A captain stood at the helm of The Silver Wing, a sturdy ship that had weathered many storms. The evening sun cast long shadows across the deck, the light glinting off the polished wood. Quinton, a young man in his late twenties, had inherited the ship from his father, and though he was still learning the intricacies of command, he wore the mantle of responsibility well. His brown hair, streaked with sun-bleached highlights, was tied back, and his sea-torn blue eyes scanned the bustling activity below.

Dockhands and crew members scurried about, loading provisions into the cargo hold. Barrels of fresh water, crates of food, and bundles of blankets were carefully stowed away. The ship was to embark on a journey that would take them along the coast of the continent of Elandria, a place of ancient forests, towering mountains, and enough dangers to make plenty of crew uncertain.

This voyage, however, was unlike any other. The Silver Wing's passengers were not just humans, but among their charters they had elves—ethereal beings with an air of mystery about them. While many say having them onboard made for ill fortunate the time were what they were and Quinton was not one to fall victim to bigotry fueled rumors. The elves were leaving their forest home, seeking a new land across the sea. They had chosen Quinton ship for the journey, trusting him to guide them safely. Even if he was the only one to accept that in itself was still a choice.

Quinton descended from the helm, his boots thudding softly against the wooden steps. As he walked across the deck, he caught sight of some of his crew. "Even heads in preparation." He said as they nodded. Like his father Quinton believed the most important day of a voyage was the day before you set out. This is where mistakes could cause failure or worst.

As night began to fall, the ship came alive with the glow of lanterns. As was custom Quinton let his crew go ashore for some final revelry and whatnot. His own walkthrough of the ship had past muster. He knew in letting them leave a handful would not return, but this was the secret his father pasted down. Better a man get shaky feet on land in a bar than in a storm at sea.

Quinton made his way back to the helm, where his first mate, a burly man named Garrick, awaited him. “The ship’s ready, Captain,” Garrick reported, his voice gruff but steady. “We can set sail on good terms and wind tomorrow.”

Quinton nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and resolve. This journey was more than just a passage along the coast; it was a voyage into the unknown, where danger and discovery awaited. Most ships had called it the never-ending coast, but plenty of stories had come back from failed voyages. The Captain didn't let those stories take port in his mind so he instead simply nodded to the trusted sailor and let him excuse himself.

"One thing Garrick." He said.

"Captain?" He replied quickly.

"Some of our passangers might want to board this evening to help get their sea legs. When you make shore feel free to inform our guild that if anyone would like to board this evening instead of tomorrow they are welcomed to."

"Yes Captain." Garrick quickly made his way to another boat about to leave and headed to port.

In stark contrast to the clean and sharp folds of the captain’s uniform and tidy presentation, there huddled a hopeful passenger in the shadow of the dock’s yet-loaded cargo. Swathed in nondescript linens and an oversized, worn travel cloak, the figure nearly vanished into the atmosphere as nothing more than discarded cloth sacks. Minute stirrings could easily be explained away as the gentle kiss of the sea air encouraging some meaningless refuse to take its leave. Sad reality meant that the comparison was not so far from the truth, at least in the eyes of the average citizen.

Ayla sat with keen attention to the ship ahead; her escape, her destiny, her future. She would fly to freedom on The Silver Wing and find a life of peace with the her cousins across the sea. Living as an elf in a human-dominated world was far from easy, even if she were among the “lucky few” to have been born into a tradition of familial servitude to a noble house.

She was privileged if impoverished, fortunate while still frowned upon, and lived comfortably though her spirit was on the verge of total collapse. The Blackthorne house had held dominion over her ancestry for many generations and prided themselves on the “cooperative partnership” their human nobility formed to the betterment of this particular elven lineage.

Ayla saw things differently. What the Blackthornes considered to be spoiled and unnecessary attentions on their personal staff amounted to little more than above-poverty rations and a less-drafty sleeping quarter. One fateful encounter with the young master of the house marked the beginning of Ayla’s flight. This dock marked her takeoff.

Fighting all her anxieties, she continued to sit statuesque with her hood up to conceal her pointed ears and fire auburn hair. The glimmer of her sunburst eyes occasionally illuminated a thin, pale face beneath the draped halo of the filthy, tattered cloak.

Finally noting movement from her targeted vessel, she shot up to standing posture, careful to keep the movement from casting off her identity-concealing raiments. Hiding within her oversized trappings, Ayla’s figure was amorphous at best. Material rippled around and consumed the tiny form below. She stood slightly taller than the average woman, though was built with a far less natural insulation against the cold.

“Please,” she whispered to herself as she hugged her arms around her own midsection and watched the smaller boat creeping from ship to shore. “Please be my path.”

Quinton enjoyed this calm before the voyage. Most of his crew was not ashore and those that remained were tending to more personal matters such as their own treasures and travel needs for the passage ahead. His quartermaster was finalizing the list of passengers and came over to him in his chamber. “Captain a moment.” He said while walking up and handing over a parchment.

“It seems we have payment for 45, but our passenger list is only 42. Have Land Hopers started to tip ahead of the voyage?” He laughed at his own joke. While unlikely the guild might have charged more than the original price for transport. Quinton had an on and off good relationship with the head of the Ships Guild. Though that may be due to his more liberal views on what was adequate to transport.

“We can check the listings tomorrow once everyone is aboard. Perhaps a name or special cargo was lost on a second page…” Quinton noted that the list of passengers did go to the very bottom of the sheet. “So, what is the rumors on these Land Hopers? He had read through the request for transport given to him by the Guild, but his Quartermaster had friends who always knew better.

“So far mostly the normal tone and take. Tired of not getting to work their own land and hopeful somewhere further up the coast holds future fortunes and acreage. He spoke. Before the captain could ask, he added “And yes they know about The Tower’s venture from a few years ago. Seems they believe the blasted ship did in fact make its way past the horn and found wonders. Not sure if they are dreaming or just hopeful.”

The Tower was the last ship to venture past the Horn which was the most recent major obstacle along the coast that ships had trouble navigating. Uncertain winds, surprise rock outcrops, and plenty of other nasty things from nature and planet seemed to congregate there. The Tower was the last ship to attempt to push past; however, two separate expeditions had been sent to find any hint of wreckage or beacon of safe navigation. All came up empty.

With a heavy sigh and a brace Quinton stood up and asked his Quartermaster to walk with him and then join him on the boat to shore. He decided he would make one final stop to the Guild and personally check to make sure they hadn’t decided to overcharge his dreaming and hopeful clients. The boat took them to shore and as they stood up a few people seemed to be milling about the port. Quick as he could the Quartermaster walked over and introduced himself. It was obvious from some of their things and dress they were members of the Land Hopers group.

