Goblin Town -- Logs

Cinnamon thanks everyone present, then tiredly adds, "Aside from ensuring all the nettle is destroyed... that's everything I have to report to you, that I can think of." She's starting to feel a little achy from all the bruising, now that the adrenaline of public speaking is starting to ebb, "So... is there anything else anyone wants to ask? Did I miss anything?" She's completely fine, in fact, with Jarek giving over the office of Council Treasurer in the next, less contentious meeting! It doesn't occur to her that he might be anxious to be rid of it, after all.

Jarek himself is scowling a little, but also doesn't think that something so run-of-the-mill needs to be discussed in the same meeting as a world-shaking conspiracy. Instead he growls, "Next meeting, we should vote officers. There has been much change." Cinnamon smiles tiredly as she nods politely to Jarek, but doesn't say anything. She makes a mental note: got to thank Nasteexo for leaving the reassuring reply at the pub, after this meeting is over! With so much of the business concluded, Nasteexo, through their interpreter, moves to close the meeting. Elias seconds. Everyone votes aye and people begin to pack their things up.

Cinnamon beams tiredly at her friends -- this went very well! She suspects nobody here missed the fact that an ancient, nearly divine, and unethical being... was completely and utterly thrown down from power... by a small group of 'mere' humans, part-humans, and those friendly to humans! It's a lesson she thinks the Council would be wise to take to heart, honestly. For now, however, she makes her way slowly through the crowd, heading for Nasteexo. There are many congratulations and thanks to Cinnamon and all the rest of her little cadre, as she does so. Cinnamon is quietly happy at that! She's careful to make sure all her friends that worked so hard are publicly credited as well. At one point Shane murmurs to her -- something to the effect that people here saying they owe her thanks can be quite good -- as favors here are not small things! Cinnamon brightens at Shane's information -- she'd not known that! How very cool!

Once the meeting is adjourned, Himeko and Aoi's proxy go to Thorn and ask him if he can get a sample of the potion form Iason. Thorn stands and nods to them, promising he will ask the apothecary for a sample. Then he goes up to Cinnamon, smiling. "Outstanding work," he says quietly to her. "You covered everything!"

Cinnamon laughs softly as she hugs Thorn, "Thank you, Thorny! Though it wouldn't have happened without all of you -- we were such a team!"

Thorn oofs! -and laughs with the hug, returning it with pleasure, "I didn't do even half the work you did. I think we can finally see the end of this business, thanks to you!" Cinnamon grins delightedly -- she's so happy they all got this done successfully -- and with no one else injured or dead, thank goodness!

When she finally gets to Nasteexo and the interpreter, Cinnamon smiles and takes the woman's hands with a gentle squeeze, "Thank you so much for leaving that reassuring message for me at the pub! I was really relieved to hear both you and your translator and your horses all got-" She cuts off, blinking consideringly... and then her eyes widen as her gaze flicks between the two entities, "You... both! Oh my gosh!" Her voice drops to a whisper as she adds excitedly, "It's both of you... isn't it!" She beams up at the interpreter, "Well, then! May I ask your name too, please? You already know I'm Cinnamon!"

Nasteexo smiles and her interpreter rumbles, "We do... though this is not something we wish to discuss with others around." Still, both sets of eyes are twinkling.

Cinnamon nods in understanding, though her eyes too are sparkling, "Totally get it! But still: very relieved to see you both -- all! -- got out okay." She's quietly thrilled -- she's finding she loves figuring out puzzles, even if they're not mathematically related!

The interpreter says in his basso rumble of a voice, "We are glad most people did." After that, the pair slip away.

Soon after that Cinnamon starts to feel really weary -- it's been an emotionally fraught day! She thanks everyone that's nearby for coming, and lets her friends know she's going to head off... maybe for food and then a ton of rest! They're welcome to join her if they wish for the food part, though -- she'd love that! Shane, Spice, Josie, and Veles all agree that food would be good. Thorn likewise agrees with food -- it's been an exciting time, and he's glad to be able to spend it with friends... especially friends with whom he's been through so much. He's at ease, though he knows the next big hurdle -- the next challenge -- waits for them over the sea. Still, he has confidence that they will be able to overcome it.

It's Shane that suggests Cafe Prague. Cinnamon sighs happily -- she's so pleased she's got all good memories of the Cafe now! Yes, it was scary getting shot that first time... but she thinks she's stronger now than she was then. If nothing else, she now understands: you can't always just talk things out! Sometimes people are just... trying to hurt others... obdurate. When Veles asks if they have 'real' borscht at Cafe Prague, Cinnamon grins cheerfully, "I don't know, but... let's go find out!" That, she decides, will be a nice new belief to hold!

Later, when Spice learns they're looking into using a wooden ship to traverse the Atlantic, she gleefully dives into the internet, seeing what she can find. There's a huge variety of wooden ships that make the crossing to various places. Boston is, unsurprisingly, a popular port of call for such vessels. Once he hears what they're planning, Veles asks if he can go along and then make his way back to his family's lands, once they dock. Cinnamon nods enthusiastically to Veles, "That was what I was going to suggest, actually -- that once this stuff with the trods is concluded, you take the opportunity to go visit your family! I figure Jaeger should be good with that, maybe?"

Jaeger is there due to being one of the people with special circumstances that will be traveling. He replies, "Veles has more than made up for and atoned for his sins. Besides, he is now under your auspices. You trust him. I trust you."

Cinnamon blinks a bit startledly at Jaeger... then lights up with happiness, "Oh! Thank you so much, Jaeger -- I really appreciate your confidence in us!" She turns, still beaming, to Veles as she adds, "Awesome, dude! Do you want to sail back with us, or have more time for your family?" Veles considers, then replies that he thinks he may stay with his family for some little while. After all, he's human and can get back via more modern means.

After some research Spice comes to them with a small-ish ship that offers the opportunity for passengers to also help with the sailing of the ship. She has berths enough for 12 passengers, and has eight full-time crew. The ship criss-crosses the Atlantic, staying mostly in the north, and has multiple ports of call. Luckily, she's also got a cruise from Boston to Galway weighing anchor in a week. "I say we get on this quick. Maybe try to make sure it's just us? The merc company left us enough fuckin' money that we can book all the berths."

Shane is looking over Spice's shoulder -- with her invitation -- at the ship she's talking about. He grins and looks up at Jaeger, "She's called Valkyrie. Home port's apparently Oslo." Jaeger looks curious, coming over to look. There are no pictures of the ship's crew, but some of the photos of the ship show detailed and painted carvings in the shapes of shields along both sides.

Cinnamon bounces excitedly, "Oh, wow! Can we grab it? Can you book it entirely, Spice?! A week... oh, gosh! Shane, what do supernatural folks do for passports, though?!" Spice had already started the booking process before people said yes -- so now she gleefully pulls the trigger on the reservation! Cinnamon squeals excitedly, throwing her arms around the nearest person in an exuberant hug, "We're going to Europe, wow! And on a sailing ship, eee!"

Thorn finds himself intrigued, and actually more than a little bit excited by the prospect. Not just some boring overnight cross-ocean flight, but something that's almost as wondrous, unusual -- even, in its own way, magical as a trod: a wooden sailing ship! He finds himself eagerly anticipating the trip, even if the goal is some very serious diplomacy. Well... hopefully diplomacy. Shane grins at Cinnamon, "We have fake ones, mostly. You already saw the ID I use when I travel. All my papers are in that name."

Jaeger says, "Mine is completely real and issued by the United States Government." His voice is a bit deadpan, "It was simply issued to a man with the name Jeurgen Fiedler."

Cinnamon laughs! "Well, considering I need mine in a week... I better find out how to get a fake one for now! Oh! Does anyone else need passport help too?" She cheerfully adds, "I love the ship's name -- Valkyrie sounds really nifty!" She'll whisper quietly to Shane a moment later -- does he want Aisling to come too, since they'll be sailing? She's happy to ensure there's a berth for the sidhe as well, if Shane wishes. Cinnamon wonders if Jaeger will want his son to come too... or a valet? She'll check that later, she decides.

Shane considers, then says, "I think she'll be thrilled. I'll ask her when next I see her. Go ahead and make sure there's room for her."

Spice looks surprised, "Whoa. You don't have a passport, bosslady?" She's started using that term with obvious affection. It seems, after a bit of conversational checking, that no one else is lacking traveling papers. It's Veles that says, "I can get you papers. It will only take me a couple of days."

Jaeger looks at Thorn, "Do you have a passport you feel comfortable using? If not, I am certain Athala and I can arrange one for you."

Thorn nods to Jaeger. "I have one, yes! It's in my mortal name, but I'm comfortable using it in cases like this."

