Look What Got in My Net! (Sir)

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

4 Fall, 511 AV Sunlight skittered over the roughened surface of the sea, blinding with glittery shimmers that were almost as bad as looking up at Syna's glory itself. Today was the day; Sable greeted the clear dawn with determination and resolve. It was worth a shot. The object of her mission lay just across a sliver of water. Misty, the second half of their pod, lay in anchor facing the opposite way of the Sparkle, separated only by a boarding plank. After a quick mental inventory; clothing, check; hair brushed, check; spear in hand, check; the lanky woman hopped onto the plank and skipped acrossed the gently bucking wood. Where Sir had got to, she wasn't sure, but with the confidence inspired from hearing him jostling around earlier, she leapt aboard Misty. And promptly hopped right back off, hoping he hadn't spotted her already. Net, no check. Scurrying back to the Sparkle, the jolly woman rummaged around for a second before reappearing on her companion's boat as though it was her first foray into enemy territory. In hand a spear, on a broad shoulder, a net. "Sir! I got you a present!" A muffled cry was her only answer. "Is this a bad time? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she hesitantly responded, swallowing a chuckle and banishing a grin. Not wanting to walk straight into some embarassing or physically unpleasant situation, she warily crept around the cabin in search of the indisposed man and tried to discern the source of the growing scuffle sound. "I know you've been gone a few days, if you have some things you need to deal with, I can come back later. But I really want to show you this." This. Petch! She'd forgotten the fish she'd salted. "Okay, well, I'll be right back. You don't need help do you?" A particularly high pitched muffle answered her, and, figuring that was a no, she rested the spear and tucked the net against the cabin before frolicking back to her own ship. What had she done with that thing, now? Scratching her chin, standing in perplexed puzzlement, she stared at the spot she'd swear she'd left the drying board. Well, while she looked, Sir could figure out whatever it was he was doing over there. Nope, not under the bunk, not on the desk, not in this barrel, nor that, not in this crevice, nor that crate. Ah, there! Sparkling blue eyes caught sight of it in the empty cage she'd decked out to provide a comfortable home for visiting messanger birds. "What are you doing in there? Hm? You are just going to be so tasty! I can tell just from looking at you!" Cheerfully conversing with the little salted fish lengths, Sable returned to Misty and, in her excitement, waltzed right up to where all those weird noises were coming from. "Sir! Sir! Look what I did!" Sable beamed proudly, finally tearing her eyes away from the day old overly-salted drying fish. "What are you doing?! Wait! Don't explain yet! This isn't your present!" And leaving him in his situation, whirled away to fetch her spear and net. "See! I brought you me! All ready to go fishing!"

[Sirroco]

Sirroco arose easily that morning, happy to be back to what was as close to home as he had now. That consisted of Sable and his casinors together. The fisherman had docked at Syliras to sell some large sheenfish he had caught and to resupply. The pod didn't have much funds now, but he managed to secure something special for Sable. They have not done much for themselves since the Storm. After all, Sable was now his Lia, and it didn't hurt to butter up the head of the pod now and them. The thought made him grin as he dressed and prepared for the day. First, he was going to go over to the Sparkle and give Sable her gift. As he went through his supplies for the pouch, Sirroco noticed Tain sitting on the steps to the deck, watching him. If an otter could look suspicious...this one did. As did his companion lurking on a counter nearby. Sable and Sir's tavan's got along almost too well, even with the difference in their age. Sirroco shot Tain an accusing glare before returning to his stuff. He began rummaging through his chest, then the bags and packs around the small cabin. From the corner of his eye, he caught the otters slinking up towards the deck. "Oh no you don't...what did you do with them!" He lunged for the otters, and they slipped back down the steps and began running around the cabin as Sirroco scrambled to get hold of one. He blocked the exit as he grabbed and reached for the slick-furred creatures. "That was not for you...what did you do with it!?" Again he chased them around the cabin, knocking over pots and stores as the tavan's squealed and raced around the flustered man. Then he heard Sable's voice. "Um...wait...don't come down.." He hollered frantically. Returning to the chase, he finally got a grip on Tain's scruff at his neck, and hauled up the plump otter. Sib tried to scramble away, a tattered pouch in her jaws. But Sirroco grabbed at her as she tried to slip away, and his hand closed on her tail. That was when Sable appeared at the cabin entrance. She had been talking, and he caught the end of her greeting. "You...me...fishing....uh...sure, that would be great!" Still smiling up at Sable, Sir released Sib's tail, snagged the pouch and dropped Tain. Both otters scrambled up the steps and away between Sable's feet, and he shot them a dour glare. Then he held the pouch, covered in otter saliva, out to his lia. "Um...and I brought you something from Syliras." He quickly looked inside the small bag. What had been a full pouch of saltwater taffy was now only half full of candy, the rest filled with empty wrappers. His gaze went again to Sable, with a sheepish grin, as he offered her the candy.

