After the brief fight with the va Cotropla Caravan pirate ships, things smoothed out for the Ekzokia’s travel. Not that anyone aboard expected anything different. When traveling by hungering, any interaction is rare. Or so Renalt and Felazo insist. Alessari has done so twice, and on one of those two journeys she was beset by attackers. And so, while the others only kept alert for a day or so after the attack, her daily routine became the same. Wake up early, before dawn had even begun to lighten the sky. Grab some stale bread and water. Head up the mast. Check the waters around and ahead of the Ekzokia. Once she finds a school of fish, slide back down the mast and try to catch some. Cook a quick and dirty meal of the fish, or from leftovers, for herself and the crew. Head right back up. Check the horizon, keeping an eye on the goings on above deck. Thus far said goings on seem to mostly be Denlo occasionally doing calisthenics and Renalt often sitting and fiddling with his instrument, though others sometimes join them for exercise and conversation respectively. She waits atop the mast, settling into the ropes holding up the sail, and watches the sea move without moving until evening. At that point, she heads back to her hammock and rests. The routine only changed once, for a matter of two hours when they all worked together to move from one hungering through a still and a flow into a different hungering. Then everything returned to the same patterns once more.
Renalt still seems off to her. She may have a slightly skewed opinion of the strange musician due to the forced sleeping incident, but it isn’t just that. She’s watched as, ever since the fight, it is almost as though the musician is also on edge. And she suspects anything that has that man worried is also something to be worried about. One evening, about three days after the fight, she finally decides that safety outweighs pride. Though not enough to be kind with her confrontation. She slides into a corner behind a wooden support pillar below decks to await the musician’s retiring for the evening. As he finally comes down the stairs and around the corner, alone, Alessari quickly grabs him, pulling him in and slamming the human against that same piller she was hiding behind moments before. “What is it?” she asks.
“I told you already,” Renalt replies, “Merely some illicit drugs.” He goes to break the elfish noble’s grasp, but she holds firm. Then the armor begins to heat up and suddenly the musician bursts from her hands.
“That isn’t what I meant,” Alessari counters. Her eyes narrow. “What has you so concerned?”
“That be none of your concern, scion,” Renalt shoots right back.
The pair stare down one another. Both on edge, ready to launch into an actual fight at the drop of a hat. Only instead of a hat dropping, Denlo appears silently. “What’s going on?” he asks coldly. Even without his helmet on, the Elfi’ika has an imposing nature. It might well be terrifying to most people, even. But Alessari is not most people. Alessari turns her gaze back towards the massive, muscular man. She does not react, she does not speak, she does not even turn her body. She merely shifts her glare.
“Our aristocratic ally pulled me aside for an amicable addressing in order to alleviate anxieties, dear Den,” Renalt says to his traveling companion.
Denlo looks at him. The killer’s muscles tense. Then, he relaxes. “Good,” he says, more to Alessari than to Renalt. Then the mass of deadly muscles walks up above deck to stay up the night.
Alessari waits for Denlo to be gone, then sighs. “See, even he’s noticed.”
“I know,” Renalt says, the strange dancing tone he usually has fading from his voice, “Concerning.”
“What is it?” the Elfish noble presses.
Renalt smiles once more. “I mean what I say, and this be none of your concern, watchful warrior of wellbred woes.” Though he does add, “But it is not about that which has you concerned. You should worry not about another assault on our captain’s vessel. It is highly unlikely.”
Alessari just stares the musician down for a second before heading back to her hammock. Because she knows Renalt won’t tell her more. But Denlo is nearly as observant as she is, so he probably has noticed as well. And, hopefully, after hearing her confront the musician, the killer might realize others hold suspicions about the bard’s feelings as well. If Renalt would tell anyone about what’s going on in that strange head of theirs, they would tell Denlo. She hoped that was the case, at least, because none of the rest of them had any chance of getting information out of that man. Doffing her armor, she falls asleep in her hammock.
The next morning, she wakes up and continues to go about her routine. Fastening her armor, she grabs some bread and water for herself and heads above deck before dawn. Scanning the water, she spots a nice cluster of shadows, larger than the one from the day before. A new group of fish rose to the hungering’s surface perhaps? Whatever the reason, she may well be able to catch enough to brine and dry some for jerky later. Because food is supposedly hard to come by in a hungering. Just like encounters. And yet, both seem more common to her than her two well-traveled companions keep insisting them to be. She climbs back down the mast as Sister Hilan clanks up the stairs. “Sari,” she says with a nod and a smile.
