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.”