Shore Leave -closed-

[Mouse]

The water was ridiculously cold, and the waves that broke against the shore seemed to push a chill wind landward. Mouse was watching the sea, the gray swell of sea froth reflected in dark eyes. The sun had barely begun to rise, the sky lightening and the light fog that had swathed the top of the water coming in to land and dissipating. The ghosts of the world were now returning from whence they came leaving the morning to the mortals. She'd been lost in her thoughts, in a dream that seemed too far away. Somewhere in her mind there was a panel filled with buttons and switches and in some other day she knew what it was for. Now the glittering of the first sun was starting to hit the waves farther out to sea, she thought that the world was giving her a puzzle to decode. This wave went with that switch, and if she got up and swam far enough, would she ever find some memory of another Mouse in another time?

Behind her, a ratchet fell to the ground and there was a curse barely hidden by the whistle of steam escaping a pipe. More pounding, each bang against a pipe piercing her mind, and suddenly there was was nothing left of the dream. It was just the ocean before her, the cold wind whipping at her curly hair, sliding a stray lock into her eyes. She stood, pulling herself up by the railing and looked behind her. The deck of the airship spread back like a great ship. The patched leather air balloons were deflated, and draped along the port side of the ship, carefully laid across the sand beside them. A bewildered crab was scuttling across, no doubt wondering where the burrow he'd left behind that evening had gone to.

"Ai'mithe!"

Her name was called from the group of men who were all squatting around a pipe, one grizzled hand hefted from the group and motioning to her. Her steps took her across the deck, heels echoing in time with the light tinkering of a small hammer against the pipe. It was one thing about the airship she loved: the sheer lack of silence brought everything to life around them. She knew what he wanted. From her side, she pulled the wrench and handed it to him. They'd gotten used to her self mandated position of the keeper of the wrench by now, and she happily accepted the tool when it was handed back.

"When do you think we'll fly again?" she asked as an older man stood and stepped back from the rest, wiping his forehead and trailing a line of grease across his brow as he did. His silence and the press of his lips into a grimace as he turned to head to the captain's quarters were disquieting. They'd already been land locked for a day, how much longer would this last? Another man stood and placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. His smile was forced, his words even less consoling.

"Go on back to the kitchen, Ai. 'Bout breakfast time, right?"

[Zander Bastiaan]

There was barely enough room on the table for the large plate of hotcakes and bacon before the sailor, the rest of the pitted wooden surface being almost entirely covered with just a portion of the bounty of the crew’s latest find. Normally, Zander would have just dropped the chests with his father in Corone and let the old man deal with finding buyers, but that was no longer an option. His father had been killed months before, and Zander had to carry the chests around on the ship until he found buyers, stopping in ports and risking theft every time he mentioned he was looking to sell the unique wares he and his crew seemed to find so easily.

Savoring the taste of the local honey the warm hotcakes were drowned in, Zander watched as the local antiquities dealer carefully eyed a handful of jewels and coins the crew had found recently. The half-merman was quite content to sit around all day stuffing his belly with ‘real’ food while the shrewd gentleman before him decided with painstaking care whether to purchase any of the objects for sale, and for how much. Long lashes half covered pale turquoise eyes in languid pleasure as he crunched down on a piece of smoked bacon - so much different than the hard tack and constant fish while at sea. And damn if that fish wasn’t always cooked the same way. The cook hadn’t much of a repertoire and Zander was thankful whenever they were able to dock somewhere that had good food.

“I don’t think I see much I’m interested in at the moment, son,” the pale haired dark elf was telling him, “This quartz would suit me, but it’s worth more than I’ve got though honestly.”

Zander had barely been listening and stared at the dealer for a long moment before frowning and responding in a low voice, leaning forward to keep the conversation between the two of them.

“What exactly have I got my hands on here, sir?” the dark haired sailor asked taking the large crystal into his calloused hand. The crystal was not cool to the touch as would be expected, but was warm, and glowed ever so slightly. He hadn’t paid it much attention before, but now he was concerned.

“I can’t claim to be the authority on these types of crystals boy,” the elf muttered in a gravelly voice, picking up his glass of sherry and swirling it before taking a sip, “But there are a small few airships that use these crystals to fly - and they are the airships that everyone is envious of. This type of quartz, if I’m right, you can’t even find anymore. I couldn’t tell you why it’s so special, but I know I’ve had at least a dozen airship mechanics come poking their heads into my shop looking to see if I’ve even heard of one before. This is the first time I ever saw one outside of a museum. I could easily have duped you on this one boy, but your father was too good of a man for me to betray his son so soon after his death. Keep your eyes open son, you could well retire on something so special as this.”

