With the ship fully on its way much of the morning bustle from the crew had subsided to a more relaxed march. Some, including Cannon and Gun were hard at work sanding, washing, and cleaning the ship while others who did the brute force of the launch were sleeping off the morning muscle, or more likely the rum and revelry of last night. Once underway The Silver Wing looked admirable and chaste along the water.

Soon some passengers excused themselves to their cabin in hopes that there was less rocking, they would be soon disappointed to learn there was no respite no matter where on the ship they went, while others took to their own hobbies or watched the crew. Several crew members had started to take to carving small pieces of driftwood they had pulled up from the ocean. Others took the calm as an opportunity to catch up on other work on the ship. some huddled along the edge and started to drop depth rope.

With each reading they called out to the First Mate who then shouted the reading for the Quartermaster to jot down. Tasks such as these were required for all ships that sailed under the Guilds Banner. At the stern currently by himself the Captain had a table brought out for him to sit at. With a collection of paperwork kept together with a leather binding he was reviewing the logs of expectations for the trip. In the book held knowledge of other ships whose path they would likely cross and whose letters could be taken and returned to the ports ahead. Additionally new knowledge of the different coasts and hazards was a part of this collection. It was indispensable knowledge and he poured himself over it.

This day passed by with little of note which meant it was a fine day according to the crew. Throughout the day several people among the passenger class made attempts to steal time from the Captain which he politely lent. A few requested to have dinner with the captain while others simply wished to ask questions born of curiosity and wonder. While seen as a tyrant in most stories a majority of a Captain's job was people and Captain Church played his role well.

The only time his feathers would get ruffled would be when pressed to make a decision from someone outside his crew. A musing that it would be faster to go out further or that the angle of the boat was off. These would only happen when someone lost their place for a moment, but he would at times get quiet and let them finish before saying in a curt voice that 'their opinion was marked.' a cold choice of words that often communicated plenty.

In the afternoon a small lunch was prepared with some dried meat and a handful of bread. The cook on the ship was a woman named Sabrina.

Few women joined as sailors, but The Silver Wing, even before when the older Church was its captain, had women on her crew. Sabrina had been a cook at a small port town used for food and water when it was destroyed by raging monsters. With no more town she was rescued along with others from the town by The Silver Wing who had been anchored off shore and helped evacuate people. Since then she took to working on the ship along with a few others from that fateful day. Her cooking always improved likely do to her always finding cooks wherever they went and requesting lessons and offers of trades in knowledge.

She was also among the farthest flung crewmembers having traveled almost as much as the Captain. In that she was also a member of the raiding parties that were sent into the mountains to find edible plants and hunt for game able to be fell by a musket shot. She served food just below the main deck in the primary hold while she cooked in the galley. The galley being a room that while unable to be locked was barricaded, to stop people from stealing food, meaning she enjoyed a level of privacy none but the captain could claim and in that allowed the other female crew members to sleep with her.

In experiencing her first full day of separation from a gilded cage, Ayla meandered the accessible portions of the ship in a silent ecstasy. She gazed lovingly at the drifting coastline, watched the watery horizon with enraptured awe, and laughed low at the aquatic life that played about the wake, all the while keeping to the fringes of social collectives.

The boldness of her escape had not yet washed into a comfortable ease. She observed chatting passengers and working crew from a distance, soaking in the environment like a child at a menagerie. For the day, Ayla allowed all her apprehensions to fade away with the dock that receded from view in adequate time. Though she knew there would be repercussions to come, she felt secure that such events were days, if not weeks away yet.

At meal, the elf was amazed to find the touch of femininity among the crew. It had been an unexpected encounter to find a woman at work upon The Silver Wing. That wonder quickly became a self-scolding as Ayla chided herself for being so narrow-minded. It warmed her spirit to see a lady out living an independent life of adventure upon the ocean. She imagined that Sabrina would posses a myriad of stories that would involve a subtle change of feeling from that of the rest of the male crew. Making a note to work up courage to invest in conversation, Ayla humbly thanked the cook for her presence and presents of nourishment before taking her sustenance to the open sky.

