1st Draft Fridays - A Fistful of ... (#6)

Dockside, Salles

Brineli gets seasick.

That surprises Wight, more than the bucket the montai woman brought on the boat to begin with—provided by Querant Filitzom far faster than she expected—or annoyed grimace Brineli wears as she stalks the boat, keeping nearby as Wight's guard even while she's vomiting.

Brineli hasn't really been to Saf, and between that and the coup, there's a lot Wight knows that the other woman might not have even heard of. She tries to share everything relevant, and Brineli responds with tips on what to do when faced with different types of attack—all starting with a premise that Wight will be fleeing fights.

One seaman with more bravado than sense pats Wight's butt as he passes, and Brineli calls "Man overboard!" as he hits the water.

The captain is not happy about that particular line of events, but he's able to see the amusement in it. And he assists the message inherent in the reaction with a lecture reminding his men that neither woman had given them touching rights.

He eyes them a little less dubiously, after that, though he's still uncomfortable and uncertain about his orders to take them to Saf. "Are you certain?" he asks, more than once, even after Wight directs him to a small cave south of the docks.

Salles, despite how it touches the ocean, has very few areas where the ocean's actually reachable. Most of the shoreline is cliff, with some variations interspersed throughout, and that includes the shoreline alongside most of the city. Marsdenfel has the cliffs, too, without a single beach.

The captain anchors his ship south of the cave, and the dinghy is prepped to ferry them to the rocks.

"There's magic," one of the men tells his captain in seafarthen.

"It's my husband's," Wight answers.

There's surprise at her use of the language, probably because she and Brineli have been conversing in mountaineer. The seaman, though, just blinks a few times. "Your husband's ondine?"

Brineli snorts. "First-generation Bridgers still happen, you know."

Apart from that...it's not a long trip, and Wight's sailed plenty of times. Sooner than she's comfortable with, they're standing on the rocks, the reek of smoke and offal and gunpowder seasoning the air under the salt and tang of the sea.

Brineli hurls her bucket into the ocean.

Wight checks their surroundings, mindful of witnesses, and discreetly reaches into her own magic, separates the water enough to give them a dry path in.

Brineli runs a hand through the silt that's been exposed by Wight's magic. "Interesting," she murmurs, but she doesn't say anything beyond that before returning to their task at hand.

Wight takes a deep breath, hoping that nobody's suborned her lord's caverns here while they've been away, and leads them in.