The ship's crew was in mourning. Their captain was dead, and some of their close friends had mutinied. Those who had been caught either died in their capture or were sitting in the gaol.
Jock, who had been found unconscious by the mess hall, wasn't taking it all to well. He blamed himself for not being there for me or Luis .
Jock's training lessons had been getting shorter, as he was needed more and more. The lack of crew has meant the remaining members have been given multiple jobs, all time consuming.
In the few times that we were able to train, Jock spoke little about the attack and I don't pester him for answers. When we do have conversation, it usually involves training, my art or Jocks work.
I turn towards the mess hall, fully outfitted for my training when a burly man shoves past me. Not being very big myself, and him being nearly twice my size, he easily throws me off balance and I land on my butt with a slight 'oof'.
"Hey!" I cry out in indignation. The man throws a hurried apology back to me and continues on his way, not even slowing. I stand up, huffing irritably and continue towards the dining room, glaring at the ground.
"What has the ground done to raise your ire, good woman?" I whip my head up to see Jock leaning against the wall next to the mess hall door. His face features a cocky grin which only serves to make me grumpier.
"Someone shoved me over. Asshole." I say, knowing exactly how childish I sound. Screw it! I've been here for nearly 2 weeks and there has been NO sign of home. I think I'm allowed to be childish if I so wish!
"No need for such foul language. We're going to be landing soon, he was probably running off for some 'alone time'"
"Why would he need to be alone?"
"Most of the men here haven't seen a woman in a long time. They get lonely. Isabella's commissioned everyone a few hours a week."
" Why would being alone help with loneliness?"
"Well... They, uh... Read...? Letters. From their... Families. Yeah... Anyway, we'll port in Ferelden in a few hours."
"Hours?" I ask bewildered.
"Yes. We will be landing at Gwaren I believe."
Ok. Ok, that's easy, I just have to finish my artbook. And get some coin. And pray to whatever gods there are that I don't die straight away. Oh god, this is too soon! I'm not ready!
'Pull yourself together woman! This is not the time.'
But I'm not ready! There are bandits and wolves and, and... People.
'This was always going to happen, and I think that now is the best time to leave. Have you not noticed the looks from the crew? I see through the same eyes you do, and do not ignore. They do not trust anymore.'
Ok then, but what of coin? And equipment?
'Do what you can, within reason. We can sell what we don't need, and use their armour and weapons.'
I'm not about to steal from these people! Ignoring the fact that they would FIND OUT, I respect these men and women. They don't deserve that.
'I never said steal from them. Offer a service. We may well be able to acquire coin as well. Jock seems overworked, no? He will welcome a reprieve from his toils.'
I... Guess you're right.
Focussing back on the real world, I notice Jock standing awkwardly and realise we must have been standing in silence for at least a minute.
"Oh sorry, I was... Uh... Thinking. Do you think that I could, work. Here. I mean, as a favour to you. When I leave this ship, I'll need... Coin."
"I guess. I get 10 sovereign for this trip and am contracted for the trip back to Orlais... If you were to help with a few of my jobs I could give you 5 sovereign. Just... As a favour."
"5 sovereign!? I couldn't accept that much!"
"It wouldn't be a bother. I don't need 20 pieces."
I realise that I'm biting my lip and quickly stop. I do need the money, but so does he... I don't know.
Ritta? What should I do?
'Take it. You need it more than he does. And you ARE going to be need it if you plan to fight with the wardens.'
"I guess... I'll accept your offer, though I will pay it back."
Jock smiles warmly at me and nods.
"Shall we?" I gesture to the door.
"We shall." He walks through the door and holds it open for me. I stride through, seeing that the tables have already been moved leaving a patch of clear ground in the middle, and a path to get there from both the entryway and the door which leads to the kitchens.
We walk side by side into the patch, then move to face each other. A few steps back, and I pull my weapons out. The weapons that seemed perfect to begin with, but now are an extension of my person .
We wait for a moment, then he lunges, and I block, lashing out a kick. He swipes his dagger down to my leg, I swipe out with both blades, one aimed at his, and the other toward his neck.
I push his blade out of the way, and gently poke him in the neck.
We pull back into our starting positions. I lunge.
Our dance of flashing blades gains momentum, and with each battle the opposition is stronger. I let my fury and sadness for my lost home fuel my fight. My anger and grief for what I know must come. I feel every emotion flow through me, and I let them go.
ooOoo
After about an hour of full out fighting, we both collapse onto a bench. Breathing heavily, I smile sadly at him. This would be our last trainong lesson.
"So, what work will we be doing, eh?" I huff at him.
"What? Oh, yes. I believe we'll be cleaning the top deck. And by we, I mean you. I will oversee, and look pretty."
"Is that even possible for you? Try not to injure yourself."
"I think you're just jealous!"
"I'm not jealous!" I laugh at him.
"Or crazy. You'd have to be to resist these charms." He pouts at me, and I am inexcusably reminded of Beautiful Squidward. I laugh until I can't breathe then look him straight in the eye, barely controlling my mirth.
"Me? Crazy? I should get off my unicorn and slap you!" We both burst out laughing, not stopping, until one of the older crew walks in, Roderick, and we both behave as if we're sensible adults.
'Why was my body trusted to the likes of you?' Ritta's voice echoes in the back of my mind.
Jock leads me up to the deckdeck, and we begin cleaning. True to his claim, Jock barely does anything except giving me pointers on how exactly to get the dirt out from between the planks. Or what I hope is just dirt.
I shudder as I work another chunk out.
Once the deck is clean, to Jocks standards, I stand and look over, out to sea. I see the vague outline of land, which I'm guessing is Ferelden, and turn to Jock.
