Solo Just North of South

[Cassandra Southwind]

Winter 01, 513 Under a mile from the Tranquil Port "Let's go north, they said. No one's been up there since the storm! Open--Arms--" Eddie grunted as he heaved at his end of the net. It resisted the short haul from the boat to the tarp, noiseless and large. His knuckles were chafing between the weight of the rope and the cold winter air, his breath catching in big white puffs. He mumbled on, "--open pockets. Innat what you said?" The woman on the other end of the net answered grinningly. "Would you rather be up there, on thin air and hard soil?" Her name was Mona. She and Eddie were the closest thing to married that the former could stand, and sometimes Cassandra wondered if they might end up running off to form their own pod. He always seemed ready to, finding one excuse after another to bring up a new and exciting destination. But he only liked to flail on possibilities, relying on Mona to reel him back in every time. Together they pulled the whole harvest onto the tarp. "This is the safest port we could've reached before the flames changed." "It's too far north. We've no business out in this wilderness," Thom agreed. He was the old man at the fire pit, ignoring the pair of children that ran to and from it with deposits of kindling. He didn't even look up to say it. Mona protested. "It is not wilderness. It's the apex of cultural achievement in--I mean--" Already, Eddie was rolling his eyes at her. Her effort-pink fingers struck the air with exasperation. "In the entire world!" "There en't anything to learn from scholars who sit on pretty cushions. Not when their winter's already so cold. Cass," Ed waved. "Come here and help me unload, will you?" Cassandra had been crouching with Thom at the fire. With an approving look from her elder, she chopped through the sand and wrapped her fingers around the knots. In no time the net opened like a giant laugh, spilling forth their catch from the bay. It was not a lot, even for winter, but the older members of the pod had warned her not to expect much. The fish slapped onto the tarp with a careful pour, leaving Cassandra to catch the strays that flopped into the sand. She looked over the pile as it rose out of the net. Only enough for a few days, she observed, if they were going to try to sell enough to buy winter clothes. They would have to catch just as much tomorrow to have enough security for the week. She picked one up and turned it over, trying to estimate its value in that strange mountain-currency. Eddie made her jump when he spoke over her shoulder. "Ever learned how to clean one?" "No," she mumbled, her voice weighed with practiced grump. Truly, she was more curious than she could honorably describe. "Come on," he said with a smile, tugging her to a cleared space in the tarp. When he knelt there, she followed. A bucket of fresh salt water sat between them. "You have to make sure he's clean, of course, then smooth him out and lay him flat in your palm." Secretly she hated how he called the cold, dead thing in his hands he and him. It seemed cruel to compare the little corpse to a man. An it could be appreciated and used without remorse; a he struck like sympathy, full of love and ambition and potential. Of course she didn't say anything about it. He would have only rolled his eyes and cracked some joke about sticks and asses. It was tail up in his left hand, which dripped with the water he had dunked it in. Eddie's hands were going bad; she could see them shake, but somehow he didn't leave a nick where he didn't want it. With a few sharp movements, he had carved a swathe of scales from the fish's broad side. "Just remember, tail first, and the rest'll come easy enough. You've gotta cut thin, but you'll learn to get a feel for the layer. With these, a couple or three strokes on each side oughta do it." Sure enough, he sloughed away the slippery silver scales in five clean lines. And without a moment to spare he gave Cassandra a handful of his knife and insisted she do the same. She tried to use the same fluid strokes he had done, and when that didn't work attempted to channel what she knew of her combat training. But mostly she made a mess of it. Frustration tightened her jaw. "All well," he sighed, knocking the bucket with a knuckle. "You can use the water to scrub off the scales that remain. You'll get the hang of it as you do more." She looked up to frown at him, but he returned her with a wink. He was pawning off the work on her! A smile tugged at the corners of her lips when she looked down at her fish again. He hated that contagious grin of his, getting in the way of her favorite scowl. But then he said, "Look. " And she did. "To gut it, you've gotta go tail to head again. Get it right at the base--" He illustrated with the knife he had retrieved when she was washing her fish, piercing the ventral ridge and slicing up to the head. "And cut him up to the end of the jaw. Should be able to get out most of the innards in a handful." And so he did, raising them at her face and waggling the bloody mess at her. She waved him away. "Save this. We put it in the stew." Cassandra nodded, trying not to salivate. She took the knife when it was given, and made a cleaner job of it than she had of the scales. "Good. Now toss that there and cut off the head. Should just take one clean--just like that, yeah." With that, he pushed off of his kneeds and stood, nodding toward Mona's beckoning call. "I'll be back soon to help with the rest." She shrugged, and then she smiled. "Yeah, yeah."