As much of the day as possible was spent out on the deck. Nibbling her bread and jerky while overlooking the vast sea proved a pleasant manner in which to enjoy a meal. Ayla found she ate slower though, still unadjusted to the constant movement beneath her feet. While not driven ill from the drifting and bobbing as some were, it was nevertheless an experience that required time to establish comfort with.

A portion of her meat was stored away in her pack as she found herself unable to complete the ration at the time it was given. Ayla was accustomed to meager meals and therefore opted to pace herself. She found a place upon the sun-soaked bow where she was fairly sure she would remain out of the way and seated herself on the warm wooden boards. Meditatively, she tilted her face to the sky.

Finding peace and rhythm in the cradle-rocking of the vessel, she began to sing quietly to the bow sprit as it pierced a path onward.

Gun was running an errand to gather lose rope for a bit of knot tying with some of the older sailor. As they continued to grow their ability to remain powder monkeys was ticking down with Cannon already starting to show signs of struggle with getting into the ammo cabinets and collecting cannons. To prepare for this inevitability the young men were constantly being trained and tutored by the crew on different aspects of the ship. Unlike some other guild ships Captain Church had been able to maintain rights of crew which meant the guild could not interfere with his selection. It was a rite he inherited with the ship and fought to keep throughout the legal inheritance process.

As knots were the true glue that held everything together they were expected to practice daily. While at port it was easy enough as there were less distractions on the ship. Now however, with passengers and a ship to actually sail they weren't always able to make time. In fact it was due to a stern look from the Quartermaster that Gun had rushed off to find some rope. Still even with his focus on the task he was drawn in by the singing he heard. Looking around he saw that it was the young red headed lady that had been dancing earlier.

He remembered her from last night as well. Gun was really good at remembering faces. Holding the rope in his hand he stood and listened to the song until it had finished at which time he was startled by the hand of the Quartermaster falling on his shoulder. "Knots boy." He said with a firm attitude and with that the young boy rushed off. The Quartermaster remained and looked over at the elf. "You will excuse him. Most likely he has never heard the elven tongue before." he took a step towards the railing along the ship and then added "It was lovely."

With a sigh and a hand through his hair the gruff older quartermaster decided he should at least do some due diligence. "Are you running away with treasure or away from tears?" He felt this might be the most proper manner in which to breach the subject. While plenty of practice speaking to esteemed members of noble families he was unsure what amongst elves was considered rude or sacrosanct. Still he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling that he had done something wrong letting this last minute joiner depart with them.

"Are you with treasure?" he asked again and pointed to her stomach "or are you running away from tears?" he then punched his other hand the messaging he felt was pretty clear. Are you running away cause your pregnant or cause you were getting punched by someone.

Equally surprised by the Quartermaster’s arrival, Ayla snapped her attention to the direction from which he came. Reactively, she clasped her hands over her mouth. She had not realized the volume she had reached with her song and was startled to have found an audience.

She stood and stepped parallel to the man some few feet away. His initial question confused her a little, but his reiteration and clarifying gesticulations painted a clear picture.

“No treasure, sir.” Ayla considered the second half. She couldn’t say that the Blackthornes had been entirely vicious, even if they weren’t exactly kind. She gnawed her lip in thought.

She proffered her hands and turned to face him. With a tentative step closer to him, she stretched her arms out before her so he could see the lines across her palms. Channeling focus as she had learned from her mother and grandmother, she furrowed her brows at her fingertips which trembled under the observation of this crew member who discerned her secret early, despite her headscarf carefully positioned to conceal her ears.

A faint energy trickled from her heart, spreading down her arms and pooling in her cupped palms. The most noticeable change would be the waft of salty cool air warming and shifting. Rather than ocean, the aura of a forest after rainfall began to consume the space. Swirling scents of pine and sage emanated from the elf’s shaking hands, highlighted by notes of cedar and fresh-crushed juniper.