Thinking it to be a nice gift Quinton walked up to the group now in quick conversation with his Quartermaster. “Good evening. My name is Captain Quinton Church. I am fortunate to have a crew and ship ready to carry you beyond the Horn. I wish us all good fortune and a steady wind. Should you have any final requests my Quartermaster here will be happy to answer them. Anything beyond his abilities will require the Guild which is where I am headed now. Should you want to accompany me I am happy for the escort.”

A nervous lip was gnawed pink between anxious teeth. Ayla knew she had been riding a lucky streak that got her as far as this dock. The question was, how long would that luck hold? She had done her best to sell off any of the meager items she possessed to collect fare for her voyage. As such, she carried very little on her person as she stood suppressing her emotional state with marginal success.

As a smattering of other individuals around her milled and conversed with mixed tones of excitement, apprehension, and wonder, the elf sought the balance of social isolation amid a small crowd. She could hear that she was not the only Land Hoper set to embark. That was a good thing. Her refugee dress and haphazard bundle of belongings would not be a red pennant on her shoulders as this venture moved forward.

Ayla listened secretly to some of the whispers around, the concerns about the Horn, some naysayers forecasting a doomed fate, though far more was the melody of eager daydreams sung as epic tales of success to come. Smiling in a small expression, Ayla admired the positive proclamations and let the negative predictions fall to a background murmur; the waterfall always spoke louder than the creek.

Then there was a boat. A small ferry coming from the ship and aimed directly for the dock upon which she stood. This was it. The time drew nearer and all of Ayla’s exuberance took to a rapidly beating heart hiding beneath a placid expression; now was not the time to crack.

Fortunately for her, Ayla had decades of practice maintaining a demeanor that effectively concealed her feelings. Living with the Blackthornes granted her that small gift, at least. Deftly, she wound her way into the gaggle of passengers collecting around the Quartermaster, placing herself in the midst of the herd so as to blend as aptly as possible.

When a second gentleman approached and proclaimed himself captain, Ayla felt a surge in her chest. She had absolutely no interest in getting directly involved with the Guild, but she did want to be noticeable enough that her continued presence would be on the radar of these two marine men.

Using her slightly above-average height to her advantage, Ayla assumed a most proper posture and sought eye contact with this Captain Church. She directed him a demure nod and pleasant smile as he made his intentions known. Her travel cloak was still hood-up to conceal the wild length of her vibrant hair, though wayward strands of flame were prone to flying out to dance in the breeze. Knowing full well that her particular pigmentation was not entirely common, she flashed a friendly golden glance from his face to a respectful downcast observation of his departure.

Immediately turning to the Quartermaster, Ayla found her way into the line of passengers addressing the man for information. In due time, she took her chance to speak to him directly.

“Is there perhaps an opportunity to board this evening, sir?”

Expression calm and ears concealed, the elf found it possible to pass as a human in her mid-20s. Though her uncommon eye color could give her away, she hoped that the diminishing natural light of the day coming to its end would aid her in slipping past too much notice and find the perfect balance of memorable without being alarming.

“I am a bit nervous as I have not been on a ship before,” she explained. “I would very much be appreciative of a chance to experience the moving ground before I make a fool of myself in front of your entire roster.”

The crowd seemed to listen to Quinton with respect which bode well for the trip in his eyes. While not a tyrant, by sea standards it was often a shock for many to come up against a sea captain when they had wind on their back and sales pulling them forward. An order was given was an order seen through and followed. Be you a passenger or crew made no difference in the waters touch.

Shaking the hand of one passenger Quinton was about to take a brisk step towards the Guild when he stopped after making eye contact with another in the crowd. A striking silhouette was made by her figure which was punctuated by the clear softness of her skin and eyes. He was not one to fall so quickly for a siren on the sea or by land, but there was no mistaking this person had captivated his attention. He certainly couldn’t recall ever seeing eyes like hers before.

At the offer to answer questions a handful from the crowd stepped forward and began to badger, politely, most questions a ship hears from their passengers ahead of a voyage. It was clear the guild had made some error as many of the questions they were asking were already answered by the ship and its captain and delivered via a poster at the guild board. Still a patient quartermaster answered these questions as they came.



Most Guilds had started to remove them as a requirement, but Quinton didn’t have much of a choice as he inherited his ship through his father. The Blood Agreement saw that he would with all power he could see everyone safely to their contracted destination. The crowd, upon hearing this, seemed to be both impressed and almost giddy. Several thanked the quartermaster and captain for their time and started to put things in boats for transport to the ship.

Finally feeling he had left the group with enough to feel comfortable boarding the captain gave one final look at the women who was far beyond her outfit. She was next in line, so he politely excused himself as he made his way towards the Guild.

He left the Quartermaster to answer all remaining questions. The next being the woman asking if there was still room in the ship. At this question the man gave a halfway look. Land Hopers weren’t the spur of the moment kind of decisions and a night before preparation seemed odd. Still it wasn’t any more odd than an orphan looking to get a job on the ship for many. Perhaps she didn’t realize what was ahead.

Thinking about giving the woman a stern look the Quartermaster gave her a second look over. At this second look his eyes got wide for a moment. It was clear to him that she was an elf suddenly. He had delt with some on occasions when wealthy clients did business with the Guild and wished to see the ships contracted for their needs.

“We have room for one more if that is your party?” He asked looking down at the note the captain made saying they have provisions for more than had been contracted. “You will not be allowed your own cabin though…” Would you like to go to the guild and confirm with them or deal with that aboard the ship?”

As Quinton walked into the Guild the overcorrection of opulence blinded him. His face and status was well known in the building so a staffer walked over to him and asked if everything was ready for tomorrows departure. He confirmed that they had no reason for delay, but asked to see if he could review the contracts the guild drafted for the voyage. As he was given the paperwork he was offered a private room, but he dismissed this offer. The room was stuffy and above all it would give the guild an opportunity to corner him for some new business pitch.

As he went through the paperwork, he saw a few errors here and there with some counting children as adults and the other way around. It only took a few minutes to correct these, but at the same time he was annoyed he was having to do this low-level paperwork so close to setting sale. One other thing that bothered him was he could see where people were mislabeled, but could still not see where the final count was wrong.

Acutely keyed into the subtleties of expression after decades of reading subtext in the Blackthorne family’s behaviour, Ayla could feel the put-on patience worn by the Quartermaster in the face of questions that should already have been answered. He handled the situation well, she thought. It was clear that many of the inquiries he received consisted of information readily available elsewhere, though no sign of perturbance or frustration radiated from the speaker. Ayla considered this a pleasant indicator of the nature of the ship’s crew and felt relief as the soaked in the words swirling around her.

