[Zozeko]

Layla had nagged him for a week straight. Zahrah had stared at him with accusatory eyes while Rasha bawled and Nuri hid behind his mother's silk-clad legs. The only one who had not attempted to make him feel guilt for not returning to the family household sooner was the older son, and then only because Malik squandered their shore leave on childish games as far away from Zozeko as he could get.

Still, it was only a week of his life and he could consider his paternal duties complete. He had taken care of as much zubaidin business as he could manage in such a short time, checked over Layla's own dealings to be sure she was still faithful and trustworthy, and managed to dodge most of Atuf's requests for a true homecoming without, he felt, endangering their status quo.

He was now standing on a wooden dock in Marport, preparing to bid his family farewell. Nuri had finally come out from behind the shield of his mother and sisters to cling to Zozeko's boot as if he had not wasted a full week hiding. “Let go, boy. Your sisters have spoiled you. You cannot call yourself a man if you cower and cling,” he chastised in Zanaryan. The youngest of his children were sadly more comfortable speaking Elysian than their native tongue, hence his refusal to use anything but Zanaryan.

The young boy burst into tears and was scooped up into Zahrah's arms to be shushed. She herself was little more than a child, yet the glare she gave him matched her mother's and her aunt's. Zozeko's eyebrows drew together and the stars dangling from his wing-claws jingled as he repostured. “Wife, do not teach your daughter such things. How will we ever find a husband for her if her face is ruined by these scowls?” All three women huffed; Zahrah began to retaliate but was shushed by her mother's gentle hand on her arm. “Women are so free here.” He sniffed in disdain but said no more on the subject — mostly because Malik chose then to sandwich himself between them so he could rub noses first with Nuri and then with Rasha. As the boy turned to hug his Aunt Nasira, Zozeko's attention was drawn by the thud of a sack falling onto the dock.

“'Urry up, Zeko, cap'n wants to get off. C'mon, lad, Luc's lookin' fer ya.” Malik waved to acknowledge the veiled command, scooped his mother and baby Rasha into another hug, and dashed off up the ramp. Zozeko lingered on the dock to collect Hodge Podge from Nuri's pocket.

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[Faris]

"Set sail for Espur t'day? Nawh, too lil' cargo to make it worthwhile. Ask again in a week."

"I see. Do you happen to know of any vessels that are leaving for Espur today then?"

The Darcovian answered negative, and Faris resisted the urge to sigh. This was the twelfth rejection he had received since asking around the docks this morning. Tiring business it was, walking up and down the docks, occasionally onto the deck and then back down to the landing (because the captain was hard-of-hearing and he didn't want to shout). He could feel the cream-coloured material of his tunic clinging to his skin, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck. Guess it's time for a haircut... The lack of clouds in the sky weren't helping matters. Though the presence of dark clouds would have been much worse; any sign of an impending storm and the chances of him getting back to Espur on time would be whittled down to nil.

Sexy Vixen, the fishing vessel Faris had been hired by, had docked into Marport the night before for offloading. Despite the excellent haul, of perhaps because of it (they did spend a whole month at sea without docking), the vessel was pretty roughed up. With the Sexy Vixen down for repairs, all of the deckhands, Faris included, were released two days early from service. Which was part of the problem. The Sexy Vixen was supposed to drop him along with a few others off at Espur before heading over to Marport, but this time around they had headed straight for Marport instead. The condition of the Dori worried its captain, who had feared of skirmishs with pirates and sea-beasts should usual detour have been followed.

With no say in the matter, Faris was now stranded in Marport. Had this been during another time of the year Faris would not have minded, he was no stranger to Marport and didn't mind staying in the Dardanos port for a week or so. Right now though, he was pressed for time. In five days an Espurian vessel was to set sail, and according to the contract pinned in his Espurian home and memorized in his head, Faris was supposed to be on it when it headed for the Ao Sea. So here he was on the docks of Marport's habour, trident in hand, attempting to find a ride back to Espur.

Spotting some activity in the distance, Faris decided to skip a few vessels and head directly toward a small vessel which had its sails unfurled. If he was lucky, they were rigging up the vessel for sail. Faris approached the Zanaryan, whom he assumed to be part of the crew asking, "Excuse me, is this vessel setting sail today? I'm looking for a ride back to Espur."

It was spoken in Zanaryan, naturally. He never missed a chance to speak in his native tongue. Faris missed its melodious tone; to him Elysian was as a whole, clunky and unrefined in comparison.

[Zozeko]

Zozeko resisted the urge to shudder when the rasuli bat's tiny claws dug into his palm and tickled all the way up his arm, under the sleeve of his loose white shirt (it was too warm in Marport to wear his jacket despite the late season, thanks to those damnable volcanoes spewing their filth) to poke out of his collar and scurry under the tail of his braided hair. Hodge usually roosted in his jacket pocket and disliked the sunlight, but he had learned not to so much as try to hide in the folds of Zozeko's clothing for fear of being sat on — or worse.

“Excuse me, is this vessel setting sail today?”

Zozeko turned from his youngest son, almost stumbling when Nuri threw small arms about his knee-high boots once again. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, both at being disturbed now that he had been ordered aboardship, and because he would now have to chastise his boy a second time. The Zanaryan, however, was a welcome sound, though the strength of the scent coming from the man — previously hidden by that of his family — suggested he was still young.