Slowly exhaling, eyes closed, Ayla gently brushed the tips of her fingers against the thumb of their respective limb. As if she were rubbing away the sand or dust from her skin after digging in the dirt, she brought her hands together before her waist and folded them together. Ashamed to have her secret discovered already, and feeling as though she were bound to be held for collection, the healer gazed sadly at her toes.

“A different treasure,” she admitted, pinching her eyes closed as if bracing for a blow across the cheek, or at least across her hope.

New experiences were hard to come by when you had traveled as much as Bart had. Starting out as a sailor for a merchant ship his people skills along with outside the box solutions to logistics made him a natural fit for a quartermaster position, but at this moment he was a young boy in awe of a new experience.

“What was that…” The older man said. He sounded like he was about to cry, but it was more that his body seemed to suddenly crave an energy that was there and then gone. His whole body felt heavier after only moments ago it felt so light.

What the elf said was true. She may not be running away with a child expecting, but she was certainly carrying something of great importance. This was magic, but not the kind he had ever seen before. This is not making tainted water clean enough for agriculture. Nor was it simple fire control like that which he had seen in the south.

This was something holy or if not to her than to him. The Quartermaster started to stammer a little and then leaned against the railing. “What was that?” He saw the woman seem to recoil for some reason. He took his hand and then held it back. She may have said she wasn’t with child, but she didn’t also deny running from tears.

Suddenly the old sailor felt a sense of pride. He knew he had done the right thing in letting her on board. A gift like hers was not something many would openly celebrate. Instead they would either attempt to hide and use it or worst explote and toss aside once used up. “You already have the protection of the blood agreement miss elf.” he said the last part quietly so no one would hear.

“I will not tell you there is nothing to worry about as we head closer to the horn, but while on this ship myself, the crew, and our captain will be duty bound to see you to your destination.”

“I am sorry!” Ayla blurted out as she saw the vanishing effects bringing the man to bear his weight more heavily. She knew the effects of her healing could be intoxicating and sometimes addicting to humans. She could tell her understood the gift she was squirreling away from her earlier life. Beyond the potential to do great good, she housed a potential to earn great fortune, when financial gain took precedence over social niceties.

“I mentioned I was trained in medicines and healing,” she explained. “I am skilled with herbs but also know a little of the ancient ways. I seek to find my kin afar.”

Day one was very early to be admitting her crimes openly to the crew, even the higher ranking members, but Ayla feared that a charade now would result in greater punishment later. Perhaps she could convince these men she was indispensable, even enough that they would protect her voyage in the face of fine ransoms. If nothing else, she could minimize the affront felt by those who had never done her harm.

From Quartermaster to sea she began glancing nervously. She eyed the shoreline, attempting to estimate its distance from the ship. Not even sure if she could swim, the elf weighed her options for survival aboard deck, adrift in the waves, or returned to captivity. None of them really seemed to shine best for her.

Clearing her throat, she asked nervously, “I do not know what this Blood Agreement is. I have heard it mentioned though I do not understand what it truly means.” Hugging her arms around her waist in a self-soothing manner, she continued.

“Please forgive my ignorance but my education was limited, and the scope never included knowledge of the world beyond my responsibilities.”

Her heart raced and she struggled to keep her voice steady. What if he informed the captain he was harboring a runaway? What if the Blackthornes sent missive searching for her? Again she looked to shore, eyes glistening with a drowning hope. She’d come too far already to give up now. She would find a way through even if it meant abandoning the safest route and taking to the wilds herself. It would be better she leave the ship and all its passengers out of difficulties.

Mentioned you did, but certainly with the tail rather than the teeth!" The Quartermaster said with energy. He had bounced back and was now more invigorated than ever. Through both the experience and the affect of it he felt sharper and less bogged down from keeping things from the Captain. He felt both relief and curiosity. He then saw her looking out over the boat and towards the coast. He had seen the look on plenty of men and women in his time and it caused him to step forward and put a hand between the elf and the water.