"I thought we would be closer. You said we would be docking soon."
"Swift currents and strong wind, a sailors friend. Though I didn't say docking, just landing. Isabella says it'll be too dangerous to dock so late in the day. We'll be mooring in a secluded spot further up the beach. We'll dock at Gwaren in the morning."
"Will you need my help for anything else?"
"Nah. I'm done for today."
" You sure?" He nods.
"I'll be paid tomorrow, when we dock. I'll give you your money then. Thank you."
"Well I best be finishing my book then."
"You think Isabella will take it?"
"What else can I believe." I twirl, and walk back to my room.
I'll spend the next half hour focussing on that, I tell myself firmly, just a page left. I hesitantly rip out the last 2 pages. One has 11 neat notches, and the other is blank. I pull out a pencil and write;
"Pay Jock back 5 sovereign"
My own little quest log. A little smile dances across my lips.
I fold both pages unto themselves and place them in my bag. I place the stuff that I brought in the bag too. The gum had long since disappeared, but the panadol I was keeping for later. My wallet was untouched, as well as the keys, which I kept just in case. My phone and iPod, which were turned off to save their battery, are placed into the bag. The writing pad is still in the bag, as well as some of my stationery.
My pastels, colouring pencils and greyleads were spread out on the desk. The artbook sat in the middle, opened to the last page. The empty last page. The annoying blank sheet of paper.
I'm stuck. Nothing has ever stumped me as much as this. I know I could just rip it out, but... I don't know. It just doesn't seem honest.
'Why not draw something sentimental? How good are you at portraits?'
I haven't done any in a while. Though when we did the segment on Facial Portraits during my Art lessons, the teacher said I did very well.
'Then try.'
I start drawing. A straight nose emerges from the lines and squiggles, followed by sharp eyes. Thin lips are penned in, as well as a set jaw.
I lean back and look at the image. It feels incomplete. I doodle in a wide-brimmed hat with a few feathers attached.
Perfect.
Isabella may not have loved him, but I'm sure she won't look through it when I lob it at her.
I glance out the porthole and see the setting sun. How long was I drawing?
I leave and lock my door, setting off towards the mess hall to find Jock. Moving past the stairs leading up to the deck, I spot Isabella leaning against the far wall.
What is it with sailors and leaning on everything?
I look down, respectfully striding past her.
She snags my shoulder.
I stare up into her eyes, trying to discern her intentions. I narrow my own as none present themselves.
"I've been meaning to speak with you. Will you be leaving tomorrow, when we are docked in Gwaren?"
"Yes. Though I don't know about my payment. Me and Luis had an arangment."
"Yes. I know about your little drawings. I also know he intended to give you that armour, and your weapons, when you were to leave. I will honour your deal. Consider them yours, and that artbook mine. I assume you've finished it? Good. I'll take it tomorrow then."
She departs without another word, leaving me flustered.
'That went better than expected.'
What's her game?
'You did have a prior deal. From what I've seen from your memories Isabella is honourable, for ack of a better term. Though she would loathe to admit it herself.'
I told you to stay out of there! Why must you ignore even the simplest of requests?
'Your life before was very interesting. Though, one thing I have noticed, is the lack of a name. To be more precise, your name.'
What are you talking about? My name's Nes- no. That's not my name. My name's... I don't know. I can't remember.
'Strange. Maybe it was... Taken, when you came here.'
I forgot my own name! What is wrong with me!
'Stop this. Why must you fall whenever hit with strife? Fight now, mourn later.'
I don't fall! At least you know your name.
'But not my body. Your prolonged stay has changed me. Come, before people notice us.'
Once again finding myself standing silently in the middle of the hall, I make a mental note to multitask whilst speaking with Ritta.
Opening the mess hall doors, I notice the tables have been moved back into their positions. I look across the room, finding no sign of Jock, I decide to ask one of the other seamen.
Hehe.
I walk up to a table seating 3 men. Speaking to the one closest to me, I ask when we will land.
"Girly, we landed ages ago. You need to pay more attention to yer surroundings. Especially if yer gonna be going into these here dog-lord lands."
"Oi! I come from Ferelden, mind yer words!"
"Really Cas'? I thought you hailed from Antiva. You certainly have shown a few ladies."
"Um, excuse me?" I squeak but am fully ignored by the men who are arguing about Antivan positions. They seem very ecstatic about their duels.
'You are quite clueless, aren't you?'
Pardon?
'Oh, nothing. Just keep doing what you're doing'
I grab a tray from one of the 'waiters' and sit down to eat.
Afterwards I pass the tray back to the kitchen hands.
Re-entering my room, I lock the door and begin cleaning up my pencils and pastels. Carefully placing both of the metal packs back into my bag, leaving only my artbook out on the desk. I grab the bundle of my modern clothes which I've kept under my thin matress and place it on top, flipping and latching my bag closed.
I take off my chunky, sweaty armour and quickly run the damp cloth over my body. I begin the cleaning of my armour and weapons. I sincerely hope no one knocks on the door, as I sit there in my underwear sharpening my blade.
After everything has been cleaned and taken care of, I carefully place my armour near the door. The putting on and taking off of the armour alone proved to be an exceptional chore, as hopping around with one boot on, one boot off with my chestplate hanging open usually ended with me landing face-first into the ground. Fun times all round.
I wash my underclothes in the remaining water, then leave it to dry. Crawling under the thick blankets, I feel my heavy eyelids drop as I think about tomorrow, and the events that are racing to wards me, whether I like it or not.
ooOoo
-FMI