[Cassandra Southwind]

"What'cha doing?" Cassandra had lost herself in the rhythm. Clean, cut, pull, chop. The water turning over the shore, the shouts of the rising campsite. Each mumbled prayer as cold flesh was separated from head and viscera. She couldn't have said how many times she'd done it. The piles were growing before her like the mountains behind her. It was a little world inside the world, defined by the sharp strength of her dagger. When the little 6-year-old boy interrupted her, that world collapsed. Surprise gasped from her throat and she cut her thumb. Or did it happen the other way around? Half a curse hissed from her before she realized who stood beside her. Richie was the youngest member of the pod, but no less dutiful. He recoiled at the thought of being a nuisance. Weary-eyed, Cassie shook her head to give him a wordless assurance that she was fine. She reached out and gave her half-brother a side-hug, ruffling his hair. He wiggled out of her grasp and grabbed her thumb, but she pulled away before he could scrutinize the damage. Without missing a beat, he forgot his old question and pointed at the shore. "Echor was gonna teach us to hand-fish," he exclaimed. "She said you would want to try." The elder sister made sure to get a nod from her old instructor before she moved on to her new one. Hand in hand, Richie and Cassie crept toward the water by the cliff, where their mother was already teaching Nyla the basics. Their feet were braced in the sand beneath the water, knees bent and hands treading the briny waves. Their crests reached Nyla's waist when they rolled through her, but she seemed unburdened by them. She was so graceful; everyone on that side of the family was. Even with as much care as Cass and Richie gave, the school still scattered when they neared. "Hello," Echor murmured, her voice cracking with disuse. She tried so hard to be patient, but her daughter could hear the frustration at the edges of her tone. It was the same kind Cassandra had felt when she hadn't caught all of the scales on her first stroke. She stayed as quiet as possible, trying to mirror the strange formation the others had made with their hands. Thumbs together, forefingers together, skimming the underside of the water's surface. "Don't try to follow one. Wait. Let it come to you." Echor took a moment to glance at each of their techniques. Then she added, "You must move quickly and alongside the water's movement. If you go against it, you'll--" Suddenly Nyla dove forward. She was standing again before Cassandra could look up, a flailing herring in her fist. She turned and, with one hard swing at the rocks opposite, knocked it limp. Though she had seem the others do it plenty of times, Cassandra could not help but think it savage. She might have even said so, but Richie interrupted. He was that age, always so eager. "What if there's no rock?" Echor ignored the question, if only temporarily, in order to finish her thought. "The fish can sense the current better than you can. I was telling Nyla earlier that you must follow the flow of the water around you, or else it will feel you coming. As for the rock, try to make it a rule to have something hard and strong nearby. Make the kill clean and quick. If there is nothing, remove it from the water and use a knife to cut the spine an inch behind the eye." "And never forget to thank the all father," Cassandra added, eyeing the boy as if he didn't already know. Noticing that the young girl was still standing in the water, Echor added, "Good job, Nyla. Go ahead and throw that on the pile." Turning to the others, she gestured at the water. "Richard, Cassandra, give it a try." And Cassandra did try. She put every bit of effort and concentration and strategy she had into the task. The fish weren't particularly fast, but they were unpredictable. They had no pattern, no rhythm. She couldn't manage to find a new one as easily as she had lost the one before it, no matter how perfectly synced she was with the ebb and flow of the ocean. Even Richard managed to touch one, but she never seemed to get the timing right. The failure made her frustrated, and her frustration only irritated her more. It made her tense, inaccurate. By the time Echor thought to lay a hand on her shoulder and persuade her to take a break, she was already slapping the waves in defeat. She didn't let the woman say anything. She needed to get away. So she let herself fall, let the shallows consume her and reach their cool fingers into every hot thread of her. The fish scattered around her legs as she curled, rapped against her arms as she rubbed her eyes and squeezed her face and tried to melt in the darkness behind her eyelids. But her shaken nerves were like a hook in her gills, tearing her every time she tried to pull away. It was stupid how weak she was, how easily the anxiety could cripple her. At least they left her alone. At least they knew to do that much. At least most of them did.