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

“Oh, Sir!” Sable swept forth, nimbly avoiding the rush of otter flesh tangling through her feet to escape punitive actions at the hand of Sirroco. A quick glance within the pouch fully explained the situation with the naughty tavans, and coaxed a squeal of joy from the strapping woman. “Sirroco! You got me taffy!” Just the sight of the little wax-wrapped strings made her mouth water, it had been almost a year, on her last birthday, actually, that she’d enjoyed her favorite treat. A single glance into his kind blue eyes incited a well of emotion within Sable. Everything in hand, including the meat, fell from her forgotten grasp as she brushed aside his arms and latched on in a fierce hug. Words wouldn’t do. There simply weren’t any, not ones that wouldn’t reduce them to grief-induced foundering. Their loss tied them together, the line taut to the point of snapping. Nailed securely from his chest to hers, every single thing in their world threatened to touch it too deeply, every vibration an opportunity to rip the nails from their chests and facilitate the escape of innumerable desolate paroxysms. Yet, coating this fragile cord, a patchwork of insulation dampened the cruel strokes memories took at them. This taffy wrapped lovingly around it, joining innumerable other little band-aids Sirroco tenderly and deliberately cared for her with. Love continued on, life continued. In return, Sable made a point to be cheerful and keep his spirits up. And today, maybe they could explore something else that would help. It might not go over well, but there was no harm in trying. “I have to go hide this!” Pulling away, the physically formidable woman snatched up the pouch with a delighted squeal and fairly skipped back out to the deck. Even half eaten and coated in odiferous otter saliva, the prize was dear enough to warrant an immediate exodus to the Sea Sparkle to conceal the booty. Locked in a cabinet where no clever little otters could pilfer was perfect! A scant two chimes later and Sable scurried back across the gangway to resume the mission of the morning. Puffer poker! The fish! What had she done with the fish! After working for two whole days just to catch them! And then muddling through gutting the gross little things and sticking them on the board and dousing them in handfuls of salt! “Sir! Did you see the fish? Are they in your cabin?” Sable called from the deck, heading to wherever her companion had moved to. “I caught them just for you!” Following his voice if she couldn’t see him, the lanky and carefree woman waltzed on up. Cheerful expression freezing, Sable stilled and slumped a bit. “And I lost one of our harpoon bolts,” Sable admitted with her own sheepish glance away, like a contrite child. “But if we catch enough fish to replenish our supplies today, then maybe we could take some to market and replace it. I want to learn all about fishing!” And everything would be all better! The last two days of gnawing hunger, someone had forgotten to tell Sir she was out of food, had highlighted a deadly shortcoming. “How was Syliras, anyway?” She’d also completely forgotten that’s where he’d gone. Now what had she done with that net and spear?

