ꙮ There are any number of small promontories and overlooks in and around Ripple - rooves of houses, rocky outcroppings, that watch-point Aurelius and Salme found. Something a little like the everpresent groves found in the larger settlements in Almachadta, really. If the forest is what you know, you want to be able to go somewhere, and see the forest - it’s just easier to go somewhere from which point you can see the Sea. It’s in every single direction, after all.
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- Aurelius
- The Awoken
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#wolf
#silver-throat
has picked, for his part, a small dock not far from the inn that is housing them for the duration. Not the larger dock of the Glass Ship they came on, but a humble little out-stretching of wood from the island’s stony shore, jutting perhaps ten feet out into the water. Just enough that, if he sits on the end with his boots dangling off, all he can see is the ocean, stretching out in front of him, endless and ever-changing. His eyes are heavy-lidded as they look out on the ceaselessly-undulating expanse of water–not drowsy, just deeply…satiated.
ꙮ Almachadta’s got lakes, but you can always - definitionally, due to the world’s curvature, see the other side. The sea of Samudra goes on forever, and it’s so easy- without anything in your peripheral vision, particularly- to just… be lost in it, listening to the sound of the wind over the water, listening to the waves crash against the docks and the shore, even the gentle Ripple-sounds, laughing pups, dock-work winding down at the end of the day, all folding into, part of, indistinguishable from in a way that matters, feeding into and constantly pouring forth from the world’s Song.
basks in it–not losing himself in it, keeping himself anchored to the five-and-change tones that are becoming as omnipresent to him as Almachadta’s worldsong was for so many years–but he breathes deep of air saturated with salt-spray and the thousand rich scents of matter soaked in water, and rumble-hums a soft little wandering tune to the rhythm of the ceaseless waves. His gaze, briefly, tilts up towards the cloud-shrouded sky. “Am I so interesting,” he murmurs, “that even my relaxation must have commentary?”
ꙮ Well, in another world, if things were different, there might have been a Monster, instead of a Wolf-Priest. A monster is an omen, a herald, a thing which is to be observed. Are you not listening for your five-and-change tones? Certainly, you understand the appeal. Everyone is someone who has never existed, before the moment in which they become, but not everyone is doing a thing which has never, before, been done.
ꙮ Anyways, something interesting might be about to happen. Or, perhaps, not. Don’t mind me.
gives a brief, baffled look up at the sky. Just…slow blinks, with a flat expression, like one might give a particularly interesting bug. Or a slightly, if amusingly, impertinent child. Somewhere between amused, bemused, and perturbed. Finishing off, of course, with a slow eye roll as his gaze returns to the sea. “Oh, surely not…”
returns to deep breathing, the sound of waves…only to sigh, not that much later, making a grumbling, resigned noise. Well? Now that you’ve teased me.
ꙮ I never guaranteed that something interesting would happen- ⁂
is humming something, her voice pitched to carry, and you can hear her long before she’s even made it to the pier Wolf’s sitting on.
stifles an entirely undignified and un-yeresh-ly yelp and scrambles up to his feet. He just barely manages to assume a somewhat more appropriate pose for meeting an honored elder than “dangling one’s feet off the dock and talking to thin air”–standing with his forearms clasped behind his back and looking out at the sea with what he hopes is a nonchalant poise–before she comes within sight. ⁂
turns calmly at her approach, and greets her with a perfectly appropriate bow. “Madam! A pleasure.” Entirely internally, resisting the urge to let his gaze flicker up at the sky: You. Saw. Nothing. 🙧
ꙮ Nothing whatsoever.
returns the bow- and it’s definitely not the bow Wolf would have, himself, given a yeresh unknown to him to acknowledge a peer, or at least a fellow-traveler, but it’s immediately -legible- to him. “Do you mind if I join you? I saw Ksenija off, and there’ll be dancing later, and the Sea is a comfort.”
half-bows, half-nods, and sweeps his arm to indicate the empty space beside him. “Of course.” His smile is just faintly sheepish. “It’s the least I can do, after you indulged my…rashness…earlier.”
crosses the rest of the dock, kicks off her shoes, and sits down on the dock to dangle her footpaws out over the water, just like Wolf’d been doing. “Well. I certainly hadn’t been expecting that pup to bring me a new crew member from wherever in the Vast he’d sung himself off to, but he seems to have done.”