[Cassandra Southwind]

The fish dispersed suddenly. Cassandra initially supposed that Echor had pulled them away, but then she felt something large move the water around her and press against her arm. It was soft and slippery and warm; it was Valory. Cassandra opened her eyes. The salt water burned, but in that tickling way that made the world seem real. And into her line of sight swam the black and white blur that was her tavan. Valory seemed to always know when she was needed, when to come and rescue her svefra from herself. The girl reached out and caught a touch of the dolphin's tail, and then found herself lunging out to wrap her arms around her. It was satisfying to catch her, after failing to catch so many fish. Valory emitted a playful noise, then bumped Cass up to the water's surface. The human found her breath then, a gasp of briny air that woke her from her anxiety. She pivoted toward land to see Echor and Richie having resumed further down the shore. Good. She would have hated to see them concerned for her little tantrum. Valory's nose pushed on Cassie's knees. A candid smile lifted on the latter's face as she ducked back into the water and hooked her hand on her tavan's fin. And they were off. The water sloped from the dolphin with little more than a ripple, but Cassandra's bumpy body left a trail of bubbles through the cold darkness of the bay. They went out past the docks, where the seafloor all but disappeared. It was a place of freedom, where the danger was exciting and the solitude was peace. She loosed herself from the dolphin's guidance, slowing just enough to breach the heavy currents of the upper tide to breathe again. Valory took the opportunity to clear her blowhole as well, spraying her tavan with hot droplets. Cassie shrieked in that special way she did when no one was around to hear her, then ducked into the water and gave the dolphin an amiable shove. They played like that for a short while, moving around each other just below the surface, Valory's sleek grace and Cassie's bumbling tranquility. The girl didn't realize that she was being lead until they reached the animal's secret destination. Fish. The school was made of a larger species, but not too large to fit between Cassandra's hands. When they entered her line of sight, Valory slowed and stopped. Her strategy was never to get too close. She nudged Cassie and began in another direction, certain that the girl would understand her meaning. With an inward nod, the svefra moved to the opposite side of the school. She had seen the dolphins perform this strategy before, swimming in circles to confuse their prey and picking off the ones that spun away from the group. Could they do it with only two? She kept close to the surface so that she could move fast and never lack for air. She pushed against the water as hard as she could, finding a certain catharsis in the ache that soon rose from her effort. Soon she was swimming more quickly than her body could have moved alone, riding the whirling circle that she and her tavan and her god's blessing had created. The time was coming. She put her hands together the way that Echor had taught her. A small, young specimen reeled from its panicking school. She reached for it. It swam between her fingers. She caught it by the nook in its spiny tail. She did it. But her moment of celebration came too soon. Before she could bring it close and hope to kill it clean, it wriggled out of her grasp and fled toward its brothers again. The failure pulsed through the whole of her like a great red hatred. She screamed muted bubbles into the water around her and punched at nothing. It was not so hard; what could she have possibly done wrong? Valory had probably caught her own meal by now, leaving Cassie the only one who couldn't do it on her own. It was humiliating. No, it was infuriating. Suddenly she was rushing into the column of confusion they had created together, reaching for something, anything that might wander into her angry hands. She removed Eddie's knife from her belt and aimed it at everything, swinging it manically until it could hit something blindly. The unlucky creature that found the other end of her weapon staggered, allowing her the extra moment she needed to grab it by the tail--securely this time--and push the knife into it. An inch behind the eye, like Echor said. It was dead in an instead. Easy as that. Only then did her body remind her how long she had been under. Her lungs protested their emptiness with a sudden lurch, and she released knife and corpse to hold her throat. But Valory came to her rescue soon enough, pushing through the thinning school and the resuming current to raise her to the surface again. Cassandra gulped at the air, convulsing on the back of her tavan. She stayed on Valory's back for longer than she might ever admit, staring at the dead fish that had floated up with them. It had probably lived years before that moment, content among its family and helpful as all of Laviku's children were. Killing it had been so easy. So unnaturally easy. "I'm sorry, Val," she sputtered, even though she didn't need to. She slipped away from her tavan and padded toward her kill. "Thank you, Laviku, for that which feeds us. It has given its life to sustain ours." Maybe it was wrong to have taken that life in a moment of anger, and in such a terrible, violent manner. Maybe it was against what her god wished of her, but she could not in good conscience go without the prayer. Still, she would be embarrassed to bring a single slaughtered fish back to camp. She offered it to Valory, who took it despite what had happened, and rubbed the dolphin's nose. She wondered if the animal understood the difference between an act of predation and an act of violence. Then she wondered if there was any difference at all. Death sustained life, whatever the circumstances. It was a natural, beautiful thing that happened often and without consequence. So why did it feel so wrong?

