Open All Aboard!!

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Day 1 Summer 517 AV Evening High Tide Balmy sea breezes and bright skies, Syliras in summer should have been a safe welcoming harbor for weary travelers. But Salara only saw the fortified walls and busy streets through a fogged blur of unshed tears that it seemed she had held back so long she was uncertain they would ever fall. So as to not burden Karyk with more than he already carried on his strong broad shoulders it had been important to her that he not see her cry. Her heart had ached saying good-bye to Oleander and Hortense, brave Tollivant, and steadfast Kesh. Even young Sharay, who had innocently asked where she was going when the caravan had been turned aside at the main gates. That sweet smile had nearly broken her as they had both grown closer after the wolf attack and even more so after Priskell’s Pond when there was still a chance that they might have all become family. Even up to the moment they had arrived at Syliras she had hoped he would say or ask something magical or she would be charmed by the new city in such a way that something amazing would happen convincing her to go with her heart instead of her head. But instead they were being turned away and apparently Ravok held more interest for Karyk. Ravok. Her mind flooded with bitter thoughts unable to understand why he’d chosen that destination of all places. How could he think he could find happiness in a land of slavery? Perhaps he didn’t realize the danger he would have put her and Kesh through by going there? But she did. Ravok had made her a slave; she would carry the brand for the rest of her life. After her master's murder she’d preyed upon unwary newcomers to the city in order to survive in its streets and water lanes; but had escaped to a better life when so many could not or would not. It was a past she had put well behind her without looking back. Didn't he know he would have died a little with her had she been claimed a slave again? Even if it was so he could protect her until they found a better place. If only he had chosen Riverfall. She might have sent a letter to the ship for Fallon indicating she would meet her there and traveled with them by caravan. But no, he’d split the caravan and let her go. In the end, beyond heartache and sorrow, she’d felt sparks of anger, hurt, and overall fear for them all. Her last sacrifice was in not letting him see those sparks. Even so, in her heart she knew words between them were left unsaid. And now she was just numb. Numb of mind, body, and soul. It was the only way she could continue to function without devolving into a quivering mass of conflicted emotions, none of which were good. Stiffly she trod the streets of Syliras between the main gate and docks, face pinched and pale, uncaring whether the merchants took advantage of her inattention by pricing their goods too high for a stranger. Alone. The docks were busy with Syliras’ closing, reminiscent of the pilgrim exodus of Zeltiva. She moved as if lost, from ship to ship, asking for the one bound for Riverfall. Eventually she stumbles upon the port Master who was sending various messengers, travelers and sailors in all directions. “Aye, Missy. That’d be ‘Destiny’s Lass.’ She’s a three-master and you’ll want to be askin’ for her Capt. Barkholt.” Squinting at her through one eye he advises, “Best get on down to the last dock on the pier right soon. Tides coming neigh onto high and she’ll be settin’ of with or without ye.” Her polite gratitude went unheard as he launched into, “Hoy there, sailor! Careful with that load! Ye bust that crate and ye’ll be keel-hauled afore ye know it!” Direction. It was at least something. Her steps grow from meandering to determined as her shoulders roll forward and her jaw sets firmly. It was time to put fairy tales and fantasies behind. Who needed them anyway? Finding the ship with three masts was easy. It was one of the largest schooners in the harbor. A crew mate checked her name off the roster and sent her aboard. Head turning right to left hoping to catch a glimpse of Fallon, Salara’s boots on the gangway echo back to her from the water’s surface. Once she sees Fallon she will approach with deliberate steps. Stopping before her new traveling partner and teacher, she shrugs out of her pack, dropping it to the deck. Fallon might see hints of the emotions broiling under her surface, but certainly there was a hardness in her eyes that was not there when last they spoke in Zeltiva. “Well met, Inspector. I am ready and more to leave this place. How soon can we get started with my lessons?”

[Fallon]

In the dying evening light, Fallon was watching. Her gaze in honesty was not truly focused on anything in particular, mind falling into a state of lull. She could hear the faint cry of gulls as they begun to settle, the faint flutter of sheets in the breeze. It was warm, but far from the midday sun. Her skin was left prickling as the cold begun to creep ever in. Fallon herself had taken to the port side of the deck, leaning on the side in silence. There was no need to involve herself in the ship affairs, she was merely a passenger that happened to be going the same way. South to Riverfall.

