Crossing The Sea

Participants: Zaferian.jpg

Date: Dec 5
Location: Somewhere on the vast ocean, on route to Eastern.
Synopsis: The sea makes a land dweller's legs wobble and stomach churn, and this is only the beginning.
Rating: Pg13
Logger: Zaferian

A jarring roll of the ship is what first awoke him, sending him sprawling out of the small cot crammed in one of the rear steerage passenger cabins. It was unlike him to be caught unaware by the motion, but it had been his first time on such a long voyage, nay, it had been his first time on a ship this large. The crafts he was used to boarding had been merely skiffs to cross a river by, not this enormous body of water everyone referred to as the sea. The landing had been a bloody wake up indeed, a right foul humiliating one, especially with the others so near.

Had they seen? And if so, would they use it to thwart him later on? He was careless, to let himself fall asleep so deeply in the first place. Blood and ashes!!

Chiding his mistake and feeling the immediate bruising of an elbow which struck the cabin’s wall, he slowly unsorted out his affairs, although it was difficult in the tight conditions, not that he wasn’t used to it. But all the same, the cabin was indeed small, with only enough space for one person to shimmy in and slide onto an available cot - a regular sized person at that, no overweight baker could make it through.

He became frustrated when he took a pause, realizing that he must appear a fool in his attempt at escape from a blanket ensnarement. It was going quite unsuccessfully, the blanket was indeed constricting a bit of his movement alongside the fact that his shoulders were touching wall and bedside. Worming around, his eyes darted to the other cots, to see if the other men who came along with him had been enjoying the spectacle. Fortunately for him, they were better prepared for the unruly tossing of the sea, having put up boards in the frames of their cots, and so yet unaware of his current predicament.

Blasted! So that was what the snickering was about… I should have known when they boarded up the planks on their cots to do the same. Fool. Of all the miscalculated scenarios, I had to go and pick this. One mistake could cost me everything, especially now, outside of protection from those easily persuaded to change sides. Never again!! Dragons will be all but dust before I make another miscalculation!

Finally, the blanket gave way when he flopped like a dead fish a few more times, staggering back up onto his feet as the large merchant ship heaved to the opposite side, tossing him at the bunks. Catching himself this time, he braced his hand up against the rail of the top bunk where a snaggle toothed lout lie snoring blissfully. For now the lout would be allowed to snore his face off, he was after all higher ranked, hard to believe looking at the greasy haired wherry - at least he wasn’t on the same mission with the snaggle-tooth.

Slowly, Zaf’s attention turned toward the door of their cramped quarters, instinctively checking over his tunic and belts for count of his items. Fingers drifted over all the familiar objects of his possession - a mark pouch, the hilt of his knife (commonly used to eat with), his hidden knife sharpened and lengthened to the point of a dagger behind his back, the catgut string commonly used to string guitars with, and the other pouch opposite that of his mark pouch. The second pouch was empty for now but would soon contain small vials of poison remedies, if he required it. There was no point in carrying around evidence which could be damning to one’s public appearance after all.

Satisfied that nothing had been lost to him in the listing of the ship, he wormed his way out toward the corridor, leaving the cramped accommodations behind for a view of what exactly caused him to spill from his cot. More than once along the corridor he was reminded well he was not on solid land, losing his balance and tumbling hard against the walls of the narrow passageway, cursing his fumbling.An infant! I walk as if I were an infant! A normally quick progression for him became slow and miserable. He was not used to being without the control of his own two feet.

Still, a lack of balance was not the only issue he had to contend with right then. He found out first hand what it feels like to have motion sickness, to be ‘sick with the sea’ or ‘sea sick’ as some put it. Vomit would come, though it would be conquered until he reached a garbage or a port hole that would allow him to spill his stomach outside into the very sea that was hindering the ships steady path toward Eastern Weyr. Until then he would fight the urge and push the feeling out of his mind.

It was the topside that he wanted to see and the farther he neared it, the more he could sense of the brewing seas outside. Wind gusted against the stout ship, able to find places in between her planks where it could squeeze through and create a haunting and eerie whistle. The sound of the waves crashing against the haul were loud enough to unsettle him, a nervous tweak of his nose made as he hesitated on the stairs leading up to the deck. The hatch was closed, though water would still pour between the seams from it when the waves spilled over onto the lower decks. The wood all around him was groaning in protest of the storm and for a while as he stood there at the base of the stairs, he wondered if this giant water would batter the ship to pieces. If only he could get a quick reassuring comment from one of the crewmembers. Unlikely, as they were all out there, attempting to beat out the storm with skills of their craft.

The jolt of the vessel under siege by an uncharted storm was the final straw for him, despite his curiosity of making it out onto the deck. He bolted to the nearest room, bursting into a strange cabin with weary eyed travellers suddenly coming out of their slumbers at his untimely arrival. There was no rubbish bin and no port hole he could open to jam his head out of… the girl at the far end of the room was to be his victim of circumstance. A jerk of the ship tossed him her way and before he knew it, what was threatening to heave out of him did, and all over her.

Needless to say, a mark or two was tossed indiscriminately in embarrassment before he scurried out like a beast with a vtol netted in its tail, fast and with a briefest of apologies.

At least the ship didn’t sink but Zaferian’s mood did. He could not clean his clothes in which some of his spewed vomit had crusted upon, nor could he leave his cabin for fear of running into the woman he unfortunately used as a rubbish bin. Luckily, with the bad weather and the lack of food to eat, most of the other men did the same, saying in their bunks, thus making it difficult for them to realize Zaferian meant to stay hidden the rest of the journey…

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