Jaeger nods to that and smiles, "Good! This will be a wonderful journey!" There's some further conversation about what needs doing; Jaeger sighs a bit as he realizes there's no way he can take his valet with him on this trip. Further, Marcus should likely stay on Coblyn for the time being. The elder elf decides, "I will have to take him there on another ship, some time. Perhaps seeing the roots of the trod will help him feel more connected."

Thorn tilts his head to the side. "Why do they both need to stay, Sir?" he asks.

Jaeger smiles, "Because my valet is the same species as Butler and they are very difficult to disguise -- especially in close quarters with humans. As for Marcus, I want there to be a presence for the trod here."

Thorn ohs and nods, "I see, that makes sense. Thank you!"

Cinnamon too nods in understanding, "That's fine, really! I just wanted you to know that the option was available if you wanted, Jaeger."

The elf smiles and nods, "Of course. When you go to Wales, I may see if I am able to get safe transport across to Germany for a day or so. I doubt I will." He brushes his hands against one another, "And now, I am going to go to the residence and start to get things together for the trip."

Cinnamon makes sure Spice knows to include Aisling as well, and thanks Veles very sincerely for the help with a passport! After that she checks the recommended list of things to pack... then happily decides a shopping trip is in order. Hmm... didn't Aisling say she'd help Cinnamon find nice clothes that looked good on her? It's a rather daring idea for the plain and dowdy girl... but she grabs her courage in both hands, then breathlessly asks Aisling, Spice, and Josie if they could maybe help her find clothes that... that help her to look nice maybe? Er... I-if such clothes exist, at least?

Josie grins and lolls her tongue, "Let Spice and Aisling take you. They know more about clothes than I do."

Spice too grins, "Depends on how you mean 'nice'! I'll definitely help you pick out some good things, but my style is a little punk, y'know?"

Aisling is more than happy to help Cinnamon clothes-shop. In fact, her response is, "Finally! What kind of budget do we have?"

Cinnamon blinks uncertainly, then pushes her glasses up and gamely replies, "Uh, w-well... well, m-maybe a bit punk might be, um, good for me? And, um... budget, gosh! Wh-what sort of budget were you thinking of, Aisling?" She pulls out the list of recommended clothing for the trip, "Can we, um... make sure all the items I haven't checked already are... er, included in our shopping too, please?"

Spice suggests they use some of the merc company money since it's part of that whole debacle. Aisling suggests a several-hundred-dollar budget, "We're going to be thrifting a lot of it, but some is speciality -- and we are getting you one nice cocktail dress, if nothing else! One should always have one good black dress."

Cinnamon blinks a bit bemusedly... but then nods once with determination, "Uh, ok-kay... okay then! I m-mean... yes, let's do it! I -- I w-want to learn how to look nice, please!"

Aisling clucks her tongue, "You already look nice. We want you looking spectacular, caraid!" Cinnamon blushes hotly at that! -though it's a shyly pleased one.

Between them, Spice and Aisling take Cinnamon to several different shops. There are thrift shops, but there's also an outdoor gear shop to get her a sturdy hooded jacket and some other things to make the crossing more comfortable -- since the deck of a ship at sea can be wet, cold, and salty! The last shop they go to is a very formal boutique. Spice gets a couple side-eye looks... but then Aisling smiles at the salespeople, and there's a sea change. By the time they're done, both Cinnamon and Spice have Little Black Dresses and evening gowns. Luckily, the place has a wide range of aesthetics, so neither woman ends up looking completely not herself. At the end, they even end up with a rather nice discount, as well as several bags and boxes to take home with them.

Cinnamon is a little... wide-eyed at some of the things Spice and Aisling insist look good on her -- but she promised herself that she was going to ignore her mom's advice and stick with that of her friends! So, if Aisling and Spice say this is something that Cinnamon should purchase... she's going to do so! -even if it's a little scary! She's tremendously excited and pleased when they're done, however. She quietly insists on treating both extremely kind and patient women to dinner, and thanks them both several times. She really appreciates the non-judgmental help!

Just as happened with Cinnamon, Spice, and Aisling... Shane and Jaeger take Thorn shopping. Indeed, Jaeger insists on providing Thorn with any clothing and gear he might need, "After all, Healer's whites are not really good for voyages by ship." Both sidhe men are pleased to discover that Thorn already has good, sturdy, and casual clothes, while the suit he wore when he first arrived was already tailored a bit to fit him. However, Jaeger insists on two more suits: one a three-piece suit and the other a tuxedo. Jaeger will not allow Thorn to pick a boring one, either, noting crisply, "You wish to look like royalty -- not a maitre d'!" Jaeger also pays a hefty markup to get both suits tailored properly before the departure date.

Shane grins when Jaeger asks him about formal clothing, replying, "I've got it covered. Don't worry."

Thorn looks rather nervous, "I don't... I mean, what situation will I need a tuxedo?"

Jaeger says firmly, "If you do not use it in the Old World, you may need it here. Healers whites are appropriate in many situations, but there are still formal occasions where they are not. Ah -- also, ask Iason about a lapel pin to mark you as a healer when out of your whites."

Shane grins at Thorn, "Besides, people that like men love a man in a tuxedo. Even I know that one!" Thorn lets out a breath, certainly uncertain about all this -- but unwilling to argue with the two men. He nods and braces himself for the process of tailor taking measurements. Fortunately the tailor is both quite professional and cheerfully flamboyant, promising he will have the suits ready on time. After all, they aren't asking for completely bespoke -- just well-tailored.

The last thing Cinnamon does is download lessons for the next handful of languages she wishes to learn. She's got excellent Italian by now, and is well into learning Irish. She intends to finish Irish, if she can, on the trip over -- it seems to take her about two weeks at an hour or so a day, after all -- and then she wants to master French. She's discovered that English and French are the most commonly spoken languages in Oceania, after all!

There's also a lingua franca called Melanesian pidgin, but unfortunately she can't find any for-pay on-line classes in it... or in Kalaallisut (also known as Greenlandic), which is the most commonly spoken Native American language in the Arctic Circle. She decides she'll just have to go to those places and learn the tongues there -- and it should be a lovely opportunity as well to get to know the people she's supposed to be representing, and to ask them what they want. Maybe... maybe she'll try learning Welsh too? That... might help her feel a bit more connected to Liam!

Cinnamon checks carefully as she's downloading -- and to her pleased surprise she discovers there actually are on-line free sites which will allow her to learn at least basic Greenlandic and TokPisin, or Melanesian pidgin! She happily decides even just a little of both tongues is much better than none... and augments her Oceanic language group by downloading Hawaiian as well. There! That should do it. She'll just work on them one at a time, and work her way through the list at whatever speed is feasible. She's in no rush, after all!

After some thought, Cinnamon happily decides that finishing up her Irish comes first... then the French, and then, in order: adequate Melanesian pidgin and Kalaallisut/Greenlandic, followed by a good grasp of Hawaiian. That should keep her busy, even if she is nervous about all this!

In the end, all the various clothes and other accoutrements are ready two days before they actually sail. Cinnamon is both excited and nervous! She has all her stuff packed by the day before, and she determinedly spends a day to swot up on Irish. She's almost startled at how well and quickly she picks it up! She can't help the mischievous little grin as she also decides to keep it secret for a little bit longer. Won't Shane be surprised when she can talk to him in Irish? -er, and Aisling too!

The day of departure, the group makes their way down to the port to meet the ship. Valkyrie has her sails furled and there's a gangplank out to meet the dock. The deck and rigging are, however, quite busy with the crew. There's a lot of calling back and forth in a language that is most assuredly not English. There's also no one right at the dock.

Cinnamon gasps with excitement as she stares up at the ship, "Oh! Isn't she beautiful?!" She clasps her hands together as she stares, and feels almost tearful for a moment -- this is all so incredible and wonderfully new to her! Even better: she's doing this... this amazing new thing... with amazing new friends! This is something, she suspects, that timid little Mary Brown would never even think of doing... but she, Cinnamon O'Donnell Elgan -- she actually can do this! But first... they have to board the ship! She laughs softly, shaking herself out of her daydreaming, and beams at Jaeger, "So what do we do? Just walk on board, or what?"

Thorn is both eagerly anticipatory and nervous as well, though he's packed, repacked, and triple-packed his things to make sure he hasn't missed anything. When they arrive at the ship in Boston harbor, he's stunned almost into silence at her beauty. "She's amazing!" he says breathlessly. Indeed, the ship is that and more. He feels... comfortable, looking upon her. Not quite that he's home, but... almost. Like there's magic in the world, still -- and it's bound into the canvas and line of the graceful ship before him.

