The Collector
07-24-08, 09:53 PM
(Open only by approval via PM first)
The Cwn Anwnn cried that night. There was a difference between those cries and the howling of the wind. Any sailor worth this salt knew it. That night, so long ago, Renata Astra had been at the bow of the Skarver, watching the dark distance for other ships. She wasn't sure why they'd even gone to sea this time. All she knew was that the crew had been restless on the land, the water had been calling.
"Burn bay, rosemary and thorn." She said, and some deckhand had gone scrabbling back down. She could hear his boots slipping on the wet deck as he plunged himself toward the hold; the night's mist had covered everything. The fog had brought the chilled droplets like an offering, laying them down upon the wood. With the wind, the sails billowed and cracked, raining down drops with each movement. The storms had yet to arrive, but already it felt like rain.
Renata had robes heaped and pulled about her, finding solace in thick wool as she kept watch. Clouds had obscured the moonlight, only letting it peak in now and again. Waves caught the light and in those few moments it was as if the sea was set aglow with jewels. The sight ahead was so beautiful that she nearly missed the one by her feet. Through the dark veil of the water, there was a glimpse of golden scales. At first, she was sure it had just been a fish or a strange flash, but as she leaned over the railing to peer closer, she saw it again. Just far enough under the murky depths, something was swimming.
What golden or yellow fish haunted these waters? The young captain's mind was working quickly as she bit her lip and stepped back from the prow of her ship. She couldn't think of a single fish with tail like she'd seen, but monsters took many forms. The sliding, stomping echo of footsteps coming up the galley stairs made her turn around and take several steps to meet the young deckhand. In his fists, he held nothing of what she'd asked of him. Only thin white strips of wood were presented.
"I don't have use for birch," she said, growling. She looked him over carefully. He was a boy of only thirteen, as grubby as the day she'd taken him aboard. No doubt, she thought, he'd never paid a lick of attention to the chattering of old superstitious sailors. "We restocked before we left, where are the herbs I asked for?"
"You'd do well to heed the oracle in your pantry!" a sighing voice called out from behind her. Renata's spine went stiff, her blood running cold. The boy turned and ran, slipping and falling several times as he desperately scrabbled for the holds. She could hear his whimpers turn to cries as his footing gave way on the stairs and he fell down them. Renata couldn't run, but her feet wouldn't let her turn around. Instead, she stared along the vacant deck of the Skarver as she listened to the accommodation ladder creak in time with the beating waves. Something heavy was making it's way up the ship, but had it not spoken, she never would have noticed the sound. Finally, with a grunt that still managed to be musical, something wet slammed down on the deck boards. Water rolled by Renata's feet, and with her throat in knots, she finally turned to look.
The Cwn Anwnn cried that night. There was a difference between those cries and the howling of the wind. Any sailor worth this salt knew it. That night, so long ago, Renata Astra had been at the bow of the Skarver, watching the dark distance for other ships. She wasn't sure why they'd even gone to sea this time. All she knew was that the crew had been restless on the land, the water had been calling.
"Burn bay, rosemary and thorn." She said, and some deckhand had gone scrabbling back down. She could hear his boots slipping on the wet deck as he plunged himself toward the hold; the night's mist had covered everything. The fog had brought the chilled droplets like an offering, laying them down upon the wood. With the wind, the sails billowed and cracked, raining down drops with each movement. The storms had yet to arrive, but already it felt like rain.
Renata had robes heaped and pulled about her, finding solace in thick wool as she kept watch. Clouds had obscured the moonlight, only letting it peak in now and again. Waves caught the light and in those few moments it was as if the sea was set aglow with jewels. The sight ahead was so beautiful that she nearly missed the one by her feet. Through the dark veil of the water, there was a glimpse of golden scales. At first, she was sure it had just been a fish or a strange flash, but as she leaned over the railing to peer closer, she saw it again. Just far enough under the murky depths, something was swimming.
What golden or yellow fish haunted these waters? The young captain's mind was working quickly as she bit her lip and stepped back from the prow of her ship. She couldn't think of a single fish with tail like she'd seen, but monsters took many forms. The sliding, stomping echo of footsteps coming up the galley stairs made her turn around and take several steps to meet the young deckhand. In his fists, he held nothing of what she'd asked of him. Only thin white strips of wood were presented.
"I don't have use for birch," she said, growling. She looked him over carefully. He was a boy of only thirteen, as grubby as the day she'd taken him aboard. No doubt, she thought, he'd never paid a lick of attention to the chattering of old superstitious sailors. "We restocked before we left, where are the herbs I asked for?"
"You'd do well to heed the oracle in your pantry!" a sighing voice called out from behind her. Renata's spine went stiff, her blood running cold. The boy turned and ran, slipping and falling several times as he desperately scrabbled for the holds. She could hear his whimpers turn to cries as his footing gave way on the stairs and he fell down them. Renata couldn't run, but her feet wouldn't let her turn around. Instead, she stared along the vacant deck of the Skarver as she listened to the accommodation ladder creak in time with the beating waves. Something heavy was making it's way up the ship, but had it not spoken, she never would have noticed the sound. Finally, with a grunt that still managed to be musical, something wet slammed down on the deck boards. Water rolled by Renata's feet, and with her throat in knots, she finally turned to look.