It would be wrong to say she was not excited by the prospect. It was an adventure, something new in a far off land. Exotic and full of mystery. But, there was also anticipation. Worry. It gnawed upon her innards, hungry and clawing. What was she leaving behind? What if people came looking? There was not too much to speak of in Zeltiva, she had managed to keep her head down from threats thus far. But there was always the chance they would follow her trail. She had been hounded before, what was to say it was not going to happen again?

Gloved hands flexed, a deep inhale of the cool air. She held it, letting it fill her inside and cool the bubbling within. The other concern tickled at her senses, resting in a small sense of dread. Fallon could not say that the woman knew too much. No, it was not even the case of her knowledge and understanding expanding from beyond her own. It was the simple fact of what the woman believed through her own research.

Araka. A word I do not know. Something I have been called. Perhaps Riverfall may have answers…

Fallon was sceptical at best, sticking to her gut and doubting it. There was some untold danger tied to it, something that made her skin crawl. It stroked upon her paranoia, dragging her down and unrelenting in its hold. It made her watch carefully, study every action with care, look not just to the surface of those who spoke to her but deeper. But if that word – whatever it truly meant – fell into the wrong hands along with her name-

She shook the thought away. Her focus honed down onto the rippling water, before she pinched her brow. Her best option now was to control the information, stem and dam the flow. The most effective way to do that would have been to eliminate the source, the dead cannot speak after all. Her gaze slid briefly down to the kukri hilt, her stomach knotting before relaxing. No, that was far too finite. Besides what she needed right now was allies, those in the field, ears and eyes on the ground. All potential to giving her warning to any form of trouble that may come her way.

”Salara, pleasure to see you,” her head had not turned, instead focusing intently upon the water, ”I am fine, by the way. Syliras provided a most satisfying break from Zeltiva. I take it your travels were not too taxing?” She had chosen to not answer the question posed, leaving it hanging between them. She would pick it up in due course, ”You must be tired after all that travel. A good meal and a night of rest would suit many a weary soul. No?” Fallon released a small laugh then, ”And I am far from inspector. Presently unemployed and being a vagabond… Fallon will be most fine.”

Slowly she brought herself up, stretching as she moved. She heard his distant blow of a ship whistle caught on the breeze, gaze turning and noting the hardness upon Salara’s face. With a mere pivot of the foot, she pointed to the the steps that lead down below deck, ”We have a small cabin. Narrow bunk bed, a small table, one wall lantern, limited hanging, space for storing at the feet of the beds… I have already set myself up on the bottom bunk. Less to fall.” With an incline of the head to follow, Fallon lead the way down. Key was pulled from pocket, the narrow corridors and the sound of constant movement marking it out as primarily a cargo ship, despite the fact passengers were able to book passage. It was not far down that she paused at one of the narrow doors, unlocking it and continuing in.

”Couldn't swing a cat in here, but this is home for a while. No, I do not snore,” arms folded and she took a lean up against the narrow strip of wall opposite the door, ”Lessons begin when I believe the time is suitable. Right now however I believe the priority would be getting more acquainted with each other. Close contact and all for over forty days.”

