The Tide’s Song
33 Summer 218
Warbler
It was a rare thing on board this ship to have an uneventful day, but the last several had been just that. In fact … It was almost downright boring. No one really seemed to mind though, with the knowledge of the dangers downriver looming ahead it was a welcome break.
Warbler had taken this time to tend the garden, further educate Garth and Tarin on the finer points of Glenhollow Junction, and learn a costly lesson from them in return on the finer points of playing cards. He still didn’t understand the “art of the bluff” as they called it, and he was fairly certain they were making a joke he didn’t yet understand.
He’d also decided to fulfill a promise, and planned a fishing trip with Sylas. He made sure not to mention Tarth again, but instead had proposed it as a way to get to know one another and find some time away from the rest of the crew.
“Bait, check.”
“Poles, lines, and hooks, check.”
“Oars and ale, check.” Warbler muttered to himself as he loaded up the small boat just before dawn.
Sylas
Sylas had finished writing out a note, informing of his and Warbler’s departure for the day, leaving it on his cot for someone to find. Though they had discussed their trip previously with the group, he thought it best to leave a reminder, lest everyone suddenly think Sylas had disappeared to kill the halfling. The note read simply:
’Gone fishing. Will return with the halfling this evening.’
He sighed heavily at the thought of everyone thinking the worst of him, despite all his efforts to assuage their concerns. Despite himself, a slight smirk cracked in the corner of his mouth at the thought of his note being misinterpreted as a threat, a hostage situation. Perhaps a joke to be used another time.
Hefting his bag and weapons over his shoulder, Sylas made his way above deck to find Warbler going over a checklist before they departed. Sylas paused for a moment to look over the small boat that he would be sharing with this man for the day, and considered if he actually liked fishing. Certainly Tarth did; there are some memories of the old soldier enjoying quiet days, solo or with friends, on the shores of lakes or in the middle of great ponds fishing and most times catching nothing. Yet a sense of unwasted pleasure and delight reverberated in those recollections.
As Sylas ponders on this, his mind flashes back to the great vision he had. Of the forces they would encounter and would have to stop. Of his role in it all. And he feels himself become flushed with anger, gripping the strap of his bag more tightly, his jaw clenching. He catches himself, and lets his frustrations go as he breathes out, his grip loosening slightly, though his jaw remained tight for just a moment longer. There was nothing to be done about those feelings today. Instead, he would discover if he enjoyed fishing.
“Warbler,” he announces, walking forward. “We about ready to set off?”
Warbler
Ringo jumps at the sound of Sylas’ voice, slightly alarmed by the break in the predawn song of wind over water percussing behind the chirping insects and whistling birds.
That man moves like a cat … he, he kinda smiles like one too actually, Warbler thinks to himself. Shaking off the tension caused by his surprise before responding.
“Yep! I’ve picked out a few promising spots, and have, um, a few types of bait for the fish … and enough ale to last the day, or batter the fish depending on our luck.” he states with a bright smile.
Ringo had always been an uncannily good fisherman growing up. Not through any manner of skill or practice, but something more like a knack … a combination of intuition and blind luck. He’d hit the streams with Osbin at least one morning per week and would reel in three for every one his friend would catch, but that wasn’t really the point of the trips. Everyone shared equally in the catch.
He’d learned who Osbin was during those hours tossing lines over water. He hoped this would serve a similar purpose with Sylas. Sylas was a puzzle that needed solving, perhaps as much for his own sake as to sate Warbler’s curiosity.
“I, I’m hoping we can make it to this cove by dawn.” he says pointing to a crudely drawn map showing tints and shades of blue abstract squiggles on a plank of wood that vaguely resembled a river if one squinted hard enough.
Sylas
Sylas notes the man jumping at his approach but says nothing. Instead looking over the crude map Warbler had drawn as he points out their possible destinations, eyes lingering on the cove that the halfling hoped to be promising.