The dealer stood from the table and patted the boy’s shoulder, finished his sherry, and quickly left the little inn where they had met. Zander watched him go and carefully packed away all of the wares laid out on the table, but left the quartz laying on the table above his plate. As he finished eating, he stared at the crystal which glowed gently in the dim sunlight that trickled through the dusty windows behind him.

[Mouse]

"Oats."

In the galley, lit by lanterns that threw light along the stained wooden walls, all eyes were upon her. Despite how dim it was, the smokey shadows pulling across every face, she could see the disappointment in their eyes. Honestly, Mouse couldn't blame them. The tables were littered with steaming bowls of a sticky cream colored mass. The slop stuck to a wooden spoon that had been dipped and lifted into the bowl, strings of it clinging still in a stretched organic bridge between the two. A few glanced down, unsure to believe her.

"We're out of everything else. There's sugar in it, but nothing else. No cream, no fruit. We need to restock." With as much dignity as she could muster, she sat down at her own seat and began to eat. While sweet, it was bland and the texture was disturbing to say the least. Still, it was palatable. Encouraged her, a few began to eat slowly as well. Gone was the normal lively conversation of the breakfast tables, instead a depression was descending on the crew. Money was tighter than usual, the ship broken down and the cost of the fix uncertain at best. As she ate, Mouse leaned back. Her eyes gazed absently at the ceiling, her left arm hanging loosely to caress the wrench that sat on her side. She was a rudimentary mechanic at best, and with so many more capable hands she hadn't been able to do anything to lift the ship off the ground. Still, the crew was her family, and there had to be at least some way of lifting their spirits at least.

"Look, Ai'mithe," someone started from across the room.

"I've seen the coffers," she said. "We're empty until we can get to Salvar, I know." Her face snapped back from dreamily tracing the wood grain of the rafters to stare at the captain. His face was more pained than she'd ever seen it, and she knew he was itching to get off the shore. She knew how he felt at the helm, the wind rushing through his long, whitened locks as they cruised in cloud cover. She smiled at him, worried when he didn't return the gesture.

"I've been saving up, you know. Still got most of my salary tucked away. I'll take Jandy and we'll go into town and see what we can dig up. Even a bit of honey and spice would make things a bit more bearable. If you tell me what we need to fix the ship, I'll put my ear to the ground, too."



------------oooOOOooOOooOOOooo------------------

"That's a sin against god, it is." She said, her jaw setting as she cross her arms before her. In one hand, her fingers rubbed gently over the velvet skin of the peach, her dark eyes scanning the face of the Drow before her. He was a portly man, his pudgy hands crossed over the surface of his stained tunic. It was a little amazing that such a disgusting man had a stall full of beautiful, flawless fruits. If the jolt in price was to compensate for the fact that someone like him should not be able to bring out such a precious glow from anything living, she might believe it. As it stood, she was prepared to hand back his ware and walk away. If only he weren't the only fruit stand in the market that morning...

"Look, I ain't gonna sit and argue wit no elf. Yeh want a cheap peach, go grow it yerself. Thaz what yous guys is good at, yeah?" His contempt was nearly as thick as the accent on his common, his sneer as grotesque as his hygiene.

Her cheeks blushed and Ai'mithe was preparing a verbal onslaught when a light tug at the loose fabric of her slacks brought her attention down to her side. A boy who came no further than up to her hip was looking at her excitedly. His face was grubby, a spot of oil slicked down one side of his nose, and his tangle of dark hair was even more disheveled than normal. His face was rosy and the small locks by his hairline were plastered across his forehead with sweat. Bare feet danced excitedly along the cobbles, as if the excitement in him was so great that he could not stay still, no matter the cost.

"Ai, ai, ai!!!!" He cried. His voice was whisper quiet, but held a squeak of happiness that only meant one thing: Free food. She tossed the peach back to the dark elf, and let herself be led through the market by the child. Eventually Jandy brought her up in the back of a meager tavern. The paint was flaking off the side of the building, the hinges of the door rusted from the salty port air. They opened the door into the kitchens, ignoring the screech of the door and the smoke that billowed from the firepit in the back of the kitchen. The smell of bacon had been a stranger for far too long, and as they walked through between a few busy fry cooks, Ai did her best to hide her watering mouth.

At the impressive pantry, there stood a gruff bear of a man. His face was glowing, his laugh deep and loud and as heady as the smoke that filled the room. As they approached, his dark eyes glanced towards them and recognition twinkled as he waved Jandy over. The urchin's grubby hand wrapped around hers and Mouse was pulled towards him. A few moments later, she was examining the biggest potato in her life.

