Winter 15th, 512 AV Music: Little Fish, Big Pond (The Bovinian Derivative) The bells of the dock chimed in unison, their windy conductor orchestrating the brass band with sloppy form. Their sharp cries bounded across the sea and far into the fog like a mother calling into the forest for their son. The docked ships would creak in approval, an applause of grinding wood sounding across the audience. The gulls would rest upon the wooden planks and listen to the single-note tune before leaving for dinner, squawking in either approval or disgust. No one could be sure. But the bells continued either way. Their song reached deep into the port and to the ears of passing citizens. They paid it little attention, however, for the song had been played relentlessly for days. The recitals lasted from sunrise to sunset with no obvious improvement. In fact, some wished to silence the choir by means of removing its members. Of course they could not do such a thing for it was that very song that guided the seafaring ships home. Others found the sound to be soothing, the sound of home. Either way they endured, and expected to do so until a more efficient means was found. H'veen, on the other hand did not know what to make of the noise. The shrill cries somehow managed to overpower the shouts and hollers of the sea-drenched men around her. It sung like a siren, guiding the crew into the heavy fog. The steady chimes sent her into a strange trance that made the ship and its members so far away. It wasn't until an old, sea-pruned hand was placed on her shoulder that she managed to return. He shouted something about the sails, but with the shrieking bells, the howling wind, and the slowshing of the waters, all she could hear was a jumble of sounds. The rope in her hands lurched forwards. It took all her strength not to go with it. Several deckhands aided her as she dug her feet into the wooden planks and tried to keep from getting flung into the mast. They succeeded in securing it, but not before H'veen's hands were decorated with burn marks. Despite the flaming pain her fingers felt frozen and fragile, the winter air having chilled them to the bone. She wished she could wear her mittens, but the captain had warned her that the tasks she would be performing would more than likely destroy them. She took that moment to relax. Or try to at least. The sea constantly spat at her, the icy droplets slamming into her cheeks like pebbles against a window. The constant rocking made her head spin and her stomach lurch. It always threatened to empty itself. The wind blew fiercely across the bow slapping her across the face with an icy backhand. She felt it tug at her scarf, fluttering in the wind like an errant flag. In her mind she conjured the image of her mother dragging her by the scarf all the way back to Wind Reach. H’veen wondered if they had found the letter yet. They should have. It had been almost a week. She began worrying. What if her father had not found the note, and thought her to have been kidnapped? What if they had been searching for her all these days? Did they think she was dead? A pit opened in her stomach, and it felt like she was going to pass out. But she remained vigilant. It was too late to go back now. Not after getting this far. She shivered against the elements, shutting her eyes. When she opened them again, she had to close them once more to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. There it was. Like the last mark of punctuation in a book. A symbol so small, but filled to bursting with emotions. Accomplishment, sadness, hope, and above all: Completion. Before her stood the city of Avanthal. The City of Endless Winter. It was as if she had just finished a book and was now opening another. A new story began to unfold. Words could not alone describe the shimmering beauty ahead of her. The way the city for blights shone against the snowy backdrop. The way the shops were bundled together, as if they were huddling for warmth themselves. The way the snow hugged the geography like a tight blanket. And the main attraction itself: The Palace of Ice. H'veen stood, jaw agape and collecting snow, with eyes wide as saucers. Someone beside her muttered something (Probably along the lines of "tourists") but was outright ignored by the Inarta. Such beauty! Such elegance! It was like a painting frozen in time. Literally. So entranced by the view, the girl was almost knocked overboard as the boat ran against the dock. Her hands flew out and caught the railing, inches away from a cold, watery fate.It took several moments for her to regain her faculties. The chime of the bells and the shouts of the men then accompanied her as she helped dock. H'veen took one last look at the men. They looked back. She had spent only a short time with them, but she knew enough to know they were crude, vile, inappropriate, and utterly stupid. But she had loved watching them all the same. It was fascinating to watch their ways, their customs, their movements. She was sad to part with them. They would stay for a little while to trade, but she was in no way fit to keep traveling with them. She raised a hand and waved it, wishing them farewell, and they did the same. And with a heavy sigh, H'veen turned her back on them and faced the icy city. It was then that she realized the air was colder than her mothers heart (Which is to say, pretty frickin' cold). She felt a chill run up her spine that sent her teeth chattering. The mittens would finally see use. She donned them, along with a heavy woolen cap that concealed her hair so that only a few stray strand hung across her face. The wool jacket was pulled tight, making sure there were no entrances for the wind. She'd have to find a nice, warm, dry place to rest. And food. Yes. Food would be great. Something to warm her inside and out. She noted another on the dock opposite her, and she approached. With her signature smile and a spring by her step the distance between then closed very quickly. And with a voice not quite as high as a Wren's, but with all its chipper, she asked: "Excuse me, but are you from around here? I'm trying to find a place to stay. Hopefully that has food. And heat" |