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

“Fallon, then.” Her lips press a smile she didn’t feel, “The trip was truly more than I could have asked for, but indeed very taxing. It may take more than few nights before I’m recovered again, but no worries. Before you know it I’ll be right as rain.” Looking around the deck and masts she had to admit, in her opinion the schooner was impressively large; but she knew from experience that it would begin feeling smaller day-by-day. “Certainly I will have ample time for it.” Lifting her pack to her shoulder she follows Fallon down into the belly of the ship having to dunk her head slightly through each threshold. Their sliver of the ship was about the size of the inside of Karyk’s carriage, which had allowed her to sleep well enough when she chose among-st the constant sounds of many living close; but she had a feeling she’d be spending as much time as possible on deck and riding the winds in the rigging above. A strongly salty, slightly fishy, waft of poorly washed bodies pervaded the room. Its only saving grace was a small porthole placed higher up the low wall above the waterline at the head of their bunk. It was currently open allowing a fresher flow of air along with the shrill cry of gulls. As for their ‘beds’ the swinging hammocks, weaved from coarse hemp rope, would be more comfortable than a solid mounted bed with the swells and wells of the ship’s motion through the waters; especially with the addition of a few blankets for padding. It Could Be Worse…she was determined to put every positive spin on this that she could. With a sharp glance, despite her brooding, a humorous snort escaped as Fallon suggested swinging a cat. “You might be surprised,” she mutters with a half crooked smile. And more loudly, “Well and good. I actually prefer the top bunk, but I honestly have no idea whether I snore or not.” ‘Karyk hadn’t mentioned…,’ the thought slips past but she squashes it with a hypothetical paw to be dealt with later. “So I’ll apologize in advance if I do.” Fallon wisely bringing her attention back to what was rather important, Salara feels a little dread realizing there was something she owed this woman right now. “There is something you need to know before this ship leaves port. It has recently been somewhat…” she pauses searching for the right word, “…problematic.” An understatement. Watching for Fallon’s thoughts she reveals,“I did a little research on Riverfall before I left Zeltiva so it’s important that you know I’m Kelvic.” Her breath stills a tick, “Cougar, and while this has implications for us in Riverfall, I think I have an idea to make it an advantage for us there. But I would understand if it is a complication you would prefer not dealing with.” She turns to look out the small porthole so Fallon doesn’t see a painful thought squeeze free before she could squash it again, ‘He didn’t…’

[Fallon]

"I am sure I will be issuing complaint in due time if you do," the voice purred. Fallon's eyes drifted, moving around the frame of the other. The pack upon the back, laden no doubt with whatever few world possessions she did have. A notable lack of weaponry - suggested she had previously travelled with a group. It was foolish to travel alone without any real defensive capability on hand. Her gaze briefly moved to her own chest, tucked in where her feet would be - within she were the various weapons and armour of before - tucked away and hidden beneath a thick blanket. Her gaze snapped back to the snort, watching the almost holding back of self. Forced, it was far from whatever was really lying beneath. Something that was becoming increasingly more noticeable.

"Travel defines people. It allows them to see things they normally would not see within the city. It makes or breaks, and allows one to see beyond the box they are stuck within," Fallon remained where she was, small tilts of the head as she contemplated the woman before her. Salara became a focus of study, something for her to hone in on and learn the ins and outs of. What was existing beneath, ticking and niggling away within her mind?

"You know, if you would rather be elsewhere then I will not hold you to this," she gave a small flick of the wrist then in gesture, "Commitment is required, there is no room for half measures." She took an inhale of the air, savouring the fresher air over the ones that lingered. No doubt with time the scent would merely worsen, but she would be able to live with it.

The subject of Kelvic did not even cause a flicker of change in Fallon's face. She merely contemplated within, silent for a moment while the woman let her dramatics take over. Why on earth did she think that would be an issue? Something beyond her immediate understanding, she was human and with that came its own set of privileges. Still she chuckled quietly under her breath, "Cougar or Cougar?"

Her mind flickered briefly to Zandelia, remembering the past playful teases that strung between them. The gaze dropped, briefly, arms folding and fingers knotting into her sleeve. Her stomach knotted, tightening briefly as she let it sink and then disperse, "Kelvics do not bother me. Though I know little on them as a whole. It will be no issue to myself if that is the concern." She gave a frown then, thinking about Riverfall and beyond. She did not have a lot of information on the city, mere snippets passed through word of mouth, "So, what did you have in mind? The premise suggests you have a thought to work away the... issues of the city?"

Fallon moved then, choosing to lower herself down into the hammock. Far from comfortable - she would not doubt break out her travelling gear and line the base of it in good time. She gave a small testing nudge of the sides with her elbows, feeling the curve. Yes, hide a weapon in alongside the bedding, drawn and ready to use should things go amiss. She was not about to take any chances.

"As this is a moment of... admitting..." Fallon paused, considering on how much should be said, "You should be aware that all people have pasts. And those pasts sometimes have a tendency to follow and hound their prey. They become package that is damning and destructive. You do not have such a past do you Salara? Nothing else I should be aware of?"