"You would never make it." he said with a somewhat grave tone. "There isn't a man aboard this ship that could swim. The waves will crush the air out of your breath and even if you somehow manage to get past some break the beasts that meet you in land and sea both count you as a snack at this point. They were no longer within the waters of protected ports and harbors. Here there weren't just monsters, but monstrosities.

When the women explained her ignorance around a Blood Agreement it gave Bart a moments pause. They were fairly common so wherever she had been before must have lacked a lot of business. Perhaps somewhere more rural or more encased within. Still there was no harm in drawing her up on that around her. "A Blood Agreement is a magical contract the captain signs with the Guild. It requires him to, to the best of his ability, protect and transport the cargo listed on the paper to its destination. Any harm that befalls that cargo will in term harm the ship."

The Quartermaster gave the ship a strong strike with his hand as he continued. "Now of course if a person of their own will decided to do harm to the captain or others their side of the contract is broken. But should he fail in his duty then the magic stone at the bottom of the ship could obliterate the entire hull." He then tapped the deck with his foot. "Of course these are starting to come out of style. Though at one point no one would board a vessel without such contract. During those days captains and ships were known to rob and kill passengers."

"I hope we have proven to be no such crew and captain." Bart said hastily as he realized the horror of someone bringing this up. "The Guild and the Captain have of course gotten more detailed in the contract, but the general rule is it intertwines his fate with his passengers and cargo. Course he has no need for it. Captain has moved hellfire and waters scorn to protect anyone on this ship. Just like his father and mother."

“The manifest,” she said. “Those listed on the manifest are designated to their destination by contract.” Piecing together the magic behind such a pact, Ayla wondered how it applied to individuals who lacked, by societal standards, free-will. Her lack of experience with such arrangements spoke to the true isolation of her last many decades.

She was born to a property and upon said property she remained. Any collections or procurements that required a greater distance were brought to her rather than her to them. Even when it came to tending the sick, the estate supplied a separate cottage to house the ill on the grounds where she herself lived. She could not remember a time when she had ventured off the land she resided upon.

“I do not do harm,” she stated with firm resolution. Yet the more she dwelt on the contract, the greater unease she felt at what the specific details were therein involved. Would her false name render her a danger? Was it treasonous to the captain himself to assume a name other than what she had been branded with at birth? That name was no more her own than the one she began using yesterday, so why would the merits of it be greater in society?

She knew why. Because it was Blackthorne given. Again she looked abreast the sea and to the shore.

“Will we be docking anywhere for additional supplies?” Directing the question in a new direction, she began to formulate alternative plans of escape. She could disappear during a hunt, in a port town, or in some similar manner, assuming they anchored sooner than a missive could reach them.

"We have two ports between us and the horn." The quartermaster said after a moments thought. " Should things continue to move on schedule at least one additional stop at a resupply point run by porters." The Quartermaster trailed off as if double-checking his thoughts for any errors.

"I believe you little elf." Bart said. The mention of size being somewhat humorous considering the top of his head barely made it to her shoulder. " There is plenty of wickedness in this world, but I am happy to see it hasn't tainted you."

Cannon came running over and handed several pieces of rope over to Bart who started looking at the knots tied on them. " You would be wise not to think we wouldn't follow should you leave." Quartermaster said after nodding to Cannon as each knot passed inspection. "Without proper reason, the captain will no doubt believe you taken or lost."

He then looked up at the elf and with his posture demanded eye contact. " We will not hold you here if you wish to leave. But before you do, you must release the captain from the agreement. You owe me that much." His voice was very sober now and young Cannon seemed to realize he should go.

Ayla smile against her own roiling emotions. Little indeed, she chuckled. Height aside, she was smaller than most adult humans given the willowy nature of her limbs.

“Evil is impossible to avoid,” she agreed. “Losing oneself to darkness is, though.”

The elf observed the young crew bringing rope for inspection, admiring their hard work in a more causal manner than the Quartermaster doing proper inspection. She admired the pride the young human boy took in perfecting a trade.

