[Quest] Broken Sails

[Trident]

57th Spring 512 A.V. Caiyha’s Fist Isle - afternoon The call had been sent and, as they were obliged to do, the whalekin answered. Non-svefra might have confused the message spread as the Nal’lyeo, but all who received the message knew such was not the case. The messenger birds sent were not delivering news of retribution and mischief, but rather a summons of a more serious nature. It was a call for the all the Svefra to reunite with one other, and stand together against the enemy that threatened them all. The last time the call had been sent out was during the Valterrian. The storm had destroyed many ships, and the Svefra were especially hard hit. This call was not a summons to war, but rather a summons to plan, recuperate, and reconnect. Life-threatening events seemed to have a way of getting people a fresh view on things, and many had found in their hearts that they were desperate to get in contact with lost friends, allies, lovers. They just wanted to be near anyone else who had survived the tragedy that had befallen them all. The message, in all sorts of papers bound by a multitude of bows, arrived nearly two weeks before the gathering was sent to take place. This too, was preordained; as with the Nal’lyeo, the whalekin realized the time it would take to bring together their entire race and had planned accordingly. They had also chosen a destination all Svefra knew – Caiyha’s Fist Isle. Named for the legendary rock pile that emerged at the very center of the island, Caiyha’s Fist dated well back into Svefra history. It was said to have been the same island on which Maris Seachanter, the famed island witch, had died in a battle with monsters spawned by the Valterrian. While it is still unknown whether or not this is true, ever since it has been regarded as a sanctuary guarded by the Goddess herself, where no fighting was to take place. And it was here the call beckoned them all to. When they arrived, a Svefra would find a whole host of boats and ships arrayed around the sizable island, so many so that most had to set down anchor several meters out and then jump from ship to ship to reach shore. On that shore, men and women awaited them with torches; they were from the Whitewave Pod, the very same Pod that had called the gathering. They would give them all information about the meeting - they were to assemble around witch's rock, where a leading Lia would address them and they would discuss what to do in wake of the terrible storm that had wrecked their nation. Beyond that, there wasn't much else that needed to be explained - the gathering was about as simple as a gathering could be. There was also the express warning not to harm any of the native flora or fauna on the island - but that too everyone had been taught to do. For the first time in many generations, the people of the sea stepped foot onto land as one. At that time, it was unknown how many people would show up or if the island would even be able to support them all, but so far it seemed to be able to support them all. Faces danced under the torch-lit woods, cavorting to and fro. They assembled in groups, talking and laughing in relieved voices, or otherwise made friends among the group already assembled. Children played makeshift games, tossing sticks back and forth and pulling pranks on one another. Slowly but surely, however, all were making their way to the center of an island - where, already, a large group stood around the outcropping of stone known to most as Caiyha’s Fist, but called witch’s rock by the Svefra. The meeting seemed poised to begin in but a short while. Until then, however, the Svefra had the chance to intermingle and discuss what had happened to them. The storm was on everyone's mind - they wanted to know what others had experienced during the storm and what was to be their reaction to it. The losses had been high, that was clear enough by the despairing looks seen in blue eyes now and again as they were unable to locate a certain familiar face. But tonight, hopefully, that would all be rectified. For the first time in over five hundred years, the Svefra had gathered, at witch’s rock. For the first time in over five hundred years, the Svefra Nation was together once more.

[Gabrielle Seawind]

Never in her lifetime had Gabrielle ever seen so many of her kin in one place. Several of the names were familiar to her ears. She came alone, set down anchor far away from the island, and nodded at people as she walked on their decks. Ashore, the Whitewave pod was there to greet her -- but her mind was absent as she scanned through the crowd, looking for a familiar face that belonged to a Seawind. As it had been for several weeks now, a heavy feeling of dread haunted Gabrielle. She still had no trace of her family. She had already poured out her feelings of fright to a few people, and most had said the same thing: the sea had probably taken them. This gathering symbolized both a beacon of hope and dread to Gabrielle. She knew that she would find her answers here. Her family would be here. And if not... maybe somebody had word about them. The Seawinds were not as big a pod as most others, but surely, somebody had word about them. The Suvan Sea was vast, but she knew the Seawinds would use this gathering to find one another. She should never have separated from them. But if the sea had taken them, and if she had been with them and not on Kalista island--would she be dead as well? The question of wether she would rather be dead, or be alive and without her family, was one that weighed heavily on her shoulders. She didn't know the answer. Mustering up her courage, she walked up to one of the women holding a torch. She opened her mouth and just spat the words out. "The Seawinds... are they here?" oocOh the drama. Her family was wiped out by the storm, she just hasn't confirmed it yet. Also... where is everyone!? >(