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

In the guise of ensuring her commitment, Fallon offered her an out. A fair question regardless of the situation, she pauses to tumble words into organization in her mind before catching Fallon’s gaze directly, “At no time since receiving your missive have I truly considered not being by your side in Riverfall.” Tilting her chin just at angle she calculates her companion, “You don’t seem to be the type to have patience for silly girl talk so I can spare you all the detail to say he moved on to Ravok where I have no intention of returning. You have me in full measure and more.” The more the better, anything to keep her mind occupied and distracted from the hollow ache of emptiness burning in her chest. The issue of being Kelvic appeared to be no issue at all; which loosened a tight band of tension between her shoulder blades. Setting her bag down she proceeds to remove the items she would need soonest and most often namely, clothing, a pair of daggers, and a long coiled whip. The garments going into her footlocker, a dagger and whip to hang on a rough wooden peg knocked into a ribbed beam alongside her hammock, and one dagger strapped to her hip. Looking about their cramped space she was pleased to have had the forethought to trade her useless tent for the extra gowns she would surely go through. Only a small box of fishing tackle and pole remained to be propped behind the table. She considers Fallon’s final question as she pulls her footlocker out for a seat to settle upon. “My past has been rather simple so to my knowledge there are no family or kin and nothing to cause alarm. But to ask so, you must have some concern for what may follow you here. Fair is fair. So that I may watch your back if the time comes, is there anything I should be aware of on your end bent on damning or destroying?” “From what I understand Kelvics in Riverfall are one step from the lowest rung on the status ladder. The people there don’t consider them anything more than animals,” indignant tone relayed her thoughts about that. “But the good part is that Kelvics can go pretty much anywhere and most likely some places that a newcomer,” eyes slide a glance Fallon’s way, “cannot. The true trouble lies with my being a female Kelvic. Apparently there is a high demand for fertile females, so female Kelvics are taken as breeding stock.” In light of her recent brush with thoughts of being returned to Ravok and enslaved, it was particularly difficult for her to finish, her tongue rolls around her mouth for moisture then slides across a row of sharp teeth, “They are valuable slaves.” Leaning forward intensely, just shy of a lunge in her eagerness to battle such degradation she continues, “So it would be good that I had some purpose, a reason to not be taken; and you, as a newcomer will have no status so would likely be more poorly treated .” Leaning back watching her fingers stroke along the small table’s surface in a slow pace, “I remember you suggesting that one, such as I wish to be, should remain ambiguously in the shadows and that the individual that I work for always remain an anonymous partner for the safety of them both. So in my mind, it seems prudent that we remain close for mutual aid yet we must also not appear to be acquainted.” Letting the statement hang a moment to see if Fallon should offer up a solution to the puzzle, she then continues, “Let’s say I consent to you keeping me near as your pet protector when we are in public.” She tisks shamefully wagging a forefinger back and forth, “Such a hard taskmistress to not allow your cougar to walk the streets as a woman. Much more capable protection, don’t you see?” The sound of a high-pitched whistle blows through the porthole; and from above the captain’s orders are shouted, “All aboard for Riverfall!” The slap of sailors’ bare feet on the deck is nearly drowned by the knocking of boards and cords as the gangplank is withdrawn and secured. A rattle of anchor chain and flap of heavy canvas precedes a heave of the ship as it breaks free of land bindings to find its balance in the bay’s waters. The motion causes both to sway in their seats, Fallon less so for sitting in her hammock. Separated. Disconnected. Salara’s fingers crawl to clasp each other for comfort as her expression pinches slightly before she continues. “But behind closed doors and on my own I would be the woman. Perhaps an unacquainted neighbor? This would allow me the autonomy to act on my own without implication or association to you."

[Fallon]

"Ah, romance. How it is to be so controlled by a fleeting moment..." the voice gave a purr, hand lazily waving the thought away, "Yet Ravok? What a delightful place. Stunning and ingenious architecture - to build upon a lake and not have it sink. Quite marvelous." She may have not been fond of the city and its practices, but she could at least respect their ingenuity and minds. It took a particular breed of people to think outside of the box in such a way. Still to the important bit; she was no fool, she knew of the behaviour of the heart and how it could control an individual. It could make or break, lead to roaring success or crippling failure. Her own emotions prickled, briefly remembering their own pains and those that had been lost. The ship continued to sway beneath, the small rocking within the hammock. She considered fighting against it, but stopped herself - it would prove to be futile to fight it. So, instead she allowed herself to be rocked, listening to the kelvic as she made herself at home. Clearly one of an intelligent mind, and one able and capable of doing research. The word slave made her skin prickle with discomfort however.

"Slave?" Fallon repeated the word in a thoughtful tone. Her lip twitched, eyes narrowing as they peeled away - she chose to let them bore onto the wall which one end of the hammock hung. "Slave..."