Jaeger calls out to one of the people in the rigging, and the man turns with a look of surprise on his face. He calls something back and grins widely before scrambling down out of the rigging and making his way over to the gangplank and down to the dock. He speaks with a slight Nordic accent, "Welcome! Welcome! I thought we had a little more time before you arrived, so I went to help in the rigging." He holds out a wind- and sun-burned hand, shaking hands with everyone that offers theirs as well, "I am Arvid. I am the captain of Valkyrie! Come, come! Let us get you all aboard."

Cinnamon beams excitedly and shakes the man's hand when it's her turn, then grabs up her baggage to follow. She whispers happily to Spice and Josie, "Isn't this awesome?!" Then she blinks as it registers: Jaeger knew who to call to?! Does he know these folks? Or... oh! Could it be the man has a special uniform or something that marks him as the captain? She studies the man surreptitiously as she follows along.

Arvid is a sturdy, well-muscled man with a luxuriant mustache and thick hair that he's got braided and tucked into the collar of his jacket. His skin is that sort of red-overlaid-brown that one gets working long hours outside in the wind. He seems to catch the look in Thorn's eyes, and nods, "She is lovely, j�?" There is deep affection in his voice when he speaks about the ship. As she looks him over, Cinnamon can see that Arvid is wearing a patch on his heavy canvas jacket that says 'kapten' on it. Cinnamon grins at sight of the patch -- good for her for figuring it out! She also beams and waves shyly if any of the sailors meet her delighted gaze -- she's so excited!

A couple others of the crew scramble down out of the rigging and greet the passengers as well. One has an accent that seems almost pure Scotland, with red hair shot through with silver and gold highlights. Like Arvid, he's mustachioed and has his long hair braided and tucked away. The other has blonde hair and a neatly-trimmed beard; he says absolutely nothing, though he smiles at the passengers. These two take the passengers below, Fraser -- the Scot -- cautioning the landlubbers about watching their step for the first day or two until they get their sea legs, "Ye'll fall o'er a time 'r two, aye, but ye'll get it eventually!" He laughs and shows them the cabins.

There are four cabins, two with two berths and a little more room, and two with four berths apiece. There's not a huge amount of room, but there are a lot of cleverly-incorporated places for storage. Each of the berths has a mattress, a pillow, a nicely heavy blanket, and a curtain to pull across to get a little privacy. Each berth also has a small reading light that Fraser tells them runs on batteries, so to not be shocked should it run out, "We've only got s'much lecky on board. Tae mooch chance o' a spark causin' a fire, y'ken?" Indeed, almost everything on the ship is wooden.

Cinnamon blinks worriedly at the cabins, suddenly realizing... this is just like PE in school -- no one is going to want to bunk with her! She sighs softly to herself, then decides to wait for the women involved to pick their cabins... and then she can see if there's a space left over for her! Spice and Josie have one of the four-berth cabins to themselves. Jaeger looks between the other three men, "Who's staying in the larger one with me?"

Thorn provides, "I can stay in the smaller one. It's more or less what I had in the National Guard on some deployments."

Jaeger nods and Shane grins, "I'll doss with you, Thorn. Veles, you can stay in with Jaeger if you like."

Aisling looks around one of the larger cabins, beams, and turns to Cinnamon, "This will be us!" She reaches and tugs on Cinnamon's hand, voice low, "It feels so familiar!"

Cinnamon blinks in surprise at Aisling... then feels an almost melting sensation of relief -- someone that isn't disgusted at having to share a room with her?! This really is a magic ship! She has to swallow hard to stop the sudden lump in her throat. Only once she's sure her voice won't tremble does she asks, "F-familiar h-how, please? Oh! Y-you mean... like, like how you came to the US?"

Aisling smiles, "Well, the first handful of times." She's starting to tuck things away.

In the narrow passageway Fraser tells folks about mealtimes and lets the passengers know that if they want to learn about sailing the ship they'll be welcome to help, though no one is required to. "The folk we get often are wantin' tae learn, y'ken?" He smiles again, pats his silent companion on the shoulder, and they leave the passengers to get things stowed.

Cinnamon blinks at Aisling, intrigued, "Wow! Y-you've crossed the Atlantic a lot then?" She worriedly adds, "I, um... I s-suspect I'm going to be, er... maybe kind of seasick the first day. Is there... anything you can suggest that, er, might help?"

Aisling shakes her head and says, "Seven or eight times, I think? In the last..." she pauses, peeking to make sure the crew have gone before she grins and adds, "five hundred years or so." Cinnamon wows softly! The sidhe smiles and continues, "Watch your step. Drink plenty of water. Be prepared to be wet and gritty from the salt. This is not a cruise ship. If there's rough weather, it may get a little scary, but a ship like this can weather most... storms..." She pauses and runs her fingers along the top of her berth, then smiles.

Cinnamon nods attentively, pulling out her notebook to make hasty notes, "Okay, thank you!"

Shane raps lightly on the bulkhead frame, glancing in around the little cabin, then tips his head thoughtfully, "This is safer than I could have wished for Jaeger and Aisling." He points to the bunks, which are all pegged together -- there are no iron nails or rivets at all!

Aisling says happily, "It's pegwork. There's no metal on this bed."

"Oh! How cool!" Cinnamon looks pleased, "I'll have to congratulate Spice on her choices!"

The passageway between the four cabins is small enough that people can hear one another fairly well. Thorn peeks out of his cabin and arches a brow, "You, uh... think that this was originally made for sidhe traveling the ocean?"

Shane mmms consideringly, "I think that it's put together in a very old-fashioned way. But most ships have been upgraded with metal fittings and generators. This is... fucking amazing." He beams, "Spice picked very well!"

Jaeger comes in from the larger cabin, also smiling -- which brightens his normally somberly dignified face, "It's wonderful."

Cinnamon laughs delightedly, "Awesome! This is going to be a great trip!" Thorn relaxes. This is even better than he had hoped for or expected.

It's not long after everything's stowed that Fraser comes back down and says, "We're makin' way if y'wanna come up and watch. Me, I'd not miss it." He grins again and disappears back up the steep ship's stairs, calling out to someone on deck that he'd let the passengers know.

Cinnamon squeaks in excitement, then hastily stows the rest of her luggage under her bunk. After that she grabs her purse, then beams at Aisling, "I'ma go watch! Wanna come, or is it old hat to you now?"

Aisling grins, "Oh, I'm going -- but leave your bag down here. Take a camera if you want, but the less stuff in your hands the better. Might have to grab the rail."

"Oh!" Cinnamon hastily tucks her cell into her jeans pocket, then leaves her purse. "Good point -- thank you!" Spice and Josie also both scramble up the steep ladder-like stairs, using the rope handrails to pull themselves along.

Once everyone is on deck, they see some of the sails have been unfurled, and Arvid is at the wheel. One moment, most of the sails are slack -- and in the next, some trick of steering brings them enough wind that they belly out magnificently, snapping in the wind! There's calling back and forth from the men, still in that foreign language, and there's a lot of activity in the rigging and on deck. Cinnamon gasps excitedly as she stares upwards in awe -- then glances around, "Where can we stand, Aisling, that we'll be out of the way of the sailors?"

It's Fraser, as he's trotting briskly past them, who waves the passengers over to the starboard railing to watch. Aisling's warning about not bringing the bag makes sense -- there really is a salty wind blowing. Cinnamon calls thanks to Fraser, then leans eagerly against the railing -- the wind feels so nice! Jaeger is beaming, his pale eyes shining with emotion, while Josie looks like she wants to be wagging, as the wind starts to take them out to sea. Aisling's voice is low enough to not be overheard, but loud enough to get over the wind to Cinnamon, "I'm almost surprised they don't have oars!"

Cinnamon giggles at Aisling's comment, replying, "Well, Spice said they have all the required safety equipment -- a diesel engine in case of wind loss, and all the usual GPS and emergency radio equipment!"

Aisling calls cheerfully back, "If they do, it's well-hidden!"

Cinnamon grins and nods, "True -- this is absolutely gorgeous!" She brushes her hair out of her face and laughs, feeling oddly, absurdly happy. "Isn't this great?!"

Shane beams, "It's amazing!" Once the ship is fully turned out, there's a call to weigh anchor. Two of the crew put their hands and their weight to a winch, turning it to coil up a rope that looks as thick as Cinnamon's forearm. The sound of the anchor being secured is a couple of loud thunks, and then there's a call to let Arvid know all's well.

They are truly on their way.

As the ship makes her way out of the harbor, it doesn't seem like any of the eight-man (and they are all male) crew ever stops moving. There's a lot of calling back and forth in a way that sounds almost ritual, with a rhythm and a lilt to it. Once there's a moment to breathe (meaning they aren't in danger of running into another ship), Fraser seems to appear out of nowhere... except it was likely that he slid down from the rigging just above the group, "Amazin', innit?"