“I shall not cause difficulties,” she declared. She was not sure if she should mention the issue of her name. She decided that that if the contract lacked validation by her invented label, it would sway in both directions. The captain could not protect her but also would not have liabilities because of her.

She took in a deep breath and tentatively reached a hand to the Quartermaster’s forearm. Her posture melted so she was eye-to-eye with the man. Without hunching her shoulders, she sank down at the hip on slightly bended knee to peer directly to his face on equal footing.

“Thank you,” she quietly preferred. “For your discretion. For your acceptance.”

Leaving the elf to her solitude the Quartermaster fought giving further advice. He was known to be a spring of idioms, but he felt words were more weight then strength to the woman. Sailing with an elf was something different. He felt the cargo he and the crew were carrying was now somehow different. Though the Captain would disagree with this assessment Bert was a little more of a romantic when it came to the travel of the sea. At least in some respects.

Cannon's knots had passed the test and so the Quartermaster handed back the ropes after giving them a heavy pull. Now the boy had to practice getting them undone. Getting a knot tied right and quick was important, but getting them undone was a labor in itself. More than a few new words of frustration were birthed when a sailor had to untie a knot.

With the day continuing and the winds being favorable the ship would likely do. This made sense as they were still in charted waters and coastline so the Captain and helmsman were familiar enough with where they were. Additionally they still had Honfleur ahead of them which meant lighthouses would warn them of any new outcrops or dangerous areas.

With the day continuing the ship finally prepared for evening just as the cook called out food to be ready at the next bell (Roughly 30 minutes) Several of the crew came out and began shifting the sales while Cannon and Gun ran up the rope ladder to tie them down. While sailing at night the captain said they would sail 3/4ths so as to not rock the boat as much.

Finally a bell sounded and passengers and crew gathered for the evening meal. With this being the nights first meal and the weather being what it was, a small tradition of the Silver Wing was able to happen. The protective anchors and backings of the cannons were taken out and with a little handyness were able to be turned into makeshift tables. Setting them along the railings and using some of the boxes of cargo as seats a makeshift banquet seating was achieved.

As the crew and passengers gathered their food they would make their way up and collect a seat. Even the Captain would partake in this and once he collected his food he was up on the deck and found a seat next to his First Mate.

Left to her thoughts, Ayla fell into a vortex of concerns and plans. Potential dangers arose in her mind that she attempted to abate with preemptive problem solving. Some of the complications she anticipated would circle back to swallow her more positive thoughts like a snake eating its own tail. She became flustered and distracted.

The poise Ayla had carried herself with thus far cracked for a moment. Caught in the storm of her own emotions, she retreated to the women’s cabin and found her corner from the night before. Given that the day were still active, only a few other passengers remained within the apartment. They paid little mind to the woman who silently sought shelter in the far corner.

Slumped in the stiff embrace of the walls, Ayla pressed herself to find stillness throughout her entire being. She breathed with intention. She reached through every nerve of her body to sense the stable, albeit active, ground supporting her. Though the process took longer than was customary, eventually the refugee found command of her pulse again. Feeling drained and weary, the elf napped for a time. Not fully asleep and not entirely awake, she allowed the cradle of the vessel lull her into a twilight state of consciousness.

Some time later, she emerged again to the salty air feeling refreshed yet wary. At the announcement of the evening meal, Ayla collected her plate and sought space at one of the far ends of the temporary banquet space; she was still not quite ready to mix among the passengers so blatantly as to sit among them at dinner.

Seeking the last space at the far end of one railing, Ayla slipped into her place quietly and lightly. She found herself seated beside a stranger among the passenger list, though across deck from a collection of the higher-ranking crew members. It was logical and expected as far as she was concerned. It did not occur to her that the Quartermaster might not say anything at all to anyone about her.