Having her turn to speak directly with the Quartermaster, Ayla presented her calmest, most polite demeanor and awaited response with all the placidity of an evening glass lake. Still reading the most subtle tells in this gentleman’s expression and tone, she knew she was not fooling him with her play at human. She let this pass without a second consideration and simply carried on unfazed by his ability to identify her heritage.

“Oh, yes, just one,” she confirmed. “I do not require private accommodations, thank you.”

She glanced from the ship itself, bobbing at anchor some distance from the dock, to the direction the captain has strode off on business. Ayla put on a face of consideration and played the part of owning her independent thoughts as if decisions were often in her hands.

“Well, I think if this can be settled on board, I would prefer to do so there.” This reply was punctuated with a small nod, giving the illusion she had actually considered going to the Guild office. She was going to avoid stepping into a building of that professional and political nature with everything she had.

One long and slender hand drew from her oversized robe’s confines and indicated the paperwork held in the Quartermaster’s grip.

“Do I register with you here or shall we do so aboard your fine vessel?”

In an effort to keep the current in her favor, Ayla took a few small steps towards the little boats filling with other passengers and their belongings. Ayla hefted her lone bundle of belongings which amounted to little more than a miniature lumpy duffle. In a graceful sidestep, she kept her shoulders squared with the Quartermaster and never let her gaze fall from his face, hoping she could hold his attention and encourage the idea that their conversation find completion aboard The Silver Wing.

The quartermaster, a burly man with a weathered face and calloused hands, stood at the center of the port with his back to the anchored ship, his gaze fixed on the slender figure before him. The elf, with her hidden red hair like dimmed flames in the moonlight and eyes that shimmered with an otherworldly light, was an unusual sight. Such beings were rare for him while for others even more so, and the quartermaster’s instincts, honed over years of managing cargo and crew, bristled with unease. It was the third time in as many minutes she mentioned heading to the ship.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind a tumult of questions. Elves were known for their mysterious ways and ancient knowledge, but their motives were often at the behest of someone else. The ship was bound for a perilous voyage, and every decision weighed heavily. Allowing the elf aboard could and likely would be harmless. Yet, there was a risk that her presence might invite trouble or disrupt. He didn’t like the cost and benefit of it.

The elf’s calm demeanor and patient stance only deepened the quartermaster’s uncertainty. He could see the glint of the moon on the elf’s delicate features, she had fair hands to match her eyes which meant she wasn’t an elf forced on one of the large farms at the mountainside. He thought of the cargo below deck and the lives depending on the success of this journey. With a sigh, he pulled out a leather-bound ledger, its pages filled with the records of those who had come and gone. This was a decision that could not be taken lightly, for in the unpredictable waters of their voyage, even the smallest choice might steer the course of their fate.

After a long moment of contemplation, the quartermaster sighed deeply and gave a reluctant nod. The elf woman’s presence, though disquieting, could not be ignored. She had an air of quiet determination that suggested she was no mere wanderer but someone with purpose. “Very well,” he said, his voice gruff but resigned. “You may board.”

With the elf there was enough people to start ferrying them to the ship. Some members of the crew who forgoed the festivities of the night were there to help them into the smaller boat and row them to The Silver Wing. While doing so one of the crew was chatty and talking with some of the passengers.

“This is my third voyage, but my first going north towards the Horn.” The young man was clearly a chatty character. “Last time we had to anchor twice and look within the mountains for food and water. With our climbers they were able to find stuff within two days. Some marvelous edible flowers. We tried to dry them to keep as snacks, but they didn’t take. Still we enjoyed what was gathered for almost a week. The sweetness in them was like nothing I had tasted before.”

At this point the young man was talking to a woman roughly his age. She seemed mesmerized already which clearly did the crew members ego a hearty bounce. Once they arrived at the ship, with the chatty crew member giving another two stories about his first voyage to a large trading city a few months south, the ropes were brought down and attached to the boat which was then lifted with some machines and human help.

To exit the boat the passengers were asked to swing their legs over and then turn as they could then hop down about two feet to the deck below. From there they were on a mostly quiet ship. Told they could walk around or take to their rooms which would quickly get crowded they let everyone know that some crew and the captain would likely return within the hour. Everyone else would be back by first light and, at first gust they, would set sail.

Her tumultuous relief was contained behind a gracious bow. The slightest exhale of breath keyed Ayla in to the realization that she had momentarily been holding her apprehension in her lungs. She glanced upward to the ship and smiled peacefully, the shine in her eyes fueled by a dewy surge that she blinked away with a flutter of lashes.

“Wonderful,” she whispered back and began her descent to the ferry.

Choosing a seat on the edge of the group, Ayla aimed to not interrupt the conversations in progress. Instead, she seated herself with her belongings tucked tidily into her lap and kept her eyes trained on her future. She listened in as this repeat voyager prattled details of previous ventures. The mention of dried flowers as snacks couldn’t be ignored and the elf’s smile cracked open enough to reveal the glint of her teeth. She thought she knew exactly which plants, at least which floral families, the group had collected.

Though she had not traveled beyond this territory in her life, she had been graced with a modicum of education that afforded her understanding of the flora beyond her usual gathering grounds. Immediately, she began to rifle through her mental catalogue and make shortlists for what she may be able to procure during a landing party on this venture.

Beyond the ultimate end goal of freedom ahead, Ayla was excited at the prospect of addicting to her repertoire of herbal experience. She knew most of the plants by sight, though she had not always collected some of the rarer and more distant varieties herself; for those, the Blackthornes had imported components to their supply. Even so, the elf had education enough to read the reference texts and had compiled the knowledge needed to do her own scouting once an opportunity presented itself.

Ayla marveled at the contraptions designed for hoisting what she presumed would serve as a lifeboat to the deck of the main ship. Of course she had seen her own share of mechanisms to ease large-scale projects, but the specific workings of maritime exploits were entirely foreign to her.

After dropping to the deck with the slightest audible hit of her weight pulled by a gravitational force, the lone traveler did not wander far. She walked along the perimeter of The Silver Wing’s airy space, running her fingers over the weathered wood of the railing at the edge. While she did not have the immediate connection to nature that her ancestors several generations back may have had, she enjoyed the supposition that she could feel the traces of life that once flowed through these felled timbers.

