Totally fine with it. Figured it would be a part of the story. Thanks for checking!
EweDoughNo Member
- Last Seen: 3 days ago
- Joined: 8 mos ago
- Posts: 51 (0.22 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- EweDoughNo 8 mos ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Conquerorofsuns,
Fetzen,
Tally Dor,
rabidbacon,
Silent Showers,
ppppppppp,
Chronic,
TokyoPewPew,
Crimson Flame,
World Traveler
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
A sign was wanted and a sign came. Lailani allowed herself a small smile and let go of the breath she had been holding during her observation.
A little lost cub, she thought. He’d be lucky to survive the night alone. In contemplating the best way to approach the strange man, the elf watched a moment longer. She had little experience interacting with the humans of permanent residencies but felt that perhaps the equine companion could be the bridge between their worlds.
Before stepping forward, Lailani rummaged in her pack for a handful of berries she had procured earlier in the day. They were fresh, ripe, and juicy. She stood, rising from the underbrush like a gopher from the ground. From man to beast she looked, sending forth an inhuman purr from the back of her throat. She clicked and cooed in soothing patterns as she had always done to calm the animals in her clan during stormy evenings.
Proffering the palm of berries to the steed at full arm’s length, she took a determined step into the clearing. One hand forward, the other empty and at her side, she awaited the response of these two lost cubs. Her gaze drifted between the two, inoffensive and questioning; Do you want my help?
A little lost cub, she thought. He’d be lucky to survive the night alone. In contemplating the best way to approach the strange man, the elf watched a moment longer. She had little experience interacting with the humans of permanent residencies but felt that perhaps the equine companion could be the bridge between their worlds.
Before stepping forward, Lailani rummaged in her pack for a handful of berries she had procured earlier in the day. They were fresh, ripe, and juicy. She stood, rising from the underbrush like a gopher from the ground. From man to beast she looked, sending forth an inhuman purr from the back of her throat. She clicked and cooed in soothing patterns as she had always done to calm the animals in her clan during stormy evenings.
Proffering the palm of berries to the steed at full arm’s length, she took a determined step into the clearing. One hand forward, the other empty and at her side, she awaited the response of these two lost cubs. Her gaze drifted between the two, inoffensive and questioning; Do you want my help?
Thank you! Certainly kept me busy all week
Leaping to flight in response to the peaceful silence of boundless nature shattering under the uncharacteristic cry of man, a flock of frightened birds created their own cacophony callback to the lost traveler. From deep within the brush, they were studied by keen and wary eyes. The owner of the untrusting gaze took in a ponderous breath as she tracked the fowl from their direction to their origin. Further from the point of takeoff, the silent observer directed her sight to the cause of unrest within the woods on this day.
The strange man certainly caused a stir among the local tenants of the field and forest. When he began to shift into exhaustion from his emotional sprint, his unknown audience evaluated the relationship between rider and mount. The steed’s ability to sense the rider’s venture willpower waning spoke to a familiarity between the two. The nature of such a close relationship would need to be further evaluated before it could be quantified as friendly or forced. With his face hidden in the locks of mane, the human seemed more child than man.
Descending from his mount, the boy became primary focus of the hidden elf who watched from the fringe of thicket at the edge of the field. The horse set to grazing and the human searching the terrain painted a poetic dichotomy of serenity and unease. Lailani found herself cracking a small smile at the way each actor fell so perfectly into their role of calm beast and unsettled human.
Clearly the human was lost; there was no question of that fact. Whether he was worth aiding was another matter. Lailani, ever patient, checked the sun in estimation of the light remaining and settled into a crouch. They had some time yet, though not much. If the man did not enact some sort of behavior that deemed him worthy of her assistance, it would be an unfortunate evening for him indeed. The elf was uncertain if she desired him to prove suitable or not. It had been quite some time since she had interacted with another humanoid and even the vibrant life of the wilds could fall short in the realm of conversation.
She watched anxiously for a sign. All she needed was for him to make the right gesture; or the wrong one.
The strange man certainly caused a stir among the local tenants of the field and forest. When he began to shift into exhaustion from his emotional sprint, his unknown audience evaluated the relationship between rider and mount. The steed’s ability to sense the rider’s venture willpower waning spoke to a familiarity between the two. The nature of such a close relationship would need to be further evaluated before it could be quantified as friendly or forced. With his face hidden in the locks of mane, the human seemed more child than man.
