Post by illirica on Jan 26, 2023 18:21:18 GMT
The ship was never silent. It had its own story to tell, after all. Even its captain didn't know all of it. She'd acquired the ship a little over a decade ago, in a deal gone wrong. Sinéad Oíche was very fond of deals gone wrong, as she usually took care that they went wrong for the others involved. It wasn't a pretty story, but she hadn't traded away anything she would miss, nor anything that was hers to begin with. It had cost her two things: her silence on the matter, and an infant.
The latter was no trouble at all - after all, one had to do something with the stolen babe when a changeling was left behind. It wasn't a situation that Sinéad found herself in often, but when it happened, she made what use of it she could. The silence, though...
Ah, the silence. Her fingertips traced the well-worn arc of the aileron wheel. No, that story would stay between them, between herself and the ship. From that beginning she had made a new story, one vibrant with strange characters of all types. Her crew, with her only qualification requirements being skill and the willingness to use it.
The ship sailed on through the sky, and Sinéad lifted her head, feeling the wind rush past her face, wrapping around her in little eddies. The motion of the ship was the only thing that ever came close to the feeling of flying. It was not quite the same. Nothing ever would be. The muscles in her back twitched, a reflexive spasm that did nothing more than stretch the scars where gossamer wings had once been. That story, too, was ended.
And so the ship sailed on, and if she was silent, it was not. The chatter of the crew, the soft hiss of the ropes, the creak of the wood, the clank of the chains beneath that held the crow cages below the ship, clanking against each other when the ship took a sharp turn. They were empty now, but perhaps they would not be for long. Sometimes after a pillage, the crew needed a few reminders - and sometimes there were new crew members acquired during such things. Sinéad had always been of the opinion that a day in the crow cage at the beginning of a voyage did wonders for the attitudes of any newcomers.
The ship was past the coastline now, by her measurements. Another hour and they would be above the town of Fen Manor, three days before the local lord sent out his shipment of tax goods towards the capitol. They would be stockpiling now - well guarded stockpiles, to be fair, but Sinéad didn't mind the risk as long as the rewards were good.
The clouds were damp as the Hard Nox made its way through the sky. There would be a storm here tonight.
Good. It would put out the fires.
The latter was no trouble at all - after all, one had to do something with the stolen babe when a changeling was left behind. It wasn't a situation that Sinéad found herself in often, but when it happened, she made what use of it she could. The silence, though...
Ah, the silence. Her fingertips traced the well-worn arc of the aileron wheel. No, that story would stay between them, between herself and the ship. From that beginning she had made a new story, one vibrant with strange characters of all types. Her crew, with her only qualification requirements being skill and the willingness to use it.
The ship sailed on through the sky, and Sinéad lifted her head, feeling the wind rush past her face, wrapping around her in little eddies. The motion of the ship was the only thing that ever came close to the feeling of flying. It was not quite the same. Nothing ever would be. The muscles in her back twitched, a reflexive spasm that did nothing more than stretch the scars where gossamer wings had once been. That story, too, was ended.
And so the ship sailed on, and if she was silent, it was not. The chatter of the crew, the soft hiss of the ropes, the creak of the wood, the clank of the chains beneath that held the crow cages below the ship, clanking against each other when the ship took a sharp turn. They were empty now, but perhaps they would not be for long. Sometimes after a pillage, the crew needed a few reminders - and sometimes there were new crew members acquired during such things. Sinéad had always been of the opinion that a day in the crow cage at the beginning of a voyage did wonders for the attitudes of any newcomers.
The ship was past the coastline now, by her measurements. Another hour and they would be above the town of Fen Manor, three days before the local lord sent out his shipment of tax goods towards the capitol. They would be stockpiling now - well guarded stockpiles, to be fair, but Sinéad didn't mind the risk as long as the rewards were good.
The clouds were damp as the Hard Nox made its way through the sky. There would be a storm here tonight.
Good. It would put out the fires.