“Hilan,” the huntress replies with a nod and smile of her own. They both head towards the bow of the ship. While the pious sister begins her morning prayers, the noble in hiding starts to fish. This school, while large, is also quite powerful. With the right bait and careful, focused, welltimed pulls, Alessari does manage to pull up enough food for the day. Though by the time she finishes doing so, her arms and shoulders are killing her, the sun is already fully above the horizon, and Hilan is well past finished with her morning ritual. Starting a small, controlled fire, she uses that to heat a larger, flat stone. Filleting each of the fish, she sets the thin, cut flesh out along the burning hot rock. They slowly start to sizzle as they cook. She cuts the next and sets it out. And so on. As the longest cooking fish starts to look finished, she removes it from the stone with her knife, setting each of the finished fish into a pile to the side. She doesn’t even have to announce the meal. Felazo comes up with some of the ship’s provisions as Alessari is cooking. He and Hilan serve themselves a portion of each for today’s meal. Only after she finishes her cooking and serves herself a proper meal does she see Renalt and a clearly still asleep Denlo come up onto the deck. Renalt serves himself and starts to eat. Denlo plops a bunch of stuff onto what appears to be a plank of wood, then stumbles back down into the hold to continue his sleep, just now with snacks available. Alessari finishes eating her fill and returns to the mast. Giving a final look in the direction of the bard, who seems more tired than anything else at the moment, she climbs back up the mast to her favorite spot on the Ekzokia.
From the top of the mast, among the ropes and above the sails, she feels almost like she’s back at home. In a tree, listening to the nature around her. No worries but her own. Only nature here isn’t near as talkative as it is back in Ressyta. And her own worries have grown significantly since those days. From her perch, she watches the horizon all around them. Or, she does that some of the time. She should do it more often, but her eyes keep getting drawn back to this group she’s traveling with. A group of suspicious people, all full of secrets. Perhaps, she muses, she should take Felazo up on his offer. She pushes that thought down as best she can, not expelling it entirely from her mind, just suppressing it. After the tomb, she thinks. An ancient tomb isn’t going to be trouble. She smiles a little thinking about it. It would sound ridiculous, but it’s true. What worries her about this particular group is not at all a fight. She’s seen what they are each capable of, and she has the feeling that what she’s seen for most of them has only scratched the surface of how dangerous they can be in a scuffle. What worries her about this particular group is once they are together interacting with normal, civilized society. The rest of them all stand out in a crowd, and most tend to like drawing eyes. Except Denlo, but even he probably will draw some unwanted attention wherever they end up going. And the more eyes that are drawn to them, the more likely one of the people who want her and her family dead will learn she is alive. Will learn how to find her. And that could prove problematic. She glances down. It’s after midday. Felazo, Renalt, and Hilan are down below, talking pleasantly but intensely. Knowing them and their interests, it’s likely a discussion of philosophy or magic. Not that there is much difference between the two when it’s that trio discussing them. Denlo is back on deck, too. He’s in the middle of some kind of workout involving a lot of jumping and in place movement. He seems to always be either working out or sleeping. Nothing new ever happens. As she thinks this, he finishes his exercise and retires back to the hold.
Evening comes and she climbs down the mast. Renalt is not retiring yet, he seems lost in the middle of writing a song of some kind. Felazo is vanished, likely back in his cabin making his next warped creation. And the good sister Hilan is toying with her new strange objects, getting the feel for the small metal ball and the chunk of wood. Without letting the others hear, she slips downstairs. Denlo is stirring in his hammock. As she starts taking off her leathers for her sleep, he awakens and begins to don his. “So,” she asks, turning to face him, “Have you spoken with your friend about his worries yet?”
Denlo looks over at the Elf woman preparing to rest. “I was giving it a day. HIs guard is still up. You know, from when you threw him against a wall.”
“It was a gentle push,” the huntress insists.
Denlo stops putting on his armor for a moment. “I’ve seen gentle. You’re not that.” He returns to his buckles, only to quickly add, “Don’t get me wrong, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But Sister Hilan? She’s strong but gentle. You’re just strong.”
Alessari chuckles. Den is right, after all. “Good luck,” she says.
“Never had any before,” Den replies, “Don’t know why I’d start having any now.” and sliding his masked helmet on to hide his face from all, the killer heads up to the deck. To replace Sari as the lookout. Sari settles into her hammock and once again goes to sleep.
The huntress awakens shortly before dawn. Going above deck, she sees Den still stalking, though his helmet is now under his arm. Denlo nods in Alessari’s direction but does not yet head down to the hold. Alessari climbs up the mast to look out across the waters for any shadows under the waves. She doesn’t see that. Instead, she sees why Denlo has yet to head down to the hammocks. On the northern horizon, just starting to be visible with the subtle easterly glow from the soon to be rising sun, is a thing. The Sea, when one looks at it in the distance, appears to be a relatively flat curve on the horizon. Which means that jagged shape starting to be illuminated in the distance is something else. She drops down out of the mast. “Land?” she says to Denlo, though as much a question hoping for confirmation as it is a statement.
Denlo, without changing his face, nods. “Seems that way,” he replies.
“We should probably wake up the others, right?” she asks.
Denlo’s reply is more than a little concerning to the already slightly paranoid noble. “Hilan should be headed through the door in a few beats. Felazo is awake but working. Felazo is always working. And Renalt will not be needed until we are far closer. Once the Sister has begun her prayers, I shall inform the captain. You should return to your routine, if we are about to fight ghosts, we should fare far better if we are well fed.” And as though perfectly timed with when he finishes his statement, Hilan comes up on deck.
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