[Zozeko]

Zozeko sat up, folded his wings from where they trailed on the deck, and rolled out of his hammock onto his feet. His socked feet hit the wood with a thud and he reached blindly for his boots, nudging Malik in the ribs with his toes to rouse him. The Djan had slept in a ball on the deck beneath Zozeko's hammock, his wings curved around his back to keep him warm. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Afternoon, Father.”

Zozeko grunted in response. He was not a morning person so usually opted for the late shift, except when leaving port since it was all hands on deck, but he had come to realise that "morning" was whatever he made of it. His body was tuned to wake in time for him to replace Raven on deck, but that did not mean it enjoyed the waking.

Ah. Guest. They had a guest. Red eyes scanned the crew quarters briefly before he remembered that Faris had opted to sleep out under the stars. Definitely a sailor himself, then, if there had ever been any doubt.

The scent of breakfast steamed through the cramped hold. Zozeko rubbed his face, turned his boots upside down to check for nasties, then yanked them on. “Malik, invite our guest to break his fast.”

“Yes, Father.”

They must be halfway to Espur by now, which meant Zozeko would have to be on high alert while on duty. Ships were always more vulnerable away from the ports, to both pirates and sea monsters. First, however, he would fill his belly, and perhaps prod Faris ibn Alsyad for news of home.

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[Faris]

With a shake of his shoulder Faris was awake, giving a faint smile of thanks to Azat Zozeko's son as he invited him to breakfast. Despite how tired or drowsy he was before, Faris could always be woken up easily enough. In the past this had not always been the case; as a child Faris could and would sleep through the most terrifying of volcanic rumbles or greatest of thunderstorms, sometimes even rolling off his bed without waking up. This changed during the period of he lived on his own in Los. Once, he had nearly drowned in his sleep when the boat he was taking a nap on capsized. Since then Faris became quite the light sleeper, sensitive to the sudden change in his balance, even if he continued to be oblivious to everything else.

After returning the rope he used to secure himself, Faris stretched his somewhat cramping wings before heading to down for breakfast. Announcing his presence with a "Good morning." as he finished descending the stairs, Faris saw that the food was already prepared and being served. Taking his share he settled down to eat. The life of a guest was indeed different from that of the crew. Though there were no beds of phoenix down or orchid squid dishes, at least he was allowed to sleep in and be invited to have breakfast.

While chewing on his first mouthful, Faris decided it would be good for him to make small talk, lest he seem aloof (which was true) or rude (not true). While he was not deliberately seeking rapport with this crew, it would be good to have a slightly-better-than-neutral relationship with the vessel. The more contacts the merrier. Or at least until the contacts started to have conflicts of interest. "Halfway to Espur now.. Who wants to bet how many waterborne raiders we'll see before we dock..?" It was said in a joking manner, but the threat of pirates was very real and Faris sincerely hoped that the number would be a nice, round zero.

[Zozeko]

“Raiders, pah!” Zozeko shook his head, a tin mug in one hand and a metal plate propped in his lap. Breakfast (or lunch, technically speaking) was a mash of vegetables and dashiri meat leftover from the yesterday's dinner. “We have fought off worse with just two of us. With you aboard, they will flee like chickens at mere sight of the Artega!” Zozeko was not often wont to boast or brag about such things, mostly because the crew were so superstitious they would accuse him of jinxing them and he could not dismiss such silly beliefs entirely. After surviving the ill-fated expedition to Anoria, however, he was more convinced of their luck and skill than ever (especially his own). Faris was also Zanaryan so would no doubt share what the crew would call Zozeko's arrogance.

Lucio, having eaten his lunch and taken to scrubbing the pans, scoffed but did not disagree. “Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, but this ship's held her own against some pretty tough cookies so we'll do just fine against any of those blaggards, just you wait and see.” The Viridis winked at Faris, then nudged Malik's foot with his own. “Plate's empty, kid. Back to work.”

“Awww.” Malik's grumbling quieted at a single glare from Zozeko, but his shoulders were hunched as he stood and collected the empties.

“Would you like any more, Mister Alsyad? We've plenty to go around.”

“Then how come I can't have any more?”

Luc clipped Malik around the ear. “Because you aren't a guest and you've got work to do. Unless something changed while I was asleep and you're a paying customer now?”

“And so, Azat Faris, if I may be bold enough to ask.” Ignoring the banter between his son and the cook, Zozeko took a mouthful of his food and chewed carefully before swallowing. He was curious more than anything. It was not often that he was able to meet a Zanaryan on the same footing as he, or talk about things as men. “How long have you been in Elysia? We moved here shortly after the portal reopened. I must say, I enjoy the lifestyle as a sailor and I do not miss the politics, but the women are so... free here, do you not agree?”