Aisling turns to Fraser and beams at him, "It is! And the work on the ship!" She pats the railing which -- like the bunks -- has no metal fittings, "I'd expect at least a rivet or two!" Thorn is fascinated with the ship and the ebb and flow of the crew as they turn-to each task. He couldn't imagine the level of teamwork and skill needed to sail out of the harbor. He also thinks Aisling's question is masterfully worded; he has no idea why a modern sailing ship, without any reason not to, would be built with so little metal.

Cinnamon beams with happiness as she looks around, admiring and impressed by everything! It's very new to her, and she takes copious photos with her little phone -- she wants to remember this lovely time forever! She excitedly adds, "Can we learn how to -- to navigate and stuff from you, instead of climbing the ropes?" Sheepishly she admits, "I'm, um... a little clumsy! But I'd still like to learn sailing stuff?

Fraser grins -- which seems to be his default expression -- as he says to Aisling, "Oh, aye. She's an old-un." He strokes the rail almost affectionately, "And the whole crew likes things more'n a little old-fashioned. Besides, iron can get damnably hot in the sun and freezingly cold in the winter. It's cold enough in the rigging and on-deck without that!" He turns to Cinnamon and adds, "If ye'd like, lass. Not everybody's got a head for heights!" He motions to one of the crew, a slender young man that hasn't stopped moving since the ship set sail, "Jareth there? Gets dizzy if ye get 'im more'n three feet off th' ground! But that means we always have someone down here deck-level, y'ken?"

Cinnamon nods in wide-eyed fascination, "Okay!" then adds with sympathy, "Really?! Poor guy! I really feel for him!"

Fraser nods, "Really." He takes a moment, looking the group over, "I like when we get diverse groups on-board. Always good to meet new folk with different ways." His eyes seem to rest on Josie longest of all, and then he tips them all a little salute and trots off.

Cinnamon blinks at that interesting comment... then studies her group with a thoughtful expression on her face. Do they really look that diverse? There's... one Asian girl, one American Indian... and the rest of them are just... White folks...? Curiously she whispers to Aisling, "Do we really look that diverse, though?" Thorn is at first pleased, but then realizes Cinnamon is speaking rather the truth. They look rather, well... pale, overall. Does... does Fraser mean something else?

Aisling looks around the group at that and hmms. She lowers her voice so that just the group can hear her, pointing subtly, "Half-beansidhe, elf, beansidhe, werewolf, dragon, human, mage. I think... we may have stumbled into something interesting here, because you're right. Other than Josie and Spice, we all basically look like pasty white humans."

Cinnamon's eyes widen in interest again, "Oh! You m-mean... you mean maybe they're supernaturals too?!" She winces at how her voice squeaks with excitement, flushing a bit before she sheepishly adds, "Er... sorry!" She turns to stare fascinatedly at the various sailors -- and to give herself a moment for her heated face to cool down! But still: can she see anything strange or slightly different about any of the crew members?

"Maybe not all of them," Thorn says quietly. "Then again, he said that the ship's crew likes things 'old-fashioned.'"

Jaeger nods, "He did say that. And the language they're speaking? At least the one they're using to talk to each other about the ship? It's Germanic, but not German. They may be flying under the Swedish flag, but they're speaking a dialect I haven't heard in at least three hundred years."

Cinnamon whispers in quiet awe to herself, "Whoa-aaa!" then gives Spice an impulsive hug, "Gosh, Spice, you made an awesome choice!"

What Cinnamon notices, mostly, is that there's not a single slip. None of the crew seem to trip, make a false move, or even really seem to have issues with balance. In fact, a really close look will notice that they don't even always seem to be looking where they're putting things, but there's always someone there if there needs to be. Either they're really, really practiced at this... or they've got awfully good instincts.

Cinnamon blinks thoughtfully at that... then starts watching just one sailor -- but very carefully! Is he... sort of pulling rope towards him with his mind? Or... like a squirrel, does he glance once at the running surface, then remember it as he moves? Hmm... no, it doesn't seem to be telekinesis. They just seem to know when another of the crew is going to move or when something is coming toward them. Jareth especially seems to ping-pong around, popping up just when someone else on the crew needs something to be taken to the other end of the deck or arriving with just the right tool at just the right moment.

Cinnamon murmurs softly to her friends, "Are they... mentally linked or something? They're like... well... it's almost like they're all, um... parts of a whole?" She glances back at her friends with a perplexed grin, "It's... almost eerie?"

Josie is watching the movement and blinks slowly. "I... think they might be a pack."

Cinnamon blinks at Josie in astonishment, "A pack can... can see for each other?! Wow, I had no idea!"

Thorn blinks at Josie, "A pack of... who?" [Or what?] he doesn't say out loud.

Josie has put her back to the rail and is watching the men move around together. Jaeger blinked at that suggestion and then his face lights up, "Werw�lfe?" His voice is very soft.

Aisling murmurs, "Or varulfur. The ship is called 'Valkyrie,' and those are war shields on her sides..."

Jaeger nods, "Or perhaps even berserkr? But they didn't move so much in concert..."

Cinnamon says, "What's a barrel-fur?" She blinks, then confusedly adds, "I thought... Valkyries were women...?"

Shane says quietly and slowly, "We're on a boat with a possible pack of werewolves? Not like Josie is a wolf but... wait..."

Jaeger smiles and repeats the words, "They both mean werewolf... just in different languages. One is Germanic, one is Norse..."

Aisling says, "And they're basically the same creatures." She grins at her Germanic friend, "Yes. Valkyrie are female. But ships are all female. And 'Valkyrie' is a wonderful, strong name for a ship."

Cinnamon says slowly as she works it out, "So... this ship is crewed by... martial werewolves?" She hesitates, then almost awkwardly asks, "Is this... a good thing?"

Once upon a time, to Thorn, the idea of sailing aboard a ship full of werewolves -- had he even believed in such -- would have been frightening at the very least. But having wet his feet in the world of magic and wonders, he's surprisingly comfortable with the idea. "Josie," he asks, "do each of us... I don't know, scent differently to you? I mean, not as individuals... but could a werewolf tell by scent someone who isn't human?" Cinnamon blinks startledly again! -then wonders with intrigue what a dragon smells like? Smoky, maybe? Though... she really doesn't flame very much... scaly? Reptilian? She raises one hand to sniff at it, then giggles!

Josie says, "Well... sort of? I mean... the less human you are, the more you have a distinctive smell. Something about hormones and pheromones and stuff. I mean..." She leans in and sniffs at Spice's neck and then Thorn's, "The two of you smell human." She starts to lean in toward Jaeger -- then realizes that might look weird if she starts sniffing everyone, "I didn't get a good sniff of Fraser and that other guy. They smell kinda like... tar. And salt."

Thorn nods, "Thank you," he says to Josie, and falls silent. Tar and salt? Weren't old sailors called 'old tars'? He doesn't know; all this maritime stuff was in the Navy, and he was National Guard. He always thought the Navy had even more obscure traditions and lingo than the Army.

Cinnamon grins and sidles over to stand next to Josie, "So... sniff me? Do I smell... reptilian, or what?"

Josie tips her head a little and sniffs at Cinnamon. In her human form, the young werewolf is actually not that much taller than her friend, "You smell like Liam, but like yourself too. I mean... you don't smell like a snake smells to me. Cold-blooded critters have a sort of... cold smell. You smell more human than anything. But that could be the form. I smell more wolf-y when I'm a wolf..." She looks like that sentence sort of got away with her.

As they're all huddled together talking, there's a voice from about two feet behind them, "It's beautiful, isn't it? The ocean?" This time the voice is from the captain, Arvid.

Cinnamon giggles at Josie -- then jumps and gives a startled, "Eep!" at the voice right behind them! She whirls around... then whews, one hand to her chest, "My goodness! Don't sneak up on a girl like that, please!" Then she grins ruefully at Josie as she adds, "He's like Vanya that way, isn't he?"

Thorn gives a slight jump at the sudden appearance and voice of the captain. "It is, yes," he says, once he has his heartbeat back to normal. "Very much so." Cinnamon giggles, sympathizing with Thorn's startlement!

Aisling too jumps and then laughs, hand over her chest. Jaeger says, "Not just the ocean. The ship as well. Do you own her?"

Even Josie startles a little, looking as if her ears would be folding back bashfully if she were in wolf form, "He is, yeah. Vanya's really sneaky for being so big!"

Arvid smiles and has his hands in his pockets. He's essentially projecting every bit of human 'I'm harmless' body language that he can: pacifistic posture. Smiling, but not too wide. Keeping a respectful distance, "We own her together."

Cinnamon blinks as she pushes her glasses up and studies Arvid with an intrigued expression, "You're like... a business family?" She glances at her friends, wondering if it's okay to admit to also being supernatural -- then realizes she'd be accidentally outing them if she didn't make it clear it was just her. Hmm... best not to mention it then, she guesses? After all... it's not just her.