"I normally go through whole bushels of these, big as they are, you know, but this week everyone just wants meat and hotcakes. Can't sell a potato cake or tuber stew for nothing, you know?" He ran a hand across his thinning hair, wiping the sweat of the hot kitchen from his brow before wrapping his hands with the old, tattered bar towel. "So I get this little man here and he says to me that he'll take the bad batch off my hands, right? Still don't know how the little squirt got in here.... and says he'll drink me under the table and the winner takes the taters!" The man erupted into a hearty laugh, and Ai smiled as she turned the vegetable every which way. There were a couple of spots of rot, and the eyes were beginning to grow in, twisting and poking out in search of earth it wouldn't find. Ideas were beginning to sprout in her mind, and a smile crossed her lips.

"We'll be happy to take them, maybe ten gold for the bad bushel? A few coins more, if you want to throw in some more stock or seed."

She was surprised when they were waved away, the tubers in hand. "I don't need anything. I was going to throw the tubers out anyway, and the little man made me laugh. What I'll do is tell yeh a butcher where you can get some fatback and salt on the cheap, and my orchard guy. Can't promise yeh much more than oranges or lemons righ' now since he's got a greenhouse for 'em, but sometimes he gets in good apples in the bad seasons. His prices are good, but a pretty lass like you'll have no troubles gettin' what yeh need."

Paper in hand, they turned to leave to find the way back blocked. Cooks were in a panic as a fowl escaped from one of the cages, crashing into a pot of hot oil that had been perched precariously next to one of the fire-stoves. The whole mess sloshed across the floor, causing men to jump away as it sizzled and slicked across the room.

"Oh, for cryin... go on out the bar way," they were told as the tavern keep thundered across the kitchen. Slipping into the bar, Jandy hauled the potatoes towards the door spryly, ducking among patrons. Mouse was hot on his heels until something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. A man sat at a table, a crystal displayed on the worn wood. The light was hitting it just right for all the ridges to be displayed beautifully, like an amazing treasure. It only took a moment for recognition to kick in and her breath was caught in her throat. She didn't realize she'd stood still to stare until Jandy was tugging at her clothes again.

"Go on back to the ship, boy. I need to get a few more things, but tell the men that supper will be far better than breakfast, yeah?"

Alone now, she sauntered towards the table and slid into the booth across from the man. He was young and handsome, a dark vagabond presented in a plain package. Still, no matter how clean and unassuming the packaging, an exotic treasure was something that anyone could recognize. A few moments passed before the elven girl could muster up a smile and gesture to the crystal.

"It's a lovely trinket you've got there. How much would it take for you to part with it?" The glee in her eyes was apparent and so richly honest. It was going to be a very good day.

[Zander Bastiaan]

Zander drew his long legs under the booth as the lithe young woman slid into the booth across from him, his hand settling protectively over the warmth of the crystal. She was elvish, and quite pretty, although a bit smudged with grease. Her eyes were brown like her hair, but both seemed to have a deeper glow that was more like polished mahogany than dull driftwood. He followed her gaze to the jewel beneath his hand, and suppressed a laugh as she asked his price. How fortunate Gel’han had been honest enough to advise Zander of it’s great worth. The sailor was quite certain this girl thought she could swindle him.

“What makes you think I want to part with this… trinket?” he asked, tilting his head to one side, smiling slightly and raising an eyebrow, his hand tightening around the quartz, “I think it likely that it is worth more coin than you could spare, but why don’t you name me a price - I’m willing to humor such a pretty face.”

His eyes twinkled, and he almost, for the briefest moment, regretted turning on the charm of the merfolk that coursed through his veins. But the moment passed quickly, and Zander lifted his mug to his lips, the bittersweet coolness of the ale quenching not only his thirst, but his desire to ask entirely too many questions. Obviously, she knew exactly what this crystal was, and he refused to betray his own ignorance to a possible buyer. While she may not have the finances to purchase a rare piece such as this one, it was possible she had an employer who could.

Setting the mug down hard on the table, the amber liquid sloshing over the sides to soak into the table, Zander lifted the crystal into his palm, allowing the lamplight to glisten and reflect within its facets. The golden glow splintered into a rainbow of colors that danced on the wall behind him, and scattered over his deeply tanned face as he turned the jewel over and over against his skin, its surface smooth in contrast to the roughness of his hands.