It was still an unpleasant word. One that sat poisonous in her core. It would be an understatement to say Fallon disliked slavery. Abhorred would be closer but far from the truth. Her mind flickered away from the present then, thinking of Sunberth, the stench, the chains and whips. Shouts and strikes to control, the beatings and the whiplash. A sickening profession to turn such capable minds into nothing but cattle. She inhaled deeply, letting the sounds of them leaving port fill the silence. A low whistling noise escaped her lips, the air being exhaled out as she gathered her thoughts into something much more malable.

"You want to pose as my slave?" It was hard to swallow. The blue-green orbs swivelled round then, transfixed slowly onto Salara. Her lips were licked, contemplating carefully, "I do... I do not like slavery. An understatement on how I truly feel on the subject, but clear enough to get the point across. I digress. A slave? A double cover for the both of us, gives the incentive that I am an individual who can afford... some luxuries." She gave a small shrug then, her voice turning matter of fact "Kelvic slaves, in particular if you are a more carnivorous one, have a tendency to go for a much higher price than the more mundane species... like us humans." There was a snort then, "I suppose you could consider that a sort of compliment."

"I very much well see Salara. And I do not argue with your logic. It would serve as protection for yourself - having a benefactor wishing to keep you close and out of harm's way. Though... if you truly wish to have people believe such then we must work on your more physical skills... I mean, for the sake of insurance and all. You would hardly seem like a good protector if you could not defend me at the first hurdle."

Her lip gave a small curl, an almost itch in response to the prospect of training. Was it anticipation or curiosity to see how far she would be able to go. It would indeed prove as another method of seeing how serious Salara was on the whole ordeal. Fallon paused to awkwardly stretch in the hammock, "But yes, so cruel I am. And perhaps as a neighbour - I will have to consider some logistics and the nature of the city before I could confirm on such an idea. It shall, for now, be considered as a possibility."

The earlier question posed by Salara rung in her mind then. Sitting herself up, she managed to awkwardly lean within the hammock, her face falling behind a stony mask. Her voice cooled, tone serious as she next spoke, "When that time comes the only request I have for you is that you run, and that you forget who I am," she held the gaze then, cold and sharp, "You do not know me. I am nothing but a stranger to you. There are a lot of people in this world. Some of which I have managed to upset. Some of which would still see me as a threat though I no longer dwell in their territory." She was trying to put it into perspective for the woman, try to explain without giving away too much. She realised, quickly, that it was perhaps better to simply say things as they were, "Sunberth. I am guessing you have heard of that shyke hole. Most have. It's the region's armpit. There used to be, a couple years ago, a gang called the Scars. Wanted to try and do the right thing - until they got chased out. Of course, some of them weren't happy with them just being chased out. They wanted to make sure they weren't coming back... you're catching my drift, right?"