Her mind wandered, anxiously concerned with how much information had passed from Quartermaster to Captain. She expected her secrets would not be sacred in that regard but felt no ill-will to either party. In keeping smooth operations aboard the ship, Ayla knew that the Captain must be well-informed of any discoveries made by his crew. She supposed that this meal might be her opportunity to evaluate Captain Church’s sentiments on her identity.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Captain Quinton Church enjoyed a moment of contentment on the ship’s deck. The evening breeze was gentle, and the stars were beginning to twinkle above. He looked across the table at his First Mate, Garrick, and Quartermaster, Bart, both of whom were settling into their seats with hearty appetites. It was now time for some more theater; however this time it was not just for the passengers, but a somewhat silent way to communicate with the rest of the crew.

“Well, what a splendid first day!” Captain Church exclaimed with a satisfied grin as he took a bite of the hearty stew. “The weather’s been perfect, and the crew seems to be in high spirits. How do you both find the evening?”

Garrick, raising a mug of ale, responded with enthusiasm, “Couldn’t ask for better. The sea’s calm, and it’s a beautiful sunset. Nothing like a day of smooth sailing to set the tone for the voyage. And the anticipation of reaching that uncharted coastline is electric. What do you think, Bart?”

Bart, grinning as he sliced into a chunk of bread, added, “Agreed! We’ve got plenty of supplies to last us a while. The galley’s never been so well-stocked. I even managed to sneak in a few extra treats for morale. The real excitement, though, is knowing we’re transporting people to beyond the horn. I can’t wait to see what awaits us.”

Captain Church laughed heartily. “I noticed! The crew will be thrilled. I must say, it’s good to see everyone pulling together so well. This ship’s running like a dream. The thought of venturing into the unknown, beyond that uncharted coastline, is invigorating.”

“Aye, and it’s thanks to the hard work you’ve both put in,” Garrick replied. “I saw the look on the crew’s faces when we set sail; it’s like they’re eager for adventure and the wonders that lie ahead.”

Bart’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “And it’s not just the crew. I’m excited too! We’ve got a great route ahead, and the prospect of being the ones to discover the next colony is thrilling. It’s always the unknown that makes the journey so captivating.” He then looked over to where he saw the elf place her food and self. "Our passengers will see to it when they arrive. The prosperity they will see is only matched by the protection you give them Captain." He then raised his glass and first held it towards the elf and then to the Captain.

“Indeed,” Captain Church agreed, raising his mug. “Here’s to many more evenings like this—full of good company, great food, and the promise of discovery. To safe seas, Cheers!”

Garrick and Bart clinked their mugs together with cheerful grins. As they settled into easy conversation, sharing stories and laughter, the promise of adventure filled the air around them.

Not observing an abundance of attention in her direction, Ayla began to suspect that the Quartermaster had not spoken freely of her to the Captain yet. Relief caressed her shoulders out of tension and she took to her meal heartily. There was peace in a fulfilling platter beneath the watercolor sky, an escape from life that Ayla had never been privy to. She basked in the warmth of the sun, the coolness of the air, rocking with the waves as if floating on a dream.

She noticed the Quartermaster glance in her direction. She felt conspiratorial yet knew she had been as honest as she could. She raised her glass in reply to him, bowing her head in a reverential tilt to his station. As if repeating the refrain from their discussion earlier in the day, she sent a silent “Thank you” in his direction.

As the meal came to a close, Ayla quickly made herself useful. She collected platters left behind by indifferent passengers and brought them in bundle back to the galley. She presumed there would be a basin and sought out the cook, Sabrina. Eager to make as many good impressions as she could, Ayla inquired as to how she may lighten the load of the chef’s burden.

“A most warming bowl this evening,” she complimented. “May I aid you in putting your workspace back in order?”Rolling up her sleeves to the elbows, Ayla awaited permission before reaching out to muss with any of the items in the space.

Sabrina looked up from her work, a smile spreading across her face as she noticed the passengers eagerness to help. The warm glow of the lanterns in the galley cast a golden light on Sabrina's features, making her seem even more welcoming. As she took in the woman's appearance, her gaze lingered for a moment on the elf's striking golden eyes and vibrant red hair.

