Welcome to Gaia! ::

“Mm.” Ozzrick nodded.

There was certainly truth in that—to a degree he hadn’t even personally thought of himself, though he supposed it was only logical that Tacrith had. He was the doctor, after all, and it only stood to reason. The more interplay there was between the various races, the more they would begin to share one another’s diseases. Add to that the fact that Yael had been so isolated for so long, and the people there must have been especially susceptible to such an influx.

Perhaps it was no wonder many were so abundantly cautious instinctively, even if they hadn’t considered the risks in such terms.

When Tacrith paused, though, Oz found himself waiting as well, following the man’s gaze up. Such a view was one of the things he loved most about being on the open ocean — to have that sea of stars fully visible in all directions, half a world of nothing but distant universes. After a moment, as often happened when his gaze turned skyward, his attention gravitated to a particular cluster — one of the first he had been taught to identify — and he smiled, leaning to bump the other man’s shoulder very lightly and raise a hand.

“Do you see that line of three stars? Just up from the especially bright one nearer the horizon? At home in Tale, they call it the belt of the great spirit. I am not sure if it’s true…but my mother would insist you can find that cluster at some point in the sky no matter what land you’re standing on…so far it has proved true.”

Something in the way.

Ozzrick tisked lightly. “There is always something in the way…” he murmured, quite in spite of himself, and not entirely sure exactly what he was getting at, except: “Sometimes, you have to work around that, and appreciate things just as they are.”

When Tacrith cleared his throat and moved forward, Oz blinked, but then followed, quietly assessing. It probably would have been a good time to just leave it be and move on. He didn’t know the man that well, after all, despite their time together, and clearly he was a pragmatic spirit.

Still.

Ozzrick felt vocal as he often did and the words came of their own regard. “Few things are necessary in life. Once you have food and water…it’s just a matter of deciding where you would like to go and spend your time from there. Deciding what’s worth it, and worth your focus…”

Ozzrick blinked, and then grinned a bit cheekily in spite of himself.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s a necessity…you can certainly and will certainly continue to move through life one day at a time with the rest of us whether or not you’ve found your own direction, but…” He rolled his shoulders. “Me?”

He let himself dwell on it seriously a moment before answering.

“I’m in it to be someone no one else is. I want people to know my name. Not because I danced the dance such-and-so did a hundred years ago but with ‘new artistic energy’ or because I learned the same trick we’ve passed down for generations…I want to do something else and make it mine and be remembered for that.”

He shifted his posture, glancing out to the path ahead, and then fleetingly to Tacrith.

“I like the sea because it promises boundless opportunities, and Yael is something new…I think people are too quick to shirk away from things they don’t yet understand, but to me…life and adventure are about carving that. It’s most exciting when no one has really done it before, and…” He shrugged, “…sure, there are a few others working this route, but no one is me yet. And already, I think I have been exposed to more opportunities and experiences than I might have on another path.”

He eyed Tacrith, and an amused spark entered his eye. “And though I think I could guess…what is your guiding star focus, doctor?”

“Mm…” Oz supposed, silently, he would have to disagree with the first assertion. Will certainly was necessary. But the will just to survive was enough for many—it didn’t need to be more than that. Everything above and beyond there were luxuries. But it was a matter of perspective, and not worth belaboring on a pleasant evening.

So, he clicked his tongue instead at Tacrith’s latter response and shook his head.

“Because I asked to begin with,” he said. “But if you prefer I guess first…your aim is to learn everything you may in medicine, to educate yourself and become among the most accomplished in your field…” As soon as he said it, though, Ozzrick realized there might very reasonably be more to it than that. He didn’t actually know much at all about Tacrith’s personal background, and the edge of severity with which he had spoken about the ‘mere’ will to survive planted a curious seed in the back of his mind.

For later exploration, most likely. But at the moment, it still begged the inquiry:

“Come, you can tell me…what got you into medicine? You care about people…but you aren’t the bleeding-heart healer. I’m curious.”

I have not given much thought to being better compared to others…

Ozzrick eyed his company and found that in spite of himself, he believed him. It was a common thing, particularly when passionate, to mark one’s success at least in part on how one’s skills compared to the rest in the same or similar field. He didn’t necessarily think it bad. He could certainly be competitive himself, and on the tongues of some, he would have laughed and rolled his eyes. But with Tacrith, he felt oddly satisfied that it was probably true.

The man simply seemed to be more secure in himself, at least in that particular way. Eager to improve, but on his own merits in his own way. Perhaps it had partly to do with how much he separated himself out to begin with. He was so private, it made it easy to believe he didn’t care too much what anyone else was doing.

At Tacrith’s revelation, Ozzrick supposed he wasn’t surprised—he might have guessed it had something to do with his injury—but still, it was privately pleasing to have it shared with him at all. When the doctor made his request, though, Oz blinked, and then glanced to the man’s leg before quickly diverting his gaze up.

“The ship is closer…and at this hour, you’d likely get better reception if you waited until morning. We’ll have time. Are you…very dedicated to the idea of an inn?” At first, Oz had thought it would only be a concern in terms of coin and hassle, after arriving again in Oba, however, and being reminded of simply the place it was — there was a very small, private part of him that wasn’t certain he wanted Tacrith alone in the foreign space, even in paid-for quarters.

He couldn’t pinpoint all the reasons for his concern, but he chose to blame it over archingly on the fact that, for all that he enjoyed it, he didn’t trust Oba for much of anything. And Tacrith was very foreign in a place that was not always kind to the exotic or vulnerable.

Go on back to your ship and come for me in the morning.

Ozzrick pursed his lips. He didn’t like the idea. He didn’t appreciate being given orders. However, he realized full well that he did not actually need to follow them in this instance. Tacrith was an outsider on foreign soil with no resources, and Ozzrick was his only ‘friend’ — despite also being the person who had gotten him here in the first place, in a way.

So, for all of Tacrith’s stubbornness, it was entirely Ozzrick’s choice what he wanted to support.

He felt, in this case, despite his gut instinct of concern, that out of courtesy alone, his morals would prefer he cooperate. He liked the doctor. It wasn’t Tacrith’s fault or choice that he was here to begin with, and perhaps if Oz extended enough courtesies, the man would properly appreciate that he hadn’t meant to give him the extra hassle to begin with. At least on this first night, surely he could afford one room in an inn.

So, he gave a resigned sigh. “Very well…” he said as he began leading their path back into town, towards the nearest innkeep. “But you should know, it is not even so much the cost that I am concerned about. I enjoy Oba and all that it has to offer…but even I can admit it is not always the…friendliest place, particularly to outsiders alone who come unprepared. I suggest only that you watch yourself and try to stay out of trouble…”

There wasn’t much else Ozzrick could do, and even though Tacrith had mentioned it in passing as something he ‘needn’t do,’ Oz knew he couldn’t practically leave his ship behind. It was where he belonged, regardless of the doctor’s whims. Thus, he lead Tacrith off, made arrangements and paid for a room, telling himself as he departed that the uneasy pinch in his gut was all in his head.

It would be fine.

Surely.

Tacrith could handle himself.