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Fallon’s distaste for slavery conjured an unexpected rush of relief. A welcome surprise, it was one of the few positive emotions she had felt recently. Otherwise too late, instincts kicked in confirming that the relief was a sober understanding of having just dodged an arrow. She had taken a chance in even suggesting the perception of slavery this early in their acquaintance. A person of lesser character could have really put her in sorry straights far worse than what she would have experienced in Ravok. In Ravok she would have been ‘enslaved’ by Karyk for her own protection; but with the chance that they would still be together till her end of days. In RiverFall, as part of her training, she would don the guise of slave under the control of a virtual stranger hoping for a level of trust as she would have already had with Karyk. The irony was not lost upon her as confidence in her partner started to bloom. Nodding along with each point Fallon considered, she was less impressed with the compliment of being considered a more valuable possession for her predatory nature, even if it was a useful advantage; but more so that Fallon was taking her suggestions seriously. A far cry from the scorn and disdain she’d received for her efforts and opinions during their meetings in Zeltiva. It seemed her traveling companion was a little less – intense – than she had been. By now Salara’s emotions would have already cycled through several degrees of frustration over the woman’s variability. This new demeanor helped ease the tensions in her body so that her posture shifted more forward in interest and anticipation. “Physical skills? Why I hadn’t thought about more than learning the business from you. I would very much like to hone my battle skills.” Her lips lift askew showing a flash of teeth. “I know that foes I overcome now is more from brute force or surprise than finesse. I will need to develop these in both forms so that I can protect myself as well when you are not near. I've heard that a great hulking race of blue men, the Akalak, possess Kelvic women for breeding stock. I will not be taken." Not A Chance. Her thoughts struggle to push an image of brown and amber children in place of… That equally unlikely thought was squelched as Fallon addressed her final question. There was no confusion in Salara’s mind as she watched the intensity creep its way back into Fallon’s features. “Run away and lose any memory I have of you? Yes, I understand. Another benefit of our plan to keep our acquaintance limited to my being feline.” But there was more and Salara soaked in every word vowing to learn more another time – Sunberth and Scars - of which Fallon had apparently been a member. “So you are being hunted by Sunberthians who are bent on eliminating every member of the Scars.” She couldn’t help but wonder what vile plan these Scars had put a wrench into to be hunted forever after. “You have my word to run and forget at your command. All the same I will be vigilant to the chance of offering you any warning.” Their ship was underway in current calm fashion rolling, lifting, cutting across waves of the Suvan Sea. The music it made was the hum of tight cords, a sharp squeal of boards straining to hold back cold salty waters, and the myriad flapping of heavy canvases. Men’s words were a background mumble as they encouraged ‘Destiny’s Lass’ forward. Standing with a slight tilt to balance on the moving floor, she attempts to stretch her spine as far as the low ceiling would allow. “We’ve time enough to sit and jaw and sooner than later we will be sick to death of these enclosed walls. Would you care to join me up on deck? Have you traveled by ship before? I have once long ago. Fortunately I don’t seem prone to sea-sickness, at least in calmer waters; but I’ve heard navigating rough storms with a solid stomach may be altogether different.”

[Fallon]

The past was a disturbingly sobering thought. One that brought Fallon into silence. Left there with a crease of a brow, she brooded for a while. Calculating, subtracting and adding. In Riverfall she would have to find contacts once more, create a network, a web of information in which she could feel the vibrations come down. She did not have her partner any more to help with such endeavours, leaving her on her own to survive to the best of her capability. Her gaze turned and swivelled around Salara for a moment, drinking in and considering. Salara was an asset, but not a true asset. Her actual potential had yet to be tested, and only time would develop some form of true result. Still, the fact she had made it this far had to mean something, right?

And that in of itself is confusing. She gave up one thing to come here. Thus, suggests some form of high expectations, she managed to release a snort, how bizarre.

”Yes the physical. Though I would think beyond the immediate issue. The line of work can cause upset to many. The angered target, hurt that you dare snoop within their life. The client, denying in what evidence is presented. And then there are those who wish that you simply stay out of their business, employing petty threats and escalating as they see fit,” she gave a small curl of a smile, ”It is not simply being taken that you need to think of… but, that will be seen to in good time.”

Fallon stood, or attempted to. She was struggling to find her sea feet, hand slamming into the wall behind her in an attempt to keep balance. Toes wriggled in their boots, her lip curling into the beginnings of a wolfish smile, ”Salara, my dearest little cougar… I am Sunberth’s Red Wolf, and the leader of the Scars. They definitely would much rather drag me back for humiliation and torture first. Something that I think is much worse than simply killing…” She gave a small lean in closer then, a brief flicker past the intensity to a more wild, feral nature. Her voice grew rougher, gravelly, ”So remember, you picked this. So the same goes the other way. Don't cross me Salara.”

Footing now sturdy on the floor, she managed to reign back the personality of Bitzer before clearing her throat. The ex-inspector returned, hand moving in gesture to the narrow cabin door, voice now as its usual rolling lilt, ”After you. I shall follow Traveled? Many a time. It is the make up of much of my childhood. Boats and over land. Once I have regained my ship legs I will be most capable. And you are right on the subject of rough weather. Better to eat light, little and often I find… but that is my own opinion.”

A small stretch of legs, feet clunked against the galley as the pair made their inevitable return to the deck. She moved to the side, stepping out of the way of the sailors as they continued the motions of easing out into the sea proper. A slow, steady process that still resulted in the docks quickly becoming a blip in the distance. Around her she could hear the captain continue to bark the orders, reminding her of the times she had paid for lessons in Zeltiva. There was a click as she stretched herself out, nostrils flaring and taking in the sea breeze.