Without venturing far from the Quartermaster’s sight, should he decide it was time to have her name placed officially on some sort of roster, the elf meandered towards the bow of the ship as far as she was able. She pressed a palm to the foremast and prayed the trees would shade their venture with good fortune, apologizing for their altered circumstances, and promised she would worship their sacrifice. Upon reaching the bow, Ayla turned her face to the sky and breathed deeply the scent of salt, sweat, and adventure.

In a meditative state, she stood with upturned gaze, reveling in the feeling of the breeze about her shoulders and imagining the heartbeat of the wood beneath her fingers. She rested her hands lightly on the railing, communing with the elements themselves in this christening of her journey to a new, and at the same time old, life.

The quartermaster made notes of the cargo needing to be packed as the passengers brought it aboard. Most were items filled with optimism like furniture for a future home or tools for expected land. Others brought small mementos of those they were leaving behind. He noted a lovely little doll that one girl was holding and took special care to let her see him write down not only the doll but an added description that it was well cared for.

As gruff as the sea can make a man they often softened when at port. Captain Church was always a man who said the port is what warms the heart when the coast brings its chill. This has embedded itself in many of his crew including his high ranking members. That said he still advised never to be caught swindling any of them. Business was an entirely different matter.

With the work mostly done, but on a ship the work never done those that were left on the ship seemed busy, but this was in part due to just a quick step to get the passengers all set up. A few in the corner were playing cards. They were too young to attend the games held in the brothel where many others on the crew were winning and losing their last chance at intimacy before first light.

—---------------------------------------------
Back at the Guild Quinton had been finally cornered by members of the guild who, under the disguise of wishing him a safe journey they started to poor drinks and discuss what would be the ships play after it returned from beyond the horn. Several were also asking if he was bringing any cartography tools on the trip which he told them he was. They nodded in excitement any sort of information, let alone a map, of the coast beyond the horn would be of great value.

The conversation quickly went to matters of contracts and other business which the Captain had no time or interest in. Every time he tried to get them to look and review the miscount of passengers they seemed to brush it off and return to another topic. It was starting to get on his nerves at which point he decided to escape by making a final toast and pretending he was needed on the ship for final review. As soon as he was out of the building he felt like he could breathe again.

For a moment he thought a final walk along the town's boardwalk would be in order, but realized if he did that he would have to double back past the guild and thereby out him as having told a fib. So he turned right and headed towards the port where a boat was waiting. With a cabin boy waiting to row him to the ship he set off and watched as the lights of the town grew a little further away. When he made it to the boat he heard the quartermaster shout “Captain ON DECK” And a few of the crew stopped and gave a respectful nod before going about their task with passengers.

“Final checks?” He said to the Quartermaster who gave a nod and handed him some of the papers. He explained that no cargo was out of order and so far as he could tell nobody had been trying to bring a stowaway. He did note that there was a late joiner. He then mentioned “the fair maiden by the bow of the ship had asked if there was room. He shook his head in agreement as Quinton looked back with a slight brow of concern.

“Nothing smelling about it. Thinking she might just be wanting to get away from something. Best way to do that is leave the trouble behind I say.” The quartermaster had taken some time the last while to think of reasons for anyone let alone an elf to leave in a hurry. “Since she isn’t with child I don’t think there is any issue with a runaway name or title. Most likely just looking for something new like the rest…” He muttered this last part as the Quartermasters personal opinion of Land Hopers was a little troubled.

“Well I will get her name on the ledger.” The Captain said. For a blood agreement to work the person doing the agreement had to sign the name of the person they promised coin or service onto the paper. Walking towards the bow of the ship he looked on at the already familiar silhouette the young woman made. As he made his way up to her he could see she seemed somewhat internal in thought.

He gave his footsteps a little extra thump as he got close and then a polite cough to let his presence be known. “Good evening. I was told you are looking to join. We have room and my Quartermaster has informed me that your name hasn’t been added to the agreement. If you would, I will need to ask you a few questions..” He then took the pen attached to the papers and started to ask the normal onboarding questions.

“Name?”

“Expectation of voyage?” (One way or round trip)

“Effects brought on board?”

“Skills beneficial for the captain and crew to know?”

That was the end at which point he then added a question not on the paperwork but important all the same.

”Concerns for the voyage?”

“Reason for the voyage?”

On this last question he did make a point to look at the woman. It wasn’t something he had to force himself to do, but it was in a manner of speaking difficult. The evening was darker and the bow wasn’t as well lit as the other parts. To the woman it may have looked like he was squinting slightly as if he was in need of glasses, but this changed as he let the night take over and the lack of light subsided.

The serenity of the evening bathed Ayla in calming caresses. She began to sway ever so gently along with the breeze that battered her abundance of linens, humming a faint tune she had learned from her own mother as a small child. For a moment, a leeching dread pried at the corners of her mind, reminding her that her family would pay a price for her abduction whenever her absence became clear. The melody from her infant lullabies chased away the darkness; her family had blessed her flight and they had arranged an explanation that would buy her some days reprieve before the house could label her awol.

Ayla smiled as she heard a heavy footfall behind her. It was considerate of the approaching individual to make their advance known, even though she would have sensed the tremor in the floorboards without the added effort on his part. Though she had heard the announcement of the Captain’s arrival on deck, it had registered to her as nothing more than the call of a gull or the crash of a wave, all part of the song of the ocean.

Taking in one last swig of air, she turned, expecting to resume discourse with the Quartermaster. Even Ayla couldn’t entirely confide the momentary surprise of meeting Captain Church’s gaze instead of his man. She blinked rapidly to conceal the slight shock and keyed into the questions coming forth.

“I am most appreciative for any small corner of your vessel.”

“Hazel Brooks,” she gave as her name. She knew her given name would wind up flagged in days to come, and this alias had been chosen for this venture specifically.

“One way, please.” She made sure to reply with the utmost politeness and respect for the position this man held. She did think it was strange that the captain would trouble himself with passenger lists on such a direct level.

With regards to her effects, she chuckled slightly and tilted her head to the bundle at her feet. She nudged it with the toe of her sandled foot. “I travel light,” she admitted. “A few garments and supplies for my trade.”

“I have experience with medicines and healing. Should anyone fall ill, I would happily do my part in providing care.”

As her replies were received and noted, Ayla observed that the final inquiries did not seem to be recorded in the same way. Nevertheless, she held fast to her respect and continued the tête-à-tête serenely.

“I suppose I am a little nervous. I have never been on a ship before. This will be my first time on the waters. It is both exciting and terrifying.” The truth in her lies bubbled to the surface and she found the exuberance roiling forth in a sudden torrent. “I cannot wait to see the sun rise over an endless sea. Oh! And to feel the winds where no trees nor buildings stand, that really must be an experience. I hope they do not grow angry, though.”