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

He couldn’t look her in the eyes, the man with ripped pants and no shirt. His bare feet floated over the deck, waiting for the doll to leave his fingertips, a gunshot to start his race away from her dazed face. The little boy hanging from her hand, lean arm the string that let his bruised body gyrate like a top, froze. Dirty little feet slapped the deck, body lurching forward on stiff legs that enjoyed no muscle control, it was his mother’s grip that kept him from falling flat on his face. Grubby little fingers almost reached out to take the doll from the man, but the woman jerked him back as though Dira herself existed within it. Returned to the moment by the boy’s recognition of the seashell-garbed kelp doll, the woman mustered a broken smile of gratitude and let the man flee. The chest piece, a brilliant sunrise gradient, had splintered, but the chest it was pressed to expected no less. Sable tore her eyes away, only to find this same scene repeated in every direction. Even the decks and railings she vaulted over, no motions quick or nimble enough to escape the vivacious pall clinging to the island, bore the scars of the djed storm. Gathered on the deck of the Sparkle, a strange crew of Oyster Island fell out of her attention. Daske, she was sure, would not appreciate being abandoned among an entire decimated nation of stranger-relations, but Vrix would be fine wandering along to meet up with her after a bit. It was mid-leap that the first familiar sight washed away a nebulous desire to slip and plummet into icy waters between ships where Laviku’s arresting grasp would crystallize what little joy remained against erosion. When she landed, it was gone, a mere image burned in golden ink across her mind’s eye, wrapping around her shoulders and shoring up what little balance remained to face the enormity of this meeting. A certain technique used to shore up hull breaches for short term fixes, so simple, yet so meaningful for this pod and now Sable. It was trademark Tempest. The large pod had remained behind in Riverfall, fixing up damaged vessels so other pods could depart for the meeting. According to their note, they would only be a day late, but had salvaged as much as they could for anyone that asked. Perched on a rail, just a stone’s throw from the beach, Sable reevaluated the scene around her. Less fortunate souls than hers faced the devastation around them, expanding broad shoulders to take up inescapable slack and shore bleeding souls. Laviku’s cadence against churned sand, shells, and pebbles, each wave gradually erasing the footprints, emphasized a brittle voice comforting a small child with traditional Svefran nursery rhymes. The voice faded, becoming nothing but Laviku’s beat, as Sable waded to shore. As though she’d been lit up like a beacon, a girl pleaded to hear news of her family, eyes admitting she’d rather hear nothing than the truth. The woman with the torch opened her mouth, and Sable saw it, that cowardice she’d felt just moments before, that had turned that man with the doll into a hagfish. Before she knew what she was doing, her fingers closed over the shoulder that held the torch, forestalling whatever drivel almost gushed from those white lips. The newcomer, golden body catching in the fading sun, made the torch bearer fade into the background. Sable’s cerulean hues, expanding with all the strength and assurance of the Water Father, met Gabrielle’s. “The Seawinds haven’t dropped anchor yet, and no one’s been able to reach them,” she informed the shorter girl who looked to be of the same age. If the girl took the news and walked away, associating the bearer with heartbreak, Sable wouldn’t hold it against her, but she wouldn’t be the first to turn away. She’d stepped in, accepted responsibility for this, and would weather the repercussions, be they stormy, rainy, or empty. OOCHey, everyone that would come along on Sable's ship go ahead and post as so and I'll adjust as you join.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

Daske sat on the deck of the Sea Sparkle and watched Sable make her way across several boats to shore. There were hundreds of boats. And hundreds and hundreds of Svefra. These are my people, he thought to himself. I am Svefra and these are my people. Yet he hesitated to follow Sable ashore. He didn't share their history. He didn't know their ways. He couldn't sing their songs. He couldn't dance their dances. He could barely speak their language. He was in every way an outsider. But Sable had insisted he come with her to this gathering. He was a Baggywrinkle now and it was time to stand with his people. It was a time of new beginnings for all Svefra everywhere. It was a time of new beginnings for Daske. He got up and began slowly making his way across the boats toward shore. He knew his Lia would be waiting for him. He knew his people would be waiting for him. He was not afraid.