“Indeed,” he acknowledged with a business smile, his wings jangling as he flexed them. He automatically searched the stranger head to toe for House marks and signs of his wealth and status, but the rings and painted fingernails told him nothing useful. “We do not often take passengers aboard the Artega,” he lied, “but—” He paused mid-sentence as Nuri was dragged off him by Narisa's slender arms. He lifted a hand as goodbye when she muttered a brief farewell and left ahead of the others for fear of Nuri's crying drawing unwanted attention.

“— but I am quite sure we can accommodate your needs.” He made certain to inflect his words with the trouble the Zanaryan would cause them; perhaps they could charge more for his passage if he thought they were doing him a favour.

Lifting a hand to draw the attention of either Keegan or Cale as they stacked sacks of supplies on deck ready to be carried down to the cargo hold, he inclined his head. “Would you like to speak to the captain?” He eyed the trident with curiosity and a small amount of suspicion. It would not be the first time they had transported armed hunters and warriors, but Zozeko was not completely certain what response the weapon, which was unusual in Elysia, would receive.

“We will take our leave, then, my husband.” Layla's words drew his attention briefly back to her, and he gave her the obligatory peck on the forehead as farewell. There was affection in the quick embrace that followed, but she soon turned away and took their children with nary a look back.

Zozeko afforded another polite smile to the stranger and climbed aboard, gesturing for the man to follow. In Elysian, he proclaimed to the Therian stepping down from the aftcastle, “Captain, I believe we have a guest.”

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[Faris]

Originally intending to find out more about the Zanaryan's background, Faris was eventually distracted from his analysis by the family interaction playing out before him. No matter, it was unlikely for him to have any further contact with this family. Instead, he looked on with quiet amusement, thinking of his own family. The family dynamics were vastly different of course - not even the youngest of House Saab would be this effusive while in public. Still, it made him a little wistful. Perhaps I should - no, not yet; I haven't even achieved anything. Except he didn't have any idea what he was supposed or wanted to accomplish in Elysia. Bluntly put, it was all a bit of a whim. With some degree of consideration yes, but it was undeniable that his immgration to Elysia was a whim.

Subtle twinge of homesickness aside, Faris didn't miss the tone in the adult Zanaryan's voice; was that an emphasis on 'needs' he heard? Anyhow, Faris had come mentally prepared. And somewhat financially prepared as well. There had been a bit of a bonus given by the Sexy Vixen's captain yesterday. Hopefully it would be more than enough to the cost of this journey. (It would take 2days maximum to ferry him to Espur after all.) Faris didn't expect passage to Espur to come cheap and he really was in need. He did hope that his gracious chauffeurs wouldn't try to rip him off too badly though. Zanaryans needing to stick together, look out for each other and all that.

“Would you like to speak to the captain?”
So it was with mild surprise and growing apprehension that Faris reacted with, when the greyish-haired Zanaryan gestured for him to speak with the captain. Faris had assumed, with the man's confident bearings and assertive attitude, that he was the captain. First mate then...? Regardless, Faris nodded wordlessly and followed him up, schooling his face into default blandness as he tread lightly on deck.

“Captain, I believe we have a guest.”
Faris was glad that he hadn't followed the Zanaryan too closely, for it gave him a few seconds more to determine exactly where he ought to stand. Faris came to a stop about half a step behind and somewhat towards the side of his fellow Zanaryan. He would've stopped further away if he could, but it was a case of "damned if you do, damned if you don't". He slackened slightly his grip on the black shaft of his trident, unwinding his body subtly with careful control. Giving a half-bow to the Therian captain, Faris introduced himself in Elysian, even while repatedly intoning, may his olfactory faculties, by some miracle, be faulty in his head.

"Greetings; I am Faris Alsyad-al'Espur, a fisherman seeking passage to Espur." Even to himself the introduction sounded a bit monotonous, and Faris had to carefully keep his facial muscles relaxed in a bid to stop a frown from forming.

[Zozeko]

ooc// Let me know if this is too much and I'll cut it down. ^^

Zozeko by himself was enough to disturb the sensitive noses aboard the Artega, and the Therians tended to give him a much wider berth when Malik was nearby. Spending a week with his family and young children had left a lingering scent on him that he rather found appealing, but that would no doubt offend his shipmates' noses even more. Standing so close with another young Zanaryan was enough to have Sebastian's top lip drawing back in a helpless snarl even as he attempted to paste on a business smile.

Yes, Zozeko would no doubt spend most of this trip acting as liaison and servant, damn it. He wondered what Luc would demand in exchange for temporarily switching Malik's duties...

Curled lips and frown aside, Sebastian proferred his hand and welcomed the fisherman aboard. “Pardon me.” He gestured vaguely at his nose and sniffled. “We mean no offense, just most of us are Therian so...” As if on cue, Keegan and Cale thudded to the deck from their stacks of sacks and moved to flank the captain on either side, both of them frowning. “Sensitive noses, you understand.” The Artega's captain was one of few Elysians who was genuinely accepting of Zanaryans and who insisted that his crew be the same (to varying degrees of success). Nevertheless, it was almost certain that those same crew would be sleeping on deck for the entirety of Faris' stay (well, they could not very well insist that a guest sleep under the stars, could they?), and if Zozeko had not known them better, he would have taken offense himself at the looks on their faces.

“We are setting off as planned, Captain?” When Sebastian nodded, Zozeko inclined his head. “Shall I take care of the details?” It would not do to lose a passenger due to misunderstandings. Sebatian usually left trade negotiations to him, anyway.