[Cassandra Southwind]

On Valory's back she returned to shore, her every limb exhausted. She had been feeling so incredibly tired lately, ever since they had braved the long, lonely trip from Charbosi in Summer. Secretly she hoped that they would be done setting up camp by the time she returned, but she also knew that it was not probable. She resolved to help them until it was done, and afterwards treat herself to a nice, long sleep. Syna had begun her descent from noon high when Cassandra's feet found solid sand. She waved to Thom at the fire and was beginning to inspect the delicious smell that wafted from his big iron pot, when a mumble and a gesture directed her to look westward. There stood a small congregation of Southwinds and strangers, presumably Lhavitian fishermen. If obedience to her elders had not driven her toward the group, then so would have her own curiosity. By the time she reached them, she was having trouble disguising the shivers that rocked on her wet shoulders. But still she gave Eddie a greeting smile when she neared. He put his warm hand on her clammy neck and explained in Common, so that the others could understand, "The resident fishermen here want to teach us about their traps, so that we'll show them the real way to use a net." He gave a friendly wink, but not everyone seemed convinced of his amity. If he noticed, he didn't seem to care. In Fratava, he added, "Wanna come?" Before she could even nod, Mona was shaking her head. In Common she replied, "The poor girl is soaked to the bone. The sea is cold enough when it sprays; she is better off by the fire and in a change of clothes." "Oh, that's no problem," replied a strange woman with a stranger accent. She stepped forward and raised her hand. Cassandra felt suddenly enveloped in a peculiar, viscous layer. In the next moment, all of the water on her body was removed as if it were only a blanket, to be tossed into the bay with a flick of the woman's wrist. Cassandra gasped and retreated into Eddie's laughing embrace, glaring at the mage and her cursed magic. While her husband tried to comfort the girl with shrugs and nervous chuckles, Mona consoled the Lhavitian. "Please accept our apologies. Where we have been, magic is not used so freely. But I understand that it is a place of skilled and cautious practicians. Is that not so?" "That it is," said another stranger, a man who had stepped between Cassandra and the reimancer when the former had first reacted. "We must apologize as well. It is easy to forget that the ways of travellers are different than our own." He looked sideward at the offending woman, whose pretty face was awash with confusion and remorse. She and the cowering svefra lass met eyes and exchanged a silent understanding. As far as Cassandra was concerned, she didn't have to like the mage to be civil. As usual, Eddie was the first to ease the tension. "Well now that that's settled, why don't we get out onto the water, hm? Tell us about these weirs." "They are underwater nets," the diplomat explained, as the group stomped over the docks toward a cluster of little red boats. "According to seasonal schooling patterns and currents, we place them in areas where the fish are most likely to gather. But not in every possible area, of course. We are always careful to monitor each population to keep the bay at peak