[Mouse]

Sitting back and giving her hair a small toss to the side, Ai smiled as she slipped her coin purse from where it sat in her belt by her wrench. To her hands, it felt heavy with gold, the coins clinking away through the thin fabric. Her eyes stayed on his, measuring him even as she became hypnotized beneath his gaze. There was something otherworldly about him, though she wasn't sure who thought that. Afterall, to the Mouse swimming in her mind, everything here was otherworldly. To Ai'mithe, it was just another facet of life, but still undeniably enchanting. It was hard to justify to herself that both of these sets of memories and perceptions were her. It was easier to compartmentalize everything, like a machine, to see how the parts worked.

Drawing her mind back to the task at hand, she let loose the bonds that kept her purse closed and began to place gold and platinum upon the table. When 100 gold pieces were sitting there, she arched a brow. Bartering was never her strong point, and a little anxiety shot through her. She couldn't spend too much, there were still too many supplies they needed to get. Her stomach nearly fell to the floor when the expression on his face changed, ever so slightly.

Now came the desperate hour. She knew he'd reject the measly collection of coinage, in that moment. His face said it all, and she figured he could smell her urgency. Pulling from the coin purse, she added forty more gold to the pile, and smiled.

"Maybe I'll throw in a good meal, too." she suggested, her mouth moving faster than she could think, knowing she had to work quickly to keep him interested in the barter. "I'm quite the cook, yeah?"

[Zander Bastiaan]

The girl sat there quietly for quite some time before she actually laid any coin on the table between them. Zander wasn’t entirely certain if she was just considering how much to offer, or if she was considering whether she was falling in love with him. Her facial expressions weren’t quite easy to read, and it was more frustrating than he liked to admit.

Counting as she placed the coins on the table, Zander caught himself before laughing at the meager amount, managing to only clench his jaw in reaction. She was obviously better at reading his face than he was at reading hers, for she added to the messily stacked coins and looked up at him expectantly. When he still didn’t respond immediately, she offered to cook for him as though running out of options. It made the mer consider just how desperate this particular buyer might be, and wonder how important the crystal was to her.

“You’ve got a galley in your pocket then, love?” he laughed, “Even if you were a world class chef, you’d have to cook me more than one good meal to pay for this particular piece that’s caught your eye.”

He had closed his hand over the smooth surface of the object in question, but he opened his hand now to let them both look upon the rather mysterious crystal. Even though the lamp shone on it and set its surface alight, the quartz seemed also to glow from within. It had been buried deep within the remains of an airship hidden beneath the ocean’s surface and had been brought up along with a handful of other trinkets. Zander had thought nothing of it, figured on getting a few dozen gold for it until his father’s business associate had advised him otherwise. He wondered now just what had happened to the airship which had run off of the power of this crystal.

“What did you need this crystal for?” he asked curiously, then to cover his curiosity he continued, “If you’re not in a hurry to purchase it, or don’t have the coin to do so immediately, we might work out a deal where you cook aboard my ship for a time. Perhaps it could even be a more long-term appointment if you turned out to be a good fit.”

They were in need of a ship’s cook; the galley was badly kept, the crew surviving on fish stews and fried fish and fish fillets baked in hot coals. The fish was occasionally accompanied by apples if they had any, or hard biscuits. The crew would kiss his feet if he were to bring them a good cook. They might do more if he brought them a good cook who was also a pretty girl.

“Might that be something you’re interested in, love?”

[Mouse]

She paused, wondering how much honesty she could afford to spare. After all, telling him about the ship moored on the shore, and the urgent need for the trinket, could prove to be her undoing. He knew more than she hoped he would, and it wouldn't be for a few scattered pence that she walked away with victory. She was saved, however, when he kept talking. Her options were limited, but was this something she could work with?

Tipping her head to the side, resting her chin on her hands, she thought for a moment. If she refused, the ship would stay grounded. However, the men aboard could catch odd jobs in town. They had done it before, when supplies were scarcer than their coin. A fortnight or two, and she could work the jewel off....or perhaps steal away with it? She'd never been a thief, but if they were at port and she somehow walked away with it tucked innocently in a bag? Who knew. She did know that she wanted to be back in the air soon, and who knew how long this man would expect her to stay aboard?

"I'm currently working as a cook for another ship," she said, carefully measuring her words. "But, if you give me an hour or so to go put in a leave and gather my things, I'd be willing to work for the gem." She gave him a saucy smile before asking, "What name do you sail under, then?"

[Zander Bastiaan]

How neatly she had avoided his question, not betraying the reason behind her desire for the crystal. Surely she wouldn’t be offering now to be ship’s cook if she just coveted a pretty bauble, but what would be so important about the jewel she’d want to hide why she wanted it? Rather than allowing his curiosity to get the best of him, Zander nodded in agreement to her proposal. Whatever her reasoning, he knew the crew would be grateful for a decent cook on board, and if she turned out to be a disaster in the kitchen then he’d let her off at the next port to find her way back home.