"Ah, red head, my dear!" Sabrina said, her voice full of warmth and appreciation. "You have a good heart, offering to help after such a fine meal. But you're a guest on this ship, no need to trouble yourself with the tasks of the kitchen."

Sabrina’s eyes twinkled as she added, "Those golden eyes of yours, they shine like the sun setting over the sea. And that red hair—so full of life, like a flame dancing in the wind. It’s not every day we have someone with such unique beauty aboard." Her warmth and extroverted nature seemed to make the food fill a stomach all the more.

She paused, wiping her hands on her apron before continuing. "However, if it pleases you, I won’t say no to a little company while I finish up. It’s always nice to have someone to chat with while I tidy. The sea can be a lonely place, even with a ship full of people."

Sabrina gestured to a stool nearby. "Why don't you sit, and we can share some stories? Maybe you can tell me about where you’re from, or perhaps how you ended up on this adventure with us. And if you really insist on helping, I suppose I could let you dry the dishes." She winked, her tone light and friendly.

“You were on board last night with the early passengers if I remember.” She then added a moment later. “Some of the crew mentioned red hair. Gun seemed pretty enamored with it.”

Ayla found herself catching compliments without the grace she felt was due to her conversationalists. She had not received praise often and therefore found the entire process a bit disarming. In efforts to dodge the niceties that made her uncomfortable, Ayla chuckled quietly and looked to the floor.

“You are too kind by far.” Taking to the proffered seat, the elf busied herself by scraping leftovers from the bowls into one singular receptacle. It was good to busy her hands with a simple chore.

“I am hardly above cleaning a dish or two,” Ayla replied with a mirroring smile, though she still harbored awkward flutters in her belly. “But I understand that this is your domain and I would not want to step on any toes.”

After removing leftovers from the individual dishes, she lined the platters by kind to be batch-able. She made a collection of bowls together and separated them from the glasses and a third pile of flatware.

“I am simply looking for better prospects elsewhere.” Still focused on her task, Ayla spoke as truthfully as she could while being still vague enough to avoid trouble. “In search of adventure, I guess you could say. A new life with fresher air.”

With the plates prepped for cleaning, Ayla found a towel beside the basin. “The boys are quite sweet. It warms my heart to see them living well for themselves. I am sure there is tragedy behind them being at such hard work so young, though they seem to bear it well.” She began to collect damp platters one by one and wipe them of their dew as the two women continued conversation.

“I have not seen many women among the crew. How does one find oneself running a ship kitchen?”

Sabrina found herself expectedly enjoying the passengers company. Gun had already been saying she was really nice so her nature wasn't a surprise to the cook. There was something genuinely refreshing about the her presence—her appreciation for the simple act of sharing a meal and engaging in conversation was a pleasant change from the usual hustle and bustle of the galley. She was happy for the conversation and the question prompted gave way to a happy story.

"When I first boarded The Silver Wing, it was under rather unconventional terms. I had been trying and failing to barter my cooking skills for passage. The Guild said the earliest I could be added to a ship through their agreements was over a year and most other ships were refusing, saying the trade wasn't worth it or that they had cooks already." At this Sabrina gave a simple shrug and she moved another few dishes towards the redhead for her touch. "Captain Church, ever the man to find misfits..." Sabrina laughed at this teasing and self deprecating joke.

"Well he was the first one to even ask to see what I could do. I started to ask how and he said if I could make something with what he had in his hold that passed he would agree to the barter. He sent.... Cannon, I think, he used to be shorter, and the boy came back with some this and thats so I rolled up my sleeves and gave it my best." Using a dirty dish she pretended to set some food on it and slid the plate over as if reenacting her presenting the food to the Captain.

"The man took two bites and gave a nod. At which point I figured I had passed." Sabrina seemed to shake her head and gave a smile. "The man said the food was too good for a ship and that he would only agree to it if I promised to start a restaurant when I made it to the next port over. I agreed of course and two days later I was cooking in here."