[Gabrielle Seawind]

Gabrielle looked up to the source of the voice. The news, even though she knew she had expected it, came as a painful jab to Gabrielle's chest. The corner of her mouth twitched as she looked at this girl before her. Blue eyes -- expected of a Svefra. The girl was taller than Gabrielle, and she looked strong. Gabrielle didn't know who she was. Was she a Lia of another pod? Was she an acquaintance of the Seawinds? "Who are you?" inquired Gabrielle, her voice irritated "Are you in charge here or something? I mean, who are you to know who’s here and who’s not!?” She stopped herself from saying anymore, a cross expression was on her face. The girl had asked a question, she had gotten an answer, and yet she was pouring out her frustration on this stranger. But then... this person had stepped up to tell her the news of her family, something which the torch bearer seemed afraid to do herself. And if she had seen how Gabrielle had reacted to the answer she asked for, the torch bearer would probably be thankful she had the chance to leave. And... Gabrielle knew all this. She knew she was being unreasonable in her outburst. She gave a long sigh and crossed her arms as she attempted to calm herself. ”Forgive me. That was very wrong of me. The weeks have been rough on me... well, on everyone, so I’m sorry.” Looking around, Gabrielle once again observed the dismay on the other people's faces. Again, she reminded herself that she wasn't the only one suffering loss. In the distance, she could hear the crying of a child. But besides all the sorrow, she could also see that many of her kin had smiles on their face, and she could have sworn she could hear some faded music coming from somewhere. It was nice, actually, to see that amidst all the trouble, some could still take in themselves to keep their spirits high. She should learn from them. She looked back at Sable, and she smiled, one that was forced but vibrant in its own way. "Gabrielle. I'm a Seawind, but you would probably know that by now."

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Gabrielle’s frustration and pain washed over Sable, dust against stone. Dust would always blow, and although it chipped away at everything in sight it had every right to. It was right. It was natural. And when the girl apologized for it, Sable’s lips twitched into a frown. “Lia Sable, a Baggywrinkle,” she shared, voice tranquil as the morning spread of silvery reflective tide over sand. And she prayed that Laviku would give her the strength of his depths to help her people. On the voyage in, she’d thought that claiming her title as Lia would be an embarrassing inevitability here. Her pod had dwindled to a paltry two members just a season ago, and she was only eldest because Vrix was a whopping two years old. Eth logic. Sirroco never officially gave up his position, but he’d been absent a lot more than he should have been. But here, here when she had a handful of people traveling on her ship, a new member even, it would be seen as an affront to Laviku to shirk the title associated with the pod he’d graced her sister. None of those idle worries came to the surface, though, looking down at the girl struggling to contain her emotion. None of her own insecurities were important in the face of Svefran loss on the whole. “Do not apologize. Not to me or anyone else,” the lanky woman ordered with gentle remonstration. “If your family truly drifts with Laviku now, no one will deny you the right to mourn in whatever shape that takes.” Azure hues cast over the sea of creaking ships, grazing over shredded families and inconsolable orphans. Music carried the dirge of the dead, dark humor banished specters, voices raged and others sang. “We come together now as a salve to ease the burden on one another. Now, when your people surround you for the first time, and very likely the only time in your life, now is the time to be true to your feelings and open yourself to us without reservation. It might not be a luxury you ever have again.” Sable wondered if she would take angry fists as calmly as angry words, having issued an invitation like that. Bony fingers reached out to clasp the girl on the shoulder. She didn’t know where the words came from, but more threatened to burst free and she did not think this girl would appreciate being inundated with what seemed like, but probably was not, insight. Gabrielle seemed to have found a little joy in their surroundings all by herself. “As it appears you lack a posse to storm the isle with, may I introduce you to mine? This way you’ll have a plethora of ears to listen for word of the Seawinds instead of just those skimpy little things.” The hand on her shoulder shifted to flick an ear lobe. “In fact, there’s one of them now,” she said, pointing to a rugged, leery figure emerging from the mass of ships. “Daske! Daske!” The woman called, bellowing when the surf and buzz of voices gobbled up her first attempt to grab his attention. She threw up a long arm, adding some much needed height among their race of giants. “Meet Gabrielle of the Seawinds. Gabby, Daske. Daske has just returned to his people after a lifetime on shore,” she told the girl that had been introduced whether she wanted it or not. “And Gabby is searching for her people,” Sable said by way of trying to give the man a little context with which to help interpret his introduction to Svefra as a whole.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