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[Faris]

Politely declining the cook's offer, Faris leaned back to rest his back against the wooden walls of the hold before answering Azat Zozeko. He spoke slowly, and mused out loud. "Two years... I came here alone; ported directly to Espur and settled down there since, it seemed to be where a Zanaryan of my skill set would fit in most quickly." He did not elaborate on the racial prejudice present in Elysia; Faris had come to realise that all races faced it to some degree. Vampires and Zanaryans bore the brunt of it, but prejudice was pretty much an across-the-board kind of thing. Except maybe the Anyeli. But they're doing a good enough job tearing themselves apart without the other races needing to help...

"...Yes Elysia brings with her quite the culture shock.." Family ties and hierachy were so much more flimsy here. While revolts and displacements were not unheard of in Zanarya, things tended to be much more civil, is frosty. That was discounting the Hundred Year War of course, but Faris had not been around to witness it. "She provides a wonderful reprieve from the politics of our homeland... ...But that is because we will it to be so."

He switched to Zanaryan; chances were what he would say next would be distorted by the use of a language not he did not claim as his own."Over here we - no, I play at being someone not from a House, great or not, branch family or not. In Elysia I am just Faris the fisherman. Not Faris the son of someone, of the illustrious House of something."

An uncomfortable prickle ran along his arm, and Faris wondered if he had been a little too serious in his reply. Ah, as expected; small-talk really is not my forte... Deciding to change the subject to something that was less likely to offend, he continued in Elysian. "But that is just a little bit of teenage rebellion, on my part. As for ladies of Elysia," In a rare moment of humour expressed, Faris quirked an unguarded smile as a positively scruffy mental image the sister he was closest to rose. "I simply think of all of them as miniature Lady Kaia-s and treat them as such accordingly. It do a good job in putting them in a good mood."

[Zozeko]

Zozeko most likely should have scorned Azat Faris for his confession, but had he not done the same thing? “Indeed. Elysia has become a new nation of rebels. Perhaps it should even be called the Seventh Nation, no?” The joke was not much of one. Since the portal was reopened, the Zanaryans who settled in Elysia had drawn further and further from the rigid culture of their homeland. “Hm, but I find that spoiling women so only leads to further trouble.”

Their conversation was erupted by the eerie sound of a howl. Zozeko frowned but did not quite make the connection until the sound came again. His spine stiffened and Lucio dropped the pan he was scrubbing. “Tell me that's not--”

Zozeko did not wait for him to finish. He burst to his feet, tucking his wings in tight and darting for the stairs up to the deck, and yelled over his shoulder, “Faris, with me!” If those continued howls were what Lucio feared, he and Raven would need the help.

Reaching the aftcastle, Zozeko dashed to a halt at the captain's side. Sebastian's eye was pressed to the end of a looking glass, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Red ship, white sails. Get to it, men!” The confirmation had the crew racing about the rigging and top deck as they unfurled sails to their fullest and stowed or tied down anything that might become a projectile during battle.

Turning to Faris as Raven joined them, Zozeko took up a braced stance and began to curl the wind into the Artega's sails even as he explained to Faris, “We are too small to take on that ship if they choose to attack.” They were a mere mercántiko today but did not have an entirely illustrious reputation and the Howling Leviathan was known to attack peirati, which they sometimes were. “Our safest option is to run. Help Raven speed up the water at our stern!”

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[Faris]

Following the Azat Zozeko's orders without question, Faris' footsteps were uncharacteristcally heavy, thudding against the steps as he scampered up the stairs behind the elder Zanaryan. Emerging onto the main deck, they were greeted with chilling howls that echoed around them like the sounding of war horns. Faris shivered involuntarily as they continued heading up, to the aftercastle. There could only be one. Few dared to mimic the predatory ikoya of Elysia's seas.

Despite having only lived in Elysia for two years, Faris too knew of the famed pirate-hunter of the seas. He had heard the howls a few times before as well and despite reassurances from the other fishermen, couldn't never quite bring himself to ignore their haunting presence. If this vessel was their target, fleeing was indeed the only viable option available. He nodded curtly to Azat Zozeko's commands before sprinting down. Faris did not ask the question that had initially arose when he saw their reactions to the Howling Leviathan's battlecry. Seeing how tense the crew was, the immediate response to get out of the area; looks like he had somehow gotten himself onto a peirati, not a polemiko.

Raven was already working to increase the speed of the vessel when Faris joined him at the stern. Dispensing with the civilities, he cut to the chase; "You lead, I'll keep the turbulence down." No doubt the Sidhe would work more seamlessly than he with the rest of the crew to help propel the vessel forward, but simple things like reducing frictional reisstance around the polemiko could be done more or less solo.

