-The Mythics RP-

(I’m not proofreading this it might be a hot mess)

Vhanya took a deep breath of cool sea air. The sun was well on its way to being fully set, and the breezes carried the unmistakable scent of evening. If she were in Neustadt, the fireflies would be out.
Softly, she stepped along the deck to the ratlines near the spanker. Ascending the ropes required little thought, her hands bore the necessary callouses and her arms were lean and strong.
She remembered being much smaller, scaling those ropes with a knife in her teeth or a length of rope under an arm to bring to the sailors along the yards. Though Vhanya had grown older, the sea winds hadn’t changed. They bit through the ropes, fluttering tied sails and stinging the skin with sea-spray.
She reached the yard, tightly hooking an arm around the wood to keep herself steady.
And there was the sunset, bleeding out over the ocean and setting the farthest waves aglow with light of the purest crimson.
Red sky at night, sailors delight.
Vhanya grinned, relishing the taste of salt in the air and yes, even the last cries of the gulls before night came.
She couldn’t hardly wait ‘til they set sail.
Then came the climb down from the ratlines, and the thud of her boots on the planks when she jumped down.
One of her crew was dragging a crate towards the hatchway, she stopped him with a shrill whistle.
“You there! Fetch Bailey for me— and there’s a girl somewhere around here. Curls,” she gestured, “stands around eh, this tall. She’ll answer to Lyra. Fetch her too.”
And she kept walking, keeping a keen yellow eye on the men as they worked. They’d finished unloading and were now all aboard the ‘Silver, presumably stocking the stores and hanging hammocks belowdecks.
She’d find Bailey, Jintao, then her helmsman. As for Lyra, she was intending to settle her as a medic. Cyrus would teach her well, she was certain.
With the others she would chart their course. The way she already had planned, of course. Though, she would allow them to feel as though they made some sort of decision in the process.
She stopped walking, envisioning the course in her mind.
Due east, then the wide way down to Undermine. The King’s ships take that route if they’re feeling secretive. We can take their stores, guns. Perhaps some hostages.
Vhanya, content with her plan, resumed her walk to descend belowdecks.
If all went well, they would leave at dawn and be well on their way in a fortnight.
The Quicksilvers sails would know wind again soon.
 
Lacy
Do I need to do anything with Fitz to give you an opening?
(Maybe. I sorta lost inspiration on him for the time being. When I read your last post of Fritz, I thought he stayed aboard that Barge, and was going to introduce Liam there. Then when I went to write my post, I realized he had left. I got an idea where and how to start his first post, but I haven't been motivated to actually write it out or know where to go with it.)
 
(Maybe. I sorta lost inspiration on him for the time being. When I read your last post of Fritz, I thought he stayed aboard that Barge, and was going to introduce Liam there. Then when I went to write my post, I realized he had left. I got an idea where and how to start his first post, but I haven't been motivated to actually write it out or know where to go with it.)
(I’ll get him back on the barge!)
 
(I’m not proofreading this it might be a hot mess)

Vhanya took a deep breath of cool sea air. The sun was well on its way to being fully set, and the breezes carried the unmistakable scent of evening. If she were in Neustadt, the fireflies would be out.
Softly, she stepped along the deck to the ratlines near the spanker. Ascending the ropes required little thought, her hands bore the necessary callouses and her arms were lean and strong.
She remembered being much smaller, scaling those ropes with a knife in her teeth or a length of rope under an arm to bring to the sailors along the yards. Though Vhanya had grown older, the sea winds hadn’t changed. They bit through the ropes, fluttering tied sails and stinging the skin with sea-spray.
She reached the yard, tightly hooking an arm around the wood to keep herself steady.
And there was the sunset, bleeding out over the ocean and setting the farthest waves aglow with light of the purest crimson.
Red sky at night, sailors delight.
Vhanya grinned, relishing the taste of salt in the air and yes, even the last cries of the gulls before night came.
She couldn’t hardly wait ‘til they set sail.
Then came the climb down from the ratlines, and the thud of her boots on the planks when she jumped down.
One of her crew was dragging a crate towards the hatchway, she stopped him with a shrill whistle.
“You there! Fetch Bailey for me— and there’s a girl somewhere around here. Curls,” she gestured, “stands around eh, this tall. She’ll answer to Lyra. Fetch her too.”
And she kept walking, keeping a keen yellow eye on the men as they worked. They’d finished unloading and were now all aboard the ‘Silver, presumably stocking the stores and hanging hammocks belowdecks.
She’d find Bailey, Jintao, then her helmsman. As for Lyra, she was intending to settle her as a medic. Cyrus would teach her well, she was certain.
With the others she would chart their course. The way she already had planned, of course. Though, she would allow them to feel as though they made some sort of decision in the process.
She stopped walking, envisioning the course in her mind.
Due east, then the wide way down to Undermine. The King’s ships take that route if they’re feeling secretive. We can take their stores, guns. Perhaps some hostages.
Vhanya, content with her plan, resumed her walk to descend belowdecks.
If all went well, they would leave at dawn and be well on their way in a fortnight.
The Quicksilvers sails would know wind again soon.
(Is Raven still appointed helmsman? (Aka do I still have to to a boatload (ha!) of ship research))
 
The carriage came to a sudden halt. A horse had thrown a shoe.
Did the driver know who Fitzpatrick was? Did he have an idea of the trouble Fitz could get him in? Apparently not.
And much to Pinchbeck’s displeasure, the driver claimed they must wait for the horse to be reshod.
It would be dark soon, time was a-wasting and there were schedules to be held to that certainly could not be held to with this sort of mishap.
Much to Fitz’s further displeasure, the driver stopped a man on the road who he most inconveniently knew. And as one knows, old, working men are just as long-winded as the chronic gossip.
So Pinchbeck abandoned the carriage with a huff, he would come back when the horse was dealt with.
He walked down the cobbled street at an easy pace. A pair of ladies too strolled down the street, their wide skirts sweeping along the ground. Fitz leant them a smile, and they both tittered. He was certain they looked back at him once he’d passed.
Maybe it was because of his fine clothes, and the sash of the king’s bold colors around his waist. Or maybe it was because his nose was rather stately, and his brow had a sort of noble slope to it. Either way, those of the fairer sex were always quite eager to return his smiles.
And, despite the fact that he was quite vexed by his current predicament, he even stooped to drop a crown in the outstretched hat of a beggar. One must keep up appearances even in such times of great turmoil.
He found himself back at the port, the little brig still floating neatly. So he sat at a bench and fished his pipe out of a pocket, for nothing else could’ve been done.
 
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