Daske frowned as he sized up the young woman. He was struck by how pretty she was, even if her smile looked a bit forced. He glanced around to take in the odd mix of celebration and sorrow. He remembered a time when the warriors had returned after successfully destroying a small den of Zith. There was celebration that most of the them had returned alive and that the pavilion would be safe from Zith raids for a while. But there was also mourning at the loss of two of the men, their families bereft and inconsolable. This gathering of the Svefra nation reminded him of that. He brought his eyes back to the young woman and stuck out his hand. “Gabrielle. Glad to meet you. Uhm, really.” He was fidgeting back and forth between his two feet. “Sorry you got separated from your pod. Hope they're okay. I mean, I'm sure they're okay. I mean …” He gave Sable a panicked look and then looked back at Gabrielle. He stopped fidgeting. “Maybe you should tag along with us until you find em'. Hell, if they don't show up, we'll go lookin' for 'em. In the meantime ... ” he paused and frowned again. “In the meantime, you're not alone. You're with us.” He seemed satisfied with that thought and produced a grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile. He turned back to Sable. “Damn, there's sure a lot of Svefra here.”

[Gabrielle Seawind]

Gabrielle's lips stayed a flat line as she listened as Sable told her not to apologize for her outburst. The Lia spoke with a certain kind of assurance which Gabrielle believed should be required for any pod's Lia. For this, Gabrielle instantly respected and admired Sable. When Sable placed a hand on her shoulder, Gabrielle eyed it with what others would have seen as indifference. However, what Gabrielle was truly feeling was curiosity, something which she couldn't convey in words or facial expressions. Soon after, one of Sable's companions arrived. He was a strong looking man with copper skin and a scar on the left side of his face. This man seemed like he had been through a lot judging from the ruggedness of his appearance. "Hello, Daske," said Gabrielle simply as she continued to stare at the man, trying to get an idea of who he was. Seeing that he had put his hand forward, she shook it awkwardly. Gabrielle couldn't help but notice that he seemed uneasy. The way that he shifted between his two feet and the look of panic on his face made her arrive at that conclusion. In a way, his nervous behavior made her curious, but also concerned. "Uhm, are you okay? If you're hurt, there should be healers somewhere on the island." Gabrielle stared at Daske blankly when he shot her a grimace. Confused, Gabrielle looked at Sable, looking for a hint if this man really meant what he said or not. He had suggested that she accompany them for the time being. To be honest, the suggestion was very inviting to Gabrielle. She didn't see why she should turn his invitation down. All she interpreted of his words were that she could stay with them during the Svefra meeting, and she thought it would be nice to accompany them even for just a couple of hours. Gabrielle had been offered a lot of kind words since the storm, but it was different when it was one of her own offering it -- it made her feel more at ease, more welcome, because like most Svefra, she regarded everyone in her race as family. "I... well... I guess if you'll have me, then the company would be great. As soon as this meeting is over, I'll be out of your hair," muttered Gabrielle as she stared at the ground.

[Jetsam]

The Steepdive daughter came late in the day to the island, although she could detect no trace of weariness in the faces of the torchbearers who lit her toil as she faced the wind, lowered her sails and then made fast to the broadside of another casinor similar to her own. Then she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, fastened her boots tightly and made her way to the shore, smiling in an empty sort of way her gratitude to the ones who provided the torchlight. Her eyes roamed the beach, and her heart was thumping. If anywhere, this was where she would find her pod. The terrible thing was, none of the vessels had seemed familiar to her, although she prayed hard that was just because it was dark and she hadn't managed to entirely circumnavigate the Caiyha's Fist shores. The second terrible fact was that so many of those walking over the beach were alone or in small groups, separated stragglers like herself. It was really to be expected, she knew, but the thought still gave her chills. How much damage had this storm done to her people? Hearing the distant tones of music, she made for the sound, hoping that wherever song called, people gathered and wherever people gathered, there would be news.