Descending from his mount, the boy became primary focus of the hidden elf who watched from the fringe of thicket at the edge of the field. The horse set to grazing and the human searching the terrain painted a poetic dichotomy of serenity and unease. Lailani found herself cracking a small smile at the way each actor fell so perfectly into their role of calm beast and unsettled human.
Clearly the human was lost; there was no question of that fact. Whether he was worth aiding was another matter. Lailani, ever patient, checked the sun in estimation of the light remaining and settled into a crouch. They had some time yet, though not much. If the man did not enact some sort of behavior that deemed him worthy of her assistance, it would be an unfortunate evening for him indeed. The elf was uncertain if she desired him to prove suitable or not. It had been quite some time since she had interacted with another humanoid and even the vibrant life of the wilds could fall short in the realm of conversation.
She watched anxiously for a sign. All she needed was for him to make the right gesture; or the wrong one.
I’ll be adding my post tonight or tomorrow at the latest. Birthday weekend wrapping up and Sundays are my DnD sessions.
Ayla stepped quickly to the most private and sanctified room aboard The Silver Wing. Her hands expressed her unease, wringing and rubbing her fingers in agitation. The elf moved fluidly to the innermost portion of the cabin, as far from the door as she could position herself before turned to face the captain. When the door latched, she broke the silence.
“They have sent word for me. The Guild will be on alert here. I saw the raven. The Blackthornes always use ravens. I do not know how aggressive their missive will have been, how adamant it demanded for ship manifests and passengers to be scrutinized. But I know they will have put the port on alert.”
As if adrenaline had been all that kept her afloat, Ayla collapsed into one of the chairs by the captain’s desk and clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle what might have been a sob. She glanced to Captain Church apologetically with knit brows and scared eyes.
“I— I—“ she stammered the beginning of another monologue then shook her head and buried her face in her upturned palms. Utterly lost and driven into overwhelming overdrive by the closeness of the leash she had slipped some weeks earlier, she rocked in her seat like a helpless child.
“I do not know what to do.” She confessed.
“They have sent word for me. The Guild will be on alert here. I saw the raven. The Blackthornes always use ravens. I do not know how aggressive their missive will have been, how adamant it demanded for ship manifests and passengers to be scrutinized. But I know they will have put the port on alert.”
As if adrenaline had been all that kept her afloat, Ayla collapsed into one of the chairs by the captain’s desk and clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle what might have been a sob. She glanced to Captain Church apologetically with knit brows and scared eyes.
“I— I—“ she stammered the beginning of another monologue then shook her head and buried her face in her upturned palms. Utterly lost and driven into overwhelming overdrive by the closeness of the leash she had slipped some weeks earlier, she rocked in her seat like a helpless child.
“I do not know what to do.” She confessed.
Onward to terrain unknown and freedoms heretofore yet experienced, Ayla watched each sun’s arc with eager, wary, rapt attention. The routine of life aboard had become familiar; she did her hair in complex plaits and curls, wrapped in a scarf so as to always conceal her ears from the public. She meditated mornings and greeted every dawn with reverence. The moon received equal accolades as the globes in the sky traded shifts.
Evening meals wrapped with friendly conversation in the galley with Sabrina. Ayla’s persistence wore the professional sailor down and there was no keeping the elf from aiding with the cleanup. Her identity was known in this sacred space and it was among the few locales the runaway felt at ease enough to let her hair down, in a quite literal sense. Given that only crew were apt to enter unannounced, and with Captain Church’s vow to ensure she would be treated humanely among the ship’s staff, Ayla was fond of letting her hair hang loose with wild abandon as she dried dishes and tidied the space.
“You really must let me learn from you,” she told Sabrina one night. “Your knowledge of food and my skill with herbs; we could create some truly magnificent magics in here together.”
The elf looked forward to an opportunity to expand her skillset. Of course she had basic capabilities, mostly in the realm of stews, broths, and meat pies. None of those were particularly fashionable food choices, but she had enough skill to prep meals for her kin. While the ship would not be apt to proffer such fine delicacies as roasted foul or pork, the process of preparing fresh fish awed Ayla in a manner none could have expected.
The weeks slipped smoothly onward. Enjoying the ever-changing view of shoreline and ocean waves, Ayla spent as much time aboard the deck as she found feasible. The gulls that called out made her smile and she found herself growing accustomed to their particular, sharp, stark song.
