Seasick // Open

[Rhys Marhan]

It was a mild beautiful day for Samfain, and Port Caynn rejoiced. For the past week, the city had been plagued with dire weather, and cold, howling winds had played their tricks on man and beast alike, freezing all in their path. Yet the sun had finally broken through the fortress of clouds surrounding the city, bathing it in a warm glow of light. Even the colors of the city seemed brighter, no more the dull grays and browns, but brilliant flashes of green, gold, violet and blue filled the city. Birds sang, dogs scampered down the streets like puppies; it was as if the world was on holiday.

Droves of people flocked from houses and businesses to gaily address this new world, happy for a release from the dreary days spent huddled over fires or bundled away in coats. Peasants and nobles alike fled outside, the warm sun and crystal clear blue sky calling them. In celebration of such a beautiful day, many dressed in their finest, walking in couples or groups around the markets, doing anything they could to take advantage of the Gods’ gift of this one perfect day.

It was these crowds which Rhys Marhan met as he made a leisurely stroll up to the March above the harbor, for nowhere else was the lovely weather as evident. Rhys smiled to himself at all the pent up excitement and energy around him as he wandered amongst the picnickers, lovers, families and all else who had set up on the hillside, thoughts idly drifting through his mind. As he reached the edge of the March, gazing over the cliff towards the blue-green harbor beyond, his smile faded a bit and turned wistful. Looking at the bright white sheets of the sails decorating the harbor and beyond only brought home his longing to be away to sea again, far from the pressures of society and family.

Rhys sat down near the edge with a sigh, thinking back to the dull job which awaited him after the effects of the good weather had worn off. Pulling a meat pastry from his pocket, he cast off his jacket, forming a pillow for his head, caring nothing for the grass stains which would later assuredly earn him a reprimand from the maid. As he gazed up at the clear blue sky, absentmindedly eating his pastry, Rhys contemplated his fate. His father had been strict with his orders that Rhys was to stay in Port Caynn for at least a year with his brother, and Rhys could see no way to escape that obligation unless he was to abandon his family all together, something he was not yet quite prepared to do. “It’s like being homesick, but for the sea…seasick, that’s what I am”. Rhys thought wryly, imagining himself aboard one of the ships in the harbor, preparing to sail away.

A curious seagull suddenly glided into his field of vision, no doubt attracted by the food. Rhys smiled again, the gull bringing back memories of duty in the crows nest, with only the same birds for company. Sitting up, Rhys shredded a bit of the pastry, throwing it to the gull, who immediately dove upon the offering, shrieking its pleasure as he alighted not far from Rhys, cocking his head expectantly at the rest of the pasty. Rhys laughed out loud at this, and was about to throw the rest of the pastry to the bold bird when it hopped backwards and took off with an affronted cry. Rhys watched it go, heart sinking, before turning to glance behind him, glaring at whoever had disturbed this small bit of peace and happiness.

[Cuauhtemoc Scott]

((I hope that you are still hanging around. I was going to reply earlier but...didn't..))

Tem walked with a little bounce in his step. It was almost a warm day, which was as much as one could hope for in this country and he was outside. He was trotting through town in a pair of slightly used boots, which were as close to unseemly as he was permitted to be seen in, with a small brown dog at his heels. The dog had long fur that was carefully groomed and a slightly spoiled manner that led the dog to wander in and out of pedestrian traffic on whims. There was a thin, blue leash that Tem held tightly on one end and tied around the dog’s neck on the other that was used mostly to wind around stranger’s legs or to be tripped over, depending on what the dog was in the mood for. It walked up to ladies’ skirts and sniffed and also bit playfully at gentlemen’s polished shoes.

For the most part, Tem just let it do as it pleased. Occasionally a lady or gentleman would ask, “Aren’t you going to do anything about your dog?” when it got a little too intrusive or inconvenient. Then Tem would just yank on the leash because the dog was not his, it actually belonged to his neighbor, an elderly woman who his uncle often had over for tea. Tem endured these tea sessions out of respect for his uncle, who thought that it was crucial for Tem to get along with at least one of the neighbors. Most of the neighbors thought that Tem was a heathen because they had seen him running around in clothing from his homeland for the first year in Tortall. They forbid their children to speak to him and complained to Uncle Vargos about maintaining the appearance of the area, and even after Tem cleaned up and consented to wearing Tortallan clothing they were still distant at best.

Luckily for Tem and Vargos, the old woman next door was mostly blind so she didn’t see Tem running around the street wearing earrings and feathers when he was young. For all she knew he was, and always had been, an upstanding Tortallan citizen. This was aided by his willingness to take her small dog out for strolls, which was largely out of good will, but also out of selfish interest. Tem never turned down an excuse to wander the city and stretch out his muscles that were stiff from disuse. Sometimes he would let the dog’s leash go, just so he could chase after it when it wandered away. It was very much a legitimate excuse to run. The only downside of the plan was that the dog didn’t really move very fast, it had little legs and it was always stopping to sniff something so Tem didn’t get much of a run out of it.

He walked aimlessly for a while, finally deciding on the March as a good destination. He dragged the dog after him as he headed that direction, it was stopping every few steps to smell or taste and it was maddeningly slow progress so Tem resorted to tugging on the leash. Finally the dog began to get the idea and trotted out in front of Tem, managing to wind its leash around a young couple as it went. Tem had to sort it out while the dog started pulling on the leash, demanding to go faster. With a sigh Tem walked faster after muttering an apology to the couple who he had just freed from the leash, the dog was apparently unable to make up its mind whether it wanted to go slow or fast.

They were on the March now and the dog spotted seagulls, it tugged harder on the leash. Tem walked faster, they were approaching a young man who was feeding the seagull something. The dog lunged forward, causing the gull to take flight. “You are a terrible hunter,” Tem murmured to the dog. “I hope that you never have to fend for yourself. Because you would die. Immediately.” His feelings toward the dog weren’t exactly loving or caring.

He turned to the young man feeding the birds, “Sorry to disturb you,” he said. “For some reason the dog feels the need to improve its hunting skills. So far it has been largely unsuccessful.” Tem watched as the dog sniffed one of the stranger’s feet and then licked it with its little pink tongue.