She caught herself rambling and pressed the tips of her fingers against her lips. Clearing her throat, she utilized a brief shake of the head to recenter herself in the conversation with a man of far too much status to bother with her childlike wonder of open waters.

“I look to resettle and build a new life. This land, I find, offers little for me.”

Having abashedly focused to the ground after her unexpected outburst, Ayla found the strength to raise her eyes. Given her heritage, she found little difficulty with her sight at this distance to the gentleman, even in the ever darkening ambiance. She realized he was not having the same ease.

“Oh dear, I did not realize how quickly the light diminished. Please, let us venture toward a light for your notes. It can be terribly detrimental for you to be reading and writing under such poor conditions. My deepest apologies, Captain.”

She turned to head closer to a more lighted part of the deck after obtaining her belongings from the ground. By way of small talk, she ventured, “I would think a man of your position far too busy to concern himself with adding to the passenger manifest.” Sheepishly, she held her parcel like a priceless artifact swaddled in protective canvas. “I was sure your Quartermaster would take my information when he was available. Perhaps I should have sought him out to save you the trouble. My apologies to you both.”

Following along with her answers he wrote her answers down with his shorthand as she mentioned name and the unsurprising answer of going one way. So far only two people had paid for a round trip and they were representatives for the Guild to confirm delivery. They were armed with several special birds that can find their way home over long distances. A horrid practice of captains taking on passengers and then once out of sight throwing them overboard in a sort of reverse mutiny. This practice is what brought about the original Blood Agreements.

Quinton didn’t hide his excitement when the woman said she had experience with healing. While not unheard of, those with medical knowledge on a ship were rare and usually simple and brutal measures were done to save a life and less often a limb. It also made her light travel make much more sense. Instead of trading goods she was likely expecting to travel and trade her knowledge. Anyone with half a brain would gladly do a favor for promised medical help. Including the captain himself.

“Nerves are normal. Anyone would be more concerned if you tried to fake calm in the face of the unknown.” he said when Hazel mentioned being nervous. “Should you not find your legs on the boat we have a few tricks to help forgo the nausea; however, you might have more expertise in ways of dealing with that”

When he listened to her talk about the excitement of the trip he couldn’t help but smile with a knowing look on his face. Her thrilling detail of what she was looking forward to was something he felt intimately. The first time you stood on the ship deck and watched, not felt, the wind carried the ship forward was unlike anything you could experience on land. She was on this boat with little clouds in her eyes and still saw some light shine through.

“I will have to show you what it is like on the crows nest at some point.” He noted when he saw her get nervous after starting to ramble. He paid it no annoyance and allowed the conversation to continue. Her answer with hopes of resettling was as normal as it came and showed no red flags. Without much thought he started to rummage around for his ring when Hazel mentioned how little light they had and politely walked towards the center light along the mast. He silently thanked her as he continued to listen and look for his ring.

Her next comment was not surprising, but in a way struck Quniton at his core. For many the opportunity to see the coast beyond their colony's stock was a romantic thought. In reality many get scared and bored with the sights and sounds of the untamed walls along the coast. The added dangers meant that being on one could spell doom after every rock. Still as a Captain he had overseen the safe passage of not just his crew and ship but his cargo and passengers as well. His sense of duty came largely from his father and mother who did just as he did, but it never seemed to surprise him that he held a station that others viewed higher.

He finally found his ring and pulled it out and placed it on his finger. “Miss Brooks you will come to understand that while captain means I must be listened to and obeyed in times of earnest I am not above or below listening and helping.” His tone was warm as he said this. He knew she was being polite if not perhaps a little meek, but the most dangerous thing a Captain can be with Land Hopers was unapproachable. When passengers didn’t think they could voice concern or make requests they simply started to fester and that lead to far more trouble than a simple helpful gesture.

“As for my Quartermaster, as much as he would love to continue in conversation, only I can mark this Blood Agreement with my ring.” He then pushed it down on the paper and for a moment there was a light thump of light against where the ring was pressed. The page then felt light for a moment and returned to its normal state. “Mmm normally the name lights up as well…” the captain murmured. He let it go for now. It wouldn’t be the first time magic confounded him. Though this was the first time something like this had happened.

"Welcome aboard The Silver Wing Miss Brooks. You will find the wind carries you and your hope." This last bit of romantic words was something his mother and father would often say. "Should anything come up you may pass word to myself or through any of the crew..." At this point he paused and then made a request he knew was best to strike at early.

"Should any members of the crew need your medical attention I am sure we can strike an agreement on payment. As it is I am sure many of the passengers are already biding and requesting future favors. Let it be known if I make an urgent request it will be for the sake of the journey and not for personal gain."

As she expected, Ayla could sense the positive effect her stated knowledge brought to the Captain’s expectations for the voyage. There was, after all, a very good reason her proprietor family had reached their status in society. The ancient methods combined with modern sciences produced profoundly positive effects in the realm of care and healing. On the backs of the elven skill did the humans thrive.

She smiled as he alluded to cures for nausea. She hefted her bundle and the vaguest clink echoed from within; she had few precious possessions, and her mortar and pestle were among them. She engaged a thoughtful expression before speaking to the air above them.

“I might prepare a blend of ginger root and peppermint leaf,” she mused. “Fennel seed as well. Perhaps a bit of chamomile and lavender for a soothing finish.” She glanced towards him and shrugged. “As a tea or otherwise. If concentrated, it may be administrable as a tincture.”

At his offer to offer her view from the nest, Ayla faltered. Immediately she look to the designated lookout and breathed out a low whistle.

“Really?” she murmured wonderingly. “Oh, that must be a beautiful vantage point. I would be honored.” A smile crept across her face, finally reaching her eyes. Though each of her expressions before had been genuine and warm, the light of joy had yet to reach the gold of her wide eyes. She caught herself drifting away on the daydream of the future and landed abruptly back into their discourse.

“Only if there is a moment of time to allow for it, of course. I dare not presume otherwise.”

Beneath the light of the mast, Ayla rocked on her toes, mimicking the gentle sway of the ship beneath their feet. Dreamy glances to the sky and horizon pulled her in and out of the here and now as the Captain finished his documentation. She liked his stance on listening and helping; it was rare for a human, let alone a man, to place any obligation on himself to use his ears and talents to the betterment of others. It was ever more elusive for a man of status to believe he had responsibilities beyond his own whims. She hoped he was genuine.

“Blood Agreement?” she marveled. The concept was foreign and she was unsure as to what potential snags this may create in her escape plan. She watched as he pressed his signet to the parchment and felt the nerves creep back into her belly.