”The world is a big place, it would be a shame to not see it. Experience it for what it has. Perhaps along the way attempt to do something better for it,” she took on past the central mast, stepping around sailors, ”But you are not here for that. I propose a game of sorts,” Pivoting around on her heel she gave a small nod to the crew, ”observe with me the crew. Watch and figure their personalities. Now, tell me what you see about them. On the surface… yes, this is a lesson. So bear with me.”

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Walking across the deck was challenging as no two steps measured the same in length or distance while the ship moved through the waves. Each foot fell short in knee jamming stride or stretched long as if forgetting the last step at the bottom of stairs. It had been a long time since she’d traveled overseas and her most attentive concentration was first in making it to the starboard rail without staggering too badly or tripping overboard. Finally leaning back against the rail with her elbows bent back akimbo to support herself on the solid surface, her feet and body continue to move while becoming attuned to the motion. Tasked with observing the sailors for inkling into personalities, Salara felt it might be best to start high level and work her way into the details. Nodding assent, she begins scanning the ship and crew without appearing to focus on any one individual. It might not be prudent, in her mind, to be caught staring or measuring anyone; at least until they all were better acquainted. Without formal conclusion she speaks her thoughts aloud for Fallon to follow along. “For the most part the ship seems to be well maintained. To my eye it appears clean, the ropes don’t look frayed and the sails are in good repair. Things seem to be orderly and tidily kept. It’s designed for cargo but can also accommodate passengers in a modicum of privacy if not true comfort.” She slides a look granting acknowledgement of Fallon’s experience to her appraisal, “I don’t believe you would have chosen it if any of these were otherwise.” “This reflects well on Captain Barkholt. He sees value in ensuring everything is in working order and has the flexibility to ensure his ship meets the needs of his customers.” She adds an aside, “Or perhaps it is not the customer’s needs per say, but that of the Mizas that different customers are willing to pay for the service of his ship. Do you know if he is the owner, because if not, this might be more attributed to someone else’s character?” Turning back to look more closely at the Captain himself, “He is well put together, properly uniformed, and is giving orders for what should be a routine departure rather than giving that responsibility to the First Mate. So perhaps he truly enjoys leading the crew, or doesn’t trust the officer to the task, or it’s a show for the port folk. Time will reveal more.” Speaking of the First Mate she begins looking for his whereabouts. It seemed the officers were styled better in tricorn hats and long-coats than the standard nickered trousers and roll-sleeved linen shirts or bare chests of the crew. She finally spies the man, younger than the captain, walking amongst the men. There wasn’t much communication between him and his charges. Tipping chin his direction she points out, “He isn’t speaking to the crew and they are not working harder as he passes by.” Salara had noticed that each officer was met with a respectful nod or forelock pull from the sailors. “They respect the coat. But I wonder if he were a harsh task-master or someone they hoped to earn respect from, they might be more diligent in his presence. He could be more supportive in encouraging them to good efforts. Does this indicate a seasoned crew not needing encouragement? What does it mean for a crew who doesn’t feel pressed to show themselves in a better light under the eye of the second in command?” A few ticks in pause, she considers if that even made any sense. “At any rate, I don’t sense power through fear here.” Most of the sailors appeared to be human men seeming to blend together in a hodge-podge of resemblances. Perhaps their personalities would be called out more clearly once they weren’t all doing the same things at the same time. Honestly they scrambled around the deck, sails, and masts, and in and out of cargo holds like ants. But a few stood out enough to be recognized for further study. The helmsman turned out to be a helms-woman. Tall, blue-eyed, brunette with her hair clubbed at her neck to avoid whipping in the wind. The woman was draped about with what looked like a colorful beaded scarf covering very little of the tattoos swimming over her torso. She turns to Fallon with a lifted brow. “She holds the wheel easily and there’s a confidence about her that may support how she came to have such a position among these men.” Salara turns her head to track the woman’s gaze, which kept returning to toward the bowsprite where the First Mate was making his circuit. It was hard for her to get a feel for what little expression was on the woman’s face, “Something’s going on there...competitors, lovers...” Before she could continue delving into that potential scenario she stills, body slowly stiffening and nearly hisses, “Oh, that one.” He didn’t appear any different from the other sailors - bare-chested, maybe a little larger than average, surely strong as he was coiling heavy rope cables effortlessly. She could clearly see the thick-welted silver of healed whip scars upon his back; but more than that, there was something intangibly recognizable that would make her ridgeline rise were she feline. “It’s the way he carries himself or something else; but the big one is or has been a slaver.”