The cook then signed and added the dish from her little theater act to the soap. "However, when we reached said port, the prospect of life on land felt starkly different from the camaraderie I had come to cherish here. The familiarity of the ship, with its creaks, smells, and crew, well it just started to feel like more than the restaurant I had supposedly promised.

"So, I made the decision to stay. The Silver Wing became my sanctuary and my adventure" She looked out towards the hatch that lead to the stairs to the main deck. "And I haven't regretted it every since. Save for the few times I met someone and then found out they snored more than a storm sways..." She gave a flirty look as she brought up some of her past loves on the ship.

This red-haired beauties presence on the ship served as a reminder of Sabrina’s unexpected journey, and she was grateful for the company. The lightness she brought to the kitchen was both delightful and reassuring, embodying the serendipity of finding meaningful connections in the most unexpected places.

Ayla listened with rapt attention to the cook’s history. She found it both interesting and magical in its own way. She found it difficult to imagine what it was like to have a dream and work towards achieving it without exceptionally large hurdles in the path.

The elf collected the plate as part of the pantomime and considered the remnant crumbs thoughtfully. Then she smiled and slid the dish to the basin for proper washing and continued drying the already rinsed ones.

When the topic of the Captain arose, Ayla became pensive. Her limited understanding of the man in charge of the ship leaned toward him being a just and fair individual. This notion gave her hope that her safety was further secure aboard The Silver Wing.

“The captain seems a kind man,” Ayla suggested, waiting to be corrected or to have her supposition endorsed. “From what I have seen thus far, his crew appears happy and comfortable under his leadership.”

As Sabrina concluded her tale and fell into a bit of quiet contemplation, Ayla took the torch and lauded the tale with proper commendations.

“That is a very storybook story,” she commented. “Thank you for sharing.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “I hope to have one such narrative myself.”

Sabrina beamed at the woman's words. Her eyes, bright and twinkling with the warmth of a thousand kitchen fires, met the red haired maiden with a mix of pride and contentment. The cook took a moment to carefully hang the freshly washed dish on the rack for drying.

“The captain is a fine man,” Sabrina affirmed with a nod though she seemed to hesitate afterwards. “He is so far as I have experience one of the finest to own a ship. The weight he puts on himself makes you wonder if he will ever stop for himself though...”

As Sabrina continued to tend to the dishes, she allowed herself a moment of nostalgia, her mind drifting back to the stories she had shared. The cook’s tales were often filled with the magic of the sea and the adventures of those who sailed upon it, and she was delighted to know that her audience found them as enchanting as she did.

When the story was praised as being “storybook,” Sabrina’s smile widened. The cook’s cheeks flushed slightly with a mix of modesty and delight. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said warmly. “I normally share it at one of the evening events though I tend to be more detailed in some colorful ways. I have one version where my first night I almost poisoned the whole crew by adding too much Mintnut.”

Sabrina’s eyes sparkled with encouragement as she continued her work. “Life aboard The Silver Wing has its own kind of magic."

Ayla grinned playfully. “I look forward to hearing the heightened tale in the future.” She patted her hands dry on the flimsy linen of her breeches after shaking them off. Rolling her tunic sleeves back down to the wrist, she added, “I thank you for sharing your truth with me.”

With the cleanup in the kitchen coming to a close, the elf bade the cook a pleasant eve and took her leave. Knowing that the nights rendered the deck off-limits to passengers, she heaved a wistful sigh and found a path back to the women’s cabin. Late arriving, she found her corner had claimed by another. Unperturbed, she found solace in a corner that shared the wall on which the door sat.

Her cloak a blanket and her bundle a pillow, Ayla curled contentedly and full-bellied into peaceful rest. The gentle rocking of the ship lulled her and in her mind she heard the humming of her mother’s lullaby. Sleep came quickly that night. Away from shore, one full day of freedom notched into her memory, Ayla relaxed into an almost immediate pleasant dream.