The Svefra were more crowded in this direction and she found herself ducking around people, circling the larger groups, recognising faces but allowing herself the discourtesy of rushing past the ones that were not the ones she sought. She had only a little time left to reunite with her people, who must so certainly be here. Jetsam was tall, but her movements managed to be sinuous due to necessity as she wove through the masses. After her initial pass was complete, she slowed a little to exchange the first contact with any acquaintances she could find, none of which had seen the entire Steepdive pod, although one or two individuals had been, apparently, sighted by friends-of-friends. Jetsam was calm by the time she returned to the place she'd started, calm, composed but agonisingly concerned still. She wished she had not lost her pipe: the tobacco would have been welcomed now. Spotting a gaggle of younger people, Jetsam moved cautiously nearer, not wishing to intrude, but hopeful that the motley Svefra may have the goods she sought. She only caught the words "Damn, there's sure a lot of Svefra here" though: enough to make her narrow her blue eyes to squint through the shadowy night. What was an outsider doing here? Jetsam couldn't help but speak her concerns, one eyebrow quirking sceptically as she faced the unknown man. "That's the idea. This is the meeting of the Svefra. You sure you meant to be here?" But then her eyes found his, discernible as the trademark blue: she realised that even through the scars he looked like one of them. She was hasty to apologise. "Sorry. You speak as an outsider might." She tried a smile, but again, her worry and her fear shadowed the expression. The apologetic and friendly intention behind it, however, was entirely genuine.

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Unmindful of the flat look given her physical gesture, Sable slipped her entire arm over Gabby’s shoulders with a cavalier squeeze as Daske overcame a bit of his discomfort in order to offer the young woman aid. Verbal support for both his invitation and offer of help, despite the orphan’s suggestion of parting ways after the meeting, were cut short by the interruption of an edgy woman with dreads. Stiffening at Gabrielle’s side, Sable felt a stirring of protective irritation at the challenge issued to Daske while he was still visibly overwhelmed with this new aspect of his life, when just a season before he couldn’t run away from his people fast enough after Sable had tried to bring him into the fold. But the motion fell flat as she gave the interloper a long glance. She was older then they and just as off-keel. Eyes like the deep ocean on a windless day caught the contrite woman’s gaze. Emotions were high among the people and there was no use taking any offenses personally. A small smile of acknowledgement passed between them, accompanied by a faint nod, a silent offer of support and understanding. She didn’t want to answer for Daske, he could explain his own history, but when one had only a few instances on which to make a judgment, each isolated encounter carried excess weight and could paint a misleading picture. Being overwhelmed already, she hoped to keep him from attaching any negative emotions to it. Also, she wouldn’t stand for him being judged by any Svefra here today. But for now, she hoped to steer the conversation to something more cohesive for them as a group. “Even I feel a bit the outsider,” she admitted with some relief, though appearance, attitude and history ensconced her firmly within Svefran culture. “We’re all together, finally, and experiencing the exact same things, but one can only truly feel for themselves. I don’t quite know how to handle it.” A candid smile struggled out, manifestation of the hopeful mix of unexpected reunion and numbing loss washing up the beach in biped waves, attracted like magnets toward the concentration at Witch’s Rock. “But many of us are going to feel alone, cut off from one another by loss and emotional struggle.” A dried kelp doll with a cracked chest shell, a natural bridge for a man swaddled in the comfort of his own family’s safety to reach out to the woman who used to have the child it belonged to. His failure in the face of that joy/grief clash. Gabby’s plea for news of her family, the cowardly torchbearer. A slave-scarred man called home to the waters of his people, yet terrified of what they represent. Dependent independence, he’d said. Her gaze shifted, meeting everyone, looking for comprehension of what must be done, settling last on the shaky newcomer. Someone else reaching out, fighting that emotional maelstrom. Seeking solace and shelter, or at least someone to hang on to while whirling around and going down. And here she’d come to this ragtag gathering. They seemed to be some of the last stragglers, and a line of torchbearers discreetly ushered them onto the path toward Witch’s Rock.

OOC :

I didn’t want to monopolize the conversation with depressing philosophy, but I also didn’t want to bring this aspect of the conversation to closure on something lighthearted in case anyone wanted to respond. Also, I have no idea when Trident is going to jump in, but I’m enjoying the meaningful interaction we’re having here. Thanks guys!