Testing the Waters

Log Info

• Title: Testing the Waters
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Aya
• Place: Alexandrian Shipyards
• Time: May 6th, 2022
• Summary: Aryia is adding some rescue netting to her boat as her sister Aya seeks her out to give an update on the current hunt. The mute expresses her worries and is reassured by Aya that letting the creature run amok is more dangerous than the journey itself. They sail off to go around the port, needing to test the netting in the end. It was Aryia that lost that sea battle.

Alexandrian Shipyards, Midday

It's a fair weather day finally, the sun's out, warming the air to cleanse it from the chillier parts of spring. There's a boat, 'The Balance' on the docks that is turned around from its usual porting, a grey skinned elf working on attaching some netting to the side of the vessel from the pier-side.

She's whistling idly to herself.

Fair weather and sunshine. The latter is oft uncomfortable, if not bane, to some... yet today seems an exception. Another mul walks along the pier towards the other. The whistling is heard, but as Aya realizes the source, a corner of her lips curls upwards.

"Good day, sister. You look to be hard at work in your latest endeavor. Am I interrupting?" A brow arches.

Thankfully such transgressions of the celestial star can be thwarted by a pair of tinted glasses, one that Aryia shoves further up her face with a nudge from her shoulder. The mute perks up at hearing a familiar voice, an easy smile quirking her lips as she pulls on a loop of net over a hook.

"Good day! Yeah, just getting some stuff put in that's missing, like a safety net to climb back on. No, you're not. How's it going?" <Handspeehc>

Aya considers that question a moment before responding with a few gestures, "All goes better that it could, not as well as I would prefer. Normal, then?" A slight roll of one shoulder follows before she continues. "Mikilos is restored, and I sought his input. He studies our prey, but the most direct option, at present, is to slay it in its lair." While they are not likely to be 'overheard' in sign, they could just as well speak of hunting quail or fox.

Aryia keeps an eye on Aya as she decides to start signing her intentions, the mute pugilist having one foot on the edge of the boat while another was on dock. She bobs her head once to the question posed.

And then she sighs in relief that the mage was back to norm. "That's good," she motions with her spare hand, honestly glad about that. But then her brows furrow, and she rubs her face with her free hand before dropping the net half into the waters.

"And that would be... where, exactly?" she inquires, dreading the answer.<Handspeech>

Aya realizes that she may be hindering Aryia's work with her choice of language, or perhaps she lacks knowledge of the term in gestures. "The place where I returned it, where it is strongest," she speaks aloud, though not loudly. "The Iron Hells."

And that was the answer Aryia was wishing wasn't uttered. She picks up the netting and loops it through a hook. Then another. Then a third.

"We're going to need to prepare," she gestures with one hand.

Another hook. Another one.

"Last time I went to a different plane, it fucked with my age."

More hooks. More pensive worries. "Could corrupt us, that place. Though there is magics to ward against the influence of the planes. Seyardu told me."

More netting. She's pallid. <Handspeech>

Aya frowns. Not that she brought good news (aside from that of Mikilos), nor expected elation, but the change in Aryia's pallor is concerning. As is the net. She steps up adjacent, if a sidestep ahead along the breadth, to aid in putting loop to hook.

"We will be prepared, if we must go." As it may not yet be certain. A hand then lifts to path Aryia's shoulder. "Worry not, sister, you are incorruptible." A pause.

"Or is that incorrigable?"

Aryia's hands are moving, though less for talking and more for getting the task complete. With two pairs of hands, it's easy to finish, especially if one can talk and work at the same time.

Her shoulders are tense for a beat, then relax a smidge. "Everyone is corruptible," she motions fluidly like that itself is a hard fact. "I'm just, you know, terrified of going there. Kind of makes sense given, well, fucking everything.

She blinks, pauses, then tilts her head to the side, confused by the play on words. "What..?" <Handspeech>

Aya finishes her (small) share of the task and looks to Aryia. The hint of mirth on her lips evaporates at her sister's posture and reply. Some things she is still re-acclimating to: caring in general; ensuring the middle of a pancake is not still liquid whilst ALSO not turning the outside to ash. Humor is added to that list.

A moment is taken for thought. "Then we shall find another way, and consider that a final resort. I am merely... " -an exhale- "You know well how inclined I am to patience, or to do nothing."

The conversation is a sobering one, Aryia's visage smoothing out to thin line of pursed lips as the color returns to her features. Attempting to speak of the topic doesn't seem to be one that the mute could easily dance about so lightly and speak as if it was just an inconvenience.

"I'll still go with you. I just-" A breath.

