Rove
The Twisting Straits, East of the Grasping Isle
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/554030201789743105/1028654515798409237/Grasping_Isle_Final_V1.0.png]
Map made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story
As Rove read further and further into the poem, his cheeks started to redden. He started looking around slowly, fully expecting an Ayuen to peek out from behind the door with an evil grin. A single drop of sweat dropped down from the side of his head as he slowly closed the book and put it into her backpack. This never happened. She couldn’t verify that he had looked into the journal.
Damn that woman. Even now she loved to constantly play with his thoughts. And when she had the time and motivation to plan a scheme, she was bloody good at it too. With a grunt, he shoved the book into Ayuen's bag and quickly continued packing their belongings.
With the poet’s pack now closed and tidied up, Rove shook his head one more time in disbelief.
“What have I gotten myself involved with?” He muttered to himself, not able to keep a small smile off his face.
With the preparations done, the Herhor headed toward the deck. The salty air slashed across his face, salty spray stinging his eyes as the sun suddenly bore down upon him. It took him a couple of moment to acclimate, but he managed.
Once his eyes worked properly again, he readied his and his lover’s pack close to the gangplank, ready to go after they hit land. Most of the crew was already on deck, as well as his companions. Ayuen was chatting with Trïeste, the latter showing some kind of plant or alchemical component to the former. Sneak, fully back to his crazy self, was stabbing the poor ship’s railing with one of his daggers while he mumbled to himself.
When he turned to face Ayuen, their eyes met. A mischievous sparkle glowing in her gaze, the woman giving him a knowing sultry look. Rove answered it with as neutral of an expression he could manage, determined to not give Ayuen the win here.
“Thinking you might have the weirdest group of companions I’ve laid eyes on in a long while, Rove.” Another voice came from above him.
Standing against the railing of the forecastle, Mearn looked down at him, a confident smirk plastered on her tanned face. With one practised motion, she swung her legs over the railing, jumping down and landing next to him with the elegance of a cat. She barely made a sound when her feet hit the deck, a soft thud the only thing that betrayed her. Another reminder of her skills.
“A poet, an alchemist and a madman,” She continued, dusting some seawater off her coat. “And one of the most well-known Herhors on the Grasping Isle. Makes a girl wonder why in the name of Hudol’s Wisdom you think this is a good idea.”
Rove huffed. His companions had proven themselves enough the past couple of weeks and Mearn bloody knew that.
"You’re just jealous, Mearn. And you know, if you wanted to be invited, you should’ve just asked me.”
“Can’t do. Brenstead won’t take kindly to me jumping ship.”
“No, that he won’t. Bren’s not the type to take that lying down. But I’ll reserve a ticket for this carriage of fools with your name on it, alright? Sound good?”
She playfully bumped him with her shoulder. “You better. I don’t appreciate being left out of fun like this. If I’d known in Handport I’d forced you to let me join.”
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“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“Oh, fuck off Rove. You know you like my banter too much to have refused me.”
“Definitely. For a whole five minutes. After that, I always get the urge to throw you down the nearest well.”
Mearn frowned and put her hands on her hips, leaning forward a bit. “Now listen right here you ass-…”
He interrupted his colleague with a wink and a raised hand. “Hey, you asked for that one. But alright, you have my bloody word. Next time, I’ll invite you over. Happy?”
The warrior woman grinned and nodded. “Very.”
“So, you coming along to Marlight then when you’re done?”
Mearn sighed and shook her head. “I can’t. Old Bren has hired me for quite a while and I sighed his Aral-forsaken contract for the entire duration. Bren’s wrath aside, if I leave him here, he’ll be without a proper personal bodyguard. I can’t do that, y’know?”
She pounded her chest.
“Herhor’s pride and all of that.”
Rove nodded. He knew exactly how she felt. She had largely the same work ethic as him when it came down to it. That was also the reason that they got along pretty well, despite their bickering.
“I know all too well. I’ll owe you an adventure in the future then.”
“You better or else I will hunt you down and get Ayuen to let me join you. We two get along great.”
A predatory grin ripped the female Herhor’s face in two.
“I might have also given her a couple of ideas to try when you two have some private time.”
Rove’s eyes narrowed as his voice lowered to a rumble.
“What did you discuss?”
She wagged her finger at him.
“Hey, I’m not the kind of woman that would spoil a friend’s fun. If you want to know, ask your partner. Preferably when you two are alone and naked.”
“Damn it, Mearn.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Fine. Maybe I should’ve gone for a more demure partner.”
“Don’t be daft and stop lying. You like a bit of spice in your life. Otherwise, you would have taken up the job of cobbler instead of Herhor.”
“I want to say you’re lying... but you’re right.”
The two Herhors laughed, giving each other a series of playful punches on the shoulder.
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Nothing of note happened the next half an hour. Ayuen sneaked him a smirk and an inquisitive glance when he approached her to point out where her belongings were stashed. She’d innocently asked if her things were all in order and if there had been something out of place. He thought he’d hidden his guilt, but going by the wicked smile on his lover’s face, he didn’t do a good job.
Mearn had gotten busy in the meantime, ordering people around and appropriately swearing like a sailor when the men and women didn’t respond within the split second she gave them.
His two other companions had also been busy, their packs joining his and Ayuen’s swiftly. Sneak hadn’t had much to carry, his only possession stashed in a small bag with whatever he’d scrounged up during their journeys. Prado’s blade was strapped to it, ready to be unsheathed and used.
Trïeste was staring at the shore, eyes glazed over in thought.
Rove sighed, glancing at the shore himself.
In a few hours, he would set foot on soil that wasn’t the Grasping Isle for the first time in ten years. Travelling towards an unknown destination. Teleported towards a distant city where a scheming foe was waiting for them, a foe that they knew preciously little about.
Yeah, this could only go well.
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Eventually, the horizon turned into the brown and green hue of land, their destination drawing rapidly closer. Rove sat himself down at the bow of the ship, silently looking into the distance.
A tap on his shoulder roused him. Ayuen stood next to him, a wing softly embracing him. She’d gotten rid of the cloak entirely, Brenstead and Mearn having learned the truth when they had come on board. He’d even seen the poet fly across the water, the waves showing her in droplets that glimmered like stars in the light of the sun. It had been beautiful to look at.
“You’re okay?” She asked, a tingle of worry lining her voice. “You know you can talk to me, right? If something’s on your mind.”
Rove took her hands between his, rubbing a thumb over her palm.
“I know. I’m a bit tense, is all. It’s the first time in forever that I’ve set foot on the mainland. A step closer towards my family instead of a step away.”
“Are you afraid?”
“I was. But now, I’m not. I made up my mind. I owe Mira as much, and Prado too. After I’ve helped you in Marlight, I’m going after them.”
Ayuen’s smile was breathtaking as her fingers curled around his.
“And I’ll be there to help you. You need a woman at your side that loves you. Who else would talk sense into you?”
Rove chuckled, staying silent for a moment.
“I love you too, Ayuen.”
The man pulled her in, the two of them sharing a short kiss before they walked to their packs.
More trouble awaited on their shared path ahead.
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/554030201789743105/997597408001273968/Dusk_of_Life_Final.png]Map made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story