“You’ll be looking for a vessel called The Rhapsody. We’ve got her shored up at the southern end of the docks,” he told her as he wrapped the crystal in the piece of soft wool it had been stored in before and laid it in the small chest with the other treasures he’d not sold that day, “If I’m not there, speak to a man named Gentry, tell him Zander sent you and he’s to take you direct to the galley.”

Zander stood, setting the chest on the table and extending his hand to the young woman to make the deal official. He hoped she wouldn’t turn around and run when she saw the amount of work to be done in the galley to make it livable. It hadn’t been kept up well since the last cook left.

“If you’ve got any supplies for particular recipes, you might want to bring them,” he advised her, “Otherwise, our ship should be stocked fairly well for our next voyage. If there’s anything you need me to purchase for the galley, now’s the time to let me know so I can find the fellow who’s in charge of supplies. Hope you know how to cook fish.”

If there was one thing he was proud of (besides the ship herself), it was that he never failed to keep his stores full. His crew never went hungry - though they rarely bragged over the quality of what they ate, and often complained over the sheer quantities of fish they consumed.

“I’ll see you on board if there’s nothing else,” he concluded, “I plan to sail with the tide, which should have us leaving around a quarter of an hour after the sun sets.”

[Mouse]

She hated feeling as if they were angry with her. While it was true they didn’t have much of another choice, Mouse wish she could have stayed with her family. The band of pilots were all she had ever known, and all she felt she would ever know. It was strange, packing her things into a small bag. She took her clothes, and a few bars of soap. It was sweaty to work before a firepit, roasting and boiling, cooking away. As she began to cinch her bag, she smiled wryly. While she’d been gathering things from the galley, spices mostly that she knew wouldn’t get used if she weren’t doing the cooking, someone had placed a bracelet in with her things. It was made of poorly braided rope threads, strung with little gears, stones and shells. Somehow, she knew it was the work of Jandy.

It’s not like I’ll never come back, jeez., she thought to herself. Somehow, though, knowing that she would be missed made her resolve all the more strong to be back as soon as she could.


<###^###>

It hadn’t been too difficult to find the man named Gentry. He had led her to the galley, and left her for dead. At least, that’s what it seemed like. For a moment, she was beyond angry. Just the work she needed to put in to make this a usable kitchen would surely pay off the crystal. Taking a deep breath, Mouse took everything in.

It wasn’t necessarily a poorly designed kitchen. There was plenty of space to move between the stove and pantry and while dirty, the counters were butcher block. The knives were laid seemingly everywhere, blades and forks upon the floor where the rocking of the ship had slid them off the counters. Still, Ai could see the blocks near the back corners of the counters where the knives should be stored safely during travel. The smell of fish and salt was nearly overpowering, but Zander had been right. The stores were stocked, with a barrel of fish splashing near the stove. On the other side, a door led into the coal bin, where there was enough to keep the stove going for at least two weeks. Close enough to the stove to keep warm, but far enough to be out of the way, a hammock was strung between the walls. There were stains upon the canvas that seemed suspicious, but it was the least of her worries. Finding a bucket stored underneath a small steel basin, Ai went about gathering up what she would need to start giving this place a good scrub. After all, the food always reflected the kitchen.

[Zander Bastiaan]

There was still nearly an hour before sunset when Zander returned to The Rhapsody, the sky streaked with amber and rose at the horizon, the blazing dome of the sun reflecting in the water like molten gold. The crew was hurrying about in preparation for their departure, and the young sailor helped out here and there for quite some time before remembering the new member of his crew who was likely down in the galley in tears at its condition. In fact, it was likely she’d seen the state it was in and turned around and left without another word.

Tossing a coil of rope off to Gentry, he pointed toward the bow and the first mate nodded as Zander headed off to the galley to see if the girl was still there. He realized he had no idea what her name was, and laughed to himself as he climbed down the ladder to the mid-deck. For once the roles were reversed and the pretty face was making him act irrationally. The sleeping quarters were empty as he looked back over them before stepping into the galley.

Because it was in the bow of The Rhapsody, the large bay of windows allowed a great deal of natural light into the galley. Dust motes spark and whirled in the late afternoon sunlight, catching fire before disappearing into the shadows once more. The girl was in one corner of the galley scrubbing away at a large copper pot, and Zander leaned against the door frame and watched her in silence. If that was the pot he thought it was, it might take her days to get it clean, since the last thing he remembered being cooked in it was oatmeal, and nobody had thought to rinse out the remaining oats when they were done.