“Aye. Welcome aboard, Mister Alsyad.” Years of working with a Zanaryan, and he still got it wrong. “Cale, Kee, we got everything? Then stash 'em below. And get the lad to bring us a cuppa, eh?” "The lad", Zozeko's son, would surely hiss and spit at the menial chore, and Zozeko could not help a small smirk at the thought. Layla had been correct in thinking the discipline aboard the ship would help, though it did seem to be taking far longer than expected to knock some manners into him...

Turning to Faris ibn Alsyad as the trio of Therians separated to their individual posts, Zozeko spoke in Zanaryan. “I am Azat Djinn Zozeko'Harith ibn Nihim al-Khayridji aal-Marport.” He found it unusual that Faris had given as little information about himself as possible when he introduced himself. If Zozeko had not been there, fine; Elysians would not know the difference anyway. Perhaps now they could exchange their proper names. “You are our only passenger for this trip. The fee will be two hundred xanthai.” They were open to negotiations, so he started high, with a proviso: “If you cannot afford such, you could work it off. You say fisherman? Fresh supplies would be nice,” he pondered, “or you could help Cale in the rigging.” Such would save Zozeko having to climb up and down all day. “Of course, if we run into trouble, I could always use help on deck. I usually manage by myself, you understand, but fending off pirates and kraken would be much easier with the two of us.” That, of course, depended entirely upon Faris' skill with his element — assuming he had sworn his allegiance in the first place.

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[Faris]

“Aye. Welcome aboard, Mister Alsyad.”

Faris gave a slight nod in reply without any change in expression. There were worse names to go by than an innocent "Mr. House-of-Fisherman". The title did do a vaguely concise, not exactly eloquent or accurate, job of summing up the Zanaryan named "Faris", so he was content to let the misnomer slide. Especially when it implied that the captain wasn't too concerned with Zanaryans. Faris placed little emphasis on names, something he picked up after coming to Elysia. That which Elysians called Foxlight, by any other name would be just as lethal to hydras.

Most other Zanaryans however, were a bit more particular about such things. That was evident, when his negotiator introduced himself in the traditionally correct manner after the captain and his two glowering lackeys left. While "Azat Djinn Zozeko'Harith ibn Nihim al-Khayridji aal-Marport” was missing enough elements to not qualify as a full name, the string of Zanaryan without a doubt more formal, and informative, than what Faris has said earlier.

Ironically, Faris would have felt more at ease revealing his full name to the indifferent captain who didn't even have to courtesy of stating his own than name. A fellow Zanaryan who offered a full name instead of following his lead of a short one... Was interested in his background. This was not unusual by any means; Azat Zozeko would be responsible whatever consequences that resulted from bringing a Zanaryan stranger on board a non-Zanaryan vessel. (Thankfully the trip would be short.) Nevertheless, Faris was wary.

Ahh, he was frowning again; Faris was never quite able to wipe all traces of emotion from his face. While the positive ones like excitment were easy and he was always monitoring himself for any excess expression of negative emotions, the more neutral ones, like hesitation and pensiveness, often slipped past his control. He did a good enough job most of the time to hide his thoughts from most people. Unfortunately his family was not 'most people'. The lack of mastery over his own body was something his parents often chided him about. Amongst other percieved failings.

Azat Zozeko had opened the negotiations without delibrately pausing after introducing himself. It gave Faris the option of not replying in kind and instead going straight into the bargaining phase of things. It was kind of Azat Zozeko to do so; but Faris gave what he hoped was a satisfactory introduction anyway. "... ...And I am Azat Marid Faris'Alsyad ibn Farouk..al-Sayaag aal-Espur". The last part was not necessary, but Faris tacked it on regardless to match Azat Zozeko's greeting. Faris felt a little uncomfortable mixing his birth name and alias together like this, the result a mocking parody of the contradictions in his own mind. Shifting his body a little to match the swaying vessel and let out a bit of the unease building up within, Faris begun to bargain. "Sixty xanthai." He had more than that of course, but there was no point paying the full amount when one could work the remainder off. "Feel free to place me in whatever post you see fit." The likelihood of being assigned to something he was unaccustomed to was low. Faris had experience working at almost all the positions, and the ones he didn't have experience in would be jealous guarded ones that would not fall to a stranger.

Shore-bound waves continued cradling the boat, gradually getting stronger. ...Rising tide... But with both a Djinn and Marid on board though, the directions of the currents be they water or air, would not be a big concern. Pirates and sea-beasts were, like Azat Zozeko had stated, were much more troublesome to handle.

[Zozeko]

Zozeko smiled faintly despite himself. Bartering would mean less income, but he was always pleased when his people did hiim proud. Some might think that negotiating was beneath them as a species, and certainly they prided themselves on being able to afford whatever they wanted without having to hackle, but here in Elysia, he was more concerned with not giving Elysians the idea that Zanaryans could be hoodwinked.

“One-eighty.” He did not recognise the man's House but thought less of it when he realised Faris was Marid. Piddling Houses rose and fell constantly so it was difficult to keep track of them from Elysia, especially when they were of another nation. “And perhaps you might like to help our cook?”

