No pewsting

[Carrot Muffinns]

A one on one between Lady March Hare & myself.
Please do not post in here if you are not one of these two people.
You may creep our role play but that is all.

[Lady March Hare]

There was nothing, no sound, no sensation, no tactile experience known on heaven nor earth more soothing to the soul and senses then a sea at rest. No one ever denied that the sea could be wicked; the tales told of its horrors and heartaches were true ones, told by those who had experienced them. The sea could change in the time it took to blink, to gasp, to recoil in horror; it could lull one into a false sense of security before twisting into a most violent tempest; it could raise its undulating surface to curl sailing vessels under its weighted waves just as easily as it could topple them wildly over its crest. The sea was dangerous, a fickle mistress whose temper was constantly changing, and whose moods were a mystery to all but those that threw themselves into the life of the seaman. The sea was dangerous to those that dared to cross her; of that there was no doubt. But even as she repelled, she drew those with the spirit of adventure into her watery embrace. If one had a stout heart and a stouter vessel, one had a chance to conquer those many dangers and, upon doing so, be granted the greatest of rewards. The bliss, the serenity, the clean, clear calm… it was something only one who had taken the worst the seas had to offer could fully appreciate.

At least, that is what Nathaniel Fabian had been raised to believe. It was a belief held by his father, by his father’s father, a belief that had been held by a whole line of Fabian captains enamored with the seas.

It was a love affair that few who did not spend their lives on the waters strove to understand. But there was something about the crisp smell of the air after a squall that lifted the spirit, something about the endless stretch of sky on all sides that made one feel so small, yet so unconquerable. Nathaniel could think of nothing that had so greatly sustained him throughout his young life. The sea was all he could remember; he had spent more time on his father’s sailing vessel then he had on dry land. His earliest sights were the massive canvas sails flapping in the wind, his earliest sounds the waves slapping soothingly against the curving hull, his first conscious feeling the melodic rocking of the ship as it continued its dance over the constantly moving waves. Peaceful, homelike; it was really no wonder that Nat felt nothing but anxiety when he was forced to go to port. With such complete beauty waiting for him on the horizon, what sort of stationary life could hope to occupy his attention?

He took a deep, appreciative breath; his father’s ship, the Maiden’s Prayer, had been faced with a mighty squall the night before, and had made it through like the champion she was. An admiring smile quirked his lips upwards and his bright blue eyes were lowered to the wooden railing he leaned against. He loved the Maiden’s Prayer with the tenderness young men usually reserved for a mother or sister, but seeing as both had been denied to him, the ship got the entirety of his admiration. It was a schooner envied by those in the shipping business, a beautiful vessel with the balance of speed and strength that kept her missions completed and her crew safe. Nathaniel was not the only man aboard who spoke and thought so fondly of their transportation.

Patting a calloused hand against the railing, the tanned young man pushed himself from his slouch and shook off the momentary nostalgia that always struck him on the morning after a storm. After all, the Maiden’s Prayer was not a pleasure vessel; she was a work horse, and her crew was not aboard to daydream, but to procure a very specific sort of cargo. Some vessels that took to the sea did so in pursuit of fish, some did so to cart goods of all sorts to distant lands and the profits to be found there, and others still reserved their missions to the slaying of the great oceanic beasts whose blubber would light a thousand oil lamps. But the Maiden’s Prayer was hunting none of these commodities.

No; the crew of the Maiden’s Prayer were hunting merfolk.

“Daydreaming again, Natty?” a voice called down to him from the riggings, and Nathaniel automatically flicked his eyes upwards to the source of the voice. The voice came from a large man with skin tanned by the sun dark brown hair, his eyes a bright, crisp blue to match his son’s. His face was an honest one, with a strong jaw and lips curved up into a small, confident smile. He was dressed in browns and whites, the coat that marked him as the captain of the vessel hanging open in an unusual deterrence from protocol. His leather boots sounded firmly against the wooden boards as he moved closer to the younger man, and wrapped around his waist was a cloth belt that held the only pistol allowed above deck. The older man came to a stop before the younger, reaching a hand to clasp his shoulder in greeting.

“Of course not.” Nathaniel lied, clearing his throat. “I was looking for mermaids. Not a sight of them, as of yet.”

“A bad place to do such a thing.” his father quipped, an amused sparkle in his eye. “Shouldn’t you be in the crow’s nest, or at least up in the rigging for such a thing?”

“Yes.” Nathaniel sighed, bracing himself for the teasing that was sure to come. Aside from the cabin boy of twelve, Nathaniel was the youngest member of his father’s crew. There was never any doubt that he was also the most loyal, but it was a great amusement on the ship to tease the young man about his youth. He had proven himself more often then any of the twenty man crew could count, so the teasing only fell upon him when he brought it upon himself. Say, when he allowed himself to get caught up in sea-watching. “We just came through a squall, Father… it’s my favorite time.”

“You’re like your mother that way, you are.” his father said fondly. Allowing the opportunity for jest to pass, he released his son’s shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, pay attention; we’re coming up on one of the sighting grounds for the merfolk. They’re slippery; if we see them at the same time that they see us, we’ll miss our chance to catch them. And her Majesty would be less than pleased. You remember what happened to the crew of the Victory…”

“I remember.” Nathaniel replied quickly, a hint of scorn entering his voice. “We won't make the same mistakes. Don’t worry, sir; they won't escape from us.”

“Good man.” Captain Fabian said agreeably, turning to squint up at one of the many bodies that crawled about in the riggings above. His attention quickly moving elsewhere, he lifted a hand to his mouth as he moved away, his tone a bit sterner. “Steady, Anderson! Watch the lines, watch the lines!”

Grinning, the younger Fabian cast one last look to the horizon before moving to the side of the ship. His loosely woven shirt catching in the strong breeze from the east, the young man wound a hand tightly around the nearest rope stretching down from the mast and hauled himself up to balance on the narrow rigging. Swinging his body around with the momentum of the ship, his free hand caught another tightly woven rope and his foot sank comfortably against a knot, his body swaying with the lulling of the waves. Climbing up the riggings like the natural he was, he joined Anderson along the mast, busying his attention with the adjusting of the billowing ivory sails. Below, the crew lugged heavy nets to the side of the ships, their low chatter and laughter mingling with the sloshing of waves to complete the soundtrack of oceanic life.

The hunting crew was ready; now, to find the prey.


[[ O.O.C.: Fidgeted with the coding some so it doesn't bother me as much. [/ocd] ^_^; ]]