The Tide Song
25 Summer 218
Sav
It’s only a day or two after they depart from the port where they’d laid up for repairs to the ship. Sav has done a fair bit of shopping, mostly secondhand, in her land time; she hasn’t yet modified any of them, so is still wearing her rather ragged cloak and slightly-too-short pants when she pads barefoot up to the captain’s cabin.
Lips pursed uncertainly, she holds the items behind her back and knocks on the door.
Athelia
Athelia is sitting at her desk, having spent the morning walking her ship and talking with her crew about how the Tide Song is handling. Her desk has scattered papers, the old ledger with Capt Weygarde’s scraping script, and fresh pages of her own transcriptions.
On the side of the desk furthest from the door is a large glass bowl, filled with water and inside are three translucent eggs. The orange skin grows thinner as the beings within develop. And deep within the loose curls of her pale hair is a faint light, the fairy nestled against the nape of her neck.
Singing softly, to herself or her small companions, she lets the notes drop when she hears a knock at the door.
“Come in,” she says, setting a marker in the older book so as to not lose her place.
Sav
At the invite, she opens the door and pokes her head in. Seeing no one else in there, the rest of her follows, and she takes a few more steps in.
Halting there, still near the door, she pulls her hands and the items she holds from behind her back, presenting a somewhat squashed-looking stuffed fish and a small folded square of cloth that, when she shakes it out, reveals itself to be a tiny quilt. “For th’ wean,” she says quickly, then takes a few more rapid steps forward, placing the blanket and stuffy on the bed and backing away as hastily. Clarifying, because sometimes people do seem to have a hard time understanding her dialect, “Th’ wee one tae come, I mean.”
Athelia
Athelia watches Sav pull out the small blankets and toy with curiosity and then confusion. Wondering where Sav had gotten the idea that there would be a wee one… when it dawns on her who Sav overheard.
“Oh,” Athelia’s touches her heart briefly, her eyes dart to the eggs and back to Sav. “Sylas didn’t mean …”
Standing, she walks around her desk to the far side and kneels down to get eye level with the glass bowl.
“He saw the essence in the eggs that the Kelp Herder left in my care,” she gestures for Sav to come over. “I’m not sure what they’ll be like when they hatch…. fish or babies. But I imagine somewhat human-like considering how they are when full-grown.”
A look of worry clouds her face, and she bites her lower lip a bit considering her charges before looking up to Sav.
“Actually, I could use some help creating a safe place for them aboard the ship…” Athelia begins, “I’ll be like a mother to them, but wish I knew more about what they needed.”
Sav
“The…” What that the what? she doesn’t say, too mortified to get anything more out. A tide of red suffuses her face in hot pursuit of the single word that does squeak past her lips.
She looks over at the weans in question for not precisely the first time. She’d glanced at them before when checking that Avarian was alive and to search Weygarde’s body, but other things had occupied the bulk of her attention at that moment, and then after that—well. She actively examines the orange eggs in the glass container on the desk now, however, mismatched eyes blinking rapidly as she tries to terrorize her blush away by willpower alone.
The mystery presented by the eggs quickly distracts her, Sav drifting a few unconscious steps closer to the desk even as she fails to wrestle her ruddiness into submission. She digs a hand into her bag and pulls out a magnifying glass, bending down to peer at the translucent orange skin of the eggs and the darker blobs coalescing in the center.
“I—ach.” She coughs, her throat having gone dry with panic at being caught so wrong, rewets her mouth, and tries again. “The kelp herder—‘twas the fish-man? He left ye these?” She continues to study the eggs, finding it easier to focus on them than to face Athelia. “Gi’en as they’re part-visible, mought be an easy way to tell if they’re near-hatchin or no—just t’ keep an eye on their development an such. Ha’ ye been keepin a log of what ye can see, sketches an the like?
“If the kelp herder be both an air- and water-breather, like a frog—and these eggs could look to be like either fish or frog, I’ve no studied either enough tae be sure—mayhap tryin’ for conditions that match a frog’s could be safest? Do ye know where these kelp herders normally live, or was’t in the river here? I’d gie ‘em clean water most like their home—be it river or brackish or t’other - mayhap wi’ some kelp, an when they hatch some food like what they eat—fish? Kelp? Wee buggies?” She’s warming up to the idea even as the heat in her face dies, enough for her to straighten and look at Athelia while she speculates. “Mayhap also a patch of dry land in the incubatin’ pen, in case they need such. If they’ve an instinct akin to most beasts, they might hie themselves by instinct t’ where they need tae be once they’re aborn, an’ if that’s so ‘tis best to offer them options.”