“Normally the name lights up as well…”

She hoped the concern of her face seemed only for his sake of the results not being to his expectation. Since he seemed to brush pass the incident, Ayla resumed her easy smile, though perhaps it was a more difficult expression for her to muster than before.

“I am most obliged, Captain Church. Please do let me know if I can be of service. I know my skills come few and far between. I will not be a burden to you or your crew. I have faith that your direction will come with all proper propriety of your station and shall do my utmost to fulfill the needs of your vessel.”

Following his direction of finishing preparations, Ayla moved towards the center of the deck where some crew and passengers alike were milling about before finding their arrangements for the evening. She presumed that the Quartermaster would be giving directions to those on board and did not want to miss out on any information she may need to be accountable for in the future.

The conversation with the woman named Hazel Brooks was pleasant and bore the fruit of having someone with medical knowledge on board. With that he needed to make sure the ship was equipped to take advantage of this knowledge. Her listing of ingredients showed a glaring error in their supplies. Of the listed ingredients he believed the only things they carried were lavender and peppermint leaf and those would be found in the gally with the cook rather than the medical supplies.

With a quick turn he called forth two powder monkeys who were working about the main deck with a mop and sander. “Gun! Cannon!” he called out their nicknames as the smaller one was named Gun and the taller one named Cannon. They earned this based on the munition they could carry when they first joined the ship's crew. “You are to see the passengers who are brought to their cabins.” The two jumped as their were given the command and ran past the Captain as he moved to his Quartermaster.

“Bart.” The Captain said. “It would seem Lady Brooks has medical knowledge. I believe it would be prudent for us to get ahold of a book detailing and listing important medical plants. Do you think you could procure one before we leave tomorrow?” As he asked his question he watched the man smile with glee over the knowledge that the woman knew medicine.

“Seems that one is full of surprises.” Bart said. He quickly seemed to think for a moment and then gave an answer. “Yes, I believe I can. May take the request to the guild and see if they can lend it with the expectation of payment on return and a release of insurance. I shall get to it immediately.” he then rushed to the boats still on their hangers and instructed a crew member to prepare it for cast off. The step in his walk showcased a high moral. Before the nights end most of the crew would likely learn of their fortune.

Captain Quinton was sure the bar and brothel both would do very well in business.

—----------------------------------------

Gun and Cannon helped everyone navigate through the boat to the stern of the ship where the cabins could be found. For Passengers they were given a few ‘options’ by which they were assigned based on their standing. Children and mothers were largely put in one large room with several large beds. Husbands were brought to an adjoined cabin and if there was room single men were added to it as well. After that a slightly smaller cabin was for women and small infants. There were few individual beds, but for many the beds were comfortable enough and few seemed to grumble about the situation.

Gun was very quiet while Cannon spoke to the passengers. “You should try and carve out a spot tonight since there aren’t as many of you. Tomorrow everyone will have arrived. As much as you can you won't always sleep in the same spot depending on when you end up asleep. Of the people listening, one of the small girls standing next to her mother or sister seemed confused by the two boys.

The two were orphans. Something not uncommon and even less so when it came to their jobs as powder monkeys. Fast and nimble they were able to get to where adults couldn’t while also being quick learners of maritime skills. Gun could tie down a sail almost as fast as anyone and Cannon, who was deaf in one ear, made for a great running of both gunpowder and cannon shells. They were the youngest of the ship's crew, but by no means looked down no as far as sailors skills go.

When Gun showed the mothers and children to their room he walked in and seemed intent on showing that the beds were well furnished with new straw and kept tight with their sheets. Cannon gave a quick bark for him to get off and a few of the mothers laughed. The two were not a comedy troupe, but they clearly had a showmanship in their relationship. Likely partnered with their formal skills as pickpockets.

“And here is the women's room. It is the only one that locks from the inside and outside. Cannon was saying this in a real matter of fact way. He was barely old enough to understand this meaning, but was understanding it. Guns on the other hand had little understanding other than ‘women like the door closed.’ Both Cannon and the Captain had little interest in correcting this assessment and so they let it go.

“We will let you find your space and make it. Should you need anything there will be someone at the end of the hall. Gun jumped up and sort of waved a hand making it known that he was either volunteering or was likely told that would be him for the first night. “Lights are out due to fire concern an hour after set and meals start tomorrow afternoon after we make sail.

It became clear to a few onlookers that Cannon was clearly trying to mimic the captain as he stood addressing the crowd. He didn’t have the forward lean of curious interest and focus, but he was trying to match the man's presence and other mannerisms. The girl from earlier could be seen laughing a little causing the young boys to excuse themselves. And with the two leaving the ship had done its final chore. Tomorrow she set sail. Tonight she stayed quiet.

Before falling in with the other passengers for the grand tour, Ayla lingered long enough to hear Captain Church direct his Quartermaster to further outfit their medicinal supplies. While she kept her pleasant expressions, the elf could not help the riot of emotion in her chest as Bart sprinted off to speak with the guild. While traveling under an assumed name, she figured it would be a matter of days before the Blackthornes came looking at manifests. If she were lucky, it would take a few more days for them to realize her name was absent but that a book pertinent to her skillset was secured for this very vessel.

Eager to get out of public sight now, she followed the pair of boys as they gave a brief but effective introduction to deck below. Ayla mused over the duet as she followed them along. They were young, yes, but they were free. They clearly were at ease in their lives, thriving with whatever skills they had been able to acquire. She marveled at their energy and felt that their presence in service of the Captain spoke well of his management and methods. She could not sense a hidden fear or similar shackle beneath the boys’ presentation.

Reaching the room she would be sharing with other women, the elf smirked at the way in which the pair related news of the locking mechanism. It was matter-of-fact and direct. She doubted either of them had any inclination as to why the room of single women may prefer to barricade themselves in, and she was happy for the two in their innocence. She had grown up too quickly herself and knew from too young an age just how cruel the world could be.

Within the secure room, she sought a corner. Small as the shared space would be with all tenants onboard, Ayla was gleeful with the prospect of being on the inside of a door that locked in a manner of protection instead of confinement. She had never experienced privacy before and was always a little curious about the concept. Bathing and dressing routines were done without regard for the elves’ modesty and as such, Ayla had developed little sense of shyness. She engaged on this venture presuming her manners were as normal as the next.