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[Faris]

This time, Faris did not hesitate in replying. "...Hundred and twenty. Helping with meal preparation is fine as well; I know my way around kitchens." Though how useful I am would depend on what is available as well.. There were no cooking utensils with him at the moment, as Faris relied on the facilities provided by his employer to carry out whatever task it was that he was assigned to. The only exception was if he was part of the crew in charge of hauling in the catches. He owned a net of his own, though he seldom used it now; most of the fishing vessels he worked on graciously provided him with nets and pots. (Though it had more to do with streamlining the whole catching process than actual generousity)

Come to think of it, if there were no spare set of cutlery onboard he could very well be eating out of his hands for the duration of his journey. Not exactly the most pleasant thought to have ahead of a two-to-three day journey. It was with no little amount of self control that Faris ignored his urgent desire to ask Azat Zozeko about food supplies and cutlery; this elder gave Faris the impression of being far removed from such duties. Instead Faris spoke about sleeping arrangements. While he could go without sleep for two days and did not have many any belongings that needed stashing, it was nonetheless good to know now if there would be a place he could retreat to, away from the others. In fact, Faris was unsure if he was considered a guest still (automatically entitling him a room), seeing as how he would be working while on board as well. The vessel...Arteg was it? Earlier, he had only glanced briefly at her name before approaching Azat Zozeko. Name aside, Faris recognised the vessel as a polémiko; it was not a passanger vessel, so rooms were going to be limited...probably. Modifications to vessels were not uncommon in the Espur straits.

"And I am not picky about sleeping quarters, so a hundred and ten." He paused before continuing, "Care to give a brief introduction of your fellow crew?" All the better to avoid the sensitive Therians...

[Zozeko]

“One hundred if you do not mind bunking with the rest of us. We have a spare hammock.” They would find a space for him in the cargo hold otherwise, but the Artega had never been retrofitted for actual passenger duty. They had discussed such a few times but Gibb and Keegan claimed the cost would be too high and they did not deal with passengers often enough to warrant the expense. Those they did take aboard were, like this man, interested only in short trips and did not quibble over small details like the lack of a bed. At worst, Sebastian gave up his cabin for a few days rather than turn away good money.

“And certainly I can introduce you, if you care to follow me?” It was, he felt, safe to assume that Faris was aboard for the duration, so he raised a hand for the captain's attention and nodded the affirmative. Sebastian immediately started yelling out orders.

“Weigh anchor. Cale, unfurl the topsails. Raven, stop mooning at the docks, we'll be back in a month. Malik. Malik! Mali— oh, there you are. Where's my cuppa, lad?”

Accustomed to the bustle and fuss, Zozeko nimbly stepped around a barrel earmarked for the galley and gestured up at the monkey now chattering from the rigging. “You met Cale Robberts, our rigger. Please take no offense if he keeps his distance; he likes it up there.” The monkey waved briefly, then disappeared behind a sail as it rolled out. Cale was always friendlier when he wasn't human.

“That is Raven Kam, the boatswain's mate, at the stern. He is also my fellow gunner but, alas, he is not always useful. He is a Sidhe, not a woman.” Sight of the half-Nymph aboard the ship had astounded Zozeko when he first came aboard, and his attitude then was probably why Raven was still antagonistic toward him. He felt it safest to broach the subject with Faris now that Raven was out of earshot than to risk the pair coming to blows over it later. It was not the first time a passenger or one of their contacts had been attracted to the Sidhe, only to discover to their embarrassment that he was male.

It looked as if Raven would be in a worse mood than usual for this trip. Zozeko had no idea what had happened while he was gone, but Raven was not normally given to sighing wistfully at the harbour as they left. Had he fallen in lust with someone? No, but surely not. The half-Sidhe was as love-'em-and-leave-'em as a Nymph could get.

“Captain Jackson you met also. His first name is Sebastian. Next to him is my son, Malik, the cabin boy. Be sure to ask him for anything you need. The other fellow you met was Keegan Roul, our boatswain. He and the rest of the crew will be in the cargo hold stowing supplies, if you would care to step below?”

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[Faris]

A hundred xanthai was an acceptable price, and hammocks were decent enough substitutions for a proper bed. Provided they were not vermin or parasite-infested - but that was an unfounded misgiving, and was dismissed. No need to sound too paranoid or high-strung. Feeling generally amiable to the negotiation, Faris nodded his agreement to Azat Zozeko's offer. He followed his guide around the deck, watching the crew interact with a disinterested gaze. He would not be around long enough for the intra-vessel social environment to matter. He only needed to know enough about the rest to keep himself from being thrown overboard during the duration of his trip.

His fellow Zanaryan though..Faris was certain he had heard the name "Harith" when he was still in Zanarya, and it was with a political context. ...A Nasiba... But not one that Saab, or Mother, had much opnion about. Something to be looked into when I get back, just in case. It was ironic how aware of the political situation he had to be, even when he was solar systems away from home.

But back to the present. Faris let his attention be directed by Azat Zozeko, drifting to each person as he introduced them. He waved back at the Therian rigger, suddenly wondering if Azat Zozeko understood the monkey's foreign chatter, and if the language could be picked up at all by Zanaryans.

“That is Raven Kam, the boatswain's mate, at the stern. He is also my fellow gunner but, alas, he is not always useful." Did he just say 'He'..? Twice too. Faris took a closer look at the person in question. More than the gender-specific pronoun however, the last part of Azat Zozeko's sentence was what drew him out of his language-related musings. While all the crew members were crucial to the proper functioning of a ship, gunners were especially important when traversing in the Espur Straits. It was a matter of chance, if lucky all would be well and one would not notice the difference between a skilled gunner and an inept one. More commonly though, defenseless boats would be quickly targeted and taken down by pirates.