“Time away from the ship, drinking ale, sounds more delightful to me than just about anything else in the world currently,” Sylas says with a grunt, heaving his belongings onto the small boat. “If you want to reach that cove before dawn we’d best move. I’ll be counting on you to choose the best spots to find these fish.”
Motioning for the shorter man to board the boat, Sylas hops on and positions himself to row. Without another word, he sets them off in the direction that Warbler points out, though Sylas remains silent throughout the trip to the cove.
Warbler
Warbler points the way towards the first cove that he’d found days before during a fly over. He’d taken to spending a couple candles as a river gull scouting for choice spots ever since he’d convinced Sylas to join him on this trip.
It was a shady spot wreathed in overhanging trees that provided some cover, was still fairly deep despite being right on the shoreline, and had plenty of aquatic plants breaking through the surface. The sun was just starting to peek up over the treeline when they arrived.
“If I was a fish, this is where I’d be first thing in the morning.” Warbler said with a grin as he takes a cricket out of one of the bait buckets and affixes it to his hook.
“Have you pretty much caught up on sleep? I know you were going through a rough patch there for a while.” he asks as he casts his line over the edge of the boat.
Sylas
Sylas watches Warbler affix the critter to his hook before casting the line out. He attempts to imitate the same motions, but struggles, as the worm he’d grabbed was wriggling quite a bit. After a moment of frustration, he is able to pierce the grub on his own hook before throwing it out. He breathes out and leans back, closing his eyes for another moment before remembering that Warbler had asked a question.
“I have,” Sylas says with a grunt, sitting himself back up. “I think I was out for a whole day, correct? Certainly felt like it with how uncomfortable my body was after waking up. Felt as if I’d had the shit beaten out of me while I was unconscious. Though, considering some folks’ feelings on that ship towards me, I suppose I wouldn’t be entirely shocked to discover that as fact,” he remarks with a smirk that quickly vanishes.
Several moments of silence pass, and though he doesn’t feel awkward, Sylas does have a sense of obligation to try and converse with the man a bit more. Warbler had gone through all the trouble to try to get Sylas out here with him after all.
With a sigh, his eyes still turned towards the water, unfocused as they appeared, Sylas speaks up, “I see that you’ve gotten your garden in decent shape. Good to know that it was mostly salvageable.”
Warbler
Warbler passes one of the bottles of ale to Sylas with a smile and a nod. Taking note of Sylas’ comment about the opinions of the crew.
“If it’s any reassurance I only kicked you once while you were out.” Ringo said with a wry grin while glancing out of the corner of his eye to observe Sylas’ reaction to the joke.
“Tarin and Garth are good lads. I have them to thank for caring for the garden while we were away, though at the end of the day most of it would have grown back anyway I suppose.”
Sylas
Sylas reaches over and accepts the bottle with a grunt. He takes a sip of the morning ale, pulling it back quickly and holding it up towards the halfling, his eyes still facing the water, “Mm. Hope it helped to relieve any frustrations you may have had at the time…
“The garden may have grown back on its own in time, but it’s your care that allows for it all to flourish as it does. It’s something you all should be proud of I think - you especially. Gardening appears, to me at least, to be some kind of connection to your past, your home.” He takes another sip of the ale, looking over the river, finally turning his eyeline back to Warbler.
“Or I could be completely talking out of my ass; maybe it’s just a nice hobby for you,” he concludes with a smirk. He furrows his eyebrows, turning to look back over the watery scene, looking inquisitive.
“Hmm… This may seem odd, but how do you discover hobbies? Things that you like to do?”
Warbler
Warbler chuckles “It was a joke Sylas … I, I’ve got no reason to take out frustrations on you, or to have any negative opinions of you whatsoever honestly … I mean, you’ve changed a lot since we met, but there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s just what folks do; some faster than others.” He takes a sip of his ale, raises it to match Sylas’ gesture, and then bobs the line in the water in an effort to entice the local fish.
