Placeholder Grog Day (Solo)

[Orin Fenix]

90th of Summer, 515AV

Orin put his hands on his hips as he looked over his new home. It's not exactly what I imagined my first kitchen to look like. Actually he'd spent long hours dreaming of his dream kitchen, with its gleaming countertops, copious amounts of utensils, implements and cookware, a generously sided pantry, and a steady supply of, well, any ingredient he could think to cook. He'd actually placed all the various locations and items in his mind at one point or another, trying to come up with the best configuration.

Instead, what he'd ended up with was this. A cramped, tiny and ill stocked box set in the bowels of the ship. He had a hammock set up in one corner and the opposite corner was taken up by a ceramic oven that would supposedly keep the fire away from the rest of the ship. It has a shaft that opened higher up on the outside of the ship, presumably to funnel smoke away from Orin. There was a small table for Orin to work along one wall, not close to either the oven or his makeshift bed. And every other inch of the room was taken up with casks and barrels and boxes that probably contained everything he'd need for the voyage. The only luxury, if it could be called that, was a small hatch window on the wall sharing the oven. However even that was there more for function then form. It provided much needed light in a place where candles and lanterns could spell disaster if they tipped over. In addition, it was supposed to provide a convenient place for Orin to dispose of waste. They really don't want me above deck, he reflected bitterly. Of course, seeing as he didn't know anything about sailing that was probably for the best.

The only good that he'd encountered so far was that the precious chef had been kind enough to leave an instruction manual and a cookbook of sorts. However, since there were several sets of handwriting inside, perhaps it belonged to the ship itself and Orin would be expected to add to it as well.

At least it had spelled out recommendations and cautions. First of all, he was only allowed to cook when the sea was calm. The risk of setting something ablaze was too great otherwise. While he likely could've figured it out, it was a bit upsetting to see it spelled out so starkly. He didn't know much about the sailor's lot, but he figured that storms and such were fairly common occurrences. And even now, when it didn't seem all that bad, there was a gentle rocking from the planks beneath his feet, as the ship cut through the waves. If even the gentlest of motions could produce such a result across the entire vessel, Orin definitely wasn't looking forward to the more aggressive waves.

Still he was procrastinating, so he rolled over and sat up, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He stood up and immediately pitched to the side, forced to catch himself on the wall. Groaning, Orin took tottering steps to the other end of the cabin. Obviously his sea legs hadn't kicked in. At least he wasn't feeling sea sick. Some of the other passengers had turned quite green at the gills and the first mate had stopped by and suggested that Orin find a solution. Apparently the ship's doctor couldn't cure them so the burden of that particular chore fell to Orin. Which seemed a particularly poor choice on their part. Sure, he knew a few dishes that would help settle the stomach, broth, plain biscuits, and the like, but without knowing exactly what caused the problem it somehow didn't seem to be worth it. Like putting out a house on fire with a single leaky bucket.

Unfortunately, seeing as this was still incredibly early into the trip and Orin was just starting out in this job, he didn't know whether asking questions was allowed, or even who he would ask. So he'd do as told, especially as he didn't like confrontation in the first place. That was just one of many tasks for the day, and he filed it away for later.

First, he checked the instructions in the book for his first assignment. While he had a vague idea of how to make grog, it never hurt to refresh his memory. Especially because he couldn't quite recall where he'd learned the recipe. Opening to the appropriate page, he started scanning the words before him. The beverage itself seemed simple enough to make. Lemon or lime juice, rum and fresh water, along with spices if he was feeling particularly adventurous and they had them on hand. Taking a short break from the reading, Orin checked the box clearly labeled spices, only to discover that they were sadly depleted. Guess he wouldn't be making anything fancy any time soon.

[Orin Fenix]

Coming back to the manual, Orin found that he had a song stuck in his head. When they'd cast off the night before, the entire crew had gathered together to celebrate their voyage. It had been an exhilarating event, even though Orin had kept to the outskirts. And he'd refused the bottles being passed around. Around him, men and women slowly got rowdier, until, inevitably they busted out the sea shanties. Most of them had been bawdy numbers that had made Orin blush. He definitely couldn't meet the eyes of some of the females around him. But, about halfway through the night, the crew had stilled, and a boy had stepped into the middle of the circle. He couldn't even be in his teens yet and hadn't gone through puberty. But he had one of the purest voices Orin had ever heard. And now he couldn't get the lyrics to some of the verses out of his head.