“I suppose I should have warned you about the mess,” the merman finally spoke up as he stepped further into the galley, standing on one side of the large stove in the middle of it, “You probably would have rethought your offer though, and we really did need a cook. Hope it’s not too much trouble.”

Skirting the stove and stepping over a bucket in the middle of the floor, he crossed to stand beside the new cook and tried to get another look at her face. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the remaining light was a brilliant copper that set her hair ablaze.

“I never did ask your name,” he admitted after a moment, smiling amiably, “I told you mine was Zander Bastiaan. Would you share yours?”

[Mouse]

She chuckled as he spoke. She'd jumped ever so slightly when his voice first rang out in the stillness. She'd gotten so used to the sound of water sloshing and the brush scrubbing that they seemed calming by now. Looking over her shoulder, her hands still rubbing away at the caked on bits of oat that had seemed to petrify in every corner and cranny of the well-worn pot, she shot him a cheerful smile. "Please, daughter of a blacksmith. This is the worst mess I've ever seen, but I'm not so yellow that I'll tuck and run. I survived cleaning a forge, I bet I'll still be here when the morning comes."

As she flicked a bit of soap off her hand and brushed it against her forehead to keep the sweat from dipping down into her eyes, she felt a pang of shame. Surely she hadn't been in so much of a hurry when they made their deal that she ran off without ever telling him her name? Then again, the ebb and tide of excitement and hope had been fueling her, and she knew that the crew would worry when Jandy came back without her.

"Ai'mithe Nurtaya," she said as she stood to her feet and extended her hand to the man. A light blush extended from her cheeks up to the tips of her spired ears, before she added apologetically, "It might just be some of that leftover stew for dinner tonight. I don't think I'll have the kitchen ready to cook for hours yet, but I can promise you breakfast, and a better one than plain oats."

Indeed, the pantry was overloaded with all the foods that kept well. Dried fruits and spices, flour and yeast, not to mention a copious amount of bottles filled with pickled delights. Judging from what she'd been cleaning out of pots and pans and off of spoons, the last cook had no idea how to use them, and threw them in stew and slop all willy-nilly. Mouse might have grown up in a world of convenience, where cooking was a novelty hobby, but Ai'mithe was an elven maiden with delicate tastes, who'd been raised to cook for a hardworking man.

[Zander Bastiaan]

Zander looked around the galley as she spoke, smiling to himself at how far she’d already gotten. The majority of the pots and pans had been washed and hung now above the stove in the middle of the galley, the plates and bowls gone from the large sink and stowed into their respective cupboards. It was hard to believe such a pretty girl could know anything about cleaning kitchens, much less a forge, but she obviously had some experience because it already looked much better.

Even as smudged and sweaty as she was, her vivacity shown through in her eyes. Zander took her damp hand in his, laying a charming kiss upon the back of it with an almost mischievous smile and a sparkle in his eyes.

“Enchanted to meet you, Ai’mithe,” he said as he let go her hand, “We’re quite happy to have you. It’s been some time since there was last a good cook on board, and longer still since we’ve had a woman aboard.”

He glanced over to the stove which she hadn’t tackled yet and was cold and dirty. She’d have to scrub the crusted remains of old suppers from it, clean the cinders from within, and refill it with coal. Zander shrugged. The crew hadn’t even been expecting anything hot for dinner, just some apples and biscuits with honey. They’d be overjoyed to know there would be warm food to put in their stomachs.

“We have simple tastes, love,” he laughed, “No need to impress us yet. Don’t set our expectations too high.”

The sun would set in a few moments, immersing the galley in darkness. Zander stepped to the lanterns that hung over the stove, turning the wicks up to light the corners of the small kitchen. As he passed the hammock that hung in the corner, he noticed the stains on it, and frowned. That wouldn’t do at all.

“I apologize now for the state of the hammock,” Zander told her as he pulled the canvas from its hooks, “It hasn’t been used in a while. I’ll get Gentry to find some sailcloth and cut you another bit for hanging down here so you won’t have to wonder what it is you’re sleeping on.”

[Mouse]

She watched the doorway for a long moment after he left, the blush on her cheeks betraying the diversion of her attention to less than chaste thoughts. It had been quite some time since she had met a man with such charisma, who turned the air about her as surely as a spell. Shaking her head, she turned back to the pot, scrubbing away. As Zander had promised, Gentry had come in and gone, leaving a new hammock. As she worked, the sway of it caught her eye now and then. It moved with the ship, tossed and pushed on the waves. She was glad that it wasn’t a bed, much less a room. Swinging to sleep at night by the stove, she could keep focused that she had work to do. Whether it be by her ladle or by her hand, she would have that crystal.

