Cool Summer

[Evandria]

Cool Summer
24th of Searing, Year 123 of the Age of Steel

Legs dangling playfully in the air, Eve sat perched atop the railings on the head of a ship. She wasn’t quite sure what sort of ship it was, but it has been her home for the past few weeks after she offered its sailors some silver avens for the trouble. In turn, they let her aboard the ship, gave her a hammock that scratched her skin, and left her alone to sketch on their decks. Most of the time anyway. More than a few had given her unwelcome looks - all who she flipped off in the most polite way possible.

Most of the crew were gone, probably up and about in the city. Meanwhile, Eve had spent the better part of the past few days exploring the harbor with a sketchbook in hand. She managed to create a rough draft of the coastline that was visible to her. The cartographer would need more time to explore the beaches of Gel’Grandal before being able to finalize anything.

Time… she had a lot of that. The ship had docked to refill their supplies and fix some damages to the ship. The first mate told her it might take a week or two or maybe more. So, for today, Eve was more than happy to simply sit and watch the ocean as she drew. Today, the object that had caught her attention was a singular boat - mostly likely a fishing boat - swaying gently in the open waters. Perhaps she would go out tomorrow, if only to feel less lonely on her birthday.

The sun was sinking into the horizon, golden rays breaking through the sails of the ships docked in the harbor. Placing her charcoal down, Eve pulled out a stack of sketches she had crammed with the pages of her sketchbook, flipping through it to find an image of the mountain they had passed before arriving in Gel’Grandal. Once she found what she wanted, she placed the stack on her lap, lifting up the sketch to see it more clearly in the sun. Right at that moment, the breeze suddenly picked up.

“Ah, fuck,” Eve cursed as the wind snatched away her parchments. Just like that, a dozen of them took the skies, like awkward birds flapping in the wind. It was her own fault, really, but she had an inkling that perhaps the winds thought it was funny to mess with her.

Some found landing on the wooden planks of the marina, while most decided to take a dip in the waves. Those were at least half a season worth of sketches. She had half the mind to let it be, but that would be such a waste. With her magic, some of them might be salvageable. Besides, she should welcome any excuse to swim. Finally decided, the young woman took off her shoes and tossed them back on the deck.

Still in her white shirt and shorts, Eve dove head first into the water with a splash. The cold water sent her body buzzing with excitement. The sea welcomed her eagerly, the currents swirling around her in greeting. Between her elementalism and her lineage, the sea was a safe haven. Constant and unwavering.

She caught sight of the first paper, sinking slowly into the depths. With a strong kick, the dragonborn swam and grabbed it gently. It was intact, but no doubt more time in the water would disintegrate it soon enough. She had to be fast. Her head broke through the water’s surface and she scanned around. Fortunately for her, most of the papers were still floating around her.

Humming a lullaby her mother used to sing, she waded around in the water, slowly collecting her drawings one by one.

[Keres]

K R O W E

24th of Searing, Year 123 of the Age of Steel

Keres had been in a piss poor mood all day, starting with the lack of coffee that normally accompanied his morning meal. He had been forced to wake before dawn, neck sore and arm abuzz with needles, unable to get comfortable as Molly laid partially atop him. She had barely stirred in response to the alarm's screaming, and he used his free hand to slap it across the room, where it clattered to the ground and the small dragonshard powering the device went spinning beneath a worn wardrobe, "Get off," he commanded softly, sitting up with a grunt as he nudged her weight away. She made a whiny sound, more instinct than awareness, and clung to his stinging arm and the warmth it provided.

"Molly."

Her plea was sleepy, "Stay."

"I have to go to work."

"Nooo..."

He frowned, evading her clutches and reached for his shirt, thrown across the bedpost. Snatching it up, he gave it a sniff before throwing it over his head and stumbling towards the bathroom to relieve himself. Keres brushed his teeth, and washed his face, pausing briefly to listen to the sounds of shuffling from the bed. The door to the bathroom opened as he was drying his face, and when he pulled the cloth away, two arms had wrapped around his chest and he could feel her face pressed against his back. For god's sake, she was getting clingy, wasn't she?

"Good morning," she cooed, winding around to smile up at him. She wasn't yet wearing her glasses and her hair was mussed. Molly had a zit coming in on her forehead above her right eye, and her face was red and puffy. She reached up to kiss him, but stopped short as her face was caught by his hand. Her brows knit, confused by the fierce gesture, but she waited obediently.

"Your breath stinks."

He grinned and released her, slipping past to exit the room and put on his boots.

"It's not that bad," she called back, but he could already hear her beginning to open the tooth powder. He at least appreciated that about her. She aimed to please.

Speaking of, "Do you have class today?"

"No, it was cancelled last week. Remember? I told you about it at lunch."

"Hm," Fuck. He really could have used a new supply of ink. He scanned the art supplies scattered about the room. He needed smooth vellum paper too, the stuff he had held too much texture to be of any use for the certifications he wanted to mimic. He stomped his foot, twisting the boot's tongue and began to tighten the laces. Molly began recalling her dream to him while he half listened, then began to make them both breakfast, but when it was clear there was no coffee, he found no excuse to continue to humor her. It was too early for her to talk and talk and talk. His irritation grew.

Keres ate silently and muttered a goodbye, already thinking of the shitty work he'd have to do, the hours he'd be at the docks, lugging crates on and off ships, "I gotta go." He disappeared into the bedroom and came back out with his things and a folder which he tucked under his arm. Sparing a quick kiss goodbye, Keres left without looking back.

There was money on the horizon.

The prospect did little to raise his spirits, however, and any chance at his mood improving seemed unlikely as the day grew less bearable and his muscles tired from the endless cargo that needed moving from one ship to the next. That was, until, while fighting a crate onto a rusted dolly, that he heard the hissing curses of a woman, and turned to see the creator snatching at the air. Papers scattered, sweeping in sleepy arcs towards the sea, one by one darkening as water soaked its surface.

Then a splash, the feminine figure casting herself overboard to collect her possessions

***

((OOC: I’d had this in my drafts and know I need to finish it. Keres is still a mystery, hard to get into his head. I’ll try to finish this post.))