help to unwind him a bit. Privately, the quasi-father in Berlin wanted to use his magic to take away the boy's fears and anxieties, but he knew that would only serve in the short-term. If he was going to get through this, he'd have to wrestle with it the hard way. Berlin took the pot of potatoes and set them on the makeshift table he'd cobbled up out of some planks and barrels.

---

Uban listened with his full attention, though he did not expect Hana's answer. He'd assumed it was some other elemental rune like water, or wind, or cold, or something like that. But he didn't even know there were runes for goats at all. He couldn't help a laugh. "Goats!?" There was no mocking in his incredulity, only wonder and a bright amusement. "You can...connect to goats? Connect--what does that mean, like speak to them? You should absolutely try that on Rohaan sometime. Goats! I didn't know they had runes for goats. Did you know I used to raise them? Pigs and sheep, too, but a lot of goats." His eyes were beginning to bleed back to their usual green. "How do you learn all this stuff, anyway? Is this all from school?"

Uban was so focused on her answer that he didn't hear Rohaan come up beside him, and when he finally became aware of him he flinched a little in surprise. When had he gotten there? The shifter held out a tin mug like a sullen beggar. "Oh, hey. Wondered if you'd join us. Uh, oh, right!" He fumbled for the cask of wine and filled the mug. "Go easy on that, ain't no water in it."

Rohaan took a sip; it was pretty good. His eyes shifted to Hana and he frowned as if thinking something over. Then a moment later he looked her directly and resolutely in the eyes and said, "My name is Rohaan." All this nonsense with the strangers made him realize how much he actually liked having her around, so it was time to offer up his second name for her use. "In my culture you give your second name to friends." To drive home the point, he restated, "My name is Rohaan." Drawn to the table by the aroma of food like a siren song, he did not wait for any kind of reply and took a makeshift seat.

Berlin watched as everyone gathered around the food. He made a gesture to Uban to go around and fill the mugs again, though he noted that the man seemed unusually hesitant to remove himself from the conversation he'd been having. Wistful, almost. He and Hana had been discussing magic, if his ear wasn't mistaken. And a thought dawned on him suddenly. He wasn't yet sure of it, but he gave both Hana and Uban's faces a closer study. Hmm... But those thoughts were forgotten when he got a closer look at Pieter. He and Rohaan had been below decks for a while, no doubt talking about events topside. Had the boy said something worrisome? No...Pieter had seen the worst of Rohaan already and had rarely ever flinched. There were scarier things in these waters than a shifter boy, after all. No, something else had the man nervous. Berlin made eye contact with his first mate as he sat down, quirking one eyebrow slightly. Should I be worried?

The smell of food enveloped the assembled party, and Wheel lowered himself onto a coil of rope that had been pressed into service as a makeshift chair as he looked around at the other dinner guests. Both leaders had taken both ends of the table (A workbench that was similarly forced into a new role), and everyone rubbed elbows as they settled in.

Pieter served everyone their first plate of food, setting the leftovers on a nearby barrel for anyone to take. Wheel noticed the too casual cordiality of his first mate as he placed down the shallow pewter bowls filled with steaming fish and potatoes. Something had rattled him recently, and from how long Rohaan had spent downstairs, it didn’t take much to connect the dots.

Even still, the sense of light giddiness that had overtaken him couldn’t be shaken, and he playfully asked Millie, “Have enough room there?”

Squeezed in between Wheel and Kaga-Met, the woman’s tentacles were curled and pressed tight against her back to leave room for the others. With a deadpan look one unfurled and stole around Wheels side, lifting away his mug and bringing it to her lips. His lips quirked as she returned it to him, replying, “Plenty.”

Kaga-Met, sitting across from Hana, had moistened a handkerchief with scented water he took from a flask and wiped his hands clean. Hana stared in a reverential shock before saying in a soft voice, “I haven’t seen anyone wash their hands in months.” The chiurgeon silently soaked the rag again and handed it to her, which she gratefully took.

Pieter finally sat down, and glanced at Berlin with the cool look that Wheel knew as, “Well, what next?’

As the food got doled out, Berlin remained mostly quiet, allowing everyone to dig in unhindered and enjoy the food for a moment before getting into details. He caught Pieter's eye but didn't get give much of a reply, verbal or otherwise. Not yet. For the moment, he mostly observed both his crew and their new allies, quietly getting a general sense for everyone's mood, customs, and dynamics between them all.

Berlin saw Rohaan eating with his fingers, mashed potatoes and all, and he gave a quiet but long suffering sigh. Berlin had discovered quickly that Rohaan was unfamiliar with what Berlin perceived as fairly standard dinnerware like forks or spoons. And though he'd taught him thoroughly how to properly use all of them, he rarely ever did. Rohaan preferred it for some reason Berlin never managed to figure out, though it occurred to him just now that he'd never directly asked.

The captain also watched Kaga-Met as he subtly cleaned his hands with a perfumed water, and couldn't help a little smile as he watched Hana do the same. So, Kaga-Met was a man of much means, and he was used to certain ways of living. Which made him wonder what the crew of the Swift did for a living. He never got the sense they were pirates, but a vessel like theirs did not lend itself to merchandise or trade. Could they be bounty hunters? He could believe that.

Most of them were nearly through their first plates of food, though Rohaan was already looking at him and quietly seeking permission to get seconds. Berlin nodded to him and the shifter got up to help himself. Looking at Kaga-Met, Berlin said, "My crew has a certain rhythm we've all come to adopt in combat. We specialize in taking people by surprise, mostly. Stealthily, sometimes, but more often people just don't expect much of a threat out of a little caravel like the Borealis. We let our prey come close and strike hard. Often, Rheoaan will drop usually Wheel and often Uban on the deck of the opposing ship and leave them to wreak their own havoc as he attacks from the air. We keep a party back at the guns and the helm, and that's most often what we do. But what of you and yours? What are your strengths? Obviously you have an aerial advantage," he gestured to the Swift itself. "But do you prefer infiltration? Explosives? Destroying rigging?"