Azat Zozeko's next sentence answered his unspoken query, as well as providing the reason for Raven's inconsistent usefulness. "He is a Sidhe, not a woman.” Oh. Not incompetent then, just reluctant. Though in his opinion, the two equated to about the same thing. Disinclination to utilize one's abilities often resulted in outcomes that were as bad as, if not even worse than, the truly unable. It was one of the reasons why he, and the rest of his immediate family, considered himself to be a maladroit Saab.

Not given time to linger on his misunderstanding of Sidhe pacifism and another of his many failings, Faris continued noting down the crew's names and jobs. Trusting his fellow Zanaryan to point out whatever needed to be known by him (like with the Sidhe boatswain-cum-gunner), Faris descended the stairs ahead of his guide without asking any questions. He waited at the side of the ladder(?), using the brief lull in new information to go through what he knew.

Captain Sebastian Jackson, Rigger Cale Robberts, Boatswain Keegan Roul. Therian, Therian and Therian again. It was sheer willpower that kept him from sighing. Boatswain and Gunner Raven Kam, Sidhe. He didn't need to repeat what he knew about Azat Zozeko and Djan(?) Malik. Or anything Zanaryan-related actually, information of that sort was memorized the moment he received it.

[Zozeko]

As they descended, Adrian was coming up. Red slitted eyes flashed from Faris to Zozeko and a faint smile appeared on the Rutilus' lips. Zozeko could almost hear his internal cheering: "Yay, a passenger. Money!" The navigator dropped back to let them pass, then held out his hand to grip Faris' forearm. “Welcome aboard, sir. I'm the Artega's navigator, Adrian Dominic. Zeko's showing you right, right?” It was the most effusive Zozeko had seen him in a while.

The ship surged as the anchor was pulled in and Raven's waves crashed against the stern hull, pushing them out to sea. Adrian scooted by them with a grin. “That's my cue. See you at dinner!” The hulking Dracovarian thumped up the stairs, and Zozeko turned to peer into the small space blocked by hammocks.

“This is the crew quarters. We'll string a hammock up for you, too.” Faris had not actually given his verbal consent, but his silence was enough for Zozeko. “This way, if you please.” Tucking in his wings, he squeezed through a space to the right of the stairs and yanked back the curtain shielding the galley — which was little more than a cubicle filled with iron pots and pans and a currently empty cauldron — to reveal the ship's cook. “Lucio Ristard, chief cook and bottle washer. Faris ibn Alsyad, our passenger for this journey.”

Luc glared at Zozeko. “Hey, hey, I'm also a damn good healer, I'll you have know.” That said, he shot a friendly green-eyed stare at Faris, then frowned. “Where's that boy of yours, Zeko? He's meant to be peeling potatoes.”

Gritting his teeth — was it not the cook's duty to keep an eye on the cabin boy? — Zozeko excused, “With the captain, last I saw of him.”

“Probably trying to finagle his way onto the wheel, eh?” Malik had definitely made no secret of his desire to steer the ship. Neither Sebastian nor Adrian trusted him to keep them away from reefs and the rocky coast along the northern shores of Dardanos, but neither had they rejected him flat out. "Healthy to keep a lad interested", they had said.

Neither confirming nor denying, Zozeko merely stated, “I will send him back if I see him. Is Gibb in the cargo hold?”

“Last I saw him.” Luc's mimicry was probably not deliberate, but Zozeko huffed nevertheless. “Oh, oh, Mister Alsyad, you got any preferences for dinner? I got a nice rib in the hold but if you're funny about dashiri meat...”

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[Faris]

Faris tensed. His arm was being carelessly held onto by a red-eyed Darcovari who was taller than him by at least half a head. A departure from the usual stuffy and aloof impression Faris had of his kind, this one behaved much like a child, beaming excitedly while giving an effusive welcome, seemingly oblivious to Faris' most unwelcoming expression. In contrast to the dragon-kin's smile, Faris' lips were tight around the edges. He didn't take his personal space be invaded without warning well, intensely disliking the feel of a stranger's body heat on his skin. Still, Faris nodded curtly in response to the Rutilus' words. He was about to request that Adrian let go of his arm, when the waters around the vessel shifted; the Darcovari navigator too had felt the movement, going up on deck before Faris could find an opportune moment to speak.

It was quite a common occurrence really, him not able to find the right moment to speak. Faris was already reticent by nature, and now away from home he was even more cautious than ever. The fast-changing, unpredictable environment at sea often lacked the goldilocks moment he preferred; as a result Faris rarely spoke a word when out at sea.

Faris shrugged when shown the crew quarters; Faris had not been expecting much, it was a polémiko after all. In fact this was one of the reasons why he was not adverse to sleeping out on deck; finding a sleeping position in such a cramped area that didn't involve his wings being furled up uncomfortably was quite the challenge. The issue could be resolved later however; he had yet to meet the person who he was to work with.

Faris followed his guide through a narrow space next to the stairs, pulling his wings closer to his body. Staring at the cooking utensils that decorating the space that had been blocked by the curtain Azat Zozeko pulled back, Faris concluded that this was probably the kitchen. Just like the what he had seen of the vessel's interior, the galley was not spacious. There was enough space for more than one person to move around though. Faris nodded to the cook as Azat Zozeko introduced them both.