With her corner chosen, furthest from the door, she settled with her back comfortably nestled in the joint of the walls. Legs crossed and bundle in her lap, she leaned her head against the walls and closed her eyes in dreamy meditation. Intentional breathing practices brought her racing heart back to a calm. She prepared to make herself indispensable to the crew. With her knowledge and trade skills, and what limited powers she had been able to manifest under her family tutelage, she would do everything within reason to give the Captain validation in keeping her aboard. Whenever the Blackthornes caught up with her, she hoped they would find her well entrenched in the hearts of all on the ship, even if only for her tea blends and soothing balms.

Captain Church awoke before dawn, his senses rising with the tide. The dark interior of his cabin was still and quiet, save for the gentle creaking of the ship as it rocked in the calm harbor waters. The faint scent of salt and tar hung in the air, a familiar aroma that was as much a part of him as the ship itself. He lay still for a moment, listening to the distant, rhythmic lap of waves against the hull, a sound that had become his lullaby. But there was work to be done, and as the first pale light of morning began to seep through the small window near his bunk, he rose from his bed, his mind already on the tasks ahead.

Dressing as quickly as one could with the attire of a captain to look his best on their day of launch, Church pulled on his better coat and boots, the leather soft from years of use but with clear care taken to not let the navy blue of the fabric fad. He stepped out onto the quarterdeck, where the cool pre-dawn breeze met him, carrying with it the full scent of the sea. The horizon was just beginning to glow with the promise of sunrise, casting a dim light over the anchored ship. His eyes scanned the harbor, where he could see the shadowy shapes of small boats making their way toward the ship, their occupants barely visible in the half-light.

The crew, returning from their nights armed with shoreleave wounds and scars, rowed silently, the oars dipping into the water with practiced ease. Church could see the dark outlines of their forms, huddled against the chill of the early morning. As the boats drew closer, the sound of voices carried across the water, low and murmured, as the men exchanged their evening's choices. They were tired, but there was a sense of purpose in their movements, a readiness to begin the day’s work.

The first of the boats bumped gently against the side of the ship, and the crew began to clamber aboard, their footsteps echoing on the wooden deck. Church greeted each man with a nod as they passed, his eyes assessing them in the dim light. None were foolish enough to come still drunk, but he still needed to make sure. Once they were on board few orders had to be given as Bart could be seen dropping from the last boat. He carried with him several books which he tapped and then made way to the captains cabin to store the treasured books. The faint clinking of metal and the rustle of ropes filled the air as the rest of the crew readied the sails and checked the rigging, their movements fluid and coordinated.

Among the crew were a few new faces, passengers who had stayed in the town for their last night. Some likely said farewell to other families while a few more simply wished to stay on their beds one last time. They came aboard with their belongings, eyes wide with curiosity as they took in the sight of the ship’s deck in the early light. Church watched them and, noting the nervousness in their expressions, walked over to greet them and called on Cannon to escort them to the cabins with the other passengers. These were not men and women used to the sea, and the days ahead would be an awakening for them. He offered them a brief nod, a gesture of reassurance, as they were shown to their quarters.

As the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon, the ship came alive with activity. The crew worked with quiet determination, the ship slowly transforming from a sleeping giant into a vessel ready to take on the open sea. Church felt the familiar stir of anticipation in his chest as he moved to the helm, the weight of responsibility settling comfortably on his shoulders. The day was beginning, and with it, a new journey awaited.

“To the horn.” Captain Church said to himself. He would be lying if he didn’t say he allowed his nerves to grip him. In a nervous habit he had collected during his early years as a young sailor he played with his cuff as if his sleeves were too short. The coat always fit his dad better anyways.

The experience of a rocking-ship-sleep soothed Ayla in a way she had not predicted. She awoke feeling that her lungs filled further, her steps would be lighter, and her prospects brighter than ever. Having slept deeply and peacefully, the elf stirred some minutes before the dawn’s light began to kiss the watery horizon. They were not out of port yet, but Ayla miss this sunrise. Before leaving the cabin, she braided her hair to catch any flyaways that may have slipped out during her sleep.

The refugee collected her bundle, slung it over her shoulder and crept from the below deck to the frosty seaside morning. The faintest glints of starlight were beginning to wink away, and the glisten of the moonlight shone down from the blanket of a lighter blue. Ayla took to the side of the ship facing the eastern morning and waited.

In her same travel garb from the previous evening, she enhanced her attire only by winding a length of fabric around as a scarf. This added material sat outside of her cloak which freed her hands from constantly worrying her fingers at the hem of the hood. She felt secure in her layers, thin as they were against the biting chill of air so close to water. She had experienced far worse accommodations than this and none of those ever came with the brilliance of the impending dawn.

As additional passengers and the final crew boarded The Silver Wing, Ayla paid no heed to their bustling. All of her attentions were directed to the sun and the future. Her robes billowed around in the gentle breeze but the cold did not seem to penetrate her heart. Warmth radiated down from the brilliant yellow orb rising from its blue blanket and the elf drank in peace. With her eyes closed, she felt the heat from the sun kiss her cheeks and melt into her spirit.

Humming another ancient tune to herself in meditative bliss, Ayla channeled her focus into being in this moment. They would leave shortly and the best thing she could do to accommodate that was to stay out of the crew’s way. As eager as she was to find out when exactly they would depart, she knew better than to pester any of the staff settling into their roles. Instead, she cast occasional glances to the hive of activity across the ship until anxiety began to tighten her chest. Then she would look to the sun again and feel the kinship of nature her ever-ancient spirit knew beyond her lifetime experience and returned to calm again.

At this very moment the captain had to look more busy to match the action and movement of the ships crew. With several pointings to different parts of the ship and his First Mate hollering orders to match it would like as if the captain was at the head of an orchestra playing along and timing every member of the crew. The reality was this was one of the few parts where the captain was truly useless. With a ship getting ready everyone had a job and for the most part each did their job perfectly. Still the show was mainly for the passengers. Over the years it was obvious that as much excitement there was to watch the crew muster and draw the sails most would watch the captain as if to better understand the ship.

This bit of ship theater was no more a burden than it was a helpful. At the very least when he pointed the passengers often looked and in doing so might see they would be in the way in a moment as the crew drew lines and tied them off this way and that. While watching several of the crew tie things down the show was drawing to an end and the Captain moved to the front of the ship. It was here that he stopped with the fake showman and simply admired his own ship. With her sails catching wind and boat now starting to move he felt she never looked more beautiful.

In his ear Church could hear a small hummed tone and turned to see the Lady Brook along the railings. She had seemingly migrated to the sun facing side and was enjoying the kiss of early warmth as the sunrise welcomed the start of the morning gusts. Her song was lovely to the touch, but it seemed somewhat melancholy to the unknown ear. "Lovely..." he said as she finished.