[Sirroco]

The elation on Sable's face made every ounce of effort to find the sweets in the bustle of Syliras worth it. His grin widened, as did his eyes, as the tall woman rushed him and encircled him in a tight embrace. Sirroco hugged her back with as much fervor. She was, afterall, all he had. To bring her this small joy as they struggled daily not only to survive, but to manage the barely buried grief they shared, meant the world to him. Though Sable, tall with unruly blonde hair, resembled the rest of the Temepsts the least, in just the right light, her face held a resemblance to Sybil. That made staying with her both comforting, and difficult at times. They had grown close since those days after the storm, and a bond had formed between them. The two of them had vowed to remain a pod, just the two of them, until they could find the Tempests again. Once the emotion-laden hug was released, the Lia disappeared again, her light steps audible as she pranced back across the gangway between the casinors. Sirroco grinned, shaking his head. The Svefra had hesitated even leaving Sable for the short time. She convinced him it was for the best, that she would be fine. The young woman was strong and clever, and obviously she was able to take care of herself. She even caught her own fish. His eyes fell to the salted fish she had dropped. Leaning down, he scooped up the treated meat. The fisherman examined the fillets, roughly cut, but most of the flesh retained. He plucked a flake of the meat from one of them, popping it into his mouth. His mouth puckered a bit. Salty...real salty. But edible. The grin returned to his face as Sable returned, and he held the fish up before her. "I leave you alone for a few days and you become a fisherman!" Sir gloated over her. "I am so proud of you!" His hand reached out to muss her mop of curly hair. It was something one did not usually do to a lia, but under the circumstances, the Baggywrinkles had relaxed decorum. "Don't worry about the bolt, we can get another. I did get some flat breads and dried fruit while I was away. We can eat now, if you are hungry, or we can head out and you can show me how you caught these beautiful fish!"

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Sir’s enthusiasm and encouragement helped to erase the last vestiges of guilt at losing the valuable piece of equipment. Not that the lingering doubts would have interfered whatsoever with the excitement of actually being show how in the single sea that net or spear were supposed to be deployed. A day of sunshine and playing with fish! Petch yes! Playfully swatting away that mussing hand in an attempt at dignity (for she was trying to strike a competent fisherman’s pose), Sable groped up her tools and scurried from the cabin. “No! No! I want to fish! We can eat when we’re dead!” The end of the sentence floated back to Sir, the lanky woman already untangling the net on deck and getting ready to show him what she’d done. His praises, heaped on top of a sizable pride at those little salted fishes, had her cavalierly tossing out the spindly material as though it would float down nice and neat on the deck. The subsequent tangle had her cursing as she tried to lay the expansive weaving straight in order to neatly take it up again at on edge. The delay in action with him standing there, her neophyte inadequacies on display for him, almost brought a crimson blush across those cheeks. But blushing involved actually dwelling on the feeling of embarrassment. There was too much to show him to lose sight of the goal! Once flat, she folded the net accordion-style and carefully carried it to the edge of the ship. After a moment of hovering above the water, the woman’s tongue stuck out slightly in concentration, she dropped most of it. Only after deciding that it was completely safe to completely drop without it folding over itself, did she release it fully to the depths. She still hung on to the line attached to it, and turned back to Sir for approval and adulation. “I actually tied the thing off to the ship with a few ropes and went to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, fish were stuck in it! And I actually caught another one with a spear,” she gloated, smirking. At this, of course she had to show him that, too, the woman dropped the net completely, releasing it to sink as it would, and leapt for her little spear. Brandishing it before her in both hands, eager as a beaver to get started, the realization of her actions struck like lightening. “Snailfish!” the lanky Svefra cursed. “I always do that!” And, even if Sir had knowingly leapt to the rescue, she would, in an attempt to catch up the lost netting, throw herself to the railing. And right over. Granted, she had learned a little more about swimming along with the fishing lessons, but the way she flailed wildly like an octopus shaken in a shark’s mouth, not to mention the spear still clutched in a death grip, negated any outward appearances of experience. Oh, and she looked completely terrified, her striking golden face frozen in fear as it disappeared beneath the sloshing surface.