A simple task it was, but by no means easy. Perhaps if he was an Aziz, but Faris was not yet adept at manipulating a large area of his element. Focusing on the disordered seawater before him, he attempted to soothe the agitation caused by the artificially propellation. If he did his job well the turbulence would not propogate to the rest of the boundary ring of water around their vessel. Not only would the ship's movement be unimpeded, it also meant that he did not have to control all of the water surrounding the vessel. His plans were thwarted however, when the ship rocked violently. Stumbling a little, Faris instinctively unfurled his wings.

[Zozeko]

With the two water-benders beside him and Zozeko's air billowing out the sails, it seemed as if at first the Artega would make it. The continuous howls sent chills through him but they had faced worse and survived. However, the Howling Leviathan was known for its speed and gunner crew, so in retrospect it was no surprise that the ikoiya began to gain on them.

“Xanth damn it, lads, put your backs into it!” Sebastian stood at the stern, his eye still glued to the looking glass, while Adrian clutched at the wheel with white knuckles. From below came the muffled sounds of Lucio and Malik stowing gear and preparing weapons.

And then from above came Cale's frantic warning: “Leviathan ahead!”

“Yes, yes, we know,” Zozeko returned, too focused on his job to roll his eyes.

“No, no, ahead, you stinkin' moron!” The rigger dropped onto the deck in full human form and pointed bow-ward, drawing Zozeko's attention from the ship at the heels to the massive, serpentine figure bursting out of the waves only a couple hundred yards ahead to starboard. Zozeko forgot all about being called a "stinkin' moron" (at least the first part was apt) in the wake of the sudden realisation that they were sandwiched between two major threats.

“Damn us luck. Hard to port!” Sebastian gaped at the leviathan even as Adrian spun the wheel hard to port, rocking the boat quite literally and sending at least one member of crew spinning of their feet. Tightly connected to the air and water streaming down the ship's sides, Zozeko and Raven kept their feet and responded immediately, changing the flow to accommodate the sudden turn.

Larger than the sometimes-peiratis, the Howling Leviathan, already gaining on them, became the focus of the real leviathan's hunger. Her gunners were forced to turn their attention to defense and the creature was bombarded with all manner of elemental attacks while the Artega crept away.

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[Faris]

Having to adapt to both the sudden direction change and the turbulence caused by the newcomer leviathan, Faris moved lightly on his feet. His wings fanned out and swept back inwards. It felt like he was dancing, and not out of his own volition too. No surprise there. I do not think anyone would be happy having to dance with a leviathan.. His mind conjured an image of a prancing leviathan dressed in finery and oversized heels throwing its ill-matched dancing partner about the ballroom.

Lips twitching as he forced the inane image to the back of his mind, he relooked at the flow of the sea against the ship. The boundary ring of water around the vessel had been largely disrupted, the disorder increasing as the leviathan made its presence known. Faris did his best to settle the waters, soothing them and attempting to blend the polemiko's movements with background currents. It seemed to work; the leviathan ignored their vessel and went for the more prominent ship that had been chasing them instead.

Faris could feel the waters calm down as they made their escape, but the tension in the air remained. The howls of the Leviathan had stopped, but the rage of another could be heard loud and clear, even with the increasing distance. He risked a look at the ongoing battle, and saw manipulation of elements far above his own ability. It was a great display of power from both parties, and Faris shivered. "Well. I for one am glad we did not have to go up against that.. Say, how close are we to Espur now? Docks and ports are looking awfully wonderful to me right now."

Faris decided to let the suspicion (which was close to being a conclusion) that the vessel engaged in pirating activities slide. The important thing was that they were alive and well. So long as there was no negative impact, the law-breaking acts of others did not concern him.

[Zozeko]

The crew remained silent for a while, still afraid to jinx their escape by throwing up a cheer but silently thanking the leviathan for appearing at such a critical moment. The only voices were those of the captain and navigator, and Zozeko's to answer Faris's question. “If we keep up this up, an hour at most. The mainland should come into view any minute, actually.” It would be faint, but weather was clear enough they would see Espur's naval fleet and harbour long before they reached her shores.

“Let's keep up up, eh, lads? If you're up for it, Mister Alsyad?” The encounter had clearly shaken the captain. He never had liked the pirate business, but his desperation had just bitten him on the rear. A leviathan was one thing. The leviathan was another.

“Indeed,” Zozeko agreed, pulling more air into the sails. “I will be glad to reach port sooner this time. If Azat Faris could continue, his efforts make ours easier.” He and Raven would continue regardless. It was their job, but Faris was a passenger.