Athelia
Athelia sees Sav’s blush and tries her best not to notice it. Understanding the embarrassment, but loving that she cared enough to bring such thoughtful gifts.
“The eggs were clear and orange before and now,” she traces along the glass to indicate. “And while we were away, the middle part where it’s more red, has grown from just a small bead to nearly the full orb. I wonder if we might see the shape of what they’ll become before they hatch.”
She listens as Sav works through her thoughts and theories and nods. Appreciating how the young woman’s mind works and feeling some relief. She’d ferried so many fae through Isendel to find the portal. But nothing quite as helpless as this. And caring for them, trying to do what was right, she felt helpless and lost.
“The Kelp Herders aren’t a social people, I’ve only had a few meetings with them and never visited their dwellings,” she says thinking back, pulling memories from before, when she was still among her own kind. “The kelp, the kind that grows within these waters, is vital to their way of life. But I’m not sure if it is just the plant or that which lives within the plant or both…”
She considers how the ship might be their home until they are ready to want to be on their own. But realizes she’s getting far ahead of herself.
“I could use some help preparing for some of these possibilities. I was trusted with the last of their kind, and while I hope to find others somewhere… It is doubtful that the serpents, driven mad, had mercy on anything in the river.”
Sav
Remembering the massive serpent that had broken river surface and Swan ship both, Sav sobers, nodding. “Have ye received any missive or sign from the serpents since we returned?” she asks, curious and a little hesitant. Stopping the source of the taint - if that is indeed what they accomplished - didn’t remove the grubs that already existed, after all. Either they still lived undisturbed out there, corrupting the serpents or other living beings, or they’d be slowly killed one by one as they encountered a being too hardy for them, but leaving a trail of bodies behind them.
Not unakin to the witches in that, come to think.
Shaking the unbidden thought out of her head, she refocuses on the task at hand. “Aye, I can lend a hand tae this,” she says. “I’ll consider some designs an’ make some sketches, an’ we’ll see what we can pull together for these orphan fish-weans.” An odd empathy quivers in her. Hard enough to be an orphan; how much worse to be the last of your kin, and no way to pass as the kith you find yourself amongst?
Athelia
Athelia is quiet for a moment, considering the way she sealed the agreement with the Great Serpent at the river. In that moment facing overwhelming numbers, her crew drowned one by one, and all of her life pulled to pieces. She made the sailors and soldiers aboard that ship pay with their lives. Athelia swallows dryly and cannot help but frown.
“Only the song we sang and when I called for her in the fog, I do not think she will appear to me again. But I hope she and her serpents are well or will recover. I wish we could have done more. Truly hope that is the last of that fadebeast and its grubs…” Feeling uncomfortable, she welcomes Sav’s shift in subject.
“Truly, any help you can offer means a lot. If I can think of anything more, or if I can discover some insight in the river as we travel. Maybe we can provide a real home for them. Even if it is not the one they were born to,” for a moment, she feels that emptiness, for a home that no longer exists.
“Thank you, Sav,” she stands. “And if we need any supplies I will see what can be done when we get to Ven.”
Sav
Sav grunts, half in agreement, half in pessimism. “If they’re only the paws of the Beast with a Thousand Eyes, as Sylas said, then ‘tis quite possible we’ll encounter their like again. But at least we’re inoculated against the wee buggers.” Most of them, anyway. She’s reminded that she still has to find more ingredients for the inoculation formula so the entire crew can be protected - and perhaps these new wee herders, as well, once they’ve arrived.
“Technically,” she adds, with a flicker of humor, “this will be the home they’re born tae.” Technically correct, the best kind of correct. “Mought as well make it a good one.” Brushing the jar of eggs lightly with fingers, she nods at Athelia and retreats from the cabin, snatching up the mistaken gifts off the bed as she passes. As she departs, for a moment she’s possessed of the strong urge to simply pitch them overboard straightaway and forget that whole incident happened, but natural thriftiness keeps them secure within her hands. Aloysius might like them for a nest, if nothing else.
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