“You’re right about the garden, tending to trees in the orchard was my entire life back home, and, well … having something to take care of is good for people, I think.” He pauses a moment as he tries to find the right words. “ … I miss home most every day, and tending those bonsai is like having a piece of it with me.” he takes a moment to consider the odd question that Sylas just posed.
“Discovering hobbies, huh …” Warbler says thoughtfully, as he scratches his head, reclines, and kicks up his feet “I figure most folks just try a bunch of stuff until something sticks … there’s nothing you’ve found that you like over the past few months?”
Sylas
Sylas grunts to Warbler’s thoughts about his change, his mind considering the implications, when Warbler proceeds to ask about hobbies.
“Can’t say I’ve had much opportunity to consider hobbies since my awakening. Moment one of becoming a fully realized individual, I was screamed at, called a ‘witch’, attacked. Most days since then have been spent surviving with all of you and attempting to sort out my mind and all the loose memories floating about. Any free time where we haven’t been fighting for our lives was used to research ways to increase our survival odds against some of the creatures we would inevitably cross paths with.
“There are plenty of memories belonging to souls that were absorbed into this body that could be considered hobbies I suppose,” Sylas says as he scratches at his chin, taking another swig of ale. “But they’re memories of experiences that don’t belong to me. I don’t count those as potential hobbies. They belong to their original hosts…”
Sylas becomes quiet for some time after that. His brows furrows again and he turns back to look over the water.
“Change,” he mumbles to himself. “What a joke…”
Warbler
Warbler listens to Sylas’ statements; choosing his own words carefully so the meaning of them isn’t misconstrued.
“You definitely had a rough start to things huh …” Warbler says with a convincing smile, then he takes another swig of ale.
“Folk tend to fear what they don’t understand … makes them act, well, badly.
“I mean, the way you are … parts of many different folk, but your own person. I guess it … it reminds me of something my uncle and I used to work on together. Doesn’t bother me like the others. I hope I haven’t accidentally done anything that made you feel unwelcome.
“Maybe …”
Before he can get out his next words, Warbler’s fishing pole nearly flies out of his hands as he’s pulled to his feet! The water begins to splash upward as fins break through the previously calm surface of the river, thrashing against the hook and the line. Warbler leans back with all of his weight (which isn’t much), and calls out to Sylas. “Grab the net!”
Sylas
The sudden order from the halfling brought Sylas to attention as if he were a soldier; perhaps the odd manifestation of one of the many soldiers his body had absorbed. He jumps to Warbler’s side, net in hand, holding it half in water, prepping to swipe at and capture the fish. From how quickly Warbler was pulling on the reel, he could only imagine how large the creature could be…
Warbler
Just as Sylas grabs the net, Warbler falls flat on his back, a large trout flying through the air over the prow of the small rowboat, and the fish lands in the net.
“Good catch,” Warbler says with a smile, as he pulls himself back up onto his feet while catching his breath.
Warbler fills one of the empty buckets with water, and motions for Sylas to drop the fish in.
“Maybe, ahem, maybe you would enjoy gardening. I, um, grew a bonsai for every member of the crew; just trees that remind me of them, symbols. I’ve, well … always liked symbols and patterns. I’d gladly teach you how to go about shaping yours if you want. I get the feeling you’d probably like grafting.”
Sylas
Sylas drops the fish into the net and his eyes turn back towards Warbler as he offers to teach him gardening tricks. He stares hard at the halfling, trying to determine some ulterior motive to his offers and the niceties. Yet there doesn’t appear much deceit in his words, and this aggravates Sylas.
He falls back and takes a big swig of ale before responding to Warbler. “…what the fuck is it that you want? Trying to butter me up to do something for you…?
“You have actively gone out of your way to appear kind and welcoming to me. If you want something from me then just ask. This whole performance,” Sylas says as he motions at Warbler’s person, “is unnecessary. Nobody on that ship trusts or likes me and that’s perfectly fine; you don’t have to try to appear any different.”
