Closed the serpent and the moon

[Sasheizarre]

Spring 16th, 515 AV

The night felt still. It was chilly, the water cold and breezes playing with the Dhani's hair, as they tended to do. A cloak graced her shoulder, tied at the neck, and hid her gnosis hiding at her chest and throat except for the very foaming tips. Her toes dug into the sand, her silent midnight reverie interrupted by nothing except the crashing of the waves. Leth himself provided enough light to see clearly, and Izarre stared out into the sea, mere feet from the docks in a spot she had grown attached to.

Her cloak was pulled tighter, and the Dhani moved towards the docks, finally walking towards the very end and sitting down. Her feet dangled off of the edge, an occasional wave crashing against her feet. She began humming a tuneless song, a habit she had begun forming during her time in Abura, and her thoughts drifted to poetry. She had been thinking much of poetry recently, a subdued activity for the normally fiery girl.

Izarre sighed, tapping the rough wood of the dock with one hand. A loud cheer erupted in the distance, from the Hospitality House, but the Dhani chose to ignore it in favor of the current poem forming in her head.

The starry night
erupts with light

She did not know the word for 'erupts' in Common, so the poem was thought of entirely in Snake-tongue. Not that she minded, more that she did not know how to write it down. Such was the trouble with language. Izarre continued to sit at the edge of the dock, Leth reflecting off of her hair and making it glow like a halo from behind her. Her mind came to think of the Hospitality House, and the possibility of visiting it before she went home. A drink of the foul Kelp Beer was not on her mind, but the camaraderie of her fellow, generally cheerful legged people would be welcome to get her minds off of such a melancholy subject as poetry could be.

[Thrall]

Thrall smiled and waved over his shoulder as he stepped outside of the Hospitality house, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly in relief as the door finally shut behind him. The people here were good, wholesome individuals, but sometimes Thrall found himself more in need of time to himself than further drunken conversation and friendly laughter. "A breath of silence," Thrall whispered as he pushed a hand through his white hair, "Has never been more called for." Shaking his head, the smile shrinking somewhat but in a way become a bit more sincere, Thrall began to make his way down from the building in the direction of the docks. This night he would try something different, beyond his meditations and instead seek comfort and tranquility in more than just his own thoughts. In one hand he carried a worn, well used fishing rod that looked about as old as Thrall was himself. In a small pouch hooked on his belt was the nights bait, worms borrowed from the same kind man who leant the rod to the Ethaefal in the first place. If he could Thrall hoped to bring back some fish to repay the man's kindness. Surely it wasn't that hard. Dressed as he often was in his simple grey clothing and boots, the man's skin shown with the light of the moon reflected off of the oceans waters. Black horns circled back around his head, similar to a crown of thorns and a stark contrast to the pure white of his hair. As he neared Thrall saw that someone else had taken his usual spot upon the wood of the dock. Thus he paused for a tick or two, debating whether or not to join her and sit beside her as she enjoyed the night air, but then he realized he himself would not care for such interruptions. Instead the man walked a few steps upon the wood, but not quite down to the end where sat. Finding a spot closer to the middle of the walkway Thrall set down the pouch and rod, slinging his own feet over the edge of the wood and began working with the hook and line, his face a mask of concentration as he tried to impale the wriggling worm on the end of the line. When, at last, he was able he took up the rod and cast it out with a quick flick of his wrist, settling down to enjoy the night in silence and respectfully giving companion a brief nod and a smile but nothing more for fear of disturbing her.

[Sasheizarre]

It was almost as she finished the previous thought that she saw a man - a man who could only be described as beautiful. His skin and hair glowed in the reflection of Leth, and the pitch black horns which crowned his head were only visible as shadow and reflection. Izarre was not familiar with his race, though she did not think too much of it - she was not familiar with many of the land-dwelling races. The Dhani watched him from the corner of her eye, her head tilted back but not in a particularly obvious way. The man carried a fishing pole, but even by the way he held it she could tell he was inexperienced in the 'art' of fishing. She fancied herself a bit knowledgeable on the subject, seeing as it was her livelihood. She felt it was in her best interests to humor him tonight, for a bit of entertainment.

