The Gilded Sunrise... [OPEN]

[Epiktetos]

Day 1 of Spring 511 A.V.

The morning lights flitted across the shimmering surface of the water, its formless nature given meaning and shape with each beam of light. A cool and light breeze blew in from across the ocean, the water lapping slightly at its insistence. The scent of salt, alluring and intangible floated upon the wind, it filled the lungs of all who breathed it. It mingled with the strange smells of the docks, luxurious spices for the rich and privileged; stagnant food for the poor and forgotten.

The water lapped gently at the hull of the Sea Hawk, the wood creaking ever so lightly as the ship rocked slowly, the rigging and ropes flowing in the breeze and the sails furled and still heavy with the dew. It was an idyllic scene; it was a scene of potentials ... of freedom ... of something beautifully unknown! Epiktetos stood upon the quarterdeck, eyes closed, breathing slowed, and his thoughts nowhere; he was simply here ... such a sublime thing, such a certain peace in an age of certain discord.

But then somewhere in the cascading rivulets of his mind, something flashed, and with a start he opened his eyes and smiled fully, teeth showing and eyes twinkling. The morning watch struck the bell, four times, the crew began to move, and the Sea Hawk began to awaken. Epiktetos watched as they began the task of preparing the vessel for her journey, it would be no small undertaking either. The route may be well travelled but the sea did not tolerate the complacent or fools well - and for that matter neither did the Sea Hawk's Captain. Epiktetos in silence stood and watched his crew perform their duties admirably, his cabin boy presented the stony Captain with a large cup of hot tea steeped until black. The icy features defrosted for a moment, and he smiled briefly at the boy and then waved him off. Epiktetos eyes were peeled to the docks, not the sea unusually, for he had put notice up of berths available upon the Sea Hawk for its journey to Syliras. He expected some takers, for there were no finer sailors than the Eypharians, and he knew his own reputation would precede him. The seas where dangerous, more so then an overland journey thought Epiktetos, so what safer way to reach your destination then to sail upon an Eypharian warship?

But for the moment Epiktetos let his eyelids and long lashes close down over his eyes once more, and breathed in the steam from the warm brew in his hands and took a refreshing draught.

[Fadri Bohdan]

The face of the matter was that Fadri was not pleased to have been sent down here. His full lips were drawn into a line, and a scowl marked his features, exotic even by Eypharian standards, for he was but half of their blood. His gilded flesh--a blessing from the goddess--glistened in the early, spring sun, and he pushed his dark hair from his electrically blue eyes. His mother had wanted some sort of spice or another, and she had been displeased with the efforts of one of their slaves. Apparently beating wasn't enough to secure loyalty. Gods, he would have done anything to get out of this place. It was near impossible to accomplish anything in his state. Damn the racism of his people. Oh, he held it, too, but he was tainted by it, and as such, an undesirable to both local humans and Eypharians. He could hardly bear it. He wanted a name for himself. He wanted to be known. That could not happen here. His mother's favorite slave had accompanied him, if only to make him feel safe, and the two of them went quickly and quietly about their work. Fadri didn't speak to the slave. He was irritable, and he honestly wanted nothing more than to get the errand over and done with. He had been about to purchase the things his mother wanted when his eyes fell upon a notice. A ship was sailing to Syliras. The merchant placed the pouch in his hand, but Fadri dropped it. He had money on him. Enough to pay for the trip, he wagered. Yes. Yes, that was it. Without a word, he snatched up the paper, and hurried out the door, leaving a rather stunned slave behind him. Fadri had to move quickly. He knew that much. If the slave caught him, there'd be no escape. He slipped quickly and quietly through groups of stinky sailors, doing his best to ignore them, until he had located the dock in question. He chewed anxiously at his lower lip. Gods, he didn't have any more clothes with him than what he had one. What was he supposed to do about that? Bah! It didn't matter. This was his chance. Syliras was big, wasn't it? He'd be able to make something of himself there. He could pass easily enough for a human, and no one would know the difference. A little work on his accent, and everything would be perfect. He caught the attention of one of the crew, who gave him a dirty look but directed him to the captain. Long, graceful limbs carried him up, and after further questioning, he was brought to stand before the captain. He spoke in Arumenic, as he saw no point in using Common amongst those who spoke his native tongue. "I saw your...advert," he informed, holding the paper out to him. "I will pay you well for a berth on your ship." Ice-blue eyes flicked up to Epiktetos ' face, and he did his best to keep the pounding of his heart from growing audible. But his excitement and nervousness were clear. A noblewoman's son running away from home. Hopefully, the coin would be enough to keep questions from being asked.