Sylas takes another swig of his ale, placing the empty bottle next to him. “If you want to try and placate an awkward moment with small talk, I’ll be more than happy to take part. But don’t pretend to be my friend. Don’t pretend to treat me as if I’m some other completely normal person when we all know that’s far from accurate.”
Warbler
Ringo beams at Sylas with a wide grin, and starts to let out a low chuckle. The chuckle rapidly crescendos into a laugh as the halfling doubles over just barely able to keep his balance in the small rowboat.
“Oh my! Sylas … ha HA ha HA, I would never, ah, hum, hooo … boy … I would never dream …” he says as he wipes a joyful tear from the corner of his eye, and attempts to regain his composure.
“I would never dream of accusing you of being just some completely normal person.”
Warbler leans forward and places his hands on his knees then levels his gaze at the young man seated across from him. He holds eye contact for several seconds then tilts his head like a curious bird before saying, “I didn’t stumble out of the woods after chasing swans for twenty seasons because any of you are normal people … and certainly not just because I was hankering for some new friends …”
He tilts his head in the other direction as he says, “You, my boy, have more potential for growth than the rest of that dangerous crew of killers, pirates, and thieves combined. The potential to be the best or worst parts of all those scattered bits of who knows how many other folks have been grafted together in that head of yours.”
“Let’s, let’s try this again …” Warbler says as he reaches out and offers a handshake to Sylas.
“I’m Ringo Potts, a pear picker from a nowhere town on the border of an empire I never knew or wanted. I found out witches don’t eat children, monsters are real, and that I’m likely one or both of those things all in the past few seasons. There’s not much in my life that makes any sense at all to me anymore, and given what you’ve been through I reckon we’re more alike than we are different.
“How do you like fishing so far?” Ringo says flatly with his hand extended.
Sylas
Sylas is unable to do much immediately but stare at the halfling, jaw hanging open slightly. There are many reactions he would have expected; had he confronted any of the rest of the group in a similar manner as he just had with Warbler, he would have anticipated a fist fight, a yelling match, or perhaps some type of snide double talk. But never would he have expected anyone to laugh at him; not just laugh, but a hearty guffaw. Sylas found himself speechless as his mind worked overtime trying to process what was happening in this moment.
What’s his play here… Sylas thinks to himself. No one would offer up unwarranted praise without a motive. Did Ethan put him up to this? Perhaps Athelia. But what would they be after using the halfling like this…
Almost as if the halfling had cast some kind of spell on him, Sylas could feel his hand raising to meet Warbler’s. As this happened, Sylas’ mind still processing, he begins to stutter a response, “I-I uh…N-no…” when he catches himself, seeing his hand halfway to Warbler, and suddenly pulls it to the side and smacks the smaller hand away.
He feels his mind returning to him and a sneer crosses his face as he looks back over Warbler. “No, I don’t buy it! After everything you’ve most definitely heard about this body’s previous host, after getting to know Tarth as well as you had, I refuse to believe that you wouldn’t have some other reason to attempt to befriend me. To deceive me. I can respect it to a degree, but won’t fall victim to your ploy,” he says, folding his arms over his knees.
Sylas can feel his hand ball up into a fist, and a wave of agitation washes over him. Why does he feel annoyed so suddenly? He feels his teeth gritting again and a flash of the visions from the other night flare in his mind once more. Of the destiny he had been burdened with - manifested for…
Without another word, he turns back to look over the water, pretending to tend to his fishing pole. Something to keep his hands from being idle.
Warbler
Ringo looks down at his hand. Then back up to the figure across from him.
A surprised grin on his face as he shakes his head. Then he settles back onto his side of the boat, fishing pole in hand, and drops his hook into the water.
That could have gone far worse I suppose … he thinks to himself as he listens to the afternoon breeze sail across the river, Imagine … having all those memories, snippets of so many lives, and that combined knowledge teaching you … what? That there is no good deed one can trust, nothing given without deception. Is that the world, or just Isendel?