[Sirroco]

Seeing his lia so excited to display her newly gained talents, Sirroco simply beamed at her, allowing her to gather the net and lay it sprawled out on the deck without interference. There was a measure of restraint he had to employ, desiring to help her as she worked to neatly lay out the net. But she was proud of herself, as was he. With some skill, Sable gathered the fishing net and heaved it overboard before reaching for the fish spear. In the flash of a sea sparkle, both Svefra realized Sable's error. Both man and woman lunged for the precious net, even as the whipping untied safety lines disappeared as well. But Sable was closer to the edge, and before Sir could reach the net lines or his lia, she was overboard as well. Of the two of them, she was the better on deck. In fact, Sable excelled at sailing. But her swimming skills were meager. Even so, she was Svefra and able to keep herself afloat in the sea. So it was with real concern that Sir watched his lia flounder in the water. Whether tangled in the net, panicked, or unwilling to release the spear and lose another piece of equipment, Sable suddenly disappeared wide-eyed beneath the surface. "Sable!" Sirroco screamed before diving overboard. The fisherman opened his eyes in the salty water, seeking the girl. Spotting her, he swam for her, reaching out to grab some part of Sable.

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Encapsulated in briny water, the fear from being trapped under the ship the day prior overcame the practical calm with which she’d previously handled the depths. Having the drag of a spear cutting sideways through the water, as well as the net tangled around one ankle, escalated the panic. The floundering strokes, instinctive but slightly practiced, that came with a natural affinity to water pounded the water uselessly with the interference of fishing implements she refused to give up. Like the touch of Dira, Sirroco’s hand wrapping around her calf, with the distinct clamp of human intention opposed to the clumsy aid Sib had tried to offer the day before, froze Sable. The urge to grope for him and use his strong frame like a ladder-to-life lost under the mantra every Tempest took with their milk: Stop Struggling, you Little Eel! He hauled his catch up, flipping her right side up at some point to let her cough and gasp and recover. It wasn’t until after she’d hoisted herself up the side of the Casinor and flopped onto the deck in a splop, that she noticed the absence of fishing tools. Utter confidence in his abilities forestalled even the tiniest inkling of concern for their continued possession. Still lying like a heap of seaweed flung into a pile on the deck, the Lia eyed Sirroco with cheerful rue. “Sib tried to save me when I fell overboard the other day,” she started the story, sitting up with long legs kicked akimbo. Holding her arms out, she traced thin but long scratches along her forearms and legs to show him. “I don’t know what I was thinking, that miraculously some flotsam had floated up at just the right time? She forgave me though. Oh! And I stabbed more than a fish, too, when I tried to use the spear!” She said it like she’d managed to hit a great catch, like a large dangerous fish of some kind, but, even as the phrasing suggested, she pointed to a gash on her thigh. Revitalized by the memory of the escapades, Sable sprang up, eagerly smacking her hands together. The early morning sun, blazing in oranges and yellows across the blue tints surrounding them, lit the smattering of droplets across her skin on fire. Though the water would dry into an itchy crust, stiffening clothing and making hair unmanageable, it was given no more thought than the chill of the breeze. Sirroco was a blessing, the thought flitted briefly by as she eyed his competent ministrations to the tools they would need today. She could get by, being resourceful and confident, but his maturity and good nature tempered an admittedly shortsighted overzealousness. “Now that you’ve witnessed a short summary of what went on while you were gone, what do you want to do first?” The entire sea was their playground, and lifting her chin, those glittering blue eyes took in their domain. They could use the nets from the ship, or the shallows, they could practice with the har-she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming out the successful loading and firing of the harpoon. She wanted to show him! But, she’d already given him the lead. Rocking form heel to toe with easy readiness, Sirroco enjoyed her full and complete—and expectant--attention. Hands down, she felt no qualms about bossing him around ninety percent of the time, sometimes because she knew what she was talking about, especially if they were sailing, but his affinity for fishing left her in the wake.