Sunlight on the sea below
Moonlight in the sky above
Drifting through the night so slow
Days filled with finding the place I've been dreaming of

Sailing with the morning tide
Endless miles ahead
This lady as our only ride
Crossing from shore to shore

Take me home
Bring me back, back to the ones I know
Carry me along my dear to voyages unknown

Glancing around, Orin took a few steps over the door so no one would hear him. Then, for the first time maybe ever, Orin tried his hand at singing. His voice came out as a light tenor, trembling and breathy, and he could only go for a few notes before having to inhale again. His pitch wavered and he missed most of the intervals, but for all that Orin knew he sounded terrible, he felt good about his efforts. It was weirdly liberating and as he bent forward to study the text again he came to the end of the words he knew, and circled back to the beginning.

There was quite an interesting explanation for the necessity of grog in the book. Apparently it was essential in the prevention of a disease that plagued sailors. Called scurvy, the description made Orin slightly nauseous. It started simply with fatigue, but quickly progressed into sores and spots, bleeding gums and reopening of old wounds, and finally, fever and death. At some point in the past though, someone had discovered that adding certain fruits to the diet cured the disease and prevented it from occurring entirely. Lemons and limes were the best of these, but unfortunately on a long sea voyage had the tendency to spoil, putting everyone at risk.

Seamen had already realized that adding alcohol to their freshwater supplies prevented the water from going bad. So a sailor had the intuitive leap that adding lemon or lime juice to this mixture would preserve the fruit as well. And that was how grog had came to be. Orin was fascinated by this tale, and he puzzled over it as he assembled the supplies he'd actually need.

Grabbing two large bowls, he wondered at how such a small change in a life could make such a huge difference. As far as he knew, lemons and limes didn't have any inherent medicinal properties. So he couldn't begin to fathom what about them helped stave off scurvy. Perhaps he'd experiment with them another day to get to the bottom of the mystery. For now though, he set out his supply of each by each bowl, then grabbed a knife. Quickly and neatly he sliced every fruit into equal halves.

Setting the knife aside he picked up the first lemon and rolled it around on the table a few times to loosen the insides. It was a trick he'd picked up from Remi. Next he squeezed it as hard as he could over a bowl. An almost clear liquid squirted out of it, some of it coating his fingers but most landing in the bowl. He picked out the few seeds in the juice, then gave the lemon one last press to make sure he got everything out of it he could. Discarding the remains, Orin looked over the rest of the table and sighed. One down, countless more to go.

[Orin Fenix]

Eventually, Orin finished with the last of the lemons. As he moved onto the limes, he let his thoughts drift. This work was time consuming but didn't really take up much mental capacity.

So far, this journey wasn't anything like Orin imagined. He wasn't bosom friends with any of the members of the crew. In fact, he barely knew them, and making new acquaintances had never been one of his strong suits. Nothing had changed there, so Orin prepared himself for a lonely journey. Especially because he'd drawn away from the one person who might alleviate some of his problems. Sylvette was definitely a presence in his life, but he wasn't sure that he was equipped to deal with everything that a Kelvic bond entailed. After all he'd spent most of his existence making sure that his true nature was obscured from those closest to him. It wasn't that he wasn't a good enough person, but the only way he'd found to function was to suppress so much of his more sinister nature. If he really thought about his life, he'd have been crushed by sadness years ago. Shunting all that into a locked place in the depths of his soul let him carry on with at least a semblance of living.

But he couldn't hide from someone inside his heart and mind. The link between them wasn't physical but it was certainly tangible. He got information through it, often subconsciously, that could not be ignored, from random emotions, especially negative ones, to her location. Often he didn't realize what was happening until well after he'd reacted to it. They certainly couldn't sneak up on one another. And if he was getting all that from Sylvette he shuddered to think of what she was getting from him.

Giving the line currently in his hand an especially firm grip, he guiltily tried to veil his thoughts from her. If he could only be selective on what came through and what passed between them he'd feel a lot better. But that wasn't how it worked. So, because he couldn't make any difference to the bond, Orin was cutting her out of his life in small ways. He wasn't letting her sit around while he cooked. They no longer shared a bed, if he had any choice in the matter. And they were speaking less and less every day.

Frankly, though he felt a bit guilty about the whole situation, it was probably for the best. Orin wasn't stable enough to provide the sort of life Sylvette probably needed. He didn't know how family worked. His own had been so dysfunctional that he couldn't begin to think what a proper one would resemble. And Orin wouldn't always be around to help Sylvette. So pushing her to find her own way in the world was, to him, the only logical path they could take.

