61 Spring, 513
It had been a long time since Cassandra had been down at the docks. When her pod had first set sail, leaving her to her dry land and heavy books, the Svefra girl had tried to pretend that nothing had changed. She had fished every day, going out with a net on her own when she wasn't helping the locals with their weirs. But she missed them all immensely, almost cripplingly. The constant reminders had taken their toll. One day, she rented a room at the Shooting Star and had not returned back for two weeks. Only when her budget was completely exhausted did she finally rent an okomo and face that for which she so desperately longed.
The ocean. The fishing.
Laviku.
And yet she could not bring herself to go out there. There were too many memories on the open bay, too many reasons to never turn back. Here, at the dock, she could better remind herself of the class she had resolved to take, the city she had chosen to love, the promises she had sworn to keep. Traquil Port was the edge between the two worlds. It was her favorite place.
Laviku's mark, an abstract array of blue waves and white brine, had slipped from her right hand and wandered down to her bare foot. Her toes minced at the water's surface when the tide rose to meet them, and occasionally she would reach out to feel the depths around her. It felt good to have that awareness, to perceive her surroundings a little more intimately than any eye or ear could. She had almost forgotten the eerie feeling of blindness that came from losing contact with the water. It soothed her like meditation; it cheered her like wine.
She sat upon The Lioness, in a spot on the side where the paint wore thin. It had been barely two years since the casinor's construction, but Cassandra had treated her with no more or less care than she had any other boat she had sailed. Her two sails had patches, but her ropes were strong. Her bow veered distinctly portward, but a trained application of the wind solved that well enough. Her hull was made of cherry wood, painted red and accented by black paint. Both could have used a fresh varnish, but Cassandra couldn’t be bothered with such aesthetics. She only made sure to keep the name, The Lioness visible to all--in Common on the starboard side, Fratava on the port.
Her hull had been liberated from Ahnatep, the sails from Kenash. A carver in Zeltiva had offered her the engraved lining in exchange for a healthy week's rations. Only a city man could have accurately depicted the ferocity and regality of a lioness, for the Svefra themselves were not familiar with the breed. Cassandra was proud of her boat's distinction as a land mammal, though she could not count how many times it had been suggested that she change it to something more appropriate. A year later, the elements had softened the shapes and made them nearly unrecognizable.
Cassandra simply didn't have time to worry about such things.
In her hand was a fishing pole. She did not expect to catch anything and doubted she would keep anything she did. But she could not allow herself a single idle moment. Cassandra was a woman of purpose, not of petty relaxation. She even thought twice before she laughed, when she saw a dusky dolphin tread the water's surface around her feet. Valory gave a noisy snort and sprayed salty sea at her tavan, showing little sign of resentment for having been abandoned for so long. Cassandra kicked playfully, regretting it all the same.
"Alright, alright," she mumbled in Fratava, setting her pole aside and making to stand. "I missed you too."
She had begun to take off her coat, preparing for a quick dip, but then she heard a noise.
It had been a long time since Cassandra had been down at the docks. When her pod had first set sail, leaving her to her dry land and heavy books, the Svefra girl had tried to pretend that nothing had changed. She had fished every day, going out with a net on her own when she wasn't helping the locals with their weirs. But she missed them all immensely, almost cripplingly. The constant reminders had taken their toll. One day, she rented a room at the Shooting Star and had not returned back for two weeks. Only when her budget was completely exhausted did she finally rent an okomo and face that for which she so desperately longed.
The ocean. The fishing.
Laviku.
And yet she could not bring herself to go out there. There were too many memories on the open bay, too many reasons to never turn back. Here, at the dock, she could better remind herself of the class she had resolved to take, the city she had chosen to love, the promises she had sworn to keep. Traquil Port was the edge between the two worlds. It was her favorite place.
Laviku's mark, an abstract array of blue waves and white brine, had slipped from her right hand and wandered down to her bare foot. Her toes minced at the water's surface when the tide rose to meet them, and occasionally she would reach out to feel the depths around her. It felt good to have that awareness, to perceive her surroundings a little more intimately than any eye or ear could. She had almost forgotten the eerie feeling of blindness that came from losing contact with the water. It soothed her like meditation; it cheered her like wine.
She sat upon The Lioness, in a spot on the side where the paint wore thin. It had been barely two years since the casinor's construction, but Cassandra had treated her with no more or less care than she had any other boat she had sailed. Her two sails had patches, but her ropes were strong. Her bow veered distinctly portward, but a trained application of the wind solved that well enough. Her hull was made of cherry wood, painted red and accented by black paint. Both could have used a fresh varnish, but Cassandra couldn’t be bothered with such aesthetics. She only made sure to keep the name, The Lioness visible to all--in Common on the starboard side, Fratava on the port.
Her hull had been liberated from Ahnatep, the sails from Kenash. A carver in Zeltiva had offered her the engraved lining in exchange for a healthy week's rations. Only a city man could have accurately depicted the ferocity and regality of a lioness, for the Svefra themselves were not familiar with the breed. Cassandra was proud of her boat's distinction as a land mammal, though she could not count how many times it had been suggested that she change it to something more appropriate. A year later, the elements had softened the shapes and made them nearly unrecognizable.
Cassandra simply didn't have time to worry about such things.
In her hand was a fishing pole. She did not expect to catch anything and doubted she would keep anything she did. But she could not allow herself a single idle moment. Cassandra was a woman of purpose, not of petty relaxation. She even thought twice before she laughed, when she saw a dusky dolphin tread the water's surface around her feet. Valory gave a noisy snort and sprayed salty sea at her tavan, showing little sign of resentment for having been abandoned for so long. Cassandra kicked playfully, regretting it all the same.
"Alright, alright," she mumbled in Fratava, setting her pole aside and making to stand. "I missed you too."
She had begun to take off her coat, preparing for a quick dip, but then she heard a noise.
Sorry for any inconvenience or delay.