Arvid smiles a little wider at that, "Business family. I like that. I think of us more as a clan. Clans were often many families together."

Cinnamon nods slowly, thinking hard... then smiles, "What's your clan name?" She knows it's likely old hat to ancient elves, but to her -- a nearly-baby dragon -- being part of a new little clan is tremendously exciting still! Thorn wonders what they're being set up for -- or rather, more specifically, what Arvid is angling for. He's clearly trying to put them at ease. The young mage glances around to see what the other sailors are doing. Cinnamon happily adds, "Oh! The shields -- are they all your personal, um... insignia?"

Arvid laughs warmly at that, "I don't get asked that one much. We call ourselves Havvarger. It is an old joke." He takes a hand out of his pocket and motions at the group of them, "You are different than what we often get on board." He either didn't hear about the shields or is purposely not answering.

Cinnamon mumbles to herself, "Ha-aah waar grrr... where have I heard war-grr before..." as she whips out her phone and checks booggle translate. It takes fumbling through a few languages -- but then she brightens as she stares at her phone, "Sea wolves! In Swedish? Cool!" She looks up at the captain and beams excitedly as she pushes her glasses up, "So you are a pack, then!" She tilts her head as she studies the man curiously, wondering if it shows at all... or wait. Wasn't it supposed to be a belt of wolfskin or something for the Norse? Does he have one?

Arvid smiles and his eyes move from person to person. His are a bright blue, but they rest on Aisling and Josie longest before coming back to Cinnamon, "A pack. That's very like a clan, so I would say yes." Cinnamon wonders why it's Aisling and Josie that Arvid is focusing on... then grins as it hits her: Josie's scent is also of a wolf, possibly? Also, Aisling's talent doesn't encompass glamour -- she usually just explains her eyes as a genetic oddity!

Fraser trots up and puts a hand on Arvid's shoulder; the captain doesn't even twitch at the unexpected touch. Fraser leans in and murmurs something to his captain and arches a brow as if it were a question. Arvid nods slowly, "J�, I think so." The captain chuckles then, adding, "We are dancing all around one another. Come. We will go and have a drink and talk. Fraser will take the wheel."

Cinnamon sighs thoughtfully, wishing they didn't have to... sort of dance- then she giggles as Arvid almost speaks her mind! "Okay!" Glancing at her friends, she adds cheerfully, "I'm game! Are, um, is everyone else?" Thorn nods to Cinnamon but looks around. He's human; calling him a 'mage' in front of non-supernaturals will just confuse people. No, it's his friends who have more on the line if they come out to anyone. However, there's a consensus amongst the group that a drink would be good.

As she walks along with the others, Cinnamon grins -- she bets the shields are, in fact, the personal insignia of the pack members! Which means they're... wow, they must be really effective as a war band! -which means... they'd be really dangerous to her- to all her friends if they attacked, which is... kinda scary...? Which means... Cinnamon looks worried, but then frowns with determination. It means, she firmly decides, that they must all definitely become friends first!

Arvid takes them all down to the shared dining area. It, like the berths, is almost completely wooden. Even the refrigerator is faced in wood. Arvid gathers drinks for people and motions them all to sit down, "Please. Get comfortable."

Thorn is inwardly relieved that the 'dancing around' is coming to an end. Surely both the guests and the... sea-wolves? That's what they called themselves?... both have secrets, and maybe clearing the air of some of them will help make this an altogether more enjoyable journey. On the other hand, he has no idea what to do if there is violence. Fortunately, he has a feeling that violence isn't really on the menu.

Once everyone is seated, Arvid looks around at them and says, "We haven't had anything but Boy Scout troops, Outward Bound groups, SCA groups, and other such people on board for a very long time. You are not our normal passengers. Fraser let me know that at least one of you isn't human." His lips quirk and he looks at Jaeger, "My bet was you. No one speaks our language anymore. It's why we use it. But Fraser tells me that you..." and here he looks at Josie, "smell like you could be a cousin of sorts." He waits a moment after that pronouncement to see how people react. His voice is calm. He doesn't seem nervous or threatening.

Cinnamon smiles uncertainly as she glances at Aisling and Jaeger -- she's not sure if her elders would like to be the ones talking or not, after all. Thorn tilts his head to the side a little, trying to radiate calm good humor. He's unsurprised by the pronouncement of Josie as 'a cousin of sorts.' And, of course, outright saying that one of them 'isn't human' is about as definitive as one can get. "So you really are 'sea-wolves,'" he says, now even more curious.

Cinnamon grins at Thorn, excited in spite of herself, "That's why I asked about the shields!" She looks back at the two ancient elves again, checking for their reactions. Jaeger looks almost amused, while Aisling appears fascinated. Cinnamon wonders what those expressions mean... then hesitantly decides she... shouldn't blurt anything out?

Arvid smile, "J�, havvarger -- sea wolves. But not all of the same sort, and not all the same age." He taps himself on the chest, "I am originally from Oslo. Fraser is from Scotland. Willem is from Germany. And the shields? Yes. They are ours. We do not put the real ones along the ship for many reasons."

Cinnamon nods in fascination at Arvid's explanation, asking puzzledly, "So there are... actually different types of werewolves?"

Arvid smiles, "Oh, j�." He nods to Josie, "She is a wolf, I think. But she is not the same kind of wolf I am. And Fraser is... he was not born a wolf."

Cinnamon's eyes widen in horror, "Oh, no! The poor man got bitt-" She cuts off, frowning, "No, wait... I thought that was just an old myth, that biting changes folks?" She adds puzzledly, "Are you all like... like mentally linked or something? I mean, it's... it's almost eerie how well you all sort of... well, like... move in synchrony and -- and know when to help each other out even when you can't see each other?"

Arvid shakes his head, "No, not bitten -- spell-wolf. A curse. But it is not so bad a curse as that. We have just been together many years... and we have senses that are... not human."

Cinnamon sits back, her face alight with wonder, "Wow, that is... so cool!" Thorn blinks... spell-wolf. As a mage, that particular sort of thing... rather terrifies him. He isn't at all sure what the limits of magic are, but apparently 'make someone into a werewolf' isn't one of them. Cinnamon pauses, realizing the group is, in effect, still dancing around! This... hmm, it's very close to rude, she feels, considering Arvid is being honest. She looks at Aisling and Jaeger, then worriedly subvocalizes so hopefully only Aisling can hear, "So, um... is it okay for us to talk freely, then? Or... not?"

Aisling smiles and says quietly, "If he wanted to hurt us, he could have already. I think we are safe." She raises her voice a little, "In fact, I believe we are safer on this ship than almost any other at sea." She leans and lays a hand on Arvid's wrist, "I am Aisling Rowantrod." Cinnamon smiles in relief at that, then looks interestedly at Arvid to see his reaction. Aisling goes on to say something in her musical Irish voice that sounds like it might be a genealogy of some sort, "And this is Shane Rowantrod, my kinsman."

Shane snorts at that, "We're distant... quite distant... cousins."

Thorn relaxes; now is the time to lay all the cards on the table, "I'm Thorn. Thorn Elmtrod. I'm... just a healer, really."

Arvid turns his hand upward and curls his fingers around Aisling's wrist in a friendly way. His eyes move to Thorn and his brows go up, "An actual healer or a medic?" The question has an almost eager tone to it, and Jaeger lets Thorn answer that before introducing himself.

Cinnamon grins affectionately at Thorn, "You are certainly not 'just' a healer, dude!"

"A healer," Thorn confirms, trying not to sound too prideful. He glances to Cinnamon, blushing a bit. "Thanks," he adds, smiling. "I, uh, hope there aren't any traditions against mages aboard a ship." It still feels a bit funny, referring to himself as a 'mage.'

Arvid shakes his head, "No. None at all. But if you are a healer and not simply a doctor or a medic... I have a crew member I would like you to look at. He had a bad wound in a battle." He takes a deep breath, "We will talk of this later." Thorn opens his mouth to ask, 'What battle?!' but closes it when Arvid says to speak of it later. Instead Thorn simply nods, glad to be of help.

Jaeger raises his hand and smiles, "I am Jaeger Elmtrod, Chieftain of the Trod of the Elm in the Forest of Whispers. Thorn is a member of our trod through one of my kinswomen."

Josie clears her throat, "I am Josie Moonsdaughter." She goes on to give a genealogy of her own, adding, "I am councilor for the Eastern First Nations."

Arvid's grin broadens, "Yes! A cousin!"

Cinnamon watches with interest when Arvid doesn't react at all to hearing that Josie's a Councilor. Hm, interesting... Aisling didn't say she was, either! She says shyly, "I, um... I'm Cinnamon O'Donnell Elgan... and Spice here, and Veles Draconis? W-we're a family too!"

