Seeking Shelter 12th Day of Winter 521 AV She and Captain Chaliva had just left the local clothing shop where he’d talked-up Naadiya to the owner so much, she was almost stunned by: 1- his congeniality, this was clearly a man who made friends more easily than enemies, and 2- the fact that he seemed to actually have listened to what she’d said to him on their short walk. It had been mostly frivolous conversation about the sea she had only now experienced, and small talk about the Svefra, whom she had been living with for what seemed to have been a lifetime, yet could not have been so long. But in truth, she was watching him, looking for reactions when she said certain words. Did he know something? Naadiya knew it would be a long time before she could meet anyone new and not wonder. Meanwhile, she questioned him as well, after all, who was this man who simply came up to her on the docks to guide her around as if he were a king and this his palace. But he didn’t act like that, not really. She had found out his whole name but only given her first. He didn't ask and Naadiya wondered at that but had little to go on. She now knew he captained the main ship that came and went from Syka, and the ship's name was The Veronica. Naadiya supposed it was named after a former lover, but when he had said its name, the tone of his voice wasn’t just of pride. No, there was something else as well. Was it pain? His demeanor had recovered quickly enough though, taking only a second, maybe two. Then he joked about how Naadiya would certainly get bored in the new town. “Your people are used to always moving aren’t they? Why did you leave?” Naadiya did not revert the question back at him, though she was tempted. He knew she was Benshira. Seemed to know as soon as she landed on the docks, but had given no hint of his own background. Naadiya glanced down at herself and then brought her head back up quickly without needing to really look. She had left the desert with clothes that had made sense in the desert. Her billowy pants, drapes of fabric and head scarf marked her as a desert nomad, but his weren’t so obvious. His pants had been cuffed and rolled up above his calves, a thin white shirt clung slightly to his shoulders, its top buttons opened to let the winter breeze cool him. Naadiya decided all she could get from that was: tropical, but not native, which she had already guessed from their conversation. But his eyes. They were clear but not cold, such a blue that Naadiya had not remembered seeing before she had gotten on the Svefra ship and then suddenly every other face displayed that blue like a mark of pride. He more likely than not a Svefra. Oh yes, his question.. “My parents both died, my sisters were all grown and married. I had little keeping me there.” It wasn’t the full truth, but it wasn’t all false. Why did she feel she needed to conceal anything from him though? Who was he to her? “Ahhh”, he said. If his tone had been a color, it would have been grey, a warm mid tone grey. It left Naadiya feeling a little uneasy. Not scared or threatened, but rather like she was staring at a scattered puzzle with only one piece in hand. Then he spoke again. “Well, here we are.” What? Already? Naadiya looked away from the man’s face to where he’d extended an arm leading her up a few steps from sand to wood. It was a simply built place when she compared to the buildings she’d seen in Wadrass as was much of this new town. But what it lacked in ornamentation it more than made up for in…? How could she describe it? Ambience? The jungle itself seemed to wrap around the place like it grew there by design. Maybe it did, there were planters scattered everywhere with all sorts of different flora. Naadiya remembered a child’s fairytale her grandmother had once told her by the fire. It was about a woman who had been banished to live in the desert by the sea, forever cursed to look out at the water and never be able to cross the sea to where it was lush, where her unknown love awaited. Sailors would stop by and visit, and every time she’d wonder if he would be the one to take her away from her misery, but she could never go with them, the curse tethering her down to her coast like an umbilical cord, without which she would wither away and die. Then one day a sailor stopped to see her and bought her flowers to win her favor for she was very beautiful. By the time night fell, however, the flowers had already withered, so dry was the air around them. She cried for a day and a night and the sailor left her to her misery. A season passed and the sailor returned. This time he had brought her not flowers but a bag of beads. They were beautiful beads with wondrous colors and patterns and she loved them for they were the colors she saw only in her dreams, waking up every morning to the stark white sands and endless blue sea and nothing else. This time, when the sailor left, she did not cry. She made a necklace of the beads and would stare at them longingly. Days flew by and no one came to her empty stretch of the coast. Filled with bitter anger she destroyed the necklace and threw it on the ground, where she then cried for ten days and ten nights, after which she passed out exhausted, willing death to take. When she had woken up everything around had changed. In the place where the beads had been tossed, now grew huge fruit trees, each distinctly different from the other and around them smaller saplings were already taking root as fruits had fallen and their seeds had spread. Tears of joy now flowed from her eyes and as they dripped on the plants, flowers bloomed and leaves unfurled. So, every night the woman would cry, but now her tears felt different. They weren’t burning drops of despair, anymore, but refreshing relief from the scorching heat of the desert. With her tears she fed her plants every day, until one day her coast was lush with greenery and the woman was out of tears. On that day she realized the purpose and life that had come with the mysterious plants had fulfilled her more than any of the romances she’d had and now she no longer craved to leave her coast. It was no longer a place barren of life. With the plants eventually came birds, then reptiles and soon she had herself a place filled with life and sound. Had Naadiya found the woman from her grandmother’s campfire tales? Was it she who created this forrest so thick with green and mist? As they entered the Protea Inn Naadiya stood in the doorway, immediately a fresh floral scent filled Naadiya’s nose. Captain Chaliva'd had to gentle push her forward with a hand on her upper back so he could come inside as well. Then, with his knuckles he knocked lightly on the doorframe. “Hello? Tazrae? Are you in? I’ve got another one for you!”
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