Spring 11, 516 AV
The Mischief
They had pulled anchor only four days ago, but Jay already knew that he loved the Mischief. It was a relief to be out on the sea again, to feel planks under his feet and breathe salty air, but above that, a vessel blessed by Ionu was unlike any other he’d seen or heard about before. Just like its home port, the ship changed every day, never failing to impress with its magnificent sights and sensations. Jay would’ve said the wood was still alive, but he knew better. Ordinary wood didn’t grow lush purple blossoms one day and turn into glass the next, ordinary sails didn’t change color and fabric every other day. Sometimes the hull was adorned by elaborately carved fish, sometimes by menacing steel spikes (you had to keep away from the railing). Even the figurehead changed shapes and Jay was beginning to think it was meant to depict Ionu in all their confusing glory.
And hiring as a deckhand was the best thing he could’ve done. He didn’t mind doing chores around the ship – after all, he’d grown up doing them – but above all, he loved sitting in the crow’s nest. Up there, the sea and sky melted into one vast expanse of blue. Up there, he could understand every word the breezes hurled into his ears.
After helping around the crew’s quarters and kitchens the entire morning, Jay had climbed the mast and relieved the sailor in the crow’s nest. He’d been looking forward to that afternoon shift all morning, now he could lean back and relax.
With only a few white clouds in the sky, the Kelvic kept an eye on the horizon and directed most of his attention towards the upper deck. Performers were loitering, chatting or practicing their craft. A little explosion here, an outburst of green sparks there was perfectly normal on the Mischief, but Jay never tired of watching. Leaning over the handrail (sails beneath painted navy blue with abstract ornaments), he squinted and scanned the deck, wondering if Karin was working somewhere in sight.
The Mischief
They had pulled anchor only four days ago, but Jay already knew that he loved the Mischief. It was a relief to be out on the sea again, to feel planks under his feet and breathe salty air, but above that, a vessel blessed by Ionu was unlike any other he’d seen or heard about before. Just like its home port, the ship changed every day, never failing to impress with its magnificent sights and sensations. Jay would’ve said the wood was still alive, but he knew better. Ordinary wood didn’t grow lush purple blossoms one day and turn into glass the next, ordinary sails didn’t change color and fabric every other day. Sometimes the hull was adorned by elaborately carved fish, sometimes by menacing steel spikes (you had to keep away from the railing). Even the figurehead changed shapes and Jay was beginning to think it was meant to depict Ionu in all their confusing glory.
And hiring as a deckhand was the best thing he could’ve done. He didn’t mind doing chores around the ship – after all, he’d grown up doing them – but above all, he loved sitting in the crow’s nest. Up there, the sea and sky melted into one vast expanse of blue. Up there, he could understand every word the breezes hurled into his ears.
After helping around the crew’s quarters and kitchens the entire morning, Jay had climbed the mast and relieved the sailor in the crow’s nest. He’d been looking forward to that afternoon shift all morning, now he could lean back and relax.
With only a few white clouds in the sky, the Kelvic kept an eye on the horizon and directed most of his attention towards the upper deck. Performers were loitering, chatting or practicing their craft. A little explosion here, an outburst of green sparks there was perfectly normal on the Mischief, but Jay never tired of watching. Leaning over the handrail (sails beneath painted navy blue with abstract ornaments), he squinted and scanned the deck, wondering if Karin was working somewhere in sight.