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Post by ebbarie on Sept 18, 2018 2:49:41 GMT -6
A long journey home
Froya x Kathra x Fijalahr
Setting
Shortly after the events of chapter 5
Early morning on a ship with course for Onea. A few weeks have passed since the risky rescue mission of the two Ambassadors and slowly the tempers calmed down. Most look forward and long for the day when they finally can trade the creaking planks for solid ground under their hooves again, while others can't strip off the events of the past so easily.
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Post by ebbarie on Sept 18, 2018 4:44:25 GMT -6
Fijalahr
"But in life we don't usually get to choose the time of our defining moments. We just have to stand and face them when they come, no matter what sort of a state we're in"
1 | 616
Another thanks was all the Valkyries got from the just rescued Ambassador, before the stallion locked himself in in one of the ship's cabins for the next few days.
He closed the door behind him, but that couldn't silence the voices in his head. The ordeal of Torrine and the unstoppable stampede after the breakout were one thing, the full force of the Arcane's god however something completely different and worse. Mastering Kaia's gift of Necromancy hadn't been easy either, but never had he felt this overwhelmed or helpless.
The magical barrier of Torrine had caused the arcane magic to grow, without him being able to actually use it or learn to control it.
But it wasn't just that.
After living in the cramped, overcrowded prison town for several months, he just wanted to be alone. On the way to the ship he had involuntarily answered every accidental touch with a flinch.
His nerves were strained to the utmost and he hoped that the loneliness of the cabin could cure that.
Fijalahr hoped in vain.
Although he was able to shield himself for any physical contact, he didn't managed to block out the voices. Valkyries and Breimian thoughts swirled around in his head, even at night he was forced to hear them.
The sleepless nights did no good to his weak nerves and so he shooed away everyone that came close to his door with a harsh, mental command.
Many days passed without any improvement, but suddenly his fatigue started to work in his advance. Without being able to care much about his surroundings any more he finally managed to look inward.
Little by little he managed to turn off the voices. First only a few at a time and only with high concentration. Then slowly but surely he got rid of all foreign thoughts until only his own were left.
At this point he started writing. Now that the thoughts in his head were mainly his own, he wanted to make sure that nothing he had seen and experienced in Aquore would be forgotten, especially since he had to make a full report to the Warlord after their arrival in Onea.
Xia and he were the first Ambassadors ever to get out of the country with their memories intact and he would make sure that the citizens of Onea would learn the truth about Cascade's people.
So little had been known before. Nothing of the things he had learned during his education had prepared him for the reality.
And so he wrote it down, everything from the first day he entered Aquorian soil until the Valkyrie's rescue mission.
Eventually, days later, after the first relaxing night in weeks with some proper sleep, the Ambassador walked out of his cabin in the early morning to go up on deck like nothing had happen.
The majority of the crew was not awake yet, so he simply stood at the ship's rail and let his gaze wander over the sheer endless horizon. Not often had the ocean be as calm as it was this morning and so he closed his eyes and listened to the soothing sound of the waves.
He looked nothing like he had when he left Onea. The stallion had lost quiet some weight during the time in Torrine and his patchy "winter" coat was dull and thin.
But he was alive and on his way back home. The thought managed to put a smile on his face.
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Post by Quorkbirb on Sept 18, 2018 15:52:10 GMT -6
Froya | Valkyrie
Froya had not slept consistently since the Isles of the Dead, where the Valkyries were able to secure lodging on solid ground. During her months at sea, however, she rarely slept through the night. Cascade’s constant rocking and tempestuous weather made her uneasy. When they had left Onea in the fall, the Valkyries had been placed upon a deep bellied cog. There were no berths or hammocks to sleep in on the ship, so the crew and Valkyries had huddled in the hull to sleep, wrapped in furs and blankets. They now found themselves on a Talori rogue carrack for their return trip, a bigger vessel with more levels and space in the underbelly of the ship. A small number of personal cabins could be found within, but the majority of the passengers and crew slept in two larger, shared cabins.
Preferring to keep together when among their rogue hosts, the Valkyries commandeered a corner of one of the larger cabins as their own. Berths were inlaid along the walls of the cabin and hammocks swung from beams, but neither had provided much comfort to Froya. The temperamental sea would toss her from her bed and onto the floor; and while the hammocks would sway in time with the waves and provide more relative balance, they certainly didn’t feel like a secure bunk to an equid accustomed to unwavering earth.
After months of imprisonment, the trio of mares agreed that Fijalahr deserved his own private quarters to recover in. The stallion had been there, tucked away in privacy, for most of the voyage now. He didn’t seem open to questioning about the affairs of the Talori with Froya or her peers and the Valkyrie didn’t see the point in pressuring him. Whatever information she would be able to get out of him would serve no purpose until they made landfall. Besides, Froya herself was desperately weary from the journey and eager to be back in her homeland. Postponing the interview was mutually beneficial.
The mare had awoken abruptly, once again jostled awake by a rolling wave knocking against the ship’s sides. It had been early, the beginnings of dawn only just starting to creep over the sky and peep into the round porthole. At first, she had laid there with her muzzle to a pillow and eyes tightly shut. How long had it been since she had slept in the Valkyrie barracks? Even there she did not have luxurious housing. Blankets and furs tossed upon a thin, simple mattress laid upon the floor. Horrendous and barbaric to Aodhian eyes, but sufficient for Froya and her shield sisters. After months of oceanic lodging, her floorbound mattress sounded as heavenly as an Eithnian feather bed.
Finally, she rose and made her way out from the cabin. Breaking her fast with only a biscuit and morsel of jam, the mare made her way above deck. The fresh sea air felt refreshing after the stuffy air of the cabin, and for a while she simply stood and let it snake through her mane. Breathing deeply, she stretched and then shook before utilizing her blessing to transform into a golden eagle. Taking wing, she let the wind take her up and high above the vessel where she kept pace with it. Making use of her blessing helped to keep her connection to Kaia strong, but also provided relief from the incessant rolling of the ship.
Nearly an hour had passed when Froya considered touching back down onto the deck, but to her surprise Fijalahr had emerged from his solitude. Deciding to provide him a moment of privacy still, she waited before descending. Once she did, she dove calmly and transformed neatly just before landing upon the planks. Striking a hoof against the wood and bowing her head slightly, she greeted her comrade.
“Ambassador, I’m happy to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”
Circles hung under her eyes and she appeared drained, but her posture was still fine and proud.
Post: 1
Word Count: 667
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