Shane goes next, "Shane Elmtrod. Nothing a whole lot special about me." That gets him A Look from Josie, Aisling, and even Spice -- and Aisling says indignantly, "Except that half-sidhe are rare enough that they are considered legends even to sidhe, Shane!"

Simultaneously with Shane speaking, Cinnamon blinks, remembering she didn't say what she was, "Oh!" She pushes her glasses up, trying not to blush, "Also, um... I'm..." -- but then she falls silent, not wanting to interrupt Shane. She grins without surprise as he's self-effacing.

Shane rolls his eyes, "I hold no titles. I'm just me." He grins, "Sorry, caraid, didn't mean to talk over you."

Cinnamon grins shyly again, mumbling, "No prob!"

Arvid looks back to her and smiles, "So you understand clan. This is good. Also you are what?"

Cinnamon is about to remain quiet... and then it occurs to her: if she acts almost embarrassed about what she is... will that reflect poorly on Veles and Spice? They are her responsibility, after all, in a clan sense... right? She hesitates, then adds a little awkwardly, "I, uhmm... I'm... really new? So... I'm... not sure how to do this right, but... er, I'm... part dragon?"

Arvid's eyes widen, "Part... dragon? I have not heard of part dragons...?"

Aisling smiles, "That's because she's not part dragon. She is a dragon. But she has only found out."

Cinnamon stares a bit bashfully at the table, "I, um... was raised with humans." She pushes up her glasses and blinks, then smiles with warmth at her friends, "But... I'm really, really glad I found out what I was -- 'cause I got to meet all of you!"

Arvid ahhs and nods with a smile, "That happens. Lines get lost or muddied and you do not know your heritage. Genetics, they are funny things."

Cinnamon nods at that, "Right?! So, um... oh! So, are you familiar with the, um..." She glances at the other supernaturals, "So what does everyone in the world call it? Just the Council? Or something else?"

Arvid ohs! "That council? That is the council you meant, cousin?" Josie grins and nods and gives the distinct impression she wants to wag. Arvid smiles, "I apologize. I was more eager to meet another wolf!"

Cinnamon giggles at the happy werewolf, "You look waggy even in human form, Josie!" She grins at Arvid as she adds, "So you know about it? The Council, I mean?"

Arvid nods, "I do, yes. But we are rarely around anyone but ourselves and human passengers."

Cinnamon nods thoughtfully, "OK. So... I, um, found out that I'm part of the Council too, but I've not really had an opportunity to ask anyone not from Coblyn: what do you all think of the Council? Is it... helpful? Annoying? Irrelevant to you? Something else entirely?"

Arvid thinks about that, "To us, it is something that is important to keep order. We rarely have much to do with it, though, because we are out here on our Valkyrie."

Cinnamon nods consideringly as she pushes her glasses up, "Ok... thank you. I'd wondered." She smiles... then blinks at a sort of churning feeling in her stomach... and wow, was that a wave of heat? She takes a deep breath, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the gentle roll of the ship as she adds, "Um... is it hot in here? Or is it just me...?"

Arvid ahhs, "Let us get you up abovedecks. It is not warm and we do not want you to vomit if we can soothe you." Cinnamon blinks again, abruptly even more uncomfortable! She rises to her feet... then bolts for the deck! Fresh air in her face sounds like a really wonderful idea -- it's so stuffy and hot in here!

The poor young dragon barely makes it to the railing -- at which point she leans way over and is quite sick... fortunately into the ocean! She sighs unhappily after that, clinging to the railing and feeling miserable. Though... hmm, if she's sick again... yeah, better put her glasses into an inner pocket. She does so with quivering fingers, then leans against the wall of the raised poop deck next to her. [Ugh! Pleasepleaseplease don't let me be sick the whole way!]

Now that the cat (or wolf) is out of the bag, none of the party are trying to act human -- Josie and Aisling are both right by Cinnamon as she bolts! Josie has an arm around Cinnamon and is making an almost canine whining sound of worry. Arvid is on deck as well and calls to one of the other crew members, who disappears belowdecks and comes back up with an apparently plastic cup. His voice is heavily Slavic, "You should drink this..."

Cinnamon blinks blearily at the man, reflexively accepting the cup, "Whuh izzit?" She gives the cup an extremely jaundiced look... the thought of putting anything at all into her stomach makes her want to heave again!

The man smiles, "It is cool ginger tea. It is good for the belly. But drink it slowly." He isn't touching her, but he's waiting nearby, "And then perhaps we will have you lie down somewhere. Somewhere up here. You do not need to be belowdecks yet."

Cinnamon sighs -- if the sailors think it would help, she... probably should drink it? She mumbles, "Thank'oo,' then takes a deep breath, squinches up her face, and has a cautious sip... then shudders in spite of herself. At the unhappy whine next to her she smiles a bit shakily -- she's so glad she's got friends here! Though she probably should reassure poor Josie, "Urgh... 'm okay, Jo, sweetie, jus'... not... going jogging any time soon?"

Cinnamon hoped fervently that her one episode of being sick was all that would occur. Unfortunately, that turned out not to be the case - so she shoved her cup of tea hastily into Aisling's hands, whirled, and was ill again over the railing. After that she felt wan and wrung out, but also like there was nothing left in her stomach.

Gentle hands guided her over to a place to sit that was still on deck, over by the bow. The cold, brisk wind felt really good on her flushed, overheated face. The cool cup of tea was carefully pressed back into her grasp, and she reflexively took one or two sips. After a few minutes somebody tucked a blanket in around her as well. It took her a bit before she recognized it - it was the nice, thick, warm blanket from her bunk. That was obscurely comforting, and she just sat there with her eyes half closed for quite some time. The slap of the water against the sides of the ship, the creak and groan of the wooden ship itself, and the cries of the crew as they darted about doing their work were all eventually rather soothing. She didn't feel good, precisely... but she didn't feel horrible anymore.

Cinnamon spent the rest of the day there. Once she didn't feel quite so much like death warmed over, she had Spice bring her laptop up and periodically worked on it just to keep herself calm and relaxed. She thought about what language she was going to learn next, and decided on French. She already had the most commonly spoken language for the section of Europe that was her responsibility -- Italian -- and French (along with English) was the most commonly spoken language in Oceania, from her research. Much though she wanted to experiment with some other languages, therefore, French it would be.

For his part, Thorn has been adding his back to the (much stronger) ones of the crew, helping to haul on the lines or turn the winch when needed. He learns some of the maritime jargon that previously so mystified him, though his learning it does nothing to demystify it for him. He still thinks the Navy boys are a bit touched, what with their "abaft the broadside of the beam on the quarterdeck gunwale," and whatnot. Still, he's glad to help provide something to the trip, even if it's just some elbow grease to the capstan winch and the sail lines. He otherwise tries to stay out of the way of the crew.

By the time it got dark, Cinnamon still had no desire for food, but managed to sleep relatively comfortably. When she woke up the next morning, she was sort of wearily hungry, as in she wanted something to eat but she was kind of worried about upsetting her stomach! Fortunately the crew of the ship were quite familiar with landlubbers learning to be sailors, and breakfast had a lot of very simple foods like toast, which her stomach could handle just fine. She went and sat on deck again and continued working on French... so that by the time lunch rolled around she discovered, much to her surprise, that she actually had an appetite! She again ate very simple food, but was happy to put away all that they would offer her. The sailors laughingly assured her that this was the first step to having no problems whatsoever while on the ocean. She hoped they were right.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing on deck just like before, though since she'd finished her French she just took it easy. The cries of seabirds had mostly died out by then, considering how far the boat was from land, but the crew themselves continued to chatter back and forth amongst each other as they worked. Cinnamon had no idea, as she half dozed on the deck, that her brain was still chugging away busily on this intriguing new tongue!

At one point it occurred to her to check where the shields were, relative to the bow and the poop deck. She was very careful as she effectively shuffled over to the railing, making sure to keep a steadying hand on something at all times. Once she got to the railing, she leaned over cautiously and looked down the side of the ship. There the shields were, arrayed as if streaming backwards from the bow -- but since there were only eight crewmen, they didn't reach all the way to the poop deck. Thank goodness! She would have felt really humiliated if she had accidentally thrown up on somebody's personal insignia!

As she stood there, staring out along the ship's side, it occurred to her that trying to match shields to the appropriate crewmember might be a pleasant way to pass the time... as well as help her familiarize herself with the crew. She grinned at that, pulling out her cell and taking a few shots before carefully almost tiptoeing back to her seat. She hasn't realized it yet, but her usual cheerful mood is starting to reassert itself as her body adjusts to this strange new environment.