The two men sit in silence for a candle or more, which is only occasionally broken by a splash as a fish breaks the surface, or the plop of a baited hook sinking below. Neither of them managed to catch anything else as they moved from one fishing spot to another; leaving the lone trout swimming in the bucket.
Ringo reaches into the bucket, tosses the trout back into the river, and opens the last two ales. He takes a sip of one, and sets the other beside Sylas.
“This was a good day,” Ringo says as the sun starts to recede behind the treeline, and he begins rowing the boat back to the Tide Song.
Sylas
Without a word, Sylas takes the last bottle of ale and sips on it. He stares over the water as Warbler rows, watching the horizon slowly pass by as the sun meanders to meet it.
Flecks of scales from surrounding fish catch the setting sunlight at angles all around their boat just underneath the surface of the water. The refracting light vanishes as they scatter upon sensing the vibrations of oars from their boat, but returning after they pass. It’s a pleasant sight and one that Sylas cannot recall any previous memories of. This new experience, this memory appeared to be wholly his own. This moment was his.
This realization stirs Sylas to sit up and look more closely at the river starlight as it swims and scatters before him. He brushes his hand just over the surface of the water, sending fish in all directions, though it doesn’t take long for them to return. He thinks to himself that they appear to him as stars shooting across the night sky, flung back and forth with no purpose. His mind flickers back momentarily to Warbler’s mention of his potential and the heat rising in his face again. He can sense his aggravation bubbling to the surface again before he returns to how he was seated before. Despite himself, his curiosity was proving too persistent, he felt agitated to ask. He had to know.
Refusing to take his eyes off the water, Sylas speaks to Warbler, his tone less hostile than before. “Let’s say I took you at your word. That you did see some kind of potential in me. Whatever that means. Why do you care?”
Warbler
“I’m not clever, or strong, Sylas. I’m no fighter, or poet. I’m, I’m never gonna change the world,” Ringo says looking out over the water as he works the oars. “I’ve only ever really been good at one thing. I can see how to make things grow; to become something more. A few saplings into an orchard …
“I guess … I care because it’s all I can do. Because, my story ended years ago, but you … and the others. Yours, I mean, it feels like, yours is just beginning,” Ringo says wistfully as he pushes away flashes of memories of home.
“We don’t have to be friends … if you don’t want. It’s just that, this place …” he says as he fixes his eyes down river, to Galoring, towards the source, the home of the Painted Swans. “It needs people like you.
“And, there’s something my uncle used to always say at the end of the day …” Warbler contorts his face into an overly serious expression, furrows his brow, and in a much deeper tone he says, “‘We’re not done yet sprout, can’t go home until you’ve left it better than you found it.’
“I, um, I still remember finding the lot of you in the woods outside of Northgate, and well … I’m just trying to help,” Warbler says with a shrug as he looks at the angry, impatient, brilliant, and paranoid person seated across from him and thinks to himself, Things are gonna get better for you kid, cause as bad as it’s been for ya; they sure as hell can’t get much worse.
Sylas
Sylas continues looking over the river watching the water bound starlight dash all around them, though he is listening as Warbler speaks. Absorbing every word, studying every pause, waiting for some kind of break in his character. But it never comes and Sylas is stunned silent.
He then chuckles softly to himself before taking another large swig of ale. “Ringo, I believe you may be just a touch too kind-hearted for this group of warriors and pirates,” Sylas concludes.
“Something that you and him may actually have in common,” finishing the thought in his mind.
“That said,” he continues, as he awkwardly clears his throat, “I suppose it’s not a terribly dreadful thing. To entertain a tinge of optimism every now and again that is.
“So continue to be hopeful,” he says, pointing a finger back to him. “But let me be the first to warn that I don’t think I’m the smartest gamble. Could find yourself severely disappointed in the end. Or worse. Should that happen, well, I did warn ya.”
With a shrug, Sylas falls backwards, letting the sunlight warm his face as he closes his eyes. “Remember that a wise man knows to cut his losses before he loses his entire wager. Till then though, maybe we can go fishing again.”
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