Get in my Net [Solo]

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

1 Fall, 511 AV

Stretching long limbs and groaning from the revitalizing sensation, the lanky Svefra sighed in satisfaction and rolled off the bunk. Bare feet, long and bony, hit the wooden floor with a resounding thunk and pattered through the cabin; a whole three steps. The lone outfit neatly folded in the locked cabinet didn’t scream for donning, so the pitter patter of gay steps continued on out to the deck. Bare flesh shivering in the conflicting sensations of sea kissed breeze and Syna’s glory, hands rubbed briskly as the woman scurried across to a barrel. A quick peek inside revealed, in an odiferous waft, nothing.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it?” an emphatic and cheerful voice inquired of a lazy otter cub sun bathing in the early morning light. With a twitch of whiskers, it conveyed its lack of concern and rolled over. “I see you’re in a helpful mood this morning, Sib!”

Crossing the gently swaying deck, the lanky woman first selected a fresh half spear and then pulled out a fishing net from its casing. She’d seen them tossed in and hauled out enough to have the basic idea down, even if her own experience seriously lacked body. Hoisting the hefty net to a wide shoulder, the woman leant the spear against the fish barrel for safe keeping while she tried her hand at catching some breakfast.

“Where’s Sir when you need him?” Sable asked the water giggling against her casinor, Sea Sparkle, when she leaned over to look speculatively into the ocean. Land waved in the distance, and the shallow sand bottom extended up to about sixty feet off the little ship. Below her, the darkness hid what meals might be had. “Well, here goes!” Looking at the mass of material smelling of brine right next to her face, she toss it to the deck and set about untangling it from the mess she’d stored it in. After a few minutes gingerly picking along, it stretched out on the deck neatly. Grabbing the long cord in one hand, she plucked up the rest with a mind to keep it carefully unruffled.

The railing at her hip, she rotated around, getting a feel for the way the heavy edges swayed. “This isn’t going to turn out well, I don’t think,” she mused, bright eyes sparkling just like the sea. With minor hassle, the net went over the railing in preparation for release and she practiced rotating it around again. Nope, didn’t work either. Chewing on the inside of a lip, she dragged the net back onto the ship and stepped away from the rail. “Might as well try.” Several steps back, the nude woman spun around slowly, watching the edge of the net lift; increasing speed, she finally supposed it was high enough to clear the rail and released with gusto. In a mass that thwacked the rail as it went, the net tumbled over and didn’t hesitate a moment after the initial splash to sink. The rope end meant for holding on to it included.

Rushing to the railing, those laughing eyes watched it sink just out of sight. Grinning at her own ineptitude, and wondering what Sir would have to say about the attempt, Sable hoisted herself over the rail with one hand. The other held tightly onto a long length of rope attached to the ship.

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Shocking water rushed up the length of the woman’s body, providing a zesty cap to the fishing lesson. With little thought to the stinging salt irritating her eyes, she flipped over and struggled toward the slowly sinking fishing contraption. It had stretched out, beautiful really, as it explored the depths.

A fish! Two fish!

The silvery slick creatures easily evaded her grasping attempts to capture and cuddle them to their doom.

Grinning , and regretting it as jolly bubbles escaped to be replaced by bitter chill against her gums, the sudden loneliness of free float distracted her from the dazzling darting of the lost meal and she groped for the rope. Windm milling and flapping, it came back within grasp and she struggled to travel down faster than the net. Ghostly pale fingers swiped at the material and caught it by the tip. Sweeping it over an arm, Sable kicked erratically, and tugged on the rope. More and more rope came down. Just as her lungs started burning and the fun turned to panic, a jerk carried her upward instead of the rope down. Quickly scaling, she burst through the surface, gasping and looking much the worst for wear.

Fussing, and realizing that she had to keep kicking, no matter the tangle of net growing around her legs, in order to stay up even to her nose, she worked to find the net cord. All that came to hand was silky net. Huffing, and sucking up a nice dollop of water in the act, she allowed herself to sink to get a visual on the tool stubbornly resisting organization.

After sinking and working, stopping to pull herself up for air, doing it over and over again, she finally got the bright idea to clamp her feet over the rough, poky surface and hold herself up. Wobbling this way and that, great sweeping arm gestures to keep balance, she finally found the cord and knotted it firmly onto the main rope.

Tired, cold, and hungry, Sable hoisted herself hand over hand on the chaffing line. Clawing onto the railing, a splat hailed her successful arrival as she toppled onto the deck. After a few minutes of huffing, droplets darkening the surrounding wood and a puddle spreading, Sib shuffled on back to offer Sable some help. The otter, bouncing along happily, smacked her with a tail on her way to gracefully slip into the ocean.

“Why, thank you, darling. Don’t mind me, just taking a nice nap here,” smile tugging at her lips, with fondness she watched the little creature disappear before taking it as a hint to get back to her own search for food.

A long, long, long while of tugging up cold, wet rope, the mess dripped on her deck and waited to be untangled. Sable, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found and had no intention of cleaning it up.