"Garrick!" The Captain shouted at once and then turned to see his First Mate across the main deck near the mast. "My Mother Told me!" The command was heard by all on the deck and there was a cheer from the crew. They quickly got quiet as Garrick Took a deep breath.

"My Mother Told Me..." Garrick started to sing with a deep voice that seemed to vibrate even the wind. As the song grew in breath and numbers the Captain joined and soon the whole crew was singing their farewell song to their place of anchor.

On the eastern slide of the foreward deck, Ayla basked in the spray as the ship lurched into life. At first, she faltered, gripping the railing a moment tighter to steady her feed as the rocking upon the waves became an active task rather than passive. She bit her lip to hold her excitement, watching the sails above swell with the breath of hope.

From sail to sea, she wondered at the beauty of a world she had never been privy to before. When her tune finished, she was startled to find she was no longer alone. She gave the captain sheepish smile and quietly explained, “A song my mother used to sing when I was young.”

The sudden call from captain to crew elicited a small squeak of breath from the elf. She beamed, overcome with the spreading harmony rippling through the crew and even to the man in charge. A wide, pure joy grin lit her eyes and flushed her cheeks. Though the song was new to her, she rocked gently to the thrumming rhythm in a small celebratory waltz.

Ayla turned small free-form circles in her improvised ballet, felt the wind increase as the shore withdrew. She sashayed gently along the edge of the rail, embracing the future with wide arms and uplifted palms. Expelling a hearty, audible sigh, she allowed herself a laugh and came to rest once again overlooking the water.

"Tenn' ambar, tenn' yássë, er i sáma" she whispered to the horizon, smiling.

The Captain enjoyed watching the woman dance as she was joined by a few other passengers, mostly boys and young girls. They laughed along with her and a few stopped and watched the Captain and others continue the last portions of the song. One or two attempted to join in the singing only to have their voice betray them by cracking of going silent when they attempted to match the octave of the round.

When the song finished the crew gave a loud cheer mixed with orders given by deck hands to those below deck. It was a favorite of the crew and with this being their first attempt to cross the horn Church felt it would be the best to help keep them on even feet. He knew that with each day they would come closer to the horn and the crews nerves would get tighter. With luck they would take it one day at a time; however, should some men fall victim to their fears a tonic from the Lady Brook may ease their nerves.

The last thought was quickly dashed as he remembered the promise he made himself which was to not put undo hardship on the medicinally trained passenger. Word had spready like wildfire among the crew which was no surprise and it had their spirits raised more than the song. It had been over five voyages since they were contracted to transport a collection of healers during which several of the crew had ills healed, but that was with several practitioners. Instead of a team they had one and with limited resources. In realty the Captain would be the one asking her if medical intervention would be a right course of action.

With the sails full of breath and The Silver Wing now completely on the move their Port town of Tropea slowly started to disappear among the high mountains that split towards the beach. As they made their way out towards the open sea they finally pulled their ship alongside parallel to the coast. A full view of the wild lines drawn by the mountains could now be admired.



Soon enough as those on the deck enjoyed the calm sun as the wind blew a gentle cool over the ship. It had taken the new passengers an hour or so for them to get their things collected in the hold and their selected bedding procured. The Quartermaster then collected people and with the First Mate started to review the rules and expectations of the ship. Some were obvious to some while others caused great confusion.



More rules were discussed, but these were mainly about when meals were and how proper sleep was important. Additionally the First Mate made several mentions that should people want to help or learn the crew would be willing to share in its expertise of the ship.

This last rule was more of a lifeline to the passengers. The joy and excitement of travel had filled their bellies, but soon enough the same coast and water could bore a man half to death. Learning a new skill would keep them sharp and at the same time distracted and busy. In a fun sort or play the Quartermaster also said that several nights would be story days where members of the crew and passengers if they wanted could share stories. He even hinted that the Captain even took part in these events.

The Captain had taken the time to make his way up to the helm section of the ship. Here his helmsman shared a conversation over how the ship was steering. Thankfully it seemed normal and the two shared in a small conversation. He watched as his leadership engaged and talked with the passengers giving their rules and fill of social events.

"Perhaps the Lady Brooks would care to share her songs with us!" He shouted as he said a large portion of the passengers look up at him. He knew they had just been promised stories from the Captain.

Finding herself accepted openly for the first time in her life, Ayla basked in the partners she acquired for her little ballet. She held hands with the children and spun the girls with their hands aloft, promenaded around the little boys who tried to lead a waltz with her, and laughed among their small-voiced giggles.

In the brief lull between celebratory song and reviewing the rules, Ayla watched the slowly passing coast with enamored eyes. The dance had warmed her limbs, and the sun was minimizing any amount of chill the early morning had introduced to the day. In the respite of time between events, the elf stepped aside from the crowd and adjusted her attire.

Her hands disappeared into the depths of her hood where deft fingers pulled the braid at the sides, causing the hair around the nape of her neck to loosen and sag. She worked by feel, tucking her ears into the tumbles of hair that draped now around her shoulders before catching in the plait. She shifted her scarf from her throat and wrapped it round her head, tucked under the collection of tresses and crossing over her crown like a bandana. With a quick knot, she bound the material into a snug headband that covered the place where her ears were wont to sneak from beneath her hair. Without knowing her ears were what she aimed to conceal, she effectively created a style that kept her locks were confined from whipping about her face on the windswept deck.

Feeling that she had adjusted her disguise appropriately and without presenting herself in a manner that would raise suspicion, she joined the crowd in listening to the expanded expectations from the First Mate and Quartermaster. There was that mention of the Blood Agreement again. Her stomach flipped over itself and she pursed her lips anxiously. When was that going to turn against her?

Intrigued by the prospect of learning about manning such a vessel, Ayla considered the offer of learning from the crew. For the time being, she presumed her utter ignorance of travel on the waters would be more hindrance than help to anyone and she decided she was better off remaining out of the way and tending to the materials she had for remedies if and when her services were required.

The idea of hearing stories from other passengers thrilled the elf in a manner that surprised even her. She knew of a life, yes, but her view had been very sheltered and singularly focused. It occurred to her that she truly had no knowledge of the way an average human family conducted its affairs.

Wrapt in the reverie of learning more about the race which had taught her she was little better than a beast, Ayla was shocked to hear her alias called from the bridge by a familiar voice. She cast her attention immediately up and presented an abashed sincerity towards the captain.

“If there is interest, I would be happy to take part in the exchange of personal histories and entertainment.” She realized she needed to work on her presumed identity a little further. Did she know songs in the common tongue? At least now she knew what could occupy her time in the immediate future.