There are actually ten shields and each one is carved on both sides of the bow. Having only actually met Arvid and Fraser to speak to, it might be difficult to suss out whose shield is whose. Cinnamon wonders... could one of them be a shield for the Valkyrie herself? Could the remaining one -- or both of them, perhaps? -- be for friends and former packmates who fell in battle, or otherwise died?

Examining the shields, Cinnamon sees that one of them is a yellow, heater-shaped shield with a red border of knotwork all around it. In the center is a shaggy red creature that seems to be rearing up on its hind legs and pawing at the air with its front paws. The knots are intricate and the one at the bottom point of the shield actually seems to be some sort of complex heart motif. Cinnamon hmms thoughtfully to herself. Wasn't there a red beast on the heraldry of Scotland? Are those Celtic knots, maybe? If so, she's going to guess this is Fraser's heraldry!

Another is a round shield with a center boss of brass. The boss actually seems to be part of the carving -- as in, there are metal half-domes attached to the sides of the ship. That one sits all the way forward, the first one of the array. The body of the shield itself is red and the painting on it is black and white. One one side is a tree. On the other is a stylized bird of some sort. Runic letters run around the entire outer rim of the shield. Cinnamon grins as she studies the shield -- this must be Arvid's! It's the first one, after all, and has runic writing on it... and he said he was Scandinavian originally, if she remembers correctly. If that's the case... hmm, could the tree be Yggdrasil then, and the bird one of Odin's ravens? She wonders if she could translate the runes... wait, that only works if the slogan is in English! Yeah, no -- she highly doubts he chose a non-native tongue for something highly personal like this!

Most of the shields are round, actually. Only the yellow and red one, and one other, are in the heraldic shield shape. That other one is blue with a silver edging. There are two spears crossed in the center of it and some sort of wavy motif beneath the spears. Cinnamon studies the shield thoughtfully... that almost looks like ocean waves, there beneath the spears. Arvid said everyone here was some sort of wolf... could this be for someone who truly was a 'sea wolf'? Or... maybe it's for the pack itself? Though... no, that doesn't seem right. One puts out one's own heraldry in situations like this -- the ship itself is symbolic of the pack!

Cinnamon ponders... so who might be a sea wolf? Well, what would a sea wolf be like? The young dragon blinks as it occurs to her: what if a sea wolf needs to remain close to the ocean? ...like Jareth, for example? That'd certainly explain why someone so surefooted seems unable to go up into the rigging! Cinnamon grins to herself -- she doesn't know if she's right or not, but this is oddly fun! She'll have to start watching all the crew closely once she's done examining the shields... see if any of them do or display anything that makes her think they should match with this or that shield in particular!

Another of the round shields has a black boss that is simply carved and painted onto the side of the boat. That one is green and is quartered by thick bars of black. There are runes on this one as well, but there are only four of them and they sit in the four quarters of the divided circle. Cinnamon frowns thoughtfully... with this big, black X on it, could this be the shield of someone deceased? She tilts her head, considering for a bit... then decides not. It doesn't look as if the X was laid over an already existing shield, after all, but rather that the X is part of the design.

As Cinnamon is looking them over, Fraser wanders by and smiles, "What're you lookin' at so intently, lass?"

Cinnamon grins up at the sailor, "I took a photo of the shields! I thought it might be fun to try to match shield to crewman." She laughs, hastily waving a hand at him, "Don't tell! Don't tell! Just tell me if I'm right or not, okay?"

Fraser nods and crouches by her, elbows on his thighs and hands dangling between them. Even hunkered down like that, he sways easily with the ship, "I will. They don't match up with all of us. There used to be a couple more and we keep their shields in tribute."

Cinnamon nods excitedly, "I guessed right on that, then!" She points to the gold-colored shield with the scarlet beast, "Is that Celtic knotwork? If it is, I'm guessing this one is yours?"

Fraser laughs, "Aye. It's mine. The beast is a heraldic wolf. The Royal Arms of Scotland is the Lion Rampant. I admit to not bein' the most creative, but it suits me."

Cinnamon blinks up at Fraser, pushing her glasses up as she protests, "Oh, no! No, I think this is very creative -- look! You included a heart in the Celtic knotwork -- that says to me that you really love your homeland, right? And the beast -- er, the wolf is rampant -- is rearing up and fierce, which means you're not afraid of adventure even as you keep your home in your heart! Isn't that a form of creativity too?"

Fraser laughs, "I'm not the bard here. I'm the romantic." There's a little teasing in his voice, "And, aye, I do love Alban. But she's changed a very lot since I lived there. Most of us still have a love of our motherlands, but now this..." he motions around, perhaps indicating the ship, perhaps indicating the ship and the sea, "Is our home."

Cinnamon smiles at Fraser, "Family as home. Yes, of course... that makes sense for long-lived individuals, doesn't it." She looks back at the shields as she murmurs, "I'm going to have to remember that too, as I get older." Her finger hovers over the photo... and then she lightly touches the azure and silver shield, "This one... is this wavy thing symbolic of the ocean? I was wondering if this was the shield of someone who came from the sea himself... though I'm not sure what a sea wolf would be. One of the orcas maybe?" She looks up and grins, "Is it Jareth's? Is that why he has such trouble with the rigging -- that he feels ill if he gets too far from his home, the ocean?"

Fraser laughs again, "Well, you got it with the right person. It is Jareth's. But the wavy stuff? It's for the River Wye. And the crossed spears are for his name. It's a form of Gareth. Gareth is an odd name. It can mean 'strong spear' or it can mean 'gentle.' That seems a bit oxymoronic to some, but the best kind of strength is backed by gentleness. And no, he's just acrophobic. One o' those that can't seem to breathe or think or move when he's in a high place."

Cinnamon ooohs, "River Why? Where is that?" She nods in firm agreement regarding strength and gentleness, almost growling, "Better believe it!"

The Scottish spell-wolf smiles again, "River Wye. W-Y-E." He spells it out for her and says, "Forms a lot o' the border between England and Wales."

Cinnamon gasps with excitement, "Wales?! Oh my gosh, is he Welsh?! Do you think he'd talk to me? I'm a Welsh dragon, apparently -- but I've never been there!" She beams as she adds, "W-we're going to visit, right after we finish our errands in Ireland -- I'm so excited to see where my many-greats grandsire came from!"

"He'd likely be happy to talk to you about Wales. He misses it, I believe," Fraser always seems to smile, "Oh, aye? Welsh dragon. Wales is quite proud of their red dragon. Just as Alb... Scotland is fond of the Lion Rampant."

Cinnamon grins shyly, "As it turns out, when I'm in dragon form I'm red too!" She sighs happily, making a note to herself to try talking later to Jareth... then grins at Fraser, "So, this green and black one? Can you tell me what the runes are? I figure that's a way to start learning about what the shield is trying to say, before I try matching it with a crewman... and we're a bit far from shore for me to be getting good reception on my phone!" Then Cinnamon catches her breath at a sudden thought, "Oh! Oh, do you have any French wolves? Like... like the Beast of... what was it... Gevaugan or something? The loup garou?"

Fraser mms and nods, "You've met 'im, actually." He motions with one callused and scarred hand toward the silent man that helped Fraser show them to their berths when they first boarded, "Rafe." He taps himself on the throat, "Speechless. Took an injury."

Cinnamon nods slowly as she watches the man working, "I'd wondered if that was the case... because he reminded me of someone else I know that has no speech." She sighs, adding, "Of course, that guy is from a species with telepathy, and they can sort of communicate a bit with us, which helps. Let me guess... poor Rafe doesn't have that? Though..." she frowns at a sudden thought, "Oh! Do you all use American Sign Language with him, or something? Or rather, he uses it with you? I can tell he can hear just fine, after all." She smiles thoughtfully, still watching the man to see how he communicates.

Rafe seems to be using some sort of sign. Fraser shakes his head, "Nah. He barely speaks English. We've improvised, y'might say."

Cinnamon brightens, "Oh! But he speaks French, right? I wonder if he'd let me practice my French with him? Though... hm. Not sure how he'd communicate back to me -- and I don't imagine me burbling constantly at him would be much fun!" She grins a bit sheepishly, then adds, "What are you all improvising? Does he not -- oh! Is he new-ish? Does he not know that Germanic language you all share, yet?" She adds a bit wistfully, "Will we get an opportunity to see you all as wolves sometime? I'd love to see what differences and similarities you all have, considering you're all supposed to be different subspecies!"

There's a moment where Fraser looks thoughtful, then comes back to himself, "New? Goodness no! I mean, we sorta made up the signs as we went along! He speaks French, and our language -- damned if I ever found out what it's called -- and a little Italian and about eighteen words in English, most of which are swearing." Cinnamon giggles in spite of herself at that! Then she hushes, waiting for Fraser to continue. The spell-wolf smiles crookedly, "Possibly. After all, the full moon'll be out this crossing. Y'might see me an' Rafe. The others gotta bit more choice of when they change. But each of us decides on our own who to show that shape to."