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Hefting the previously discarded spear experimentally in hand, the lanky Svefra balanced precariously on the rail at the other end of the ship. Resting on the balls of her feet, she eyed the depths, wondering whether she was supposed to leap in and stab at the fish or just throw it from here. Was she supposed to tie something to the end like a harpoon? Blue eyes glanced over at the mounted harpoon, should she just use that? Adjusting a pair of swimming goggles, pushing them up onto her forehead, she listened to the wind call.

Gazing out over the ocean again, hoping for Sir’s ship to come into view, or perhaps a tasty fish to suddenly fly up onto her spear, that sliver of land piqued her imagination. Leaping back, gracefully catching herself with a whoop as she almost face planted, Sable ran to tug up the anchor. After a bit of maneuvering the sails, the Sea Sparkle slowly cut toward the shallows not too far off. Tying off the wheel, she scurried about, checking all the rigging and various contraptions, since she’d neglected to do her morning check of equipment, and by the time everything had turned out satisfactorily, bright turquoise shallow water extended to either side. Freeing the wheel and taking down the sails, allowing the breeze to pass freely through once more, the hefty anchor spiraled to the depths once more.

Rushing aft, she hastily tripped along the tangle of line, detaching her net and wadding it up to carry fore. Returning empty handed, she wrestled the rope back into a neat coil and stored it again. Sprinting back to the front, dark curls bouncing out behind her, she scooped up the net with an “oof” in one arm and snagged up the fishing spear with the other. Without a hiccup in momentum, the cheerful young lady leapt over the side. Legs kicking, a joyful scream skidding over the nearby waters, the net went one way but the spear stayed safe in her death grip. Kicking erratically, arms waving, water encompassed that long body with no particular comforting sensation.

Fish scattered, several of which she recognized as edible, and with no concern to the foot sank to the ankle in sand or the three feet of water over her head, Sable took the spear in one hand and stabbed wildly at one particular panicking poisson. Water streaming in to the ill-sealed goggles and lungs protesting, Sable abandoned the attempt and freed herself to push up to the surface. Bouncing at the surface, wild kicks intermittently keeping her above, great gasps soothed her lungs in preparation of searching for the net.

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Letting herself sink, for there really was no ability to deliberately dive, sweeping hands and jerking limbs turned her over and slowly propelled her forward. The sprawled net hovered above the bottom, gently tapping against it and stirring up a small white poof that a small neon fish curiously explored. Somehow stuck four feet above it, paddling and thrashing with all her might simply didn’t do anything but tire her out and force her back to the surface. Bursting through the surface, she gasped, mouth gaping. Hands flew to the goggles and emptied them, then shoving hard against her eyes to try and set them. A faint sucking sensation unsettled the Svefra, but she paid it no mind and glanced around for the ship. The cursory glimpse revealed that at least she was getting closer to shore instead of drifting out to sea.

Still clenching the spear, the wild-haired Svefra struggled to sink again and retrieve the fishing implement. Pushed to and fro by the current, Sable, cheeks puffed up in an attempt to keep as much air as possible, rested in suspension, lost for a moment in the peaceful dance of the depths. Watching a fish amble by, smoothly slinking without an apparent effort to glide through the water, Sable experimentally stiffened her legs together and sucked her arms against her sides. Tipping forward, in her best imitation of a dolphin, the lanky, delighted woman undulated. And then ran out of air.

After a few more attempts, she finally got down just far enough to hook the dull end of the spear through a link of net and baby the thing up. Struggling toward shore with both hands quite full was another challenge entirely.

The weight of the wadded net, however, did drag her down unsettling fast. After a few panicked submersions, she finally got the hang of sinking, gathering on the gradually shallowing bottom, and springing up and forward. It was more fun than swinging around on ropes tied to the mast. And the fish seemed to enjoy it as much as she did!

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

Standing knee deep in the shallows, cast after cast after cast yielded little more than tangled netting. Tired, and excruciatingly hungry, Sable pulled in the folded material and set about straightening it out again. Taking a moment to adjust the limp goggles hung around her neck, she sighed and mollified growing frustration by imagining all the yummy fish flakes this would soon produce. Net hanging limp above the swaying waters, the lanky woman weakly pulled back, belatedly wrapping the return cord around a wrist, and slung it out.

The net unfurled spectacularly, drawing a wide eyed stare of astonishment as it floated up and descended to hit the water in a wide spread that tinkled like rain. “It’s about damn time!” Sable wooted, doing a little victory dance and pulling in the net that had more than enough time to trap delicious little fish.

With wide sparkling eyes, and lips licked in anticipation of the prize, the frizzy-haired woman eagerly drew it in. Despite several chimes of fruitless searching of folds, no steamed filet revealed itself and the discouraged Svefra patter her tummy apologetically. Using the line to tie the net around her chest, the sailor waded deeper and struck back out to the ship. Age-stained material fanning out behind her struggling form, she inched closer and closer with uncultivated kicks and swipes. Dropping the useless tool off with a sigh, the woman leapt back in, sinking to the bottom once more, and pushing up to bob along toward the shore.