She faces Aya directly, hands moving as if she were conducting a dirge. "I'm terrified of going there because I might lose you. Forever. It's a weight on my mind that will be there constantly, regardless if its a last option or not."

She looks aside. "I don't doubt our capabilities. It's just... you know..." She gestures vaguely, as if that would explain everything necessary. <Handspeech>

It does explain all... or no explanation was never needed. Whether to reassure, calm, or simply because, Aya reaches for Aryira suddenly. All to envelop her in a hug. Holding her close, she then speaks softly to her ear.

"You are not alone, sister, in all of that. I have no wish to rush to my end, and moreso no pull you or others with me. There is only the stronger fear: that it will return to harm you, Daechir, or others, and I would have done nothing to stop it..."

Aryia cycles a breath, idly worried about all that is to come before she's-

There's a surprised noise that slips out of her from the impromptu embrace. She returns it readily, burrowing her face into the crook of her sister's neck with an easy sigh.

An ear flicks in response, and her arms tighten the hold. She nods into the hug, a shudder of a breath leaving her before she pulls back slightly to look at Aya properly.

She sniffles once, a hand wiping at her eye underneath the shades before tucking a loose hair back into her sister's braid. Again, she slowly nods, opting more for action than gestured words.

Aya now eyes Aryia firmly, though with a upward curl of one lipcorner. "You and I both know that there is nothing that we cannot accomplish together... but there is no reason to test that to extremes. Whatever path we must take, we will be prepared and I will see that you return safely." Mutual concern may exist, but she is still the 'big' sister. "Once Mikilos knows more, we will know more."

Aryia nods again, thrice now, with a true (if faint) smile on her lips. There's a quick interjection where she pokes Aya, then jabs herself with a thumb, and makes a motion. "When *we* return," she corrects.

Reassured, the mute sibling claps Aya by the shoudlers briefly before looking up towards the sails on the boat. "Got it. Let's get this done as fast as we can. We got a lot of stuff to do without that worry."

A pause, an idle thought and a quirk of a brow. Her lips purse, as if she was going to vocalize a 'hmm', then shakes her head to dismiss it. <Handspeech>

"Of course." As if there were any doubt. Admittedly, they would both need to return for Aya to see her safely returned, afterall. Aya then follows Aryia's gave upwards to the mast and sails. "What needs done and how may I help?" Which sounds marginally better than 'What do you need and how do I do it?' given that she is not the sailor (Admiral!) that her sister is.

"Right now? Probably going to loop around the port is all. Though, just had a random thought is all," Aryia gestures, gaze lazily flicking between the white and black sails upon her small boat.

A moment to ponder. The another to speak, "Have you noticed that there isn't a place for wayward people like you and me to gather and train?" she points out, stepping up onto her boat and holding a hand out for Aya to join her if she so wished. Her other hand elaborates. "Only ones I find are always shoved into some church or something bigger. None that are just, you know, 'hey we're good at punching shit here's how we do it, forget all the other bullshit'." <Handspeech>

Aya ahs softly as she joins Aryia on the boat, via the aiding hand. "I thought you had urgent work with your ship..." Though she suspected the talk of taking care of things quickly might have been related to the other discussion. Now her thoughts shift to the latter part.

"There is the Colosseum or the training grounds... but you speak more of an organized school? Training?"

"Got to make sure the net holds up," Aryia gestures with a shrug once Aya was aboard. Hands fiddle with the mooring line and get it loose before its dragged onto the ship.

She pulls out a stick and pushes the boat away from the dock, and returns (it's just two steps away). She nods once. "Yes." More rope pulling, stick cast aside, sails unfurl more. "Been teaching people in the Colosseum, but it doesn't have the same... attention? Dedication? Just an idle thought is all..."

The boat lurches as the wind catches it, and they start to sail into the port properly.

She glances to Aya. "I do have to test the netting so... one of us is getting thrown in."

There's a slight, plotting smile. There's the mul in her.<Handspeech>

Aya nods as she listens and observes, watching Aryia move to and fro; this is wholly her sister's element and not her own. There is a brief moment of regaining her equilibrium as the craft begins to sail. Another nod at the mention of a test.

A fraction of a moment later, the significance registers and she spins to face Aryia and her smile. "Oh?" A brow arches. Her stance squares. "And how do you propose we determine who that might be?" On the topic of training...

Once the boat was out properly in the waters, and Aryia's lips twist to form a lopsided smirk.

"You know damn well," she gestures with one hand, tossing her shades into the hold before sprinting towards her sister in a flat out tackle. <Handpseech>

GAME: Aryia rolls cmb: (11)+19: 30
GAME: Aya rolls cmb: (7)+24: 31

Alas, the mute's plan does not go off as expected in the end.

-End Scene-