Besides, he was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of anyone having their life revolve around his. While he tried to avoid thinking about finding a partner in life, since that lead down roads he was afraid to follow, he knew that he wanted an equal, someone who stood on their own two feet and didn't need Orin for anything but companionship. He was all for helping those in need but Orin's idea of help was making sure people were in a place they could take care of themselves. Maybe that meant he wasn't the kindest person out there, but he felt that dependency just inevitably lead to abuse.

These meandering trains of thought took him to the end of his current task, and he soon found his hands empty and his bowls nearly full. Realizing that he'd let himself stray into a depressed mood, Orin decided that he should let some of his doubts off his chest. Since he didn't have anyone to talk to, though, he turned to prayer as he did more and more often these days. Chances were no one was listening but if it made it feel better than that didn't really matter.

[Orin Fenix]

He wandered over to the window and gazed out. The waves passed by but since one looked much the same as any other it gave the impression that Orin was drifting endlessly with no end. He cleared his throat before beginning. "Hello Priskil, or anyone else who might be listening." It was probably blasphemy to address any deity in such a casual manner. But Orin's household had hardly been religious so he was figuring this all out as he went along. Besides, though they were incredibly powerful in ways that Orin couldn't comprehend, he figured that the gods and goddesses were also people and individuals in their own rights. Maybe they wouldn't enjoy not being addressed as equals, but they likely appreciated some friendly conversation now and then. And this was all that Orin knew to give them. "I don't know if anything' changed with you but I pray that it will, and someday soon. I know that your burdens are much harder to bear than mine and I wish there was some way I could help you shoulder them."

Orin knew that was a presumptuous statement, that he had anything to offer to Priskil when he was barely holding his own life together. But it seemed appropriate under the circumstances. "Anyway, now's the time I'd advise you to zone out if you were there at all, because I just want to get some doubts that have been plaguing me out into the open. Maybe that'll help me move on." Pausing, Orin tried to impose some order on what he wanted to say but it was all so jumbled up that he decided to just launch into it.

"I don't know if I can keep going as I have been. You know, I never realized how much I was clinging to the structure that life in Syliras provided me. The schedules, the people I knew how to act around even if I didn't know how they thought, all of it kept me going when I might've collapsed from the strain otherwise." Turning, Orin leaned his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes, letting the wall support his weight for the time being. The swaying of the ship kept going unchanged and Orin let it lull him into a more relaxed state. "But out here I don't have anyone but myself. I never realized but despite all my misgivings about exposing myself to others, I think I need them. And I've been unfair to those who only want the best for me by not letting them in, but I don't know any other way to act." It was a sobering revelation but an important one for him to come to. "So I guess I'm asking you for the strength to get through the days ahead. And maybe to finally sort out all the problems that I've left to simmer for so long. And I hope that one day I can become a person you might be proud of."

Already Orin was feeling lighter, somehow, though nothing much had changed. "A thousand thanks to you. For being what you are, for giving me the chance to believe in redemption. And I promise to try and spread what I hope are your tenets to as many people as I can." Laughing at the idea of himself of a preacher, yet still determined to make a difference if he could, Orin straightened up. "You hang in there and so will I. But for now I've got work to you. Stay strong." Walking to the barrels, Orin began dragging them over to the juice. At least the proportions were simple enough. Orin grabbed the appropriate measuring spoon followed quickly by the bottles of rum. For every half a bottle of rum in the barrel, Orin added two spoonfuls of juice, making sure to carefully note which drink contained lime and which contained lemon. Each got placed on opposite sides of the room so Orin wouldn't confuse them. The task really didn't take that long at all, though Orin left a little rum and water apart from the rest, just in case. Finally, all that was left was the clean up, and Orim set off to find clothes and soap to scrub the table.

[Sayana]

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If there's anything I may have missed, please PM me and I'll be happy to look into it.

 

Orin

Skills

• Acrobatics: 1
• Organization: 1
• Singing: 1
• Medicine: 1
• Cooking: 2
• Food Preservation: 1
• Philosophy: 1
• Prayer: 1

Lores

• Cooking: Basic cooking precautions when aboard a ship
• Singing: Lyrics of a sea ballad
• Scurvy: Common sailor disease
• Scurvy: Symptons and preventative measures
• Cooking: Functional origins of grog
• Food Preservation: Preserving water by adding alcohol
• The trials of sharing thoughts (positive and negative) with a bondmate
• The desire to have someone equal for companionship
• Cooking: Grog recipe
• Prayer: Opening up in friendly conversation when praying to Priskil

Comments: I liked hearing the reasoning and functional origins of grog. I especially loved how you wrote Orin trying to cope with these big changes in his life. He was both humble and genuine in his prayers to Priskil and I hope she looks down fondly upon him.

Your Grader,

Sayana

Boxcode design: Firenze