Still well over her head in water, a quiet, swaying world laid out before her, a solid weight shoved hard into her mid-back, panicking the neophyte as great bubbles of life spewed forth and disappeared in the wrinkled surface. Spinning hard, or, trying to, another strike glanced off lengthy legs, upending her and giving her a nice mouthful of questionable material from off the bottom.

[Sable Baggywrinkle]

A glimpse of black, slick and streamlined, terrified the woman and one single image came to mind; the fishing spear stuck in the sand near the shore. Damn her for venturing out without protection. The solid creature attacking without teeth or spikes wasn’t nearly as important as air and spindly arms grasped for ascension. Not even gaining a single foot, Sable made it to depths shallow enough to stand and stumble in a coughing, dripping mess toward the weapon. Jerking it free and whirling around, the heaving woman confronted her attacker.

Sib perched innocently on her hind feet, a shell of some kind grasped in her front paws and diligently gnawed into.

“Are you serious! Did you bring any for me?!” Alas, it was not to be, and Sable waded back out to take another stab at fishing. Fatigue and annoyance made it easy to stand idly, waiting for the fish to venture into the disturbed waters. Soon they darted around her legs, and in the haze of exhaustion she gave them plenty of time to get used to her presence. Surprisingly, the first fruitless stab only started the fish it was aimed at. Over and over again: stab here, stab there, ease the tip in then stab, stab from above the water, stab in front, stab in back. Eventually a fish bled but disappeared too quick to even track. Too annoyed with the creatures ability to evade her, she didn’t care about the injury, instead focusing on the fact that the thing would be eaten soon and contribute to the circle of life.

The sun sank low, burning the clouds on the horizon, and Sable, head hung low, waded back out toward the boat. Bobbing along on tippy toes, soon the sea floor dropped out from beneath her and she took great lungfuls of air to make up for the uncontrollable extended periods underwater. Flapping, kicking, swiping, undulating, the Sea Sparkle came within reach and she clawed her way aboard. Itchy and starving, the subdued woman trudged over to pull anchor and set her sails. Catching a light breeze, the same trip she took this morning took twice as long, but Sable used the extended time to properly lay out the net to dry and stow the spear once more.

Trekking to a barrel next to the empty one she’d rummaged through this morning, the lid popped off and she scooped out huge handfuls of water to devour. Next the fresh water rinsed off the crusty, uncomfortable layer of salt. Tossing anchor again, she made sure the boat would keep overnight safely before heading toward the cabin. A wet flop announced Sib’s return, and dull blue eyes accompanied a brief wave to the little lass. Sib had to throw the little fish she’d captured at the retreating woman to get her proper attention.

Too tired to more than this, the Svefra plucked up the thing and shuffled to her little friend where a fierce hug squeezed a grunt from the little thing. A quick trip to the cabin later, she sat crosslegged at the edge of the boat with a small knife slicing through the scaly, bright flesh.

A quick slice up, experimental really considering this was as new as fishing, but Sable was too used to failure at this point to care, and the thing flopped in half. Gross guts splashed into the water below, then the skin, the head, the fins…and by the time she’d sliced off everything she wasn’t sure about, two little fish meat filets waited. Waited for…what, exactly, was unclear.

They sure as shot weren’t going to get cooked on board.

Resigned to never being allowed to sleep, anchor was tugged once more and the ship once more headed toward shore. The keel dragged against sand before it stopped. Pulling on a cloak to protect against the chill, she hopped off and trudged toward the dark beach. Arid drift wood provided easy fuel and Sable spent long chimes striking flint and steel to tender to get a small blaze. The fish waited in the sand for the listless woman to ready its bed.

Like clockwork, her messy head drooped in sleep, jerking up with lethargic blinks as her forehead came into contact with a bony knee. By the time bright coals smoldered in the nest of sand, Sable did little more than toss the fish meat on them with no concern to how this plan would actually turn out.

Sometime later, the curled form stirred from its cold bed on the ground, blinking at the cooled coals. Rested enough to worry about her stomach, she carefully poked through the remnants of the fire to her meal.

Not even the scent remained.

[Growl]

Appreciation Time! Name: Sable Experience: +3 Fishing, +2 Sailing, +2 Swimming, +1 Cooking Lore: Netting is Tricky, How Not to Stab a Fish, Sinking, Being Attacked While Submerged in Water, Fish Guts Additional Notes: A few things- first and foremost, please link your CS in the proper section in your profile. This way, players will be able to access it with ease. Secondly, with thirty points in reimany, you would be at a competent level. You would have control of two elements. Feel free to add another to your CS. Also, you have no skill points currently, in fishing or swimming or anything of the like. You are going to suck at that stuff. I mean really suck. Like be incapable of doing even basic things bad. Please write to this effect. (Sinking under the water often, getting caught in the nets, falling overboard, I don't know. Just a few suggestions). Thanks, and keep up the good work. PM with questions or concerns.