Our Feet Are Cold And Tired - SYNN & BARUN

A slow frown pressed to his lips. Exhaustion clawed at the edges of his mind, scraped and gnawed as best it could. It sought to bring the Raider under. But for all his weariness and aching bones, he stood at the wheel of the Ranger steadfast and true. With the wind in her sails and her favor, he could see land on the horizon. Barun’s first love was the sea but every pirate or Raider craved the call of land when she appeared on the horizon. If offered women, booze and much more. And no Raider could resist such urges. Raiders were after all males. And that mean they felt the craving most females did not. Ryder was no exception.

His eyes locked on the bay ahead and a smirk danced across his lips. Confident and wild, he was pleased to see home. And the second he touched land he would crave the open ocean once again. It was just the way it was for the life of the Raider. A snort, thick and heavy pushed vapor from his lungs, allowing it to billow around his muzzle. Nothing was said. Instead he let the call from the crow's nest ring out and speak for him. He nodded to the crew of the Ranger and they set to the tasks that came with heaving to and dropping anchor in the bay. The ship could not go too far into port lest she scrape her hull along the ocean floor. And Barun had no desire to damage the ship he loved. And she was the one thing in this world he loved beside the sea herself. She was everything to the Raider and nothing was better than being at the helm of the Ranger as he stood watched, his men scurrying about their duties as he navigated the choppy waters.

Home was not far when on land. Home was a tavern with women to bed and yet home was beneath his hooves at the same time when on the deck of the Ranger. An odd sense of perfection to be at home wherever you were. As the Ranger heaved to he smirked once more. The slowing of the wind in her sails and the pulling of the hull against the water was familiar. The sound of water against the hull slapped a steady tune and his crew set to the tasks they knew well. Unloading their latest prize was the largest of the tasks, which including valuing the cargo, taking it ashore bit by bit and securing the logs with the Captain. Barun found himself in his quarters for the majority of these tasks. He went over logs, maps; all the books. It all had to be ready to present to War Lord Hira’s representative. Not a single gold piece out of place. When the long tasks were done he found himself dragging. And it was with a heavy body he heaved himself into the row boat and let the helmsman take them to shore.

Exhaustion ached in his body. It clawed its way down his back and thrummed through his muscles. He was worn, tired and plain exhausted and thus when his hooves connected with the dock he paid little mind to where he was going. He could find the tavern in his sleep. And he was practically asleep as it was. A jostle and his solid, muscled and scarred body slammed and jarred with another’s. His gaze raised with no sign of apology. “Watch where you are fucking going.” The words where a thick, deep rasp, a low tone that was snarled more than it was spoken. His mind reached for his blade, looking to grab hold of it should he need it. But he did not draw steel. Not yet. Instead, his mind sought to find purchase on whoever he clashed into.
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POST: 1
WORD COUNT: 645