[Sirroco]

Through the thrashing bubbles Sirroco could see Sable's foot caught in the sinking net, and the fishing spear still clutched possessively in her hand. Foolish girl would not let go of it! Swimming to her side, Sir grabbed her ankle, yanking the foot free. He wrapped his arm around her, righted her and shoved his shoulder against the woman's backside to thrust her to the surface. His hand grabbed the spear from Sable, driving the barbed iron head downward to tangle in the edge of the net before it disappeared. His lungs starving for air, Sirroco struggled to reach the surface, hauling the net behind him. with a great heave he inhaled a draft of sea-salted air, and swam to the side of the casinor. Once safely aboard with the fishing gear, the man stood looking down at his lia with his hands on his hips, his long hair sticking to his face and dripping crystal drops. As Sable revealed the events that occurred in his absence, his usual shiny smile had receded before a stern gaze. He looekd at the spear wound on her leg, the scratched on her arms. He would not chastise a lia like a child, but his concern for Sable since the loss of their spouses was powerful and unquestionable. "Well..." he folded his arms across his chest, "I see I can't leave you alone." He stopped. Sable's azure gaze was beaming, she had tried all of this to impress him. Her face lit up with the anticipation of the day together. He would curse himself if he said something to cloud over her enthusiasm. "We do need to work on swimming later. But lets move closer to shore, we can spear some fish in the tide and go through the tidal pools." His grin returned, and his hand stretched out to help her up from the decking. The two otters appeared, chittered as if giggling, and disappeared over the side of the boat.

Well

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Palms scraped roughly against each other as the younger Svefra took the proffered help and sprang to her feet. Apparently his answer was satisfactory, because he’d hardly finished speaking before his Lia zipped over to the gangway and hauled it in. They had fish to fish for! Movements quick and practiced, the slender wooden plank was stowed properly on his vessel, the one it belonged to, before Sable realized that she needed to actually be on her ship to sail it. She could just leap across. Wouldn’t be hard…she apparently wasn’t too graceful this morning, but having already gotten wet, and with her own personal lifeguard on duty, what was the harm? With that thought, her eyes searched out the implicated man over one shoulder. Intense thought and the eagerness for a challenge replaced the blind enthusiasm for their plans. She’d seen the look on his face, she’d recognized the tone. He thought she was foolish and took unnecessary risks in situations that not only could she not control but hadn’t analyzed the factors or possible consequences of. The thought should be sobering, reprimanding, and her behavior should change accordingly. Just as quickly as the idea of jumping over the short expanse of dark water that separated their ships flashed into being, another, much more interesting one had been conjured and arrested her full attention. While his worry didn’t invoke feelings of penitence, or even any particularly strong desire to be more careful, it did make her refrain from following through with this newest interest: sailing a ship she wasn’t on with no one at the tiller by using Reimancy. His hair would grey prematurely if she didn’t control these impulses better. A few minutes later she was back on the Sparkle and pulling anchor, he’d have to re-stow his gangway. After taking the cue from him, and patiently waiting for him to go through the preparations for setting sail in that methodical manner all neophytes employed, she kicked out the boom and frowned as the sail fluttered limply. The wind was most certainly not in their favor. While he’d been gone, she’d done a little practice conjuring up her own wind, and so began to employ that for both their ships. Out of habit, blue eyes scanned the horizon and shore for any onlookers. The risk of frightening someone unfamiliar with magic and possibly incurring their wrath was ever in the back of her mind. Satisfied it was just they two, she centered herself and dipped into that comfortable pool of djed. Res flowed from chapped lips in a languid puff, the translucent material attracted more air, creating a rush to congregate wherever she manipulated it. Streaming out, the steady rush pushed into Sirroco’s sail, supplementing nature’s fickle breeze. His sail lagged a moment as she summoned more res and sent it toward her own. As a warning pang of discomfort shot through her head, the effect of the artificial breeze powering Sir’s ship affected the natural balance of their environment. The air between the two artificial streams of air broiled. The ships stopped moving, a great boom of pressure settled over them. A resigned sigh escaped Sable’s chapped lips. The thick air pressed in as firmly as water. Drumming her fingers against the smooth wood of the tiller, Sable released the res and impatiently waited for the residual effects of the failure to dispel. Nature didn’t always like being played with. And it grudgingly resumed pushed the two little ships across the vast, busy ocean in spurts. It would be faster to swim. But, with eyes on the wind and current, every last bit of propulsion was wrung out. Too much time had already been wasted, all the fish would be gone by the time they made it to shore.