She stretched out her leg, dipping a toe into the water. Contact was all she needed to use her gnosis. Focusing on the first fish she could think of — a yellowtail snapper — and began controlling it forcing it to swim upwards until she could sense it in the immediate area of the hook. She carefully had it bite the bait and tug, releasing control of the fish. Her mind swam with the pressure map of currents and the overwhelming sense of the other fish trucking along in the water. She removed her toe, clearing her head, and returned to watching the man out of the corner of her eye.

From the back of her mind, she thought of another line to the poem;

The starry night
erupts with light
revealing true intention.
Among the stars
The world is far
below, and seldom mentioned.

The rest of the poem eluded her, but she put it in the back of her mind for the time being. She'd much rather watch the man's reaction to actually catching something.

[Thrall]

How long was he supposed to wait? A few chimes? A Bell? The fisherman had not said, but then even if he had Thrall doubted he could have understood him through his slurred speech. In the end, however, it did not matter for in truth the Ethaefal was not overly interested in the act of actually catching the fish. It was more the act of doing something new that drew Thrall to where he was now. With a sigh he closed his eyes, absently curling and uncurling his fingers around the pole. The rough texture of the wood sent a flurry of sensations through Thrall's senses, his mind focusing upon the texture of what he held in his hands as mind and spirit began to settle to a peaceful state of barely controlled thought and pondering. He would have stayed like this for some time if it were not for what happened next. The first tug was gentle, so soft that Thrall almost did not notice it. The second was a little stronger, and at this the man opened his eyes and looked out to where his line dipped beneath the waves. The third came with a firm tug strong enough that Thrall had to suddenly grasp the pole with both hands to avoid losing it to the waters. His lips curved to a slight O of surprise as he leaned back, jerking the rod in one less than graceful movement and began to pull in the line. As he worked the fish fought, on several occasions nearly jerking the rod from his grasp due to the Ethaefal's lack of experience. For what seemed like an eternity Thrall battled this most worthy of adversary, at one point even standing to his full height to brace his feet against the wooden planks as he pulled back with all of his strength, his face a mask of concentration and determination until... The line snapped and Thrall stumbled backwards, left holding the rod and gazing after the lost fish and line with a more or less dumbfounded expression. "By Leth that was a ferocious creature to have bitten straight through the line." He whispered as he sat down on the edge of the dock once more. Little did he know, however, was that it was not the fish itself that had broken free, but rather Thrall himself who had thwarted all his efforts. In his frantic attempts to pull in the line he had gotten it tangled in the jagged rocks that was found in this area close to shore. That last, significant tug was all that it took to finish the line once and for all. Scratching his head between his horns Thrall looked down at the rod, lips turning down slightly as he thought about about how he would explain this to the man who had so graciously lent it to him.

[Sasheizarre]

Sasheizarre could not help but laugh at his remark. The fish was not nearly large enough to have broken the line so easily; his flailing around was what must have done it. Regardless, she had her entertainment - but the poor sod looked lost now that his probably borrowed fishing pole needed a new line. She stood up, sandaled feet tapping against the wood as she moved towards him. Her gnosis had moved almost entirely onto her throat now, disliking its lack of visibility when covered by her cloak.

"Do you need help?" The Dhani spoke in the soft, low voice of hers, having the kind of foreign accent difficult to place. She sounded as if she came from a place far, far away - though she considered all salty waters to be her home. Her eyes glinted in Leth's light, a gentle breeze blowing in from the waters and over the dock, mussing her hair and manipulating her cloak. Izarre was not very familiar with fishing poles, her main experience being in fishing nets, but she thought she could at least help him remedy his current situation and tell him about some of the fish found in the waters of Abura.

"I do not know much of fishing poles, but if you wish to learn of fishing nets..." She trailed off, turning to look up at the man who stood nearly two feet taller than she. She was not one to often feel short, standing at a good height of 5'7", but this man put everyone else she had met to shame. A strange race indeed was one that stood so tall that even her tallest brother would have to look up just to see his face.

The Dhani herself did not feel intimidated by his stature, only curious of it. He seemed too beautiful to be of any threat, though she would say the same thing about herself - and of many of the fish in the sea. Her head tilted to the side, waiting for an answer to her offer of assistance. She was not normally so cordial, but she was in a good mood today - especially after the theatrics of the man's attempt at fishing.