: “What’s your -name-, anyway?”
looks down at the elder Kushtaka, clearly has a brief war with his own sense of dignity–and then the principle of “the elder sets the tone” overrides dignity and he lowers himself down to the way he’d been sitting just moments before. “Ah, forgive me–I am called Wolf, ma’am. And it is a pleasure to meet you.” He smiles again, wryly, finding his gaze pulled out towards the sea again. “Would that I could stay with the ship. It was a…glorious experience.” A small grimace. “But my own duty calls me elsewhere, I fear.”
glances, sidelong, appraisingly. “Wolf.” Tilts her head to one side, and smiles. “They have wolves on the… ‘tower’ he found you? I grew up with songs about them. Always liked the thought of meeting one.”
glances over at Silver-Throat sharply, studying her for a moment, then smiles. “Yes. I am from very far away, I fear, so please forgive me if my manners and speech are strange.” And again, as always, his eyes go back out to the sea. “For my part, I never thought to skim the waves in a ship of glass.” Another look at Silver-Throat, this one more careful and curious. “It must be very dangerous.”
glances back, casually. “Only if you don’t know what you’re doing. My compliments to that which taught you how to sing.” A pause. “Every new crew member, no matter how brief their tenure, teaches some new harmonies. Yours were striking indeed. It’s a pity your duties carry you elsewhere.”
laughs softly. “Well, I was taught in turn, and taught well. I shall not soon forget that ride.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I am simply grateful that I did not upset the balance of your work. It is no excuse but…it was simply…” He scrubs at his face with a hand. “I have always loved the songs of the sea.”
: “Long loved, and yet not…hoped for, to sing them so truly…” He chews his lower lip a little, cutting the flow of words a little short.
tilts her head, a little. She’d been about to say something, some banter or repartee, and instead she’s thoughtful, for a moment. “…well. -I’m- grateful that you got to sing the waves with my crew.” Another beat of silence. “And, for what it’s worth, I can make the bubble go opaque any time I want to. Lovely Academy stillwork. Which is to say, you didn’t upset anyone’s fishcart.”
: “Ah, well.” A bit of a chagrined smile, and he rubs the back of his head. “Still, one is glad you didn’t have to.” Another smile, this one softer, warmer. “I can see why Archie worked so desperately to get home.”
returns the smile. “And I can see that he was in safe company.” She looks out, into the waves, breathing in the sea-air with a smile, whiskers twitching. “Tell me what it’s like. I can’t abide the thought that there’s a corner of the seas I haven’t seen.”
: “What it’s like?” A long pause, and a long look out onto the waves. “Oh, I suppose, it’s…it’s…” He sighs, then, and smiles wryly, and pushes back his hair from his face, and looks out at the sea–but his eyes are unfocused, seeing something far, far away. “It’s beautiful. A land of song, though our songs are very different. Wild and untamed. It seemed so vast to me, once, but now I begin to see that my home is a small part of a wide, wide world, beyond my reckoning.” Softly, wistfully. “And amidst it all, a people. Beacons of light and life…” He flushes, clears his throat. “I fear I am not doing a good job describing…”
turns to watch Wolf, watch his face, listen to the intonation in his voice as much as to the words that he’s saying, her eyes half-closed. Finally, and a little wryly: “Wolf, whatever else you are, and I’m very interested in the answer to that question, I know you’re a storyteller. Best not sell yourself short.” And then: “It does sound beautiful. I should like to visit, some day. As for me…” -she gestures, towards the sea. “If you go far enough south, the sea stops making sense.” Rummages around, until she finds one of many necklaces. Holds it up - on it, a piece of crystal that looks like it’s pouring itself out into itself, looks like a half-twist loop in three dimensions. She smiles, conspiratorially, and tucks it back in, carefully, hidden from casual view. “Only a few of those in the world at any time. I’ve been there, I’ve seen it. And I thought that was the most wondrous thing I’d see in my days. It’s -very- exciting to have been mistaken, don’t you think?”
: “The sea stops making sense?” His gaze re-focuses, and for just a moment his green-gold eyes are that of his namesake; a hunter that’s found a scent that might lead his steps. He looks at the crystal, though, and his face softens, and he smiles–though there’s something more alert about him, than there was before. “Aye. That there is. I once thought that I’d seen all the world had to offer.” Then, a grin, delighted and only slightly fang-y. “It was a wonder to be wrong. There’s so much of the world, and I shall never know it all.” His tone is pure…joy. He laughs then, and in his laugh is the sound of the sea on stone…and the sound of wind in the leaves. He stands, and for a moment it looks like he might leap into the air, but just a bit of the yeresh-ly dignity prevails. “Madam, you said there would be dancing? I think…that I would very much enjoy learning a new step.” He gives a merry, full-faced grin. “If I might prevail on you to teach me?”
beams, gets to her feet and back into her shoes with alacrity and grace in equal measure, glances back Ripplewards. “The Glass Ships are coming in and the light’s going dim, Wolf, there’ll always be dancing. It’d be a pleasure. Although if the voyage here was any indication, I feel like you’ll end up teaching me a new step or two as well.”
gives his best, sweeping, yeresh bow, and then holds out his hand to Silver-Throat with a charming grin. “Madam, I shall do my level best.” The grin turns cheeky. “And my best, I promise you…is very good.”