Consistancy
Clang. Clang. Flip. Clang. Clang. Flip.
Whether it's swords or chains or nails, the routine is always the same. Hit twice from one side, flip it, and strike again. There's something beautiful about a routine. Sometimes I can't remember how long I've been here because everything feels like I've been doing it for as long as I've been alive. And I'm sure Sandry would tell me that on some emotional or magical level, that's entirely true.
But the routines from before I came to Winding Circle are still in my fingers. Tying knots is as familiar as making nails. Pulling the lines, tightening the sheets, loading and unloading the cargo… it's still as familiar to me, though I can't imagine being on a ship again. I don't know if I'd want to be on a ship again, come to think of it.
Is this routine better for me? Of course it is. I've found myself able to do something I love every day, and learn newer and greater things about it. Working with Frostpine and knowing Rosethorn and Lark and Niko… how could I ever want more? But sometimes I feel as though every time I embrace my present, a little part of me is denouncing the routines of the past. Briar would understand, if no one else. Sometimes we can see when his inherent respectability makes him wince. He needs to keep track of the gangs in Summersea and have friendships with disreputable people. It reminds him that he's no better than them.
Tris and Sandry seem to have left their old lives behind, moving forward with occasional pulls into the past--like when the pirates attacked, or when Sandry visits the Duke. They're very much in the present.
And where am I? I'd like to be in the present. Or maybe even the future. But all that matters are my routines. Keep hitting the metal twice before flipping it. No matter if I'm here or in Namorn, where Frostpine wants to go next.