Cinnamon nods thoughtfully... then smiles and curiously asks, "What were you just thinking about, then -- when you had that really... really 'thinky' look on your face?"

Fraser laughs merrily, amused at the term "really 'thinky' look" and then smiles, "I was listening. And smelling. For a second, I thought I'd be needed..." He motions up in the rigging above them where there's a slender, dark-skinned man working with some of the ropes, "But he's got it."

Cinnamon looks up, intrigued, "So packs just share really good senses then? That's so cool!" She grins at Fraser, adding with interest, "What's a spell-wolf, though, please? Do you have to say a spell or something before you change?"

Fraser's grin goes crooked again, "Not me, no. Someone else did the spell. If I'm honest. Someone else laid the curse, but that's a bit private."

Cinnamon blinks, then impulsively reaches out to pat Fraser's knee, "I'm a really curious person, Fraser! But I don't want to be a jerk either, okay? So... so like if I ask something accidentally rude, or that you d-don't want to answer? You go ahead and tell me, please, that you'd rather not say, okay?"

Fraser nods, "Then I'd rather not say about the curse." He doesn't seem angry, just sort of tiredly ironic. "And this isn't because you asked, but I should get back to work. Once we're a little further out at sea, things will be somewhat calmer on deck. And you're gonna be drinking that ginger tea every two hours."

Cinnamon smiles and nods, "Okay. Thanks for stopping to talk to me, though, Fraser. It was nice of you." She watches the man trot briskly off... then sighs thoughtfully and goes back to watching the sailors as they work. Hmm... maybe that slim, dark guy is newish? That might be why he was a bit uncertain as to whatever it is he's doing in the rigging... Cinnamon's thoughts travel relaxedly along as she watches, and she eventually realizes: she was very lucky, as far as her introduction to the supernatural. She could have been... well, bitten, or cursed, or stumbled into the hands of someone vastly more powerful, like Thorn did -- actually, he's darned lucky too that Althea's a nice -- well, mostly nice? -- person! But... yeah. Cinnamon is really quite relieved at how relatively gently she -- and most of her non-supernatural or partly-supernatural friends too -- were introduced to this world.

Thorn, of course, pays specific attention to the description of the case for which Arvid would like a healer's help -- to wit, Rafael -- or just "Rafe." It's apparently not an old injury, nor is it immediately life-threatening. Thorn doesn't know how long it'll take (if he can even do it) to recover from the healing, so he takes his time examining Rafe -- asking Arvid what caused the injury, and seeing what damage there is to Rafe's throat. Only then does the healer plan to start what he hopes will be a short, quick magical spell using what he's learned so far about visualizing what he wants the magic to make happen.

Arvid and Rafe take Thorn down to the ship's infirmary-cum-extra berth to let him examine the speechless man. There are still two bunks in there, but one has been filled with boxes and other miscellany, all carefully secured. Rafe tips his head back and lets Thorn see the scar, which is ordinarily obscured by the man's neatly trimmed beard. It's a nasty, jagged affair that looks like it barely missed the arteries, and reaches across much of the front of his throat. Since Rafe can't speak, Arvid explains: the Havvarger have been together as a pack for a long time, and some of them are very long-lived; Rafe is one of them. "This, however -- this is a fairly recent injury. We are not mercenaries, but we have stepped in to help in righteous fights. This one was in the Iparralde. The French, they call it the Basque country. There are places there still that are quite wild."

Thorn examines the injury carefully, wincing as he takes the measure of the scar. "That must have been quite a fight," he says. What little he knows about Basque country is that it's on the western border between France and Spain, on the Bay of Biscay... and there are indeed places up in the mountains there which are still quite wild. "What caused the injury? I'm a bit of a fledgling healer, so I don't know if there are injuries from supernatural causes that I can heal or not. Either way, though, I'll give it my best."

Arvid makes a short, stabbing motion with a wry expression, "Broad-headed spear. Rafe didn't have his shield quite covering his throat because someone was coming at him from one side. The spear was a surprise." At that, Rafe -- who has been quietly sitting to let himself be examined -- snorts through his nose. Arvid continues, "Hit his windpipe. Missed the arteries. Also went through his voicebox, we think. At least, that's what we were told. There was no healer... just a handful that knew some battlefield first aid." He sighs and shrugs, "If not for our nature, he still could have died."

Thorn nods thoughtfully as he listens. So it wasn't a supernatural injury, per se. He opens his mouth... then closes it. He doesn't know why "spears" and "shields" were mentioned, so he doesn't know just how old the injury is. It doesn't matter at the moment, though. He nods, chewing his lip, "So, damaged vocal cords -- no problems swallowing or breathing, I take it?"

"Not anymore," Arvid confirms. "The first week was not pleasant -- water and broth only, and someone watching him every moment." He touches his own throat, "For the first night there was a tube there. This was... five... ten years ago? It was lucky we were fighting other not-modern people." Occasionally the captain seems to have to search for an English word, "Humans... they use guns and things. Tribes of people like us? We still use honorable weapons." Rafe taps Arvid on the arm and the captain looks at him. Rafe flashes all ten fingers twice, then five again. "Ah," Arvid says, "Twenty-five years, not five. I lose track."

Thorn looks extremely surprised at that, "Twenty-five... I thought when you said 'old' and 'spear,' that it was closer to a century!" He returns to examining the wound, murmuring thoughtfully, "I'm surprised people are still fighting with spear and shield -- even in remote areas like the Basque country." He smiles quietly, straightening, "Cinnamon is going to have many, many questions about this! All right, let's see if I can help. Would you lie down on the bed, please, Rafe?" After Rafe has laid back on the bunk, Thorn takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, placing his hands on Rafe's chest and shoulder. He visualizes what he wants: the werewolf's vocal chords re-forming; reconstructing themselves -- and to do so as gently and carefully as possible. Thorn doesn't want to cause Rafe any further discomfort.

Rafe is quiet as Thorn works on him. Even his breathing is slow and careful, as if he doesn't want to disrupt the healer. There's not a lot of change to the scar, simply because Thorn is concentrating on the inner damage and not the cosmetic damage. There's a moment where Rafe groans and starts to reach up toward his throat, but Arvid takes his hand and makes a soothing sound. It sounds almost like a growling purr. Rafe relaxes again. Thorn can feel the healing magic is working. In fact, it feels almost easy.

Thorn lets out a a breath, smiling quietly once he has finished, "I think it's working." There's one sure test of it, though: "Rafe? Can you say anything?"

Rafe swallows a couple of times; when he finally speaks, his voice sounds hoarse as he rumbles, "Je ne sai..." Then he blinks, as if he didn't actually expect a sound to come out! His hand goes to his throat, fingers dancing along the scar as he speaks again, "Oui! Je... je peux!" He sits up, and it's possibly a sign of how shocked he is that he knocks his head pretty solidly on the upper bunk -- then swears! Or at least it sounds like swearing from the tone. Arvid is beaming, and he laughs as his crewman hits his head.

Thorn beams happily, and lets out a breath of relief -- which is just as shortly replaced by a yelp of alarm, as he guides Rafe back down onto the bed. "Easy, easy!" he says hastily, "don't give yourself a concussion!"

Rafe grumbles and rubs his head, his voice rusty. Arvid translates for Thorn, "Fuckin' oak racks!" Despite the grumbling, though, they're both grinning. Arvid pats Thorn on the shoulder then, though it's actually a pretty heavy thump, "You are a wonder and a blessing!"

Thorn oofs! with the thump, and laughs quietly. "Just doing what I can," he tells Arvid. "Well, you seem mostly all right. Don't try to talk too much or too growly -- see how your voice is for the time being before straining it." Then he smiles, "I don't think there's need for convalescence, though. Why don't you go topside -- is that the right word? -- and say 'hi' to people?" Rafe is still grinning as Arvid translates for Thorn -- then he laughs and gets up a lot more gracefully this time. He bends down, takes Thorn by the shoulders and kisses him soundly on each cheek before almost bounding out and then up the ship's ladder to the deck.

Thorn beams, "Oh, that's great -- Cinnamon speaks French! She's just learned-!" He breaks off startledly as Rafe embraces and kisses him, blinking a bit... then laughs quietly as Rafe vanishes for the deck. "I think it went well, then?" Thorn asks Arvid.

Arvid is beaming still. His eyes are crinkled heavily at the corners and he laughs, "It went better than I expected, j�. Come! Topside as you say."

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Last modified: 2019-Jun-12 19:53:32

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