“Malik. Malik!” The captain's stage whisper received no response until he stomped on the deck three times near the stairs. The boy's head popped up in response to the code. “Fetch the gunners some drink, lad.”

“Aye, sir.”

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[Faris]

The news that they were near the habour was a welcome one. He had been worried that the escape had put them off-route, delaying his return to Espur. Faris pushed himself away from the railings, ready to head down to the hold for a quick nap, when the captain spoke. He shrugged his agreement to using his abilities for an additional hour in exchange for a quicker end to this trip. However, he needed to relax the primed state he was in before using his powers for an extended period of time. His hands were still tingling from their encounter with the two leviathans.

"I'll take a breather—and some sips, first. Leave space for me." A hangover (if any at all) would be much preferable to the consequences of overextending his elemental manipulation. Faris left the stern and disappeared down the stairs to the hold, his heartbeat loud and clear against the current calmness of their environment. With long stride he quickly caught up with Malik, accompanying the cabin boy to where the drinks were kept. He got for himself a mug of cider that was the colour of ripe wheat, taking a few sips and refilling the mug before returning back onto the deck.

When he resumed his post minutes later he did so with his drink in one hand and the other resting on the railings lightly. The alcohol exerted its effects, and in spite of the unfaltering breeze that was courtesy of Azat Zozeko, Faris did not feel cold. The dilation of his blood vessels did not show on his face, but the feeling in his hands were back to normal. Focusing his attention on the task at hand, Faris resumed his duties of smoothing the polemiko's passage across the Espur Channel. Languidness permeated his manipulation of the waters, and he would look away every now and then to enjoy his drink.

[Zozeko]

Things went smoothly enough after that. Malik brought a mug of cider each for he and Raven, along with a hunk of cheese and bread that was beginning to stale, and Zozeko spent the next forty minutes working while the crew sang about tavern wenches they would never meet again. Like Azat Faris, Zozeko found himself languishing more as they neared the shore, Cale's ahoy of land long past. The silhouettes of sails and masts grew as they neared, and the crew of the Singing Neme shouted greetings as they passed.

Finally, the harbour itself was close enough to make out details and the captain took the wheel while Adrian made his way to the prow of the ship to direct him to an open dock. Zozeko straightened and gestured for Raven and Faris to stop their work, pulling the air from the sails to slow their arrival. He and Malik stood together at the railing to wave (Zozeko arrogantly, Malik exuberantly) at the sailors and yard workers loading and unloading cargo for other ships. The noise as they pulled into the wharf was immediately both welcoming and deafening.

Turning to Faris, Zozeko offered his hand, clipped his heels together and inclined his head. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Azat Faris.”

“Aye, it has at that, Mister Alsyad,” Sebastian called out, leaving the wheel to rock gently while Keegan and Gibb tied off. Their voices were overly loud to compensate for the noise as they greeted the dockers who threw out the ropes from the wharf side. “Not many passengers pull their weight like you have, no matter what they say. And thanks for your assistance with the Leviathan, too. Didn't see that one coming, eh?”

“Indeed.” Zozeko gritted his teeth and braced himself for the impact when the captain's hand clapped him up the back of the shoulder. He may be merely Therian, but he was stronger than he looked and Zozeko did not wish to appear a weakling before a fellow Azat. “I do hope you keep us in mind should you have need of passage again. We can take you anywhere along the Ao Coast as well as to Marport.”

“And not to worry, we don't normally run into trouble of that sort.” Sebastian's grin, though reassuring, lacked some of the zest that would have made it honest. Anoria was forefront in all their minds, but even their regular runs tended to be more... exciting... than they would hope. Still, Faris did not need to know that, especially if they hoped to gain his custom again.

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[Faris]

Faris straightened his back as they neared the habour. He did not wave, simply standing where he was while holding his trident like some housecarl protecting his liege. (His mug of cider had been finished some time ago.) Though his expression did not show it, Faris was mildly annoyed at the ruckus their arrival caused. He wondered if the vessel known for carrying expensive cargo or for generous tipping. Only a few of the other ships he had been on received such a warm welcome.

His attention was drawn away from the docks when Azat Zozeko spoke to him. Throwing his shoulders back, Faris clasped Azat Zozeko's offered hand. He gave it a firm shake, before letting go to hand the fare for his passage to the elder Zanaryan. "It has been a good journey with the Artega." He learned of the vessel's name mere minutes before, from amidst the crowd. "I do suppose we might meet again; this probably will not be the last time I find myself in need of such services." Though it does come with a certain amount of danger attached, a less-than-lawful vessel can be an asset as well...

When Faris alighted the polemiko, he did not head straight back home. Instead, he walked along the pier, as if someone in the crowd had caught he eye when the Artega was docking.