He listened with mild interest to the two's conversation, letting a faint smile surface. Between steering a vessel and peeling potatoes, it was no wonder that the young Zanaryan would slip away from the kitchen to curry favour with the captain. Sabri had often groused about similar behaviour from Khalida when they were young. Prior to swearing her own fealty to Lord Ea, Faris' elder sister frequently skipped her more mundane duties like cleaning and cooking to spy on the lessons various Ifrits had with their mentor. The way Azat Zozeko sidestepped the Viridis' question was very Zanaryan as well. Looks like being away from the nucleus of Zanaryan politics hasn't dulled this Azat's mind in the least~

The cook's words trailed off uncertainly, and Faris replied with a little more variation in pitch than usual. "..No worries, I can stomach whatever my gracious host chooses to give." If it was that bad, he could always spear himself something with his trident and cook it in the dead of the night when nobody was looking. "And the potatoes, if they're needed for today's meal I can help with the peeling." It would not be the first time he took over another person's menial obligations. "If there's nothing urgent, perhaps I can stay down here and help the cook. This way Azat Zozeko can continue with his other duties; as for whoever else that I have not met, I will see them when they get hungry no?"

[Zozeko]

“That's good! I don't like men with fussy stomachs.” Luc's gaze flickered briefly to Zozeko, but he ignored the not-so-subtle dig. Responding was beneath him, especially in front of another Zanaryan. “And by all means, I'll welcome the help.” The green-eyed healer gestured at the pots crammed into his space and waved Faris forward with a careless knife. “I'm sure Zeko or someone else can find some work for the boy to make up for it.”

“Well, then.” Zozeko inclined his head. He was happy to skip the rest of the introductions as long as Faris did not complain later. “I will be topside if you have need of me.” Today was not particularly windy, so he would no doubt be put to work as soon as he set foot on deck.

---

Marport's harbour was long since lost to their view when Zozeko left the aftcastle where he had spent the better part of three hours stirring up a northerly wind. Malik was in the rigging learning some sort of knot from the monkey, Sebastian was in his cabin and Adrian was at the helm. Keegan and Gibb were on the foredeck playing cards over a barrel of apples, and Raven was in the crow's nest playing a melancholy piece on his kimaran. The autumn sun was shining, the clear sky was painfully blue, and the Espur Straits sparkled. It was damned cold and he had burrowed his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, but the day was a sailor's dream.

“Hey, Zeko, come join us for a game, eh?” Gibb was more than a little drunk, his weathered face flushed.

“Thank you, no. My pockets have not recovered from the last time I played cards with you two.”

A dull knock reverberated through the hull and the three men froze, glancing to one another with prayers written across their faces. Not a kraken. Not a kraken. Not a kraken. Raven's smooth tenor called out: “Starboard side! Woo! Look at 'em!” Not a kraken then, thank the Lords.

Gibb staggered as he followed Keegan and Zozeko to the starboard rail. A spurt of water was the first sign, and then a bottle nose poked above the surf to reveal frothy fins and a golden shimmer. Zozeko did not own to being superstitious, but sight of the dolphins neverthless filled him with a sense of peace. They were supposedly a good omen.

“Oi, Zeko. Didn't our passenger say he was a fisherman?” Keegan turned to the deck stairs and yelled into the hold, “Yo, Mister Alsyad, come look at our new buddies!”

Ransie ∴ Piper's Boutique ∴ Wallpaper Abyss ∴ Celestial Star ↵

[Faris]

Faris was washing the used knives and utensils, with Lucio watching the dashiri meat and potatoes stew in the cauldron along with other ingredients, when he heard his 'name' being called. Sliding a washed set of kitchen knives into their holder, Faris looked up, a little puzzled at the summon. Surely they weren't being attacked; he had not felt the tell-tale thrash of frenzied water that marking the scattering of panicked marine life in the presence of an advancing sea monster. Pirates then...? But the tone in the person's voice was too relaxed for the vessel to be under attack

Taking his time to rinse his hands once more, Faris nodded to the cook to indicate that he was going up on deck. For a Darcovari and chef, Lucio showed him little arrogance and was unusually tolerant of his Zanaryan self. Now if everyone was like this we wouldn't have had to move to Zanarya.. Or perhaps it was a matter of circumstance - Sidhe were lacklustre gunners when compared to their more ruthless Zanaryan counterparts. For all their gruff voices and extensive vocabulary, Faris' interactions with seafarers had me on the whole quite civil. "I'll be going up, then."

Picking up the trident that had been rested against a corner, Faris left the cubicle. He left his sleeves rolled up, as it was likely that a new task had been found for him. As he climbed the stairs leading to the deck, Faris heard familiar high-pitched squeaks. A good time to go fish, then. Giving a vague wave with his free hand as he stepped out into the full glare of the sun, Faris headed towards where everyone was gathered. As he had guessed, the graceful forms of dolphins could be seen moving through the waters near the polémiko, a fin or beak-like nose breaking through the clear floor every now and then.

Shifting the grip on his trident as he stared intently into the water, Faris asked, "So. Do you want fish, or do you want dolphin?" Dolphins were universal omens of calm seas and peaceful waters for sailors, and most were squeamish about killing them. Nonetheless they were edible omens whose parts were in high demand. Faris himself was not too attached to the creatures and regarded them with a mix of pity and wistfulness; they were curious and friendly yes, but so very foolish to come this close to humans. It would not be the first time he hunted these creatures. "The former I'll need a net to catch them with, preferably one that is a weighed cast. For the latter just a rope would be appreciated." His eyes narrowed as he continued studying the dolphins.

