Ian was, for a few moments, more distracted by the tools and various contents of Ari's bag before he could bring himself to focus on the carving she set between them. He was already smiling, freckled countenance practically beaming at her complements on his ship. He knew nothing of Morwen, but the mention of a marking reminded him of his own gnosis from Laviku. The swirling waves that crawled up his left side were part of that mark, and while he grew that mark with ink under his skin that washed from hip to wrist on the same side, his gnosis was a very important part of his identity as a Svefra. He knew very well that not all people were born marked by the gods they followed, but he knew very little about the people of the north and their icy goddess.
While there were Svefra born unmarked by Laviku, most he knew were marked eventually. Were Ari's people born marked by this Morwen or did Ari have to leave her home because she wasn't? Now was perhaps not a good time to mention how his people dealt with babies not born with blue eyes. Never was probably best at this point, considering her recent encounter with the sea.
"My … my …grand-" he struggled for the right word in Common, hands moving for the Fratava sign as he wracked his brainbox for the right combination of unfamiliar syllables and sounds, "My grand'da an'I made this casinor together." He said simply, leaning forward in his blanketed heap to reach for the wooden bear, "It was his last boat."
His tone wasn't sad so much as nostalgic with a twinge of obvious guilt in his lagoon blue eyes. Then his expression hardened and he exhaled. The wounds that led to his leaving were still so fresh. He had no intention of bleeding all over his cabin to a stranger.
Instead, he picked up the Vantha's carving, turning it over in his calloused hands. His smile returned,
"I'm no good with nice, little things. Too impatient. You must be patient." The itinerant shipwright laughed, admiring the little wooden beast, "But I've tried. Making toys. Still boats, jus' smaller." It was, apparently, his talent. Regardless of the scale, the man had a peculiar passion for boats.
Without setting the bear down, he stood. Thankfully for his unexpected passenger's sake of modesty, he kept his blanket as he wandered to his worktable. Rummaging through a small box, he produced a miniature casinor, about the size of his hand. He returned to his seat and set both the bear and the boat down between them in comparison. The little vessel had a few details, and it looked as though it was designed to float just like the one they bobbed in now.
"Syliras, huh?" The platinum-haired Svefra finally looked up, rubbing his red-tinted chin stubble with the palm of his hand, "I may've been goin' that way anyway, so things look good for you." Finian leaned back under his blanket and rolled his shoulders thoughtfully, "My casinor, she's The Handmade'n, she's a little plain. Still new, y'see. Maybe there's somewhere you can carve something nice. To make her pretty. Fish or whales or those bears."
He'd never seen a bear. He had no idea if her carving was of accurate size or in miniature. It could be eating a minnow, after all. He'd heard they were dangerous, so surely, they were bigger. But, well, not all dangerous things came in big packages.
"I tell better stories when drunk, though. Jus' to warn ya." It was true, unfortunately. He didn't really sail better after drinking, however. Alcohol just seemed to smooth out his rough edges and loosen his tongue a bit. He grinned at this, recognizing that their curiosities were mutual. It was, to the Svefra, a fair trade. If he had felt comfortable being honest or wearing his heart on his tattooed wrist, he could have admitted to how much he disliked sailing alone. It was too quiet, too thoughtful, too boring sometimes. Other times, he needed the silence, but not as often as advertised.
"Syliras is still a few days' sail from'ere, so we'll have to share stories no matter what."
While there were Svefra born unmarked by Laviku, most he knew were marked eventually. Were Ari's people born marked by this Morwen or did Ari have to leave her home because she wasn't? Now was perhaps not a good time to mention how his people dealt with babies not born with blue eyes. Never was probably best at this point, considering her recent encounter with the sea.
"My … my …grand-" he struggled for the right word in Common, hands moving for the Fratava sign as he wracked his brainbox for the right combination of unfamiliar syllables and sounds, "My grand'da an'I made this casinor together." He said simply, leaning forward in his blanketed heap to reach for the wooden bear, "It was his last boat."
His tone wasn't sad so much as nostalgic with a twinge of obvious guilt in his lagoon blue eyes. Then his expression hardened and he exhaled. The wounds that led to his leaving were still so fresh. He had no intention of bleeding all over his cabin to a stranger.
Instead, he picked up the Vantha's carving, turning it over in his calloused hands. His smile returned,
"I'm no good with nice, little things. Too impatient. You must be patient." The itinerant shipwright laughed, admiring the little wooden beast, "But I've tried. Making toys. Still boats, jus' smaller." It was, apparently, his talent. Regardless of the scale, the man had a peculiar passion for boats.
Without setting the bear down, he stood. Thankfully for his unexpected passenger's sake of modesty, he kept his blanket as he wandered to his worktable. Rummaging through a small box, he produced a miniature casinor, about the size of his hand. He returned to his seat and set both the bear and the boat down between them in comparison. The little vessel had a few details, and it looked as though it was designed to float just like the one they bobbed in now.
"Syliras, huh?" The platinum-haired Svefra finally looked up, rubbing his red-tinted chin stubble with the palm of his hand, "I may've been goin' that way anyway, so things look good for you." Finian leaned back under his blanket and rolled his shoulders thoughtfully, "My casinor, she's The Handmade'n, she's a little plain. Still new, y'see. Maybe there's somewhere you can carve something nice. To make her pretty. Fish or whales or those bears."
He'd never seen a bear. He had no idea if her carving was of accurate size or in miniature. It could be eating a minnow, after all. He'd heard they were dangerous, so surely, they were bigger. But, well, not all dangerous things came in big packages.
"I tell better stories when drunk, though. Jus' to warn ya." It was true, unfortunately. He didn't really sail better after drinking, however. Alcohol just seemed to smooth out his rough edges and loosen his tongue a bit. He grinned at this, recognizing that their curiosities were mutual. It was, to the Svefra, a fair trade. If he had felt comfortable being honest or wearing his heart on his tattooed wrist, he could have admitted to how much he disliked sailing alone. It was too quiet, too thoughtful, too boring sometimes. Other times, he needed the silence, but not as often as advertised.
"Syliras is still a few days' sail from'ere, so we'll have to share stories no matter what."