The familiar melody was broken at the end of the two weeks of peace. Between the high squeaks of gulls orbiting the sails and shore, Ayla caught a noise that froze her blood and stopped her heart. Lower in pitch but stronger in authority, a call rang out from an ebony beak like a harbinger of doom. The corvid parted the white plumes of seabird with force and drove onward to the skylines ahead.
Ayla felt herself caught in a riptide. She stood pallid and unblinking at the bleak bird she knew to be a calling card of the Blackthorne estate. While many messages were sent by bird, few were sent by raven. It was among the family’s particular sense of identity and branding that their words be carried on wings as dark as their intentions.
When the invisible vortex about her heart and feet released Ayla from complete immobility, she dashed below deck in search of the Quartermaster who had identified her lineage on the very first day of voyage.
“Beg pardon,” she interrupted with regret. “Might it be possible for me to borrow the captain’s ear before we make land? I wish to discuss important matters with him in private.” Though she made intentional expressions to the other man who knew her secret, she added as an afterthought, for the benefit of other crew nearby, “I have been reviewing the ship’s herbal stockpiles and wish to draw attention to a few specifics I hope we can replenish at this stop.”
Though her smile was warm and deferential, her eyes were scared and glassy. She turned quickly on her heel and concluded, “I shall wait at his cabin door so we may review the books he houses within.” The further she drifted from passengers and crew, the quicker her feet danced over the boards until she found herself at the cabin door where she began a stressful attempt at meditation and focused breathing.
Evening meals wrapped with friendly conversation in the galley with Sabrina. Ayla’s persistence wore the professional sailor down and there was no keeping the elf from aiding with the cleanup. Her identity was known in this sacred space and it was among the few locales the runaway felt at ease enough to let her hair down, in a quite literal sense. Given that only crew were apt to enter unannounced, and with Captain Church’s vow to ensure she would be treated humanely among the ship’s staff, Ayla was fond of letting her hair hang loose with wild abandon as she dried dishes and tidied the space.
“You really must let me learn from you,” she told Sabrina one night. “Your knowledge of food and my skill with herbs; we could create some truly magnificent magics in here together.”
The elf looked forward to an opportunity to expand her skillset. Of course she had basic capabilities, mostly in the realm of stews, broths, and meat pies. None of those were particularly fashionable food choices, but she had enough skill to prep meals for her kin. While the ship would not be apt to proffer such fine delicacies as roasted foul or pork, the process of preparing fresh fish awed Ayla in a manner none could have expected.
The weeks slipped smoothly onward. Enjoying the ever-changing view of shoreline and ocean waves, Ayla spent as much time aboard the deck as she found feasible. The gulls that called out made her smile and she found herself growing accustomed to their particular, sharp, stark song.
The familiar melody was broken at the end of the two weeks of peace. Between the high squeaks of gulls orbiting the sails and shore, Ayla caught a noise that froze her blood and stopped her heart. Lower in pitch but stronger in authority, a call rang out from an ebony beak like a harbinger of doom. The corvid parted the white plumes of seabird with force and drove onward to the skylines ahead.
Ayla felt herself caught in a riptide. She stood pallid and unblinking at the bleak bird she knew to be a calling card of the Blackthorne estate. While many messages were sent by bird, few were sent by raven. It was among the family’s particular sense of identity and branding that their words be carried on wings as dark as their intentions.
When the invisible vortex about her heart and feet released Ayla from complete immobility, she dashed below deck in search of the Quartermaster who had identified her lineage on the very first day of voyage.
“Beg pardon,” she interrupted with regret. “Might it be possible for me to borrow the captain’s ear before we make land? I wish to discuss important matters with him in private.” Though she made intentional expressions to the other man who knew her secret, she added as an afterthought, for the benefit of other crew nearby, “I have been reviewing the ship’s herbal stockpiles and wish to draw attention to a few specifics I hope we can replenish at this stop.”
Though her smile was warm and deferential, her eyes were scared and glassy. She turned quickly on her heel and concluded, “I shall wait at his cabin door so we may review the books he houses within.” The further she drifted from passengers and crew, the quicker her feet danced over the boards until she found herself at the cabin door where she began a stressful attempt at meditation and focused breathing.
Bump.
Ayla realized that her questions may have been leading the captain to think her thoughts were on finding loopholes as opposed to being purely confused by the entire situation. She blanched momentarily and rapidly interjected her concerns.
“No, no, I did not mean that. I am just confused by the process as a whole. I do not understand these types of magics and I did not wish to impose further difficulties on you due to my name having been … newly donned.”