[Zozeko]

Zozeko was not given to superstition despite it being so rife within his chosen profession in both Elysia and Zanarya. Malik, however, young as he was, had spent far too much of his free time as a lad listening to sailors gossip. Overhearing Faris' question as he trotted down from the aftcastle to join them in peering over the rail at the dolphins, the boy gasped and clutched at the Zanaryan's wrist to stay his trident.

“You can't!” He gulped then, his hand frozen on Faris' wrist as if recognising the impropriety all of the sudden. “Only... if they're good luck and we kill them...” Brown eyes shot to Zozeko's for help, then skipped beyond him in search of his favourite Viridis. With Lucio still belowdecks, Malik's gaze skipped back to his father's and fixed there, but Zeko was unmoved. Not only had Malik been rude to yell out and grab like that, but there was a certain petty delight in seeing the boy's disappointment when his caretaker failed to materialise.

Realising that he had not engendered the sympathy he desired, Malik lowered his hand and his gaze, his head drooping. When he turned away, fatherly duty reared its ugly head and Zozeko sighed. “Go fetch him the nets then, boy. There should be at one left intact after that Helbound trip to Anoria.” At least, he thought one had survived. They had all been too busy repairing major damage to the hull and generating enough income to afford supplies to bother with secondary items like those.

Turning to Faris as the excitable boy darted off, Zozeko thumbed an eyebrow. “Raven can help if you need it. You do raise the water, I presume, to make netting easier?” It was a trick the Nyad, Lazuli, had taught them on their ill-fated expedition, when supplies had been decimated by a number of disasters before they even reached the wormling-ridden island — though, naturally, he assumed that Zanaryans had the idea first.

ooc// Feel free to have Malik come back with the nets. ^^

Ransie ∴ Piper's Boutique ∴ Wallpaper Abyss ∴ Celestial Star ↵

[Faris]

Faris was beginning to wonder if his arms had magically magnetic properties. This was the second time today that he had been grabbed. Staring rather flatly at the young Zanaryan, he listened disappassionately to the child's plea. Definitely an Elysian-grown Djan, this one. The father-son interaction spoke volumes of Malik's upbringing as well, but Faris chose not to comment.

"No, I won't be 'raising the water'; there is no need to with them here." Despite their naivety, dolphins were intelligent enough and predators too. "Provide an opening and they'll take it from there; then I all need to do is wait with the net."

He would have elaborated further, but there were others here. In fact he would have preferred if the Sidhe in particular was blindfolded and stowed far away while he fished. This was a technique Faris took a jealous sort of pride in, having developed it more or less on his own, an accidental reward from hours of playing with his abilities. He took the net Malik handed to him with a 'thank you' uttered out of habit and turned back to stare into the waters.

Concentrating, Faris begun to spin the deeper waters that were a good distance below the shoals of fish that were near the polemiko. As sweat formed on his brow, from both the sun and exertion, Faris was tempted to caution the crew from disturbing him. This was the hardest part - to get the water moving. Though the actual area of water he needed to control was small compared to the brute-froce method of simply lifting a chunk of water upwards, he had to control it more carefully and fight the initial inertia of his source.

Faris could feel his watery 'net' stabilize as the water spun faster and faster. Air bubbles were forced out, linking with each other to form ring large enough to trap a whole shoal of fish. It would have been much more straightforward if Azat Zozeko could help, but that entailed giving an explaination Faris did not want to give in front of Elysians. He continued to increase the speed of the vortex as it moved upwards towards his prey. The shoals of fish started to flee once they realised the unnatural current moving towards them, but it was too late for one group; the ring had attracted the attention of the dolphins.

The good omens were now omens of death for the fishes, darting left and right, preventing the shoal from escaping, occasionally snaring themselves a meal. Continually pushed by the vortex of Faris' bubble ring, and surrounded on the sides by opportunistic dolphins, the shoal of fish had no choice but to move upwards, to certain death. With a cast net on hand, things were easy. He flung the net over where the trapped shoal of fish were, pushing the bubble ring up again. The fish were driven helplessly into the sinking net, struggling against their trappings. The net filled quickly as Faris pulled the landline.

Faris winced as the rope bit into his palms; the catch was a little bigger and feistier than what he was used to. Leaning his body weight back, he called out as casually as he could, "Mind giving me a hand here, anyone?"

OOC: I'll leave the end result to you (be it successful or a failed catch)
PS. in case I failed at giving a proper explanation/description: bubble ring!

[Zozeko]

“Intriguing.” Zozeko could not help but say so. He had thought Lazuli Kitay's techniques useful and creative, but this was even more so. He watched in fascination, his mind buzzing as he looked for ways to do the same thing with air instead of water. Perhaps Faris ibn Alsyad would teach him the technique later. It would be nice to have fish on the menu more often, and it seemed that Raven, who had hauled himself into the rigging to get a bird's eye view, agreed.

“Mind giving me a hand here, anyone?”

Zozeko grunted. He disliked physical labour, gesturing for Malik to step forward and grab hold of the ropes in his place. The weight was too much for the boy alone; he focused on controlling the direction of the haul while Zozeko used a cushion of air to take the greater weight of the fish flopping their last breaths within the net. The ocean surface vibrated and wriggled between the manipulations of air and water, and dolphin tails thrashed.