By the time the stars in the sky began to fade, slowly sinking in with the ever-lightening sky, the hammock had still been untouched that night. It seemed that just as soon as she had hung the last pot and stoked a fire in the clean stove, morning was upon her. Her hair had come unbound from her brass hairpieces, curls haphazardly floating around her soot-streaked face. Cleaning out the flue had been a chore, but now the soot and dirt had been swept from the floor and she was ready to cook. Grateful for the simple pleasures she’d packed, she dug in her bag for soap and filled the basin with a bit of water. The sweet smell of roses floated up with the lather, and as she cleaned her face and hands, recomposing herself, she began to think.

What were the airship pilots all eating right now? If previous experience had taught her anything, it was likely hanks of bread with raw vegetables. Her stove would remain cold, her hearth unloved while she was gone. She chuckled to herself, and began to work. There was an hour yet until daybreak, if her senses were right, and fish didn’t smoke itself. Above anything else, she was sure the crew would want to eat sooner rather than later.

The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon of the water when the first men filed into the mess, stretching and talking as they prepared for the day. On the other side of the galley counter, just beyond the open doorway that separated the mess and the kitchen, Ai quietly worked. As she finished stirring a thick sauce in a bubbling pot, mixing in the smoked fish she’d shredded, she caught bits and pieces of the conversation. The world “dive” came up a few times. Puzzled, she continued to work, pulling down wooden plates from the cabinets, newly clean and ready to be piled high with fuel for the morning’s work. It occurred to her that she’d never asked this Bastiaan fellow what sort of ship he ran, or if danger was involved. Stopping for a moment, she rubbed her eyes. It had been foolish to stay up all night, but she never let a crew miss breakfast. Somewhere in her memory, there were nutrition facts dancing around that she had learned somewhere, sometime. The girl named Mouse had drank in science and math, and now Ai’mithe could feel the pull to make sure that in this place that seemed so backward and so right at the same time, no one that she was responsible for would go without.

Plates with steaming rice came out, and she sat them down. She hoped that Elvin cooking didn’t offend anyone, and some of the bewildered looks from the men made her think that perhaps she should have made a porridge. Laying beside the piles of rice were thin, spicy and savory pancakes, filled with the smoked fish drenched in a light lime-pepper sauce. It was popular, she knew, around the dock cities in Raiaera, and her mother had cooked it for her growing up. She ducked back into the kitchen to grab more plates. An uncharacteristic nervous feeling fluttered in her stomach, but with a hand on the wrench sitting in her work belt around her waist, she calmed herself. After all, anything could be fixed.

[Zander Bastiaan]

The night before a dive Zander rarely slept well, and having the new girl on board with her pretty eyes and smudged face didn’t help. He ended up leaving his small cabin after trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep for two hours. The rest of the night was spent on the forecastle, looking out over the railing or up at the bright stars overhead. The moon had set before he gave up on sleep and so the sea was dark, only shimmering slightly from the brilliance of the night sky.

As the eastern sky grew rosy and the stars faded into the light of dawn, the stirring of the crew reminded Zander of the day to come. Yawning, he headed down the steps to the middeck and stuck his head in the galley to check on Ai’mithe. She seemed busy finishing up the morning meal, which smelled mouthwatering, so he found his seat at the long table where they dined together for at least one meal a day. Gentry came down and sent Lucas up to take over the helm from the captain who appeared soon after.

“Morning Zander,” the older man greeted him, “Smells like the new cook knows her way ‘round a galley. Should be a good dive-day meal, no?”

Zander nodded in agreement, and the captain patted him hard on the back before taking his own seat across the table. As the girl brought their breakfast out, some of the men looked to Zander with a raised eyebrow, as though asking what the hell were they being fed. The half-mer laughed and snatched a fork out of the bucket in the center of the table, tucking into the food on his plate, making very loud and obvious sounds of approval for the crew’s benefit.

“S’quite good,” he said after swallowing a mouthful of the flavorful fish, “Haven’t had Elvish food since gods know when.”

The men nodded in agreement, now practically devouring the food in near silence since Zander had given his approval of the dish. As the meal was finished, the men lingered around the table, some wandering off to their different morning jobs, a couple of others finding their way below for their own breakfast. Conversation ebbed and flowed, several different discussions going at once.

“Weather looks perfect for the dive this morning,” Gentry said, turning to Zander, “You can almost see the wreckage the water’s so clear today.”