capacity." Cassandra listened, but not as much as she looked. Their boats seemed to be made of sturdy wood, though she had never seen it before. That was their most redeeming quality. They were shallow, their sails thin, and not nearly strong or large enough for actual seafaring. She wondered if they could even haul an actual net. She and her cousin Connor boarded one of two boats that carried a broad, dry net as a Lhavitian sailor explained, "Part of the weirs is broken, tugged through by some sort of larger fish, maybe a shark or mammal. We are going to pull the bad piece up and replace it with this one." They didn't use proper rope. Instead she found herself running her fingers over thick reeds wound around pine logs. As they set off, the same sailor noticed her interest. "It lets the water through, but not most fish. And it's flexible enough to bend into any shape, but strong enough to hold when they need to." "Clever," remarked Connor, a single Fratava word beneath his breath. Like her, he chose his words wisely; she could not tell whether that one was a genuine observation or a sarcastic one. That was the last word spoken before the weirs came into sight: vaguely circular structures with inward-curved, sea-facing openings. Cassandra scowled curiously at them, understanding the function but wondering at the efficiency. There was no gate or clever contraption to keep the fish from wandering back out of the trap, only the narrowness of the exit and the flow of the tide. But when the Lhavitians jumped into the water to gather their catch, they pulled a surprising number. Not nearly as much as a svefra haul--but still, considerable. Mona made Cass stay on the boat, but she did not hate it for long. She was able to watch the whole process from afar: the nets they had tied to the posts hung under the trapped fish, making it easy to raise them out of the water and pull them onto their little red boats. It was clever, like Connor had said, but she saw his double meaning now. There was no action to it, no bodily skill. Only timing and measurements and waiting. Where was the satisfaction in that? "One catch will feed an inn for a week," the diplomat answered her questions without even hearing it. Perhaps he had known what was on the svefras' minds from the look of their discontented faces. "A merchant at market could feed a few dozen families in a day. It's a humble system, but it supplies our demand." "Certainly it does," agreed Mona, who was already helping them slide the reed-wall from the boat. The Lhavitians worked with incredible harmony; one group was harvesting the fish from the weir at almost the same time as another was pulling the broken piece from its place. Eddie, Mona, and Connor helped with the replacement, orienting it as directed and then digging beneath the shallow waters so that it could be pushed into place. Cassandra watched closely, taking extra note of the weir's shape and angles. She could not help but notice how easily they embedded the wall into the sand, and so could not help but assume they were using magic to help their work. Were these people, who harnessed their powers with such flippancy, at all trustworthy? Eddie seemed to think so. "And now we show 'em the Phoenix," he insisted, downright giddy with anticipation. "Let 'em see what a palivar can do!"

[Cassandra Southwind]