“I dare say we can sell most of this,” Zozeko mused as he took in the size of Faris' catch. “There is salt in the hold, I believe.” The journey to Espur was short, comparitively speaking, but they would have difficulty moving two-day-old fish. If they salted it for preservation, on the other hand... Lucio also might have some ideas on how to preserve a portion long enough to keep for themselves. “I dare say you should like a share of your own, too?” Faris would most likely wish a share of the profit, but Zozeko wasn't going to offer that without incentive.

ooc// Feel free to skip time a bit, if you like. ^^

Ransie ∴ Piper's Boutique ∴ Wallpaper Abyss ∴ Celestial Star ↵

[Faris]

With help from his fellow Zanaryans, the trapped fishes landed on deck. Given that it was a mostly one-man catch, the haul was pretty impressive, in his opinion. Faris breathed out of his mouth, rubbing his abused palms as he watching the more spirited ones flail about futilely. He raised an eyebrow at the profit-sharing offer. There had been the slightest hint of a barter in Azat Zozeko's words.

Faris had little material possessions that the crew could possibly want, so his mind quickly jumped onto the next possible option. No was the immediate answer, but out loud he gave a more neutral reply. "I would indeed appreciate such a offer. However this," he gestured to the fish, "was part of the terms for my passage was it not?" Had Fari been more less insecure of his environment, he would have given a perfunctory smile at this pont. Instead he continued blandly, "Anything more, I consider to be a gracious gift from my hosts." With the words 'gracious' and 'gift' were purposely kept light and without additional emphasis.

The moment he finished speaking, Faris realised his caution could be interpreted as arrogance or haughtiness. Deciding not to make things worse by continuing the topic, he escaped down into the hold with an abrupt "- I'll go get the cook and salt." Returning with both after a few minutes, Faris busied himself with preparing the fish for long-term storage, eventually spending the better part of the afternoon in the hold packing fish.

By the time he went up above deck again the sky was already a ruddy orange. Announcing rather unenthusiatically that dinner was ready to be served, Faris took the opportunity to stretch his wings to full-length. "Dinner is ready. Darshini rib. With fish and vegetable sides."

[Zozeko]

Dinner was always an enthusiastic affair, but the crew of the Artega all but fell over themselves to reach the galley with news of not one meat but two! Zozeko hung back to follow at a more sedate pace and grabbed Malik by the collar to force some grace on his son, frowning at the boy when he tried to scuttle out of reach. “But Father, I'm starving,” Malik wailed, his short wings flapping uselessly in an effort to gain some leverage.

“Zanaryans do not "starve", boy. Show some manners.” Malik grumbled but nevertheless slowed his pace and dropped into step behind his father, as was his rightful place. He managed to maintain the display for as long as it took them to find seats on upturned barrels, laden with metal plates and forks, before the adolescent Elysian took over once again and he began to wolf down the fish, red meat and vegetables filling his plate.

Not to be rude, Zozeko also tucked in, though with far more grace than his son could apparently manage, and made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat to indicate his approval. Indeed, having Faris aboard would make this trip a pleasant one.

With dinner finished and Malik in the galley washing dishes, Raven took out his kimaran and swung from his hammock, plucking the strings lazily. Adrian and Keegan stepped abovedeck to relieve Cale and the captain. Lucio lit up a hand-rolled that wafted a spicy smoke throughout the hold, and Gibb took up another hammock to nap under an oversized hat.

His own fingers itching, Zozeko took out his qitar and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. A perfect sphere formed around him where Luc's smoke hit a brick wall, shielding him from the smoke. He grinned freely at Raven at the first strum of the strings, and then the kimaran joined his in a battle of musical wills. For a few moments, it could be called little more than a din, but once the competition was out of the way and they could call it a draw, they settled into an energetic sea shanty that had the others joining in.

Ransie ∴ Piper's Boutique ∴ Wallpaper Abyss ∴ Celestial Star ↵

[Faris]

Faris lingered on deck, trailing after the mad dash down to the galley. The hold, dinner or no dinner, was cramped. Now that the crew was there, it would be more even of a squeeze than ever. With no one around to see it, Faris ungaurded expression was close to being mournful as he brought his wings close to his body once more. The show of emotion was short-lived however, and his usual blandness was back on by the time he finished descending the stairs to the hold.

Dinner passed by uneventfully enough; all of them (with the possible except of Malik) were long past the age of food fights during mealtimes. Preferring vegetables to meat, Faris ate leisurely at his own pace watching with veiled amusement as others quickly devoured second servings of meat.

Given no instructions on post-dinner duties, Faris helped to clear the dishes once he was done. He left the galley soon after ferrying the used utensils to the sink though, leaving the actual washing to Azat Zozeko's son. Returning to the hold, Faris was greeted with something he mentally likened to a Camen Votrilli. Or maybe whole group of them. Thankfully the clashing of styles between the Zanaryan and Sidhe musicians passed, and a much more melodious tune was then played. Taking a seat on the cleanest barrel he could find, Faris listened.

It took him a while to unwind however; the pace aboard fishing vessels were much more hectic, especially during the big seasons where one had to go for nearly a week without any sleep, and maybe half a month with only an avergae of 3 hours of rest each day. As a result Faris had two automatic modes when on board a ship - on and off. He was hovering between the two right now, and dangerously close to sleep. Even the exuberant work song the crew was engaged in sounded like a lullaby.

Groggily heading up on deck, Faris grabbed the first spare rope he saw. He shuffled to a part of the polemiko that was less crowded with shrouds, ropes, barrels and whatnot. Tying one end of the rope around his waist and the other to the fore mast, Faris settled down to watch the now-dark sky. Staring at the wavering reflection of a light-blue moon, Faris fell asleep.

Feel free to timeskip as much(or little) as you want, I'll just wake Faris up whenever.