It was always a good sign when you could see the shipwreck below the waves, made it easier for the men to watch Zander and know when to lower the weighted ropes or buckets for him to send up his finds. Maybe they’d find something today just as valuable as the crystal they’d found on the last dive.

“Sounds like the gods are smiling on us,” Zander agreed with Gentry, standing up and beginning to gather the empty plates and dirty utensils and cups from the table, “Ai’mithe, I’d be happy to help you with the dishes. I don’t have anywhere to be for a half hour or so.”

He stacked the plates and carried them into the galley, sliding them into the sink which he filled with hot water from the large pot on the back of the stove. Returning to the table, he smiled at the new cook, who looked exhausted. Had she slept either?

“Breakfast was delicious,” he told her as he put the dirty forks into one of the cups, “Won’t take long to earn their trust with food like that.”

[Mouse]

"I appreciate it." she said as she cast about for the scrubbing brushes and rags she'd put away in the early morning. No truer words could escape her lips. The night had been long and tedious. Though she didn't allow the smile on her lips to waver, every bone in her body felt as if it were going to break down, crumbling to dust within her flesh and she would be just a pile upon the floor. It wasn't as if she were a stranger to hard work or sleepless nights. It was like she was surfacing from a deep abyss too quickly, her body coming released from pressures at dizzying and debilitating speeds. With a sigh, she blinked away the resonance of exhaustion and began to scrub.

"I heard the men earlier," she said, her voice starting out with the smallest hesitation, as if she thought she were treading in unwelcome territory. Who knows what beast could lay behind a dark and foreboding door? "They said something about a dive? I've heard tales of ships that sink beneath the waters to attack merchant vessels in secret, but I thought they had been fae tales from some fiction." Ai laughed nervously as she stumbled through those last words.

Honestly, what would she do were they true?

[Zander Bastiaan]

The girl looked positively exhausted - Zander could see her practically vibrating with the effort of trying to remain standing. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with the need for sleep and it all only made her that much more alluring somehow. The half-mer bit back a smile, his eyes glinting with the same golden flecks that shattered across the surface of the sea they sailed.

His mind was wandering a bit, recalling maps of sea currents, considering what the weather was likely to do, all the things he would need to know for the dive. When Ai’mithe spoke, it took him a moment to process her words, his eyes focusing back on her face instead of his thoughts of the shipwreck on the sea floor below them.

“Ships that sink beneath the waters?” Zander tilted his head to one side, a perplexed yet amused smile curving the corners of his mouth, “Even if those existed - which I’m not sure they do - I couldn’t begin to imagine how it would work or how much it would cost.”

He considered the possibility of such a ship, but wasn’t sure how in the world something like that could work without drowning the crew on board. Perhaps there were other merfolk who had built ships that could submerge in a rare but deadly form of piracy. It did sound like the stuff of fairy tales and dreams.

“No, love, we’ll be staying above the waves today,” he continued, “I’ll be the only one going below the surface. It’s a lovely day for a swim, no?”

Zander looked around the galley as she pulled some rags from a bucket beneath the washtub, and he grabbed a large scrub brush from a hook on the wall behind him, setting it on the butcher block counter beside the girl. A cake of soap was hidden on a window sill across the galley and he snatched it up and tossed it toward the sink with a practiced throw. It landed with a messy splash in the washtub.

“I’ll send one of the cabin boys down for you,” he told her, wiping his hands on his pants, “That way you aren’t stuck with all these dishes. You’ve done quite enough for the morning - I’d wager it’s a lovely morning for a nap.”

With a smile, he excused himself from the galley and headed up the narrow steps to the deck above. The captain nodded toward him as he emerged into the blinding sunlight, gesturing toward the water below. Zander leaned against the railing and looked down to the sparkling surface of the sea, the salty mist refreshing against his face. Gentry was right, the wreckage of the ship was easily visible on the reef below and the mer could almost swear he saw glints of gold and jewels hidden in the coral.

“We’re ready when you are, sir,” Gentry hollered from halfway up the mast. Zander nodded with a crooked grin and peeled off his shirt, kicked off his boots, climbed up on the railing, and with a playful shout dove gracefully into the warm water. As he kicked his feet to propel himself downward he could feel his gills open to filter the water into breathable oxygen. A startled school of fish darted away in a silver glimmer, the water eddying behind them.

As the sailor turned his attention to the wreck below, he slowed his descent, his excitement turning slowly to awe as he realized that the gold and jewels hadn’t been just his imagination. This wreck was vast and had obviously been a very richly appointed vessel carrying a very important cargo.