[Fallon]

Fallon followed, a slower pace with her hands held neatly behind her back. It was only as she got to the rail that she gave a stagger before bracing herself securely against it. But while Salara seemed to looking into the vessel, did Fallon look outwards. She remembered the last time she had taken to travel, fleeing for her life with the other members of her gang. In all instances they were looking for a fresh start, escaping the old in the name of a future. This was no different – apart from the fact it was considerably less bloody and murderous.

With the wind tossing the stray stands of hair that escaped their ties, Fallon let herself listen. She heard the words, processing them in her minds eye. She did not need to look, the mental images being formed and collating. Everything had a definition, particular traits, key features that stood out. It was interesting to hear it from another’s eyes, letting her think outside the box and gain another perspective to the situation. There was a small nod, quietly going through the motions while Salara continued.

The mention of slaver did cause a small reaction in Fallon. A keen observer would have noticed the small twitch of the lip, the brief tightening of a fist before the muscles relaxed. A force of calm and reasoning, she could not let emotions and rashness get the better of her.

”Your first point is correct. Privacy was my aim here. Or near as possible privacy. I highly value being able to close the door on the world,” Fallon released a snort, ”Consider yourself honoured to be allowed to partake in my personal space.” The woman let her gaze move, shifting and sliding in the direction of the captain. She could hear him, but not see him, ”An interesting point on the subject of Mizas. Would suggest a keen and business like mind. One who is capable of numbers. Though who do you think is the one who commands such finances and style here? Yes, you are correct in highlighting that he is well put together… but do you not feel as if someone else has dressed him?”

The orbs swivelled around to Salara then, watching and studying the reaction, ”The captain owns half of it, or there about. So, who do you think the captain trusts the most to go into partnership with?” she let the question hang there, filling the space between. Gaze once more shifting she looked out to the sea, ”The first mate… he has some similarities don't you think? Considerably more well groomed despite being quieter. Slightly paler in comparison to the rest of the crew, suggesting preference for being inside or under shade. But there is respect.” Her head lifted and turned to look to the First Mate directly, ”He carries a tome underneath his arm. A ledger I reckon. He decides what comes on and off. Fills in the role of Quartermaster too if you will.” She gave a small curl of the lips, ”Neigh, he commands them with his mind as opposed to his voice. He controls the coin, suggesting he holds their wages hostage.”

Fallon inhaled and exhaled. The taste of salt upon her lips, the crisper air despite being warm being considerably more pleasant than the air of Syliras. Far from stifling, the feeling of suffocation gone. Lungs filled, she let Salara continue around the rest of the ship, ”The Helmswoman? Could be anything I suppose. Svefra perhaps? Though… she does not seem to have the marks of one. And it seems odd to have one throw their lot in with this bun-“ Their was a sharp pause and gasp when a spray of sea caught her off guard, sending the droplets across her. Far from drenching but enough to cause a scowl upon her face. She grumbled under her breath, ”Bloody water. Bloody getting me wet… I… where were we? Helmswoman. Who knows? Rivals of a sort? Perhaps she wishes for a share in the vessel? Scheming perhaps to remove the… lets say threat to her plans. Or, as you said a love interest. Must be hard to obtain lonely nights upon a cramped ship. Incredibly frustrating too I imagine.”

And then, at last there came the Slaver. Fallon’s lips pursed into a line. She had to keep a clear head, the point here was to teach and leave wonderment of the possibilities. To read and assess the situation and its points, ”The slaver… I would watch. With high caution. If reformed then good. If not… well, I would not take chances.” Fallon pushed back her dampened hair, neatly undoing and letting the mane fall everywhere. A few careful rakes through it with her gloved hands did she then pull it back into a bun, ”So what can we take away from this? That it is possible to make some presumptions on individuals through a glance. A selection of prejudices if you will. And while prejudices serve as a building block, they must be avoided to be taken to heart.” She exhaled, looking to Salara, ”They all become targets to be studied. To find the truth about. And in order to find the truth, you must throw away your prejudices. Be willing to learn anew. To gain knowledge. That is your ally here.” Fingers then moved to brush off the stray droplets, ”So, hypothetically, how would you continue your studying of the individuals in question?”