To an outsider, the Svefra claim to have no home. They call the sea their home, Laviku their father, and nomadic travel their god-given fate. But Cassandra had grown up on The Water Phoenix. Even after she had been awarded The Lioness, she would always think of the palivar when she thought of where she belonged, where she came from. It came to her mind even before the vast ocean or her god's favor. And it was days like this that reinforced her loyalties--days when the nets were out, the wind was on their side, and The Water Phoenix was really allowed to dance. The looks on the Lhavitians' faces almost brought a smile to Cassandra's, when the sails caught their first good gust and they started picking up speed. She wondered how many of them had stepped foot on a svefra vessel. Probably not any, she figured, at least since last year's storm. A half dozen of them had volunteered to accompany the bulk of the Southwind pod on a second haul, each more inquisitive than the last. They knew how to appreciate quality; she could give them that. Even so, their awe did not hinder their sea legs. Already a few were helping with the ropes and asking about the boat's particulars. "Six knots. Easy." Cassandra was forced to answer one inquiry from a man who had looked her in the eye. "Eight with a good wind and a good prayer. Now help me tie this." Together with a stranger, she fastened the mainsail to the deck. And without another look, she skirted him and began on the nets. It would be lying to say that the Southwinds' net-fishing was entirely spontaneous. Certainly there was some planning involved, but nothing beyond a basic knowledge of bay fish schooling and a little hint from the swirling marks on their arms. The rest was intuition and inherent skill. Cassandra was proud to be a part of it, to move with her pod on the deck of their palivar with the same practiced synchronicity that she had known her whole life. She didn't do the same part every time, but she knew where she was needed and she could work as any appendage to the family's body. There was nothing else like it in the world. Connor was hanging off the side of the boat, his hand in the water. He yelled out to Wiley at the wheel, who howled a few words, unintelligible but wholly known, to Mona at the rudders and keel. The Phoenix came upon the shadow of a school in the next instant, pivoting sharply. At Eddie's call, Cassandra and two dark-haired helpers released the lines in their hands. She braced herself on the portside rail. The sails luffed in the sideward breeze and the ship slowed quickly over their target. Then it was Cassie's turn. "Throw!" She roared and, alongside Salty at starboard and a second pair of fishermen, loosed the fishing nets. They ballooned from either side like giant, rope-veined wings and crashed into the ocean, descending on a cloud of scattering bass. The dorsals of a dozen dolphins circled the scene, keeping their prey close. Wiley communicated again, in that way he had where he did not actually say anything remotely comprehensible, and Eddie signaled the Lhavitians to tighten on the ropes again. The sails filled, the boat coasted, and the nets grew heavy with catch. Cassandra waited urgently for the right weight, the rhythm of the haul that she had performed a hundred times. The moment came like a frothy white wave crashing into their mutual intuition. "Pull!" She cried, and heard herself echoed. Every free hand took hold of the nets, one pull, two pulls, three. Even as the sea and the wrestling fish towed back against them, they heaved the dripping ropes aboard. In the next few moments, both hauls were tied up good and proper. Prayers were sung by Svefra and Lhavitian alike. Cassandra allowed herself another smile as she leaned against the mainmast. The buzzing aftermath of a good adrenaline rush itched at her toes and in her swift-beating heart, making her almost disregard the warm darkness that invaded the corners of her eyes. She was as tired as ever, had been tired for a long time. Mona noticed it first. "I shouldn't have let you come out," she mumbled amiably, taking a place on the mast beside her niece. "You're still sick." "I'm not," Cassandra insisted. Usually that would have been the end of that, but she wouldn't let Mona argue. "I'm fine. I'm great." She turned from where her weary eyes had locked on the horizon and looked her kin in the eye. "I needed this. Thank you." Mona didn't say anything else. She removed herself from Cassandra's vicinity and allowed the girl to close her eyes and revel in the familiar rocking of the boat beneath her feet. All pride and pretense dissolved from her then, and with it the last of her deep sea frustrations, those preoccupations about right and wrong and life and death. All of it had been washed away by a good, clean catch with good, worthy people. When she opened her eyes again, she was glad to see that they were preparing for a more leisurely ride back to dock, complete with drums and violins. The Lhavitians started singing even before her family had time to tune. Cassandra entertained the idea of sticking around, but a sympathetic look from Eddie convinced her that she needed rest. Nodding to him, she dropped down the hatch and proceeded to the nearest hammock.

[Elysium]

Cassandra Southwind

Experience
Philosophy +2
Fishing +4
Swimming +1
Cooking +2
Weapon: Knife +1

Lore
How to Clean a Fish
How to Properly Gut a Fish
How to Fish By Hand
Valory, Dolphin Tavan
Members of the Southwind Pod
Fishing: Structure and Usage of Fish Weirs
Fishing: Net Fishing
Philosophy: Killing? Or is it Murder?

Notes
This was a great solo. There was plenty of skill training, character development, you name it. I've got my eye on you! You're doing an excellent job. Also, as an aside, I gave you the cooking skill for cleaning the fish, as that doesn't necessarily fall under the heading of fishing proper. If you have any questions, please let me know.