The elf sat rigid and cold as the ferry ascended the final edge of the ship and she felt the threat of the captain’s cold tone wash over her in shards of ice. She steeled herself and accepted the hand proffered to help her aboard as she found her neutral expression, though the corners of her eyes threatened to overflow with warm, wet despair.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied formally and alighted the small ferry with her bundles. She clutched the items in her arms and began a quick step towards the lower deck.
“I presume we shall return the materials to your storage space and then I shall hinder your labors no further today.”
To the average passerby, Ayla spoke with deference to a man of rank upon his territory. To the captain, who had been in conversation with her all this morning, she was rushed to find solitude to manage her own shame. Her feet scurried rapidly down the steps and to the door of his cabin where she awaited his unlocking the apartment. She would return the books and boxes and then she would seek a dark corner to meditate and try to gather her composure again.
“No, no, I did not mean that. I am just confused by the process as a whole. I do not understand these types of magics and I did not wish to impose further difficulties on you due to my name having been … newly donned.”
The elf sat rigid and cold as the ferry ascended the final edge of the ship and she felt the threat of the captain’s cold tone wash over her in shards of ice. She steeled herself and accepted the hand proffered to help her aboard as she found her neutral expression, though the corners of her eyes threatened to overflow with warm, wet despair.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied formally and alighted the small ferry with her bundles. She clutched the items in her arms and began a quick step towards the lower deck.
“I presume we shall return the materials to your storage space and then I shall hinder your labors no further today.”
To the average passerby, Ayla spoke with deference to a man of rank upon his territory. To the captain, who had been in conversation with her all this morning, she was rushed to find solitude to manage her own shame. Her feet scurried rapidly down the steps and to the door of his cabin where she awaited his unlocking the apartment. She would return the books and boxes and then she would seek a dark corner to meditate and try to gather her composure again.
A shaky, sighing breath floated from Ayla’s lips to the waters below her slender fingers as the captain piloted the ferry from shore to ship. She really despised all the airs she had been putting on for the past week or so and was beginning to feel like she may forget herself if the charade went on for too long. She pondered the promise of security because of the contract.
“But,” she hesitated, bit her lip, then forged onward. “Does the contract mean nothing if the name I gave you is not the name I am known by to others? I really do not understand these contracts or how they work. They are bindings beyond my comprehension. I was shackled with a name at birth but it is not who I am. The name I gave you is also …” Trailing off, the elf came to an overwhelming and haunting realization that she did not know who she was at all.
Having never felt that the identifier given to her by the Blackthorne family were true to herself, the elf realized she may as well have no name at all. Responding to “Ayla” worked for the purposes of the family to which she was born indentured. Assuming the identity of Hazel Brooks had proven useful in becoming someone other than she had been told she was. Neither, however, felt true to herself.
Her face fell into a dark reverie as the boat approached the ship side. The allure of freedom had proffered such intoxicating promises, the ensuing reality now crushed around Ayla with all the unforeseen ramifications that had never crossed her mind.
“I will trust your crew. I will let the passengers discover as they will,” she replied flatly. All emotion sucked from her core with the threat of not existing to even herself. Reclaiming residence upon the deck of The Silver Wing, the elf inflated herself once more with false confidence and a placid expression for the benefit of any observers.
“But,” she hesitated, bit her lip, then forged onward. “Does the contract mean nothing if the name I gave you is not the name I am known by to others? I really do not understand these contracts or how they work. They are bindings beyond my comprehension. I was shackled with a name at birth but it is not who I am. The name I gave you is also …” Trailing off, the elf came to an overwhelming and haunting realization that she did not know who she was at all.
Having never felt that the identifier given to her by the Blackthorne family were true to herself, the elf realized she may as well have no name at all. Responding to “Ayla” worked for the purposes of the family to which she was born indentured. Assuming the identity of Hazel Brooks had proven useful in becoming someone other than she had been told she was. Neither, however, felt true to herself.
Her face fell into a dark reverie as the boat approached the ship side. The allure of freedom had proffered such intoxicating promises, the ensuing reality now crushed around Ayla with all the unforeseen ramifications that had never crossed her mind.
“I will trust your crew. I will let the passengers discover as they will,” she replied flatly. All emotion sucked from her core with the threat of not existing to even herself. Reclaiming residence upon the deck of The Silver Wing, the elf inflated herself once more with false